Chapter Two

Zayn Malik felt like he was walking on air as he walked home from school that day. The sun was out in the sky, showing off early signs on the upcoming spring. The sun always cheered everything up in Zayn’s eyes. His earphones were playing loudly in his ears as he walked along the quiet road towards his Nanna’s house. He bopped his head along gently to the sound of the music while his brown eyes scanned his surroundings. They picked up on everything.

A dark red Ford drove past him, and his chocolate coloured eyes quickly looked over the man driving in it. He had looked middle aged, his tie had once looked smart around his neck, but was now loosened, as had the first few buttons on his shirt been. Obviously an office worker, returning home. Zayn wrinkled his nose at the thought of being cooped up in an office. He looked up at the sky, his eyes instantly attracted to a couple of black birds that flew above him, twittering away to each other before diving behind a couple of houses. He wanted to be free, just like the birds. 

His hands were holding onto his drawing book, just like they always were. He was frequently drawing all types of birds into his book, small ones, little cartoon ones, or sometimes he would sit and try to draw a detailed one from memory, although since he could never get very close to them, they were made from his own memory rather than an accurate still life sketch. He could loose his backpack and schoolwork, but it would never mean as much as his drawing book. His drawing book was the only thing that meant so much to him; he never wanted to loose the only thing that understood him.

He continued his walk, adjusting his glasses a little as he put one foot in front of the other. A young Mother went past him pushing a buggy, a cigarette in her mouth, smoking away. Zayn scrunched up in nose and coughed a little, picking up his walking pace; completely aware of the glare the young woman had given to him. He didn’t like smoking, he didn’t understand why people wanted to put so much smoke into their bodies, surely it must hurt, with so much smoke swirling around their lungs? The smell of the smoke was gone now, and so he smiled a little once again, pushing it to the back of his mind. No need to worry about nothing, he told himself, before he saw that he was coming up to the familiar driveway of his Nanna’s house.  

His pace quickened out of pure happiness. He hadn’t seen her since Friday, and he always missed her over the weekends. He walked up her driveway, his brown eyes looking at all of the small pink and purple flowers that were in the small front garden of the bungalow. His Nanna lived in the suburbs of Bradford, in the quieter areas. Zayn would always catch a bus half way there, and catch the bus half way back when he went back to his own home. He walked over to the front door and rang the doorbell twice, before he waited patiently for her to appear. Soon enough, his lovely Grandmother opened the front door with a proud smile and pulled her grandson into her arms. 

“You’re here early, Zaynie. It normally takes you another ten minutes or so, you haven’t been skipping class have you, son?” She spoke with a smile, ushering him in before closing the door behind him. Zayn chuckled and looked at the old woman with a ‘what are you like?’ look, a firm smile on his face. She simply chuckled as he kicked off his school shoes and made his way towards the sound of the kettle boiling.

Zayn always liked his Nanna’s house. The last time it had been decorated or furnished was in the 1980s at least. Everything was old, and retro, Zayn loved it. His Grandmother was a very clean woman, the small bungalows rooms were always well looked after, the little ornaments that Zayn could sit and stare at for hours were always dust-free and shining. He loved his Nanna’s trinkets to bits. He also loved the sound of his Nanna’s house. If the kettle wasn’t boiling, then the sounds of the two small budgies in the living room would be lighting up the room, and if they were quiet, the small bell on his Grandmother’s old grey tabby cat’s collar would be twinkling away. The smell of cooking and warmth also enlightened Zayn’s day.

“I ran so I could jump on the early bus, I wouldn’t miss a class, Nanna.” Zayn answered, as he walked along the small hallway and into the kitchen, placing his school bag down onto the table.

“What’s wrong with your sleeves? You look like a teddy boy, and I ain’t seen one of those in years.” She chuckled, tugging his blazer sleeves down in a motherly affection that made Zayn feel whole.

“What’s a teddy boy?” Zayn asked, as he sat down at the small dining room table that was in one corner of his Nanna’s kitchen. She gave a chuckle as she slowly walked over to the kettle, pouring the hot water into two cups already made in ready of her Grandson’s arrival. 

“Back in my day, boys your age would have their hair all up, gelled back, and they’d have rolled up sleeves on blazers, oh it was a sight.” She chuckled to herself, as Zayn looked up at her in wonder. When he spoke to her, she never treated him as if he was any different. Zayn simply smiled as he watched his Grandmother make their teas, humming a slight tune for a moment as she gave them both one sugar, and carefully poured in a little milk. She gave both teas a little stir, before announcing that they were done with a successful sigh.

“There’s some biscuits in the cupboard, Zaynie, you bring those in and we’ll sit with the budgies and you can tell me all about your weekend.” His Grandmother spoke with a smile, and soon enough they were both sat in her small, but incredibly cosy living room. The two brightly coloured budgies squawked a little at Zayn’s sudden presence, and Zayn couldn’t help but chuckle when his Grandmother shushed them, as if they were small children.

The old woman, sat in her chair with her cup of tea and a small plate full of biscuits started to ask Zayn all about his weekend and how the day at school went. He answered her questions inbetween mouthfuls of chocolate digestive biscuits and tea.

“What drawings have you done today? Any nice ones?” She suddenly asked, and his face lit up and he nodded his head eagerly.

He placed his cup of tea on a small coffee table and jumped up from the soft chair he had been sat in, before he went into the kitchen. His drawing book was sat on the kitchen table, as if waiting for him to pick it up once again. Zayn normally carried his book with him everywhere he went, even at home it would stay sat in his arms, but when he was with his Nanna, he knew that no harm would ever come to it.

He came rushing back into the living room, and his Grandmother chuckled at his eagerness. He sat down next to her and placed the book into her hands, before his long fingers started to flick to all the little post it notes that were sticking out of the pages. He liked to mark out the best ones that he wanted to show to his Nanna, even though she could sit for hours and look over her Grandson’s sketches.

“I drew this one…well, it’s a work in progress.” Zayn spoke, when he opened the first post-it note to show a half drawn out sketch of the cat. His Grandmother’s old brown eyes twinkled as she traced over it a little.

“Oh Zaynie, you drew Tom.” She spoke with a smile, and Zayn blushed a little. His shoulders shrugged a little.

“I missed you and him over the weekend so I drew him. I tried to do his different coloured eyes!” Zayn gushed with a wide smile, and his grandmother chuckled at the simplicity of his excitement.

“I think Tom would love this drawing, wherever he is.” She spoke, realising she hadn’t seen the old grey cat for an hour or so. She looked across the room for a moment, the budgies tweeting in their cage, before she turned to her Grandson with a cheeky smile.

“He’s probably next door, watching the fish in their pond.” She chuckled, and Zayn looked at her and let out an innocent chuckle, as his mind pictured the cat sat next to the pond, his tail wriggling away as his old eyes watched the gold fish in the pond.

The old lady started to flick through more of the pages, her eyes looking over in wonder at the things her Grandson came up with. Zayn watched as she hovered her fingers above the drawings, a habit she always had. She wanted to touch them, but she didn’t want to ruin them.

“Oh, what happened here?” She spoke, when she saw that one of the pages had been neatly ripped out. Zayn suddenly blushed and giggled, leaning back on the sofa and pulling his knees to his chest. She looked over him in confusion, before she tilted her head to one side with a look of acknowledgement. 

“Oh, who is he?” She asked with a small smile, and Zayn let out another giggle of embarrassment.

“No one! Nanna!” He whined, even though his laugh was loud and falling effortlessly from his lips. She started to laugh and reached out to tickle her grandson’s knees. He let out a light yelp and dived off the sofa and onto the floor, causing both of them to laugh at his antics.

The sound of the cat flap in the kitchen suddenly sounded around the small bungalow, and Zayn sat up in excitement.

“Oh, my husband is home.” His Grandmother spoke playfully before she looked back down at the drawings. Zayn laughed and remained on the floor; soon enough there was the pitter patter of paws, and Tom the cat made his way into the living room. His different coloured eyes locked onto Zayn’s presence and he gave a small mew, before going over to Zayn’s knee and rubbing his back against him. Zayn gave another childlike laugh as he gave the cat a long stroke.

Zayn’s chocolate brown eyes went into overtime as they looked over every inch of the cat. Everything he had forgotten to draw in was now going to be completed. He looked over it’s face, counting the whiskers and saving them at the back of his mind, before looking at the cat’s eats, the right one a little lop-sided. His brown eyes showed his mind every little detail on the old cat, and he stored it all in, ready for being drawn tomorrow, or even that night. Zayn had a unique way of looking at things and remembering them, he enjoyed the pleasure of looking at something and admiring it’s every detail that no one else would pick up. He didn’t just see things, he looked at them and took in all of their perfections, imperfections and habits.

“Zaynie, you never told me who that drawing was for…or what it was of.” His Grandmother’s sweet voice brought him from his transfixion of Tom. Zayn smiled a little, scratching behind the cat’s ear so that he purred, the fur soft against his careful fingertips.

“I drew Harry, Nanna. He liked it.” Zayn giggled again, another blush of pink covering his perfect cheekbones, his bottom lip caught in his teeth so no more giggles would escape his lips.

“And how did you draw him, love?” she asked with a smile on her face, her old eyes seeing how smitten her Grandson was. She never thought that her Grandson would ever be able to understand love, or atleast understand how to. Her precious boy wasn’t like the others, he didn’t see things like they would, and he didn’t understand those things like they would either. She’d had many restless nights fretting over the future of her autistic Grandson, but now she felt happy. He could love.

She looked up to her Grandson as he looked up at her.

“I drew him perfect, cause that’s what he is.”