the boy next door « z.m.

four · /fɔː/

He is in a hurry and doesn't need the feeling of his stomach clenching around nothing as he takes a look into the face of whom he almost ran over. But here he is, cheeks turning red and his breath stuck in his throat.
»Hey, sorry!« Zayn grabs onto his head that had hit Liam's chest. His eyes slowly travel upwards to the face of the incredibly good-looking stranger in front of him and slowly grow wide.

»No worries.« the handsome stranger answers. And the idea of somehow knowing the stranger's way of speaking, his voice, crawled its way into Zayn's consciousness. The thought lingers at the center of Zayn's head, which almost makes him miss that the stranger wants to creep his way out of whatever this situation is. And Zayn usually isn't someone to speak up to strangers or grab onto strangers' hands, but he can't quite stop himself right now. Before he can properly think this thought through, his hand wraps around the stranger's wrist. Zayn can feel his own warmth spread across the stranger's skin, which leaves a pleasant feeling pattering down into his own chest. He has never felt anything comparable to this, especially not with a complete stranger!

»Excuse me, do I know you? « Zayn asks. After saying that, he then realizes what a stupid question that is anyways and hopes that him hoping to know the stranger wasn't too obvious. The stranger stops all his movements and takes a moment to let his gaze scan Zayn's fingers around his wrist. If Zayn had placed his fingers a little closer to the veins closest to the surface of the stranger's skin, he would have been able to feel the blood rush increase under his fingers. He would have been able to tell the effect he has on the stranger. His counterpart's cheeks may have turned a little redder as he locks eyes with him. The warmth of Liam's gaze seems to even pass his eyes by now and gently reach Zayn's face in waves. Liam scans each inch he can find of Zayn's face, he lets his eyes linger on Zayn's soft lips. But he soon realizes that he is now fully tangled in this moment, which will yet again result in making a fool of himself. He swore to further act like an adult and he grows mad at himself again because he is acting mindlessly right now. After ripping his wrist out of Zayn's soft grip and receiving a look that shows a mix of hurt and confusion, he decides to clear his throat and mumble a short apology: »Sorry, I'm in a hurry. I gotta go.«

This encounter seems to hunt the both of them in the following weeks. Both minds seem to be linked and think alike, both hearts seem to beat in the same rhythm. And maybe, just maybe, both have caught themselves humming loudly in the shower, hoping to hear their neighbor's voice from the other side of the wall, several times. But the shower on the other side always stayed quiet.
Finally, Christmas has come around. Neither of them had been able to go one day without missing the voice from next door and today wasn't any different either. That's why Zayn has decided to call his mom, who he is on the phone with right now.
»Merry Christmas, Mom«, Zayn wishes his mom, who is approximately sitting 3,300 km away from him on the other side of the globe. He has been missing her voice as well lately and he may or may not want to take his mind off of a certain stranger he had met weeks ago. »Zayn, what's wrong? I know my son.« his mom speaks softly. »Oh it's nothing, my mind is just occupied by some things.« Zayn answers truthfully. »It's your first Christmas abroad and you sound so sad. Have you tried reviving our Christmas traditions?« she asks warmly. She knows how much Zayn always loved to take part in Christmas traditions. But Zayn can only huff at that: »How is that supposed to help with an occupied mind?«

»Zayn Javadd Malik! I am trying to help you right now, so don't huff at me.«, his mom scolds. A sigh leaves his lips, but he answers: »I'm sorry, mom. I just haven't been feeling well. What traditions have you been thinking of?«, he asks. »Well have you baked any Christmas cookies yet?«, she asks happily. »Of course. Who would I be, if I hadn't?« he laughs and his mom's gentle laugh rings warmly through the phone making him miss home. »How about you share some of your cookies with your neighbors?«, she asks, »I still remember to this day how excited you always were to share your Christmas cookies with Mrs. Shepard next door each year. And she would be incredibly happy about it as if she didn't know you were going to ring at the door.«

Zayn smiles at all these memories from his childhood. He really loved Mrs. Shepard and the look on her face whenever he brought her the cookies he had baked himself. So why not give it a go? But this time with his new neighbor, the one he had heard sing one time, and fell for, the instant he heard his voice. However he can't quite forget the handsome stranger he had met in the lobby either, it's like his heart is torn between the two men. Nonetheless, the chances of meeting the handsome stranger are close to zero, so he might just try getting to know his neighbor. He may be handsome as well or even more handsome. Who knows!
»Mom, that's a lovely idea and might as well solve my occupied mind problem. Thanks! Love you, bye.«, he quickly says his goodbye, driven by excitement. And oh boy, he has never been as quick to pack a stack of Christmas cookies on a plate. He's almost out the door as rationality stops him. Is he going to finally see the face whose voice he has fallen for long ago? But with another rush of adrenaline kicking in, he finally slams the door closed. The hallway echos the thud of the door and Zayn is brought into reality. With a meaningful look on his face, he strides to the nearest door, which is reached within two steps. That must be the door the man with the angelic voice lives in. A rush of excitement or rather a sensation pumps through his whole body urging him to press the doorbell. But will he muster enough courage to put his plan into action, what is he going to say to him?