Author's Note: So, this is the chapter that coincides with the prologue. Majority of it is the events leading up to the moment Niall receives his number. I hope you all enjoy! :-)
Zayn had a habit of paying attention to all; the apparent things; and even the small details that he could fabricate in his mind because he found Niall to be that enticing. He noticed the way Niall would become abashed and do anything in power to keep distance between the two, only to magnetically be drawn back in. He noticed the way Niall would lean on the counter, mind allured into the pages of a Stephen King novel; and sometimes the blond would be too caught up in his read that he wouldn't see whatever customer was standing before him; and by the time he did notice, he would blush brightly and apologize several times. Zayn wanted to know him, know more about him than the five-letter name engraved on his name-tag. He wanted to know what made Niall so timid and a little vulnerable. He wanted to know what made Niall so attached to the café and what it possibly signified for him. "He just likes being here, I guess. I don't really know," Zayn remembered Harry telling him the day prior; and in the back of his mind he pondered why Niall was hiding out in the storage room. He pondered and pondered until he heard the familiar accent, shouting at Harry about something and maybe nothing all the same. So, maybe Niall was the reason Zayn continuously returned and not the marshmallows, but he needed some sort of excuse to see his favorite cashier everyday. It became essential to his daily schedule - wake up, see Niall, have a cup of hot chocolate, head to work, return home with daydreams of how Niall unintentionally made him smile that day, and then repeated the process. It wasn't the healthiest way to go about things, in a sense, but he simply couldn't deny that he couldn't help it.
"Maybe you should find a new hang out spot. You're in way too deep." Zayn rolled his eyes, lying upside down on the edge of his bed while his best friend, Louis, raided his closet for nothing in particular. The blue-eyed man had a habit of inviting himself, but refused to just move in. They were practically brothers by soul. A shirt flew out of the closet, landing on Zayn's face. The raven-haired man muttered some incoherent curses, not bothering to remove the shirt from his face. It hid the blush; it hid the shame because there Louis was, giving him a lecture about moving on from whatever little crush he had, and yet Zayn was blocking the voice out and still thinking of Niall. "I mean, you're somewhat of a borderline stalker now and, as much as I love you, I would never be able to testify for you in court. They'd eat me up. I'm scrawny, Zayn, scrawny. I wouldn't last," Louis rambled on, tossing another shirt out of the closet.
"You're not exactly being encouraging," Zayn replied, finally allowing the shirt to fall from his face, and then he sat up straight. Louis come out of the closet with one of Zayn's shirts, Elvis Presley's imprinted on it.
"Do you want to know what I think?"
"Because you haven't been telling me what you think for the past hour," Zayn sarcastically remarked, rolling his eyes once more. Louis nudged him with his elbow.
"This is me being serious now," Louis informed Zayn. "This is serious Louis. See my face? This is a serious face."
" Oh yeah. I see it," Zayn said, watching as his best friend strained his facial muscles and looked like a complete fool; a complete fool he had a habit of always seeking advice from.
"I say, make a move. Pursue him. Allow him to see that you're interested; and if he's not, you still have me. And if he is, you still have me because I'm irreplaceable." Zayn snorted, receiving a smack upside the head.
Foolishly, Zayn took Louis's advice, returning to the café once more in hopes that, that day would turn out differently than before. He settled into his same eating booth, per usual, and awaited the moment he would see the blond. He would take glances every now and then, wanting to be unsubtle, until their eyes finally met. Zayn smiled, the tip of his fingers lightly tracing the small piece of paper with his number written upon it. Niall approached his table, Zayn's usual order in-hand. "There you are," Zayn said with a smile; voice laced with silk and honey.
Niall smiled from ear to ear, mouth remaining closed in case he choked up and embarrassed himself. He placed the hot chocolate and bagel on the table, receiving the stranger's debit card in return; that spark exchanging between the two when their fingers unintentionally touched. But there was something else there, tucked under the card, a different and lighter texture to it. Niall removed the debit card and, tucked under it, he found a piece of paper. He was taken aback, even gave a little squint. There indeed was a ten-digit number there. He looked at the man and caught sight of his crooked smile. "I'm Zayn," he informatively said.
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Café Red (Ziall)
FanfictionHe sees him everyday and he has him memorized like his favorite everything.
