1. Lured

It was early July. The sky was a peculiar colour, born of pale yet lustrous gold, and cotton candy pink, one Zayn wasn't sure he had beheld before. It was twilight - the time of day that his mother called the magic hour. He pulled the window all the way down and looked outside, up at the sky. The clouds weren't very heavy, but they were conspicuous enough - pale orange airy masses casting a faint glow. He looked outside, at the sky above, the slightly wet dark grey road that seemed to stretch on and on forever. 

He paused the song that was playing on his iPod, the words of which had lost their meaning the moment Zayn had decided to contemplate whilst looking at the peaceful scenery that surrounded him. He took out his earphones and watched the trees that kept passing by as the car gained distance. The calm, off-tune yet beautiful melody of the moving wind hit him, replenishing the lost strength in him from the long drive from the main hustle bustle of the city.

He looked beyond the road and the side-walk, and the old street-lights that dotted it at long intervals. Behind the low stone wall that marked the end of the side-walk, he watched the trees in their various shades of green. There were tall eucalyptus trees with their long white barks, and another kind of semi-coniferous trees in a darker shade of green, both arranged in a wild, haphazard pattern. He saw tall shrubs with violet and pale yellow wild flowers. He saw a clearing, an opening somewhere in the middle of all the various shades of green. 

He watched the scene pass by as it took his breath away. And it was then that he knew that it had to be there. He didn't know if it was the undeniable feeling in his gut or some kind of secret woodland magic that was possessing his senses, but the next thing he was conscious of was an urgent need of having to be there.

He told his father to stop the car. "I know where the house is," Zayn assured him. "I'll be back on my own." All his father did was smile and nod as if those eyes of his held the wisdom of the ages, as if he knew exactly what was going through Zayn's mind.

As his father drove off, Zayn was left on the side-walk, with the trees whispering voiceless words in his ears. He walked to the end of the side-walk and examined the stone wall, looking for a way to get past it and into the clearing. He walked along the wall for a while, watching a line of ants going back to whatever place they called their home. In a matter of moments, he reached a low black gate, falling off of its hinges. It was too low to protect the place from trespassers, and was hanging open anyway. He entered. 

Only on being engulfed by the cover of different greens that he had seen from afar did he realize how much more beautiful the place was then he had previously perceived. The wind ruffled his hair and the shrubs touched and tickled his black jeans. He walked ahead, watching the water droplets on the leaves and the occasional butterfly fluttering around a flower. That was one thing Zayn never got tired of - observing. He always felt that no matter where you went, there was always so much to look at, to cherish and admire. He loved doing that more than anything. He could walk on and on in a deserted island on his own and not get bored at all.

On walking a little further, Zayn stopped again, to take off a wet leaf that had stuck to his shoe. And it was then that further ahead, he saw a turquoise shimmer in and out of view. The colour was startling, out of character enough to catch his attention. It looked like a girl wearing a long skirt. The colour came before his eyes for a moment-the cloth flowing and twirling in the breeze- and then it was gone again. Zayn stood there, looking at her, but then decided to look away and leave her as she was. She must have her own reasons for being there, like Zayn had his, even though he didn't know what they were. He was just drawn to the place, like greedy men were drawn to money and riches. But that was the thing about Zayn. He was drawn to beauty, and it was usually in the most unexpected places.

But then, Zayn heard a scream-a high pitched, frustrated scream of a girl from the same direction where he had seen the shimmer of turquoise. The only thought that went through his mind when he sprinted for her was She's in trouble. 

When he reached, he saw her. She had her back towards him, and was wearing a mint green tank top. She had long curly chocolate brown hair, and it was flying off her shoulders in the wind. She had a brown bag slung across her shoulder. Apparently, she hadn't noticed Zayn there. She wasn't in trouble. She was troubled. 

Zayn watched from a respectful distance as she sank down to her knees, at the foot of the tree she was standing under, and put her head in her hands. And then she wept. Zayn could hear her short and sharp inhalations of air and her sniffling from where he stood. She wept like she was in the middle of some unsolvable dire predicament, like the sky had fallen onto her shoulders. 

For a few moments she simply stayed that way, and Zayn debated with his many personalties if or not to leave. In the calmness, even the shifting of his foot would make a sound loud enough for her to realize his presence. But then she hadn't before. She was too preoccupied with her own problem. A lump formed in Zayn's own throat as he watched her cry. He knew it was wrong to eavesdrop on other people, but he wasn't sure what other choice he had.

Just as Zayn thought that walking away would be the right thing to do, he heard a ruffle. The girl was opening her bag, one that apparently had a lot of papers in it. She took something out-was it an envelope? And kept it at the foot of the trunk. She then looked around for something, and then, on finding a rock, placed it on the envelope.

Then she rose. 

She turned around, wiping a tear with the back of her hand and not shifting her gaze from the ground, she took a big step ahead, which was why she bumped right into Zayn's chest. Zayn's eyes widened when he saw her. She was beautiful. Lithe and tan, her cheeks reddened. Even though her eyes were puffy and her hair seemed like it was thinner than it once was, she was breath-taking. She didn't seem any older than eighteen, which was his age, although she was quite shorter than him.

She gasped, the terror clear in her long-lashed teary caramel eyes, as she looked up to meet his. She covered her mouth with her hands and instinctively took a step back. Just as Zayn parted his lips to say something like It's okay or to apologise for being there, she ran past him, cursing under her breath. "S**t!" Zayn heard her say, as she ran past.

All he could manage to do was turn around and say, "Um." But that was when she stopped and turned around, in a way he couldn't really get a good look at her entire form, but only see her eyes. "I'm sorry." she said, and then dashed off again, the tears on her cheeks drying. 

And Zayn was left in the clearing alone, in his black jacket and black jeans, a mysterious envelope left under a tree before him by a beautiful, mysterious girl that he would or would not ever see again. The pale twilight had begun to melt into darkness. Zayn hoped that the girl, whoever she was reached home safely. The beauty of the trees that had lured him seemed to have dulled and numbed, as if it had fleeted away with the girl as she had run. 

Zayn tried to shake away the whole incident. It was getting late anyway. Even though he couldn't get those eyes out of his head, he walked away from the clearing. But then he turned back. Under the darkening sky, he saw the white envelope still sitting under the tree, unmoving and inviting at the same time. And without another thought, he picked it up, and walked home.

Little did he know that what he held in his hand was something that was going to change his life forever. 

Author's Note

To all those reading, thank you. Let me tell you that even though the main character in this story is Zayn, there are a lot of things that aren't the way they really are in Zayn's life, so this story can also be perceived as a normal story, and not a work of the Fan Fiction genre. For example, Zayn is not famous here, and he doesn't know the other boys from the band.


If you don't know what I'm talking about (it's One Direction, by the way), please read this as a normal story.

Thank you for reading. I promise it'll get better.

Have a lovely day!