A/N: Might be triggering.

Frankie 

I woke up in a startle looking around the room for the cause of the constant tapping. My eyes led me to the window and I got out of my bed immediately, not caring about my lack of clothing, as I saw a hooded figure tapping at my window at three a.m.

I grabbed the first thing on my left which happened to be a paintbrush, stab whoever it was with it. But as I neared the window, I was met with the familiar chestnut eyes trying to look through the tinted window. Immediately, my heart caught in my chest. Ever since our little heart to heart a week ago, he hadn't shown up at school that whole week and hadn't opened his blinds either. His car was gone throughout the day and I only caught signs of him being home late at night. Of course, as his very un-clingy yet totally lovely girlfriend, I thought he'd want space to get his mind right. That's always something I wanted when my father was still in my life.

"Zayn? What are you doing its freezing outside!" I whisper yelled as I opened the window.

He jumped down of the sill and looked at me deep in the eyes. I was just then noticing his eyes were a little glossy and his nose slightly red.

"I'm sorry. I couldn't sleep, you mind if I crash here?" He asked looking as innocent as ever.

"Make yourself comfortable I'll just get a bigger blanket." I said, trudging up to the closet's bottom drawer where there was an extra blanket.

When I turned back round, I saw Zayn still frozen in his spot, not moving an inch, as his eyes scanned the room silently.

"Zayn." I called, laying the blanket on the bed.

He nodded his head towards me in response.

"Are you just going to stand there?" I sighed.

"Right. Sorry, I just didn't think you's want me to-"

"You want to talk about it? I can tell by now when something's on your mind babe." I dead-panned.

It was so quiet that you could here a pin drop.

"Come with me." I reached my hand out to him. Slowly, he put his palm in mine and quickly, I dragged him out of my room. I lead him down the stairs, making sure not to make any noise that would wake up Sacari and Zack (since he was sleeping over). I made my way to the familiar platinum door.

As soon as I turned on the bright light, I saw Zayn's eyes enlarge. I had definitely been doing more painting ever since he was last in here and not to boast but my paintings become even better with every time I put the brush to the paper. I was definitely proud of myself.

"Woah. You are really talented Frankie." Zayn looked around the room, eyes wide.

"That's not why we're here, follow me." I said, leading him to the corner of the room where I kept more private paintings. I looked at the five canvas' that had been flipped to face the wall. Ever since I set them there, I never looked back on them. However, if that was the only way to get Zayn to really trust me, then I guess I would have to suck it up.

"This first one, is the first meaningful, and very honest piece I ever painted." I frowned, looking back at the picture.

Flashback

"What the fuck do you think you're doing? Did I not ask you to scrub the floors today?" The man I was forced to call my father spat.

I was in the process of cleaning the whole house on an empty stomach, and my tummy began to ache so I decided to take a quick break and rested on the couch, but I ended up taking an hour long nap.

"I-I'm sorry, my stomach-" I was cut off by a harsh slap bolting towards my cheek.

I fell to the ground and was met by a stomping foot, right where my belly ached. I sucked in a deep breathe, feeling as though I was suffocating.

"There does your stomach feel better now?" He growled. But I couldn't move, nor could I reply.

"I'm going out for a beer and when I get back these floors better be spotless."

He left my mum and I there that night and didn't come back until the next morning.

Flashback over

"I'm dyslexic so at the time writing and reading, were so difficult. I think I was about eleven? Anyway, I couldn't find my words, and I had badly wanted to keep a diary. So one day, my mum told me I could draw my feelings. So I began to draw many things: flowers, fields, rain, everything and anything I could think off. So after the day my dad practically left me with a shoe print in my stomach, I...painted for the first time, and it felt pretty amazing." I ended, looking at the painting. It was a much more younger me. Half of my expression smiling and the other half crying.

"This second one is much more deeper than the first. I had this boyfriend when I was around thirteen or fourteen I think. I didn't like him at all. He always forced me into things I was so uncomfortable with. He was my dad's friend's son, and we were set up, if I tried to fight back, I would get hit, burnt, anything my dad or Charlie could think of. I painted this when he tried to get me to pleasure him and I resisted so he banged my head against the wall and yelled at me like a child, telling me how useless I am." I frowned, looking at the painting of me being towered over by the tall figure of Charlie Daniels. I was covering my face in fear, and he looked to to be yelling at me.

-Flashback

"I swear on everything I love Francesca if you don't get on your knees right fucking now I'm going to slap the shit out of you." Charlie growled, looking me deep in the eyes, frustrated out of his mind, that his sixth attempt at getting me to please him was once again denied by me.

"I c-can't, I don't... I'm sorry, I can't." I shivered, tears streaming down my face.

"For fucks sake!" You can't do anything right! You know what, don't come crying to me when I'm fucking some other chick who's actually willing to give me head!" He boomed.

As he left the room, he continued to mutter about how worthless I was.

Flashback over

I felt tears gather in my eyes as I looked at the painting that brought horrifying memories. Yet I blinked them away as quick as they came.

"The other three paintings are of my dad, and all that, but the point is, that I could paint my feelings because words were not an option for me." I said, looking at Zayn.

I walked away from the corner and reached on top of one of the ladders.

"Here you go." I said handing him the spare key.

"What's this for?" He asked, confused.

"I'm not always here, but when I am, I make sure my paintings have a deep value. I know art is kind of your thing, so if you're ever up to it, here's the key. Use this place like its your own, trust me it helps." I said.

"But your sister-" He retorted.

"Sacari won't say anything. I practically live alone because she's always working, or at her boyfriends house. Take it Zayn."

Slowly, he reached into my palm and took the key away from me.

I smiled at him, giving him a little kiss.

"Now let's go. Its almost four a.m and I want a spoon." I giggled, into his chest.

Zayn laughed and we parted from our hug. Slowly, he took my hand in his again and we walked up the stairs.

"But I'm the big spoon." I pointed at him.

"Whatever you say." he smiled.

-

"I had a nightmare." Zayn said softly in my arms.

"A nightmare?" I said, fully awake again.

"It was horrible. I felt myself physically suffocating in my sleep." He said, his voice slightly cracked.

"You want to talk about it?" I asked.

"No, I just..." He stopped.

"Tell me."

"How you're holding me right now... I don't want you to let go." He choked, at this point, I could visualize how glossy his eyes probably were.

"Don't worry, I'm here Zayn." I said, kissing him at the back of his neck.

"I'm here."