Waifs and Strays II - M.A.D. [Larry Stylinson]

Chapter Thirteen

"Alright, that was a waste of a day," Zayn sighs, slumping down on the scruffy old couch in the back of Burke's cyber cafe. "We walked our asses off around town all day, just to accomplish exactly nothing. Why the fuck did we think that was a good idea, again?"

I sit down next to him, one foot tugged under the other leg, making my neck crack a couple of times to release the tension there. "Well, finding a new home has never been an easy job," I remind him. "It usually takes a number of weeks, if not months, remember? We can't just move into the next best empty space. It needs to be closed off, or hidden. Large enough to accommodate all of us, save from weather and cold. We need to make sure it's not infested by rats or-"

"Yeah, I know, Tommo. I'm not new to the game, am I," Zayn groans, rubbing the palms of his hands over his eyes, yawning. "It's just annoying, is all. Who knows how much time it'll take us to find something new? We could be stuck in those beach huts for the entire summer." He shakes his head in irritation and starts picking at the stuffing sticking out of one of the many holes in the cushions. "Things can change, you know," he says, as if in thought. "In a couple of months, we might not have the luxury to be picky anymore. We might have to take what we can get."

I narrow my eyes at him in confusion. "What are you talking about, dumbhead?"

Zayn only shrugs his shoulders without looking at me. He looks extremely exhausted. More than he should, after this day.

"Look, don't worry," I tell him and kick my feet up onto the edge of the small coffee table in front of us. "We've only started to look for a place. There's something out there for us."

Zayn leans back against the sofa, humming non-committal. When he starts pinching the skin on his forearm together to make his tattoos take on funny shapes, I realize that he isn't planning on telling me why he worries so much.

I look around the shop, trying to see if Burke is anywhere around, yet. We came to his shop to negotiate another pair of headphones and ask him to let Michael do his job in here when we go after the Grey Skins. But when we arrived, only his lanky assistant was there. He told us that Burke is running some errands but he'll be back any minute.

My eyes land on Zayn's lowered head, again.

"So, how are you doing today, bro?" I ask him off-handedly. "Any better than last night?"

I watch him hesitate for a second, sure that my question made him recall the memories of him tearing up in front of us, as well.

He puffs out some air and shrugs, once more. "Dunno..." he says honestly.

"Perrie still mad at you?" I say without looking at him, grabbing a lighter from the coffee table and starting to click it. The two of us were never any good at talking about feelings and all that. It's easier for me to appear less interested than I actually am.

Zayn shakes his head dismissively, pushing his hands into the pockets of his baseball jacket. "Guess so," he mumbles. "I'm surprised she's still sleeping in the same room as me. She's started to avoid me everywhere else. Hasn't talked to me in two days."

I turn my head to look at his profile. I have never seen him so down because of a fight he has had with his girlfriend.

I inhale deeply and raise my hand to rest it on his back, for a moment. "She'll get over it, mate," I tell him because I don't know what else to say.

To my dismay, Zayn doesn't react.

I really begin to worry. "Do you even know what the whole thing is about?" I ask him. "I mean, beside the Grey Skins thing. Why is she mad at you?"

Zayn turns his head to me with a deep frown. "Isn't that enough to be mad about, already?" he says defensively. "Why does there have to be something else? I think, risking my life is more than enough to be mad about."