Title: Like a Religion
Word Count: 580 words
Rating/Warnings: drabble, poetry-esque, Liam just has so much to say about how much Zayn means to him
Summary: Loving Zayn Malik is my religion (Liam POV)
A/N: This is so so short. But Liam’s voice was pretty insistent. LOL. Inspired by this quote - Love, for you, is larger than the usual romantic love. It’s like a religion. It’s terrifying. - Richard Siken. You can leave feedback here. xx
Loving Zayn Malik is my religion.
He is my worship.
Like a pagan ritual marking the passage of autumn to winter. I stand perilously close to the fire, breathing in the cleansing smoke, mesmerized by the jumping flames, sweating from the heat, beads collecting at my brow. The chant of believers humming, building in the background, their voices respectful of the crackling expectation. The whip of wind that drives the fire into a tower. The rustle of crisp leaves across dying grass. He is my connection to the earth. My recognition of seasons passing. Time slipping forward. A promise of the unendingness of life even when the physical disappears.
He is my confession.
Bent knees on cold ground. A sanctuary built with his words, reinforced with his touch, made real through the strength of his will. He leads me to a darkened room where secrets are spoken aloud without fear of retribution. Allowing me the space and time to give voice to my confusion and whispered questions. Knowing that my greatest fear of all is that I will make the wrong choice and upend our delicate balance. He wasn’t a part of my plan, and I struggle still to reconcile what I once thought to be true, to what I now know is many more shades and nuances of life than I ever expected there to be. I want to tell him it all. For him to know every second of my life and my thoughts before him—because what came before is important. I fear, and I ache, and I am so fragile. And I tell him it’s so. I trust him to hold these words close. To tuck them into his heart and keep them away from me until I can be strong enough to take that burden back.
He is my hope, my salvation.
Forgiveness for time lost in indecision. An unwavering patience like that of ocean waves—tumbling rocks over sand, blunting the edges, fashioning that rough exterior into something that will one day be beautiful and unique. I am that stone and he is the sea. He holds me protectively in his embrace even as I fight it. Encouraging me forward—polishing the brightest parts of me, and eroding the weakest—until what remains is still flawed, exhausted from the journey, but reformed into something stronger. Some days I think he may have been willing to wait forever for me. I’m grateful that neither of us has to wonder anymore.
He is my enlightenment.
An awakening. As if I was asleep, walking the halls in my dreams, searching, crying out for something I could never identify, never name. Unable to find a reason for that hollow emptiness that threatened to keep me powerless and locked away. Lost to it all. And yet, he was still able to find me and coax my eyes open. To see the light and day for what it is—his eyes, his voice, his love. His soul meeting mine and laughing with joy.
He is my immortality.
Steadfast promises on insistent lips. That the love he has for me will not end. I listen. Try to understand. And maybe I do. Because what I feel for him cannot be contained. It consumes me, and fills me, and bursts from me unbidden. How can something so alive ever fully disappear?
I’m told we are destined. The lovers that prove true love still exists.
I believe in that fate. I think he does, too.