The wanted murderer L.S.

By The River.

"Why are you buying that one? You bought it last time we came?" Niall asked, looking at the swimsuit model on the front of the magazine Zayn was holding.

Zayn covered the woman's body with his hand and turned to Niall. "Stop looking, you're underage. Go and look at the comics while you wait; I won't be long."

"I've seen porn mags before. My brothers have a stash of them under their beds."
"Hey, under the bed is a man's private place, you shouldn't interfere."

Zayn picked up a magazine, pealed the barcode off, rolled it up and tucked it in his jacket pocket, glancing at the security camera that couldn't quite see him.

Niall followed him along the aisle as the man observed the row of books, stopping at the poetry section. As he began to reach the titles with a thoughtful expression, Niall said,
"You don't like poetry."
"Says who?"
"You, last week. You said, and I quote, 'I don't like poetry'."

Zayn crouched down to the bottom shelf and pulled out a book with a black and gold foil cover.
"It's not for me."

"Who's it for?
Louis."
"Oh." Niall said in surprise.

Zayn stood up, peeling the barcode off and placing the book in his jacket. "He'll like this one; it's shiny. He likes shiny things."

"Why does he want it?"

Zayn shrugged. "He hyper-fixates on things; he must have heard some poetry somewhere. You'll have to ask him."

He then tapped his lips in a shushing motion, and raised no alarms as he and Niall walked out of the shop.

They kept one another company, down the road and through the park, sitting by the edge of the small lake. Zayn emptied his pockets, putting down a juicebox and a bottle of beer, a bag of maltesers, a packet of cigarettes and a lighter, as well as a packet of peanuts for Niall.

Niall took the peanuts and ripped open the bag, pulling his knees up so he could lean on them.

"My mom, she wants me to get a summer job. I need money for university next year."
"What are you going to study? You should come with me one day, I'll give you a tour."
"I'd like that. Maybe drama, or music studies. I'm not sure yet."

"Study arts like me, you'll learn to paint." Zayn opened the can of beer and took a long drink before licking his lips and saying, "You could live with me, if you wanted to. Save on rent and all that. You wouldn't have to work long hours."

"In your tiny shack? No, thanks."

"It's not that small." Zayn said, shoving Niall.
"Besides, I'm getting a bigger place next year."

"Why do you want me to move in with you?"

Zayn glanced at him, then to the ducklings swimming in the lake. "Why not? I like you."

"So?" Niall said, throwing a peanut to the ducks.
It bounced on a duckling's head and into the water.
"You're not coming onto me, are you?"

"You're a teenager." Zayn said.
"But I'm an adult next year."
"I'm not waiting for you to turn eighteen, if that's what you're implying."
"What do you want then?"
"To be friendly? What kind of question is that? I don't know-"
"Why, huh? Why is it weird?"
"Oh, fine! Sorry, I ever asked. Forget it."

Niall swallowed a peanut and turned to Zayn.
"No! No, I want to! I'd like to live with you. Sorry.
It's just-"

"Just what?"

"I don't know.." Niall looked down to his hands and began to tear his own nail, "I quite like you, alright? As in like you."

Zayn tilted his head and crossed his ankles, leaning from one hand to the other. He ruffled Niall's hair.