How to say "I love you" in Yu-Gi-Oh: punishing in cruel and extravagant ways the real or perceived offenses directed at your literal soulmate (who may not agree with your actions or be completely unaware of them).
Zayn is the kind of guy that always stays too long. The kind of guy that gets freaking drunk and lays at the end of the bar when the clock hits 5 in the morning, falling asleep on the sofa. You can see him running away from the cops each weekend, throwing empty bottles and cans to them while laughing with his tongue out, crashing against his friends as they run away. The kind of guy that takes girls to the toilet of a club and tell them how to suck his cock good, grabbing them by her hair and resting his head over the cold wall as deep moans come out from his mouth. He has a predatory smile.
However, I am the kind of girl that stays at home with her parents and popcorn watching films about guys like him that fall in love with girls like me. It’s incredible how many films about that are around there. I stay awake on my bed while imagining what is he doing outside, I imagine how he takes off her dress and kisses her neck, how she closes her eyes and slowly rubs his crotch, how he lifts her up and…
I shake my head. It’s my mind, but my stomach is sick.
“You should come out with me some night.” He usually says when he comes to my house the following morning, lying on the sofa while playing with his hat.
Zayn always wears a hat. Ripped jeans, leather jacket, black slippers and a hat. Then, he tells me about what he did last night. He tells me about some girl, he never remembers her name, but she is always hot and easy; just like Zayn likes girls. He almost got caught by the cops. Someone invited him to a drink. He doesn’t know how did he get to the place he woke up at. He has to phone some friend that got lost during the night.
“I rather stay at home.” I always reply.
But that night I decided I didn’t want to stay at home. I phoned him and he seemed more than happy to go out with me. We were going to his friend’s house first and after to a club until they kick us out from it. Then, who knows?
“Don’t get scared of my friends.” Zayn pecked my cheek as he rang the doorbell. “They are all pricks, they will try everything to make you feel awkward.”
Zayn was right. His friends tried everything to make us feel awkward, but they were also nice, and really hot. But they were the same as him, the kind of boy that just wants to have fun and never listens, the kind of boy that lives around garbage and unwashed dishes.
“So, are you finally going to fuck our baby Zayn?”
It surprised me, they knew everything about us. They knew how did we met a two years ago while he was ‘dating’ my cousin, how we started to become closer just because I hated him with my heart and soul and he liked that. They knew how much I helped him to become a little less stupid and not destroy his own life as fast as he was going to.
But there was something they didn’t know; something nobody, not even my closest friends, know. I am madly in love with him; I am so fucking in love with him it makes me sick.
And I was sitting there, at the bar of a nightclub while staring at him. He was dancing with a blonde bitch that was holding a glass full of a fruity drink because she couldn’t shoot vodka. He was grinding his crotch to her ass and they were slowly moving their hips with the music, his face buried in her hair as he talked into her ear. She was smiling with her eyes closed and biting her thick lip.
“Whiskey.” I said to the barman. “Double.”
I drank it all pretending it was water and got up, having to hold the table to not fall from my high heels.
When he saw me walking towards him he smiled wide and winked an eye. But when I started to dance to him he wetted his lips and gradually ignored the blonde bitch, leaving her alone. Zayn was grabbing my waist and his hands were slowly travelling to my bum, pressing his warm body against mine.
“I am happy you came.” He said into my ear, causing me to smile. Slowly, painfully slowly, his lips touched my skin, caressing my neck. I gasped. “Can I?”
“Go on.” I murmured, not knowing if he heard it above the loud music. Anyway, he continued.
He was kissing, biting, caressing, tasting my neck until blood popped out from my skin, making me moan in pain and pleasure.
“I always knew you had a sweet spot there.” He smirked.
But he hadn’t touched my lips yet. He stared at them like they were untouchable, hypnotized because, when you can’t do something, you want to the most.
“Aren’t you going to kiss me?” I teased.
I still try to remember how did we end up at the bathroom, pressed to one of the wood walls and a leg lifted, my foot over the toilet as Zayn worked his fingers on me, slowly pumping in and out and never breaking eye contact, enjoying my gasps and moans.
“Do you like it?” He smirked.
“Yeah. Yeah, right there.” I swallowed, he just hit my g-spot.
“Right…” He said, biting his own tongue as he stared at my opened mouth with dark eyes. “Here?”
I gasped and threw my head back until it touched the wall, closing my eyes and letting him start to suck on my neck, increasing the massive pleasure I was already feeling.
Pressed against the door, shaking it with each thrust of his fingers, I couldn’t help thinking that I was one of those girls he fucks at the toilets and the next morning never remembers their names. I tried to focus on the fact that I was getting what I wanted for so long, but I couldn’t.
“Suck it, babe.” He whispered urgently, unbuttoning his ripped jeans and pulling them down.
I wanted it, I wanted it so fucking bad, but something was stopping me. I kissed his lips a couple of times but then pulled away, staring at his dark eyes. His pupils were dilated from the lust and the alcohol he just drank.
“What’s wrong?” He asked, stroking my waist underneath the shirt.
“Nothing.” I finally replied, sliding my hand into his boxers and starting to rub him as I attacked his lips again. He let out a groan of relief and closed his eyes.
He was gently pulling me down, trying to make me go down on him, but I kept kissing his lips until he pulled away while frowning.
“What is wrong with you?” His voice was rough, annoyed. “You went down on almost anyone, Noor, I know you did, then why not me?”
I stared at him for a while before answering.
“Do you want me?”
“Of course I do, can’t you see it?” He chuckled.
“And do you love me?”
My heart was pumping faster than ever, my sweaty chest going up and down and my half-opened mouth craving for Zayn.
“What?”
“Because I do, Zayn.” I confessed. “I do love you.”
“You mean you are in love with me.” He frowned.
“Yes, that is what I mean.” I murmured. “And I don’t want to be one of your sluts. I don’t want to suck your cock in this toilet and then have to watch how you take other girls to your house every night like this meant nothing, like it never happened.”
“Then what do you want?” Zayn said, smiling and caressing my hair. “This way is easy, Noor, it’s just sex.”
“I don’t want just sex, Zayn.” I shook my head. “I want love. Your love.”
“I am not sure if I can give that to you.”
That felt like a death warrant. Like someone stabbing my stomach. Like a teacher scratching the blackboard.
“It’s ok.” I whispered, pretending to run away.
I opened the door of the toilet and ran out of the club, hearing Zayn crying out my name and a short CRASH- his fist crashing on the wall. If I was going to cry, at least I wanted to keep my dignity and not do it in front of him. I slammed the back door open and the cold wind hit me. I walked wobbling to a car, sitting there and letting out a loud sob with no tears. It was more like a big groan of desperation.
I touched lightly my lips, still feeling him on them. I closed my eyes and let a single tear roll down my cold cheek, letting a contradictory sensation fill me.
“One does not simply run away from Zayn Malik.” I heard his drunk voice joking behind me, and I embraced myself tighter like it could protect me from him. “Noor, look at me.”
But I didn’t. I refused to look at him, and I felt his steps coming closer to me, the weight of his body resting over the car, next to me. His warmness reacted against my cold body.
“You are shaking.” He pointed out. “Are you cold? Do you want my jacket?”
“I am fine. I don’t need it.”
He didn’t say anything for a while, both of us sitting next to each other but not daring to open our mouths. He was staring at his feet and I was warming up my hands with my breath.
“Listen, Noor.” He finally said. “I didn’t want to force you to do something you didn’t want.”
“I did want to, Zayn.” I murmured. “I just didn’t want it that way. But I can’t force you to feel something you don’t, something you won’t. I guess I fell on my own, yeah? I’ll just…give up this fight I have with myself so things can be the same they were.”
As I said that, warm tears filled my eyes and my chin started to tremble, my eyebrows frowned in a hurt grin. He watched me with steady eyes, examining and measuring me. I waited for his response for too long, so long I thought it wouldn’t ever come, so I got up and started to walk away.
“You can’t make me love you, Noor.” He said from a distance, causing me to stop walking. “But you can teach me how to do it.”
I turned around and saw him walking towards me, wrapping his arms around my waist and pressing his body to mine, slowly swinging our hips together. My hand travelled up to his cheek, caressing it as we looked into each other eyes.
“Do you think you can learn?” I whispered.
“I will try so fucking bad.” He replied, smiling.
“That’s enough for me.” I said with a little smile before kissing his lips again, slower this time, enjoying his bittersweet taste.
Because Zayn is a pleasant sore, a delicious poison, a bitter embrace, a happy torment, a sweet and rough wound.
