Escapade » z.m

26. My Secret Haunt Is No More A Secret

Zayn sighed for the hundredth time today, and started gathering the books and pens that were strewn all over the Library desk he had been working on just a couple minutes ago.

He was working since eight in the morning, but the work laden with an endless downpour of research and heavy reading didn't look like it was going to get finished anytime soon.

It was now evening, and his entire Sunday had been spent in the Library searching for material in which he could research history and complete his previous assignments added with the assignments he had to submit on Monday, that was tomorrow.

He couldn't rely on Wikipedia, because it turned out, much to his dismay, that the teachers knew the information written on it and students bore serious consequences for not being 'innovative' with their work.

He had almost started to regret his idea of coming to this University. Every sacrifice he had made, and what for, to feel like he could pass out any minute?

Bradford was better, he muttered, knowing better, but he couldn't help it.

This University was all reputed and everything, but it dragged students like they were workers building pyramids.

He would have to pull an all nighter today as well, he thought while shoving his books in his backpack, not caring that he would have a hard time chaining it. After three to four weeks of labour, he had forgot all the newfound love he had stored for his backpack. Moreover, it was starting to look like he hadn't changed one since he was in kindergarten.

His glasses kept falling off the bridge of his nose, because they had been knocked out some days ago, when he was working and had accidentally fallen asleep, hitting his head on the desk which impacted his glasses as well. Now he had to constantly hold them while writing something, so they stay upright and not contribute in the volcano of his frustration that threatened to explode any minute now.

"Mr. Malik, you should hurry."

His jaw clenched, "I'm sorry," He said through his teeth. "I am but a tortoise." He said under his breath.

"What was that?"

He closed his eyes, muttering a quick prayer. "Where is Every today?"

"Why do you ask?"

He shouldered his bag, that limped by his side. "She is my friend? And I can ask about her because I am worried?"

Mrs. Helbing's lips thinned. "Oh yes, of course." She said, but she remained silent as she stared at Zayn.

His eyebrows arched, looking at the Librarian expectantly. "Uh—well?"

"Well, it seems like she needed a holiday, and I gave her one." She went back to her desk, and Zayn thanked god for the distance it put between them, he was rather feeling uncomfortable with her hovering around him, peeping at his work from behind while he tried to ignore her presence.

She placed the books in a stack, "Someone came to ask me for her, she said something about spending a day with her father, I suppose, some visit also, I can't remember her name, the redhead?"

"Gemma?"

She spun around her heels, her eyes glinting. "Yes! Her! She came to inform me about it, and of course, I didn't mind. I never ignore Every's request." For a second, she was lost in her world, before she jerked her head at Zayn and stared deadpan at him. "Well? What are you still doing here? The Library is closing."

"Yes, I'm sorry." He muttered and stalked out of the Library in an instant.

.

The moment he closed the door behind him, it dawned on him that Mrs. Helbing was right, after all. It was late. Night was falling, and maybe the stars had emerged too, but of course, he wouldn't see them. He had vowed not to. He missed them, but he couldn't help it.