Strings and Schemes

Chapter 40

"You alright there, mate?" I ask, dropping into the chair across from him.

He doesn't respond. Just adjusts his rings, jaw ticking.

Olivia walks past, talking to Niall about something, laughing.

Zayn's fingers curl into fists.

Ah.

There it is.

I lean back, crossing my arms. "You wanna say something, or you just gonna sit there looking like someone stole your puppy?"

Zayn finally looks at me. And there's something dangerous in his eyes.

"Where the hell were you two?"

I raise an eyebrow. "Following a lead."

He shakes his head. "While I was up there getting watched like a fucking target?"

I blink.

"What?"

Zayn shoves a hand through his hair, pacing now. "There was a guy in the crowd. Not a fan. Not press. He was watching me like I was a fucking problem."

I go still.

Olivia, across the room, turns toward us. "Are you serious?"

Zayn glares at me.

"You think this is a joke?" he hisses. "You're off playing detective while—"

"I'm sorry," I cut in, voice sharp. "Are you blaming me for the fact that you have a stalker?"

Zayn steps forward.

Too close. Tension crackles. And suddenly, I know—this isn't about the show.

This is about Olivia. So, naturally, I push the button.

I tilt my head, smirking. "Oh. Now I get it."

Zayn glares. "Get what?"

I let the smirk widen. Slow. Knowing.

"You're not pissed because I wasn't paying attention." I lower my voice, just enough. "You're pissed because I wasn't paying attention to you."

Silence.

Zayn tenses.

He doesn't deny it.

I step back, shaking my head, laughing under my breath.

"Thought so."

(Louis' POV)

The energy in the venue still hums under my skin by the time we pour onto the street, the post-show adrenaline still racing through all of us.

Zayn walks like he's still half onstage, his jaw tight, his mind elsewhere.

He's been like this for a week now. Tense. Restless. Running on anger and fear.

I get it.

And maybe that's why I grab him by the shoulder, shaking him just enough to bring him back down to earth.

"Oi, starboy," I say, smirking. "You're still breathing, yeah?"

Zayn exhales, shaking his head. "Fuck off, mate."

But his voice isn't sharp. It's lighter than before.

Which means we're making progress.

"Right," I announce, turning to the group. "We need a drink."

Liam groans. "We just got off the high of not dying."

I clap him on the back. "Exactly. And now we celebrate."