Over Again

I pulled up into Zayn's driveway, courtesy of my mum's car. It wasn't anything bad, but it couldn't compare to the cars Zayn had, or even the one he bought for HIS mum.

I grabbed Zayn's present in my hand, and tried to casually walk up the driveway. Unfortunately, it looked more rushed than I had planned. Nonetheless, I got to the door, and banged the knocker three times. I waited about ten seconds before the door opened, and I saw the little girl rub her eyes and yawn.

"What?" I guess I had woken he up from her sleep. I soon realized it was about 10:30 (American) and that she should have been asleep anyway.

"I need to see Zayn." She let me in, and followed me up the stairs. Before she could go back into her room, she said, "he's in the basement. You know where he is." I thanked her, and apologized for waking her, then rushed to the stairs. The basement was Zayn's art zone. He had rooms full of spray paint and paper and pencils and...everything you could imagine. Even the door to the basement was spray painted, with the letters Z-A-I-N, because that's how his name is really spelled. I knocked on the door, then waited. I knocked again, and no one answered. And then I knocked again, but just pushed the door open.

I looked through about three rooms full of art supplies before I heard noise in one room. I knocked on the door, holding the wrapped gift behind my back. A tired looking Zayn opened up, and his bagged eyes widened when he saw me.

"Gracie," he said. "What...are you doing here?" Zayn's knuckles were white because of how tight he was clutching the door.

"I forgot to give your present to you. So, I took Zayn's had and put the present in it, "here you go." I smiled at him.

"You didn't have to get me anything," he said.

"It's okay, I want you to have it. It's really...valuable," I say. Zayn tried to give it back, saying he already had enough things, but I pushed it back to him. "Please just open it." He nodded.

He opened it up, and saw the framed picture. He smiled. "I remember this day," he said. "Your dad took us to the beach." I nodded, solemnly. That was before my dad got all abusive and drunken. I was in a turquoise and white polka dotted one piece, and Zayn had power ranger swim trunks. We were about seven and six, or so. We were both smiling like idiots at the camera. "There was another photo, but I couldn't find it. I think I lost it, but-"

Zayn took my wrist and brought me into the room. There was spray paintings all over the room. Of one person: me. "Now, this whole room is basically dedicated to you," Zayn said, his smile as wide as an orange. "But this is my real present to you." Zayn went over to a shelf and opened it, taking out a scratch pad. He gave it to me, and I looked at him confused.

"Go on. Look through it."

Inside were sketches of us, as children, in our Halloween costumes, or at the beach, or at the park. Then the children turned into teenagers, at a futbol maych taking a selfie, or just hanging out. Then, they all stopped. I felt like I'd seen my whole life before Zayn left in there.

"Those were all pictures we or our family took," Zayn said. I nodded, unable to speak. I looked around the room, and down at the last picture of us as teenagers, and went right up to my best friend. I wrapped my arounds him, and he wrapped his arms around me.

And we hugged.

Notes

Awww!