~176hrs~
Maybe saying that Zayn loves his job is too soon, but he does love his shift's schedule. He'll probably have to reorganize the time of his meals to having a late, larger lunch and a much lighter dinner. But he's okay with that. Getting up late in the morning is one of the things Zayn enjoys the most.
He stands up, puts aside his incredibly fluffy comforter that Jay got him last Christmas -it's big, white, and stuffed with goose feathers- and has a bagel with jam and cream cheese as breakfast.
When he's done with his morning rituals he finishes putting away the groceries he got the day before. He was so excited for his first day of work, he just threw into the fridge what could go bad and left everything else in the bags.
He nearly drops the jar of jam as wave of melancholy runs through his body when he realizes what day it is.
It's Waliyha's birthday.
She turns fifteen today. Zayn's mind is suddenly flooded by memories of his family. He remembers Waliyha saying she wanted to celebrate her fifteenth birthday with a party like Alex Russo's in The Wizards of Waverly Place. Zayn can't remember what's it called, but he remembers a big, pink dress. He also recalls his father laughing and saying "We'll see, flower," in a soothing tone.
Zayn fights back the prickling feeling on the back of his eyes, and puts all his family memories on the small, black box in the back of his mind.
He doesn't want to remember. Every time his family comes back to his mind, so does the pain of the rejection he suffered.
If he thinks too much, he knows he'll feel like he's drowning. It has been a while since the last time he felt like that, and he certainly doesn't miss the feeling.
Zayn could definitely use a cigarette.
He could smoke in his own place, but he heads out the door anyway.
And, instead of going down the stairs, he goes up, hoping to find the door that leads to the roof. He does.
Zayn opens it and jams it with a block of concrete.
Before taking out a cigarette, he taps two times the package against the palm of his hand. He doesn't know why, but it's something he always does when it's a new pack like this one.
He bursts the small ball of mint scent at the end of the filter, and he lights his vice.
Tobacco and mint are totally opposite tastes, but that's why Zayn loves it. Tobacco is bitter and aggressive, while the mint relaxes him with his softness.
Together they're like a perfect explosion in his mouth, nostrils, and throat.
He knows he should quit. People die for smoking these things. But in days like this, when the warmth that the smoke provides in his chest is all he's got, he blesses the bastard who invented them.
Only when he has enjoyed the first shots of smoke, he walks to an edge of the roof to take a look at what's surrounding him.
The sky matches his mood. It's not cold, but the sun isn't shining. The city doesn't look busy. Everyone must be already working, since it is around noon on a Tuesday.
He walks around and doesn't find any interesting. Just some rusted junk and some more bricks.
His cigarette burns faster than he'd like.
Zayn finishes it giving it one last, long drag, and he flicks it to the ground, stepping on it to make sure it's put out.
With his mood a little more settled, he returns back to his loft.
"Come back here," he hears someone say.
He walks down the last steps to his floor and sees Figaro, the cat, walking along the hallway.
"C'mon, cat,"
Zayn looks up to see the guy calling the pet.
He's holding Maggie's door halfway opened with one hand and has a paper bag on the other.
The guy is about Zayn's height with dark chocolate, straight hair. His eyes are incredibly blue, and has a childish look on his face even though he probably is older than Zayn.
His thoughts are interrupted by Figaro rubbing his side on Zayn's legs, just like two days before at Maggie's place.
He smiles and picks him up.
"Hi, uh,... thanks, I..." The guy stutters. It's not a nervous stutter. It's like an out of breath one.
With the smile still on his lips, Zayn takes the cat to him.
"Could you, uh," blue-eyes clears his throat, "Maybe just throw it in there?" He opens the door wider.
Zayn isn't sure of what to do, but then Maggie is walking out the door.
"I've got his favourite treat. Maybe he'll want to... Oh, hi, dear," she interrupts herself when she spots Zayn, "You got him," she opens her arms and Zayn gives her the cat, which instantly eats the treats Maggie had. "Did Charlie made you catch him? Charlie, thank the nice young man," she turns to the guy.
Charlie opens his mouth to speak but Zayn beats him to it "Not at all. He was just near me and I grabbed him easily."
Maggie laughs, "He likes you, doesn't him? Charlie hates Figaro, and Figaro hates him back,"
Charlie rolls his eyes and speaks with a fond tone, "I don't hate him. You know that, Nan,"
Then Maggie whispers, trying to leave her grandson out of the conversation, but failing, "He gets his nose very runny and then his arms itch after he's been a long time with Figaro,"
Zayn can't help chuckling a bit.
There's a faint blush on Charlie's cheeks as he shakes his head. "He doesn't want to listen to that, Nan. He's probably got better things to do,"
Zayn doesn't, really, but he doesn't say anything and just smiles awkwardly.
Maggie laughs again, "I'm sure he does. Charles, say goodbye."
Charlie chuckles, stretches his hand and says, "Goodbye..." He lingers, obviously waiting for Zayn's name.
"Zayn Malik," he introduces himself shaking the guy's hand.
"Charlie Holt," he smiles kindly. "Nice meeting you,"
"You too," Zayn answers
"See you around, dear," Maggie waves with the hand that isn't holding her cat.
"See you later, Maggie. Take care," Zayn smiles one last time before walking to his loft.
~170hrs~
"Hello, Zayn," Tom greets when Zayn walks into the shop through the back door.
Zayn nods as answer.
"Come here," his boss instructs him.
Zayn follows him into his office.
"Help me get these boxes out and put them behind the counter please," Tom gestures a few cardboard boxes lying on the floor.
"Do I do anything else with them?" Zayn asks.
Tom shakes his head, "Just leave them there." He grabs his coat and a set of keys, "Listen, I have to run some errands so you'll stay in charge. It's Harry's day off, so he won't be here, but I'll see if someone else can come and check on you,"
Zayn nods again, but doesn't find appealing the idea of being left alone. Harry taught him pretty much everything he needs to know around here. But it is still a little intimidating.
"Here are the keys so you can close up." Tom hands him the set, "You can leave them in the mail box and I'll get them tomorrow,"
"Aright. Uh... is there anything else I can do?"
"That'd be all, Zayn. Thank you." his boss says before he leaves
The shop is empty, so Zayn takes the chance to start his chore of carrying boxes.
They're heavy, full of books Zayn supposes, and the walk is not very short, so he has to carry one by one.
It's in the last trip when Zayn nearly drops the box, startled by someone sitting and spinning on one of the two chairs behind the counter.
The brunet boy -or man- haven't seen Zayn, so he clears his throat.
"Excuse me," Zayn speaks, "Do you need help?"
A pair of confused, chocolaty eyes meet Zayn's.
"Help?" he asks.
"Is there anything I can do for you?" Zayn asks back, thinking maybe this is a joke.
"Why?" the stranger laughs, only raising Zayn's suspicions.
"Listen, costumers aren't really supposed to be here. So tell me how can I help you," Zayn speaks a bit harsh.
The brunet frowns, "Costumer? Mate, I work here,"
"You work here?" It's a little hard for Zayn to believe it. The guy's plaid shirt and loose tank top doesn't really match the bookstore. He fits more into the description of an ex-high school jock.
He smirks and nods slowly, "So you were offering me help because..."
Zayn interrupts his own thoughts, "I work here as well,"
The guy chuckles, "Yeah, and I work at Tesco,"
"What?"
"It's called sarcasm," chocolaty eyes answers still with his stupid smirk, "If you work here, I'd know. Since when do you do?"
"Yesterday," Zayn frowns, "Who are you to ask for daily updates? Tom's boss?" he probably shouldn't snap, but this guy is making him mad.
The boy raises his hands in surrender, "Hey, I just happen to have worked here since forever, so it's nice to know my new co-workers. Why didn't you introduce yourself like a normal person?"
If there's something Zayn can't stand, is people saying he's nor normal. 'Freak', 'weird', everything that implies that Zayn's different is very upsetting for him.
And maybe because he actually is. Zayn's not normal and he knows it. But that doesn't give the right to other people to judge what he is and what he's not.
Zayn eases his clenched jaw and decides this rude man doesn't deserve his time. He rolls his eyes and, finally, walks to pile the box over the rest.
"Hi," the guy speaks.
"Hello," Zayn simply answers, sitting on the other chair. He's actually glad that he gets the tall chair that reaches the computer. The other chair is short and one can't see past the counter while sitting on it.
"I'm Liam Payne,"
Zayn turns and finds Liam still spinning carelessly on the chair.
"Zayn," he mutters.
"Zayn," Liam slowly repeats.
Without exchanging more words, Zayn lets out an annoyed sigh and grabs a book that's lying there and starts reading.
"Do you like science fiction" Liam interrupts Zayn's reading.
In response, Zayn shrugs.
"That book's sci-fi. It's also a bit girly, if you ask me,"
"I didn't ask," Zayn answers.
The protagonist is a sixteen years-old girl, and the book is set on the Amazon forest. So Zayn guesses Liam's right. He doesn't agree with him anyway, not wanting to give him the satisfaction.
"Are you pissed?" Liam snorts.
"I am not pissed. I'm just not interested in talking to you," Zayn says
And if Liam knew Zayn, he'd know he is pissed. Zayn's quirky accent gets even stronger for only two reasons: he's either annoyed, or happy. Right now, the cause of his thicker accent is, obviously, anger.
Luckily for them, a costumer walks into the shop and goes straight to the counter.
"Excuse me" the gentleman calls addressing Zayn, "Do you have the Mobile books in French? I need the book and the workbook,"
Zayn takes the paper the man is offering him with the information of the books, and types it on the computer.
"We do sell them, sir. But right now we don't have them," he informs as he reads on the system.
"Those are school books; must be in these boxes. They should be out by Thursday, tho," Liam says.
"So, yeah," Zayn tells the costumer, "You can come back on Thursday and we'll have them on the shelves,"
"Oh, Thursday?" the man looks pleased, "Great. Thank you,"
With a smile, Zayn dismisses him.
A few minutes of silence pass when Liam speaks again.
"What's your favourite book?"
"I don't have a favourite book," Zayn mutters.
"C'mon, everyone has one,"
"I don't," Zayn replies, "You don't have a phone you can play with? Grab yourself a book or do something,"
"I can't find my phone," Liam groans, "Phone and wallet. Just gone,"
Zayn doesn't say anything back and keeps reading.
"Did Tom give you instructions about anything?"
Zayn shakes his head, already interested in Pia and her uncle, who Zayn doesn't trust even though he seems like a nice person.
"I'm going to do the dusting," Liam says walking to the back.
He returns with a duster in his hands and starts going through every shelf.
"Ow, my calf" he complains when he accidently hits one of the shelves.
Zayn can't help rolling his eyes.
And he can't help watching him either.
It's kind of funny watching a tall, bulky man dusting shelves while humming God knows what song. It's captivating, as well.
The lad's fit. Zayn can't deny it. But he's also a bit annoying and pretentious, plus, he called Zayn 'not normal'. So Zayn doesn't like him. At least not yet.
~164hrs~
"Hello, hunny-bunny," Louis chirps.
Zayn laughs, something he's been needing all day, "God, Lou. You haven't called me something like that in ages,"
"You know the rules," Louis whines, "You have to come up with something sappier!"
"Alright, I'll think of something," Zayn chuckles remembering their old game where they'd compete to call the other by the cheesiest pet-name.
"How've you been?"
"There's been better days," Zayn confesses.
"Hmm," Louis gives an upset hum, "Today's Wali's birthday,"
"Yeah,"
"How many did ya' smoke?"
"Just one,"
Louis' smiles -Zayn can feel it, "Cheers, mate, 'm proud of you," Louis sincerely says.
Zayn sighs, finding relief talking to his best friend.
"So, how was work?"
"Ug, have the most annoying co-worker. We didn't start with the right foot and he talks way too much." Zayn complains.
"It's hard to please you, isn't it?" Louis laughs, "Listen, if he annoys too much, I'll come down and beat him, alright?"
Zayn snorts, "He could beat us both with just one hand,"
"Bodybuilder, huh?"
"Looks like one,"
"Hot,"
"Loueeeh," Zayn whines.
" 'm just saying!" Louis laughs.
"Not funny,"
"Give the lad some time. You don't know him," Louis replies softly.
"Whatever," Zayn mutters. "But thanks, uh... for talking with me,"
"Anytime, mate. I'll call you tomorrow, yeah?" Louis says.
"Alright,"
"Goodbye, Zayn,"
"Buh-bye, snuggly," Zayn smirks.
"Shit, that was awful," Louis laughs.
Zayn laughs one more time, "Bye Lou,"
******
(A/N)
Updates should come more often, from now on.
Any type of feedback is very welcomed!