snap out of it arctic monkeys ♥︎ ⇄ ◁◁ 𝚰𝚰 ▷▷ ↻ ⁰⁰'²⁵ ━━●━━───── ⁰²'⁰⁸

Zayn watches you from across the room, his dark eyes tracing every detail of the way you curl into yourself on the edge of his bed. You’re staring at your phone like it holds all the answers, even as tears slip silently down your cheeks, wiped away with the back of your trembling hand.

He hates this. Every part of it. His chest tightens at the sight of you unraveling over some guy who doesn’t deserve a second of your time. The rejection was cruel, humiliating, and so far beneath you. Zayn’s jaw clenches, his fingers itching to do something about it—to punch the guy, to scream some sense into you. Anything.

But more than anything, he’s frustrated. Frustrated that you don’t see it. Him. The years of late-night phone calls, stolen laughter, shared secrets. He’s told you everything— about One Direction, his family, the chaos of his mind. And yet, here you are, breaking over someone who couldn’t see your worth when Zayn’s been drowning in it since day one.

You let out a shaky breath, and something in him snaps. He shifts closer, the bed dipping beneath his weight as he wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you into the steady warmth of his chest. His touch is careful, reverent, as though you might shatter in his hands.

“It’s alright,” he murmurs, voice low and soft, his thumb brushing a tear away from your cheek. His other hand finds its place on your back, tracing soothing circles through the fabric of the pretty, lacy top you'd put on, when asking out that fucking bastard. “You’re alright.”

The words hang in the air, barely more than a whisper. He exhales deeply, resting his chin against the top of your head.

“You’re perfect.”

He means it, every syllable. You don’t see it yet, but he’ll wait.