Not Happening

Chapter 8

We'll be meeting every Monday at seven, and every Wednesday at eight in this room," the instructor continues, and Zayn shifts in his seat, trying to get more comfortable in the plastic chair. Across from him, Louis is angled in his seat to face the woman at the front of the room, but he's not listening; Zayn can tell. He's got that distant, bored look on his face. "There is a forty dollar enrolment fee, but all of that will go towards supplies you'll be using during the duration of this class. For the class itself, I will be your supervisor, while three of my most talented students will guide you through the different mediums of art being taught in this class. If-"

The door to the room opens, and someone peeks their head in, looking a bit sheepish. "Sorry I'm late," he says. "And sorry for interrupting."

"Don't worry, Liam," the instructor says pleasantly, with a smile that's just for him. "Nice play at that last game, may I add."

A few people make sounds of agreement, and Zayn puts as much contempt into his glare as he can as Liam quickly moves towards the table that Zayn's sharing with Louis, Harry, and some girl with a nose piercing and hair longer than anyone Zayn's ever met. He slides into the chair next to Zayn with a grin, legs scraping against the floor loudly.

"-piece will be of your choosing, any piece of art using one of the three mediums taught in this class. On the nineteenth of December we'll be hosting the auction at the time of the annual staff Christmas party, and-"

"What are you doing here?" Zayn hisses, leaning close to Liam but keeping his eyes on the front of the room.

Liam shrugs. "Figured I could use an extracurricular outside of football," he says casually. "I checked and none of the classes are on days I have practise, so." Another shrug, and Zayn is honestly going to march to the back of the room where the art supplies is, grab a paint brush, and stuff it down Liam's fucking throat.

"You don't even like this shit," he argues. "How did you even hear about this?"

"You don't know what I do or don't like," Liam counters. "And you mentioned it to Louis when I was in the room."

He says it with a smirk, confirming Zayn's suspicions. He's only here to irritate Zayn. This one thing Zayn was doing to relax, was doing to enjoy himself, and of course Liam has to ruin it. Of fucking course. But he'll be damned if he doesn't fight Liam on it. He'll let it go for now, but as soon as they're out of this room, Zayn is killing him. Violent and messy. He'll take the life sentence, he doesn't even care.

For now he forces himself to relax and pay attention. But he barely hears another word the instructor says because he's too busy seething and trying not to pay attention to Liam while simultaneously noticing every time he so much as blinks. "- need to be in by Wednesday, as well as the forty dollar enrolment fee. There are only thirty spots open in this class, so the faster you get in your application, the better your chances of getting a spot. Any questions?"

A few people raise their hands, but Zayn sinks lower in his seat, possibly sulking like a child. He can't help it. And when they're told to get application forms on their way out, Zayn is one of the first ones to the front of the room, even though he had been sitting near the back. He folds the form twice and shoves it in his pocket before pushing out the door, into the hallway.

"You okay?" Louis asks when he and Harry come out of the room.

Zayn nods curtly. "I'm fine."

"Then why do you look like you're about to punch someone in the ballsack?"

Zayn crosses his arms over his chest and ignores them. "I'm fine. I'll catch up with you guys later."

Louis looks like he wants to stick around, but Harry grabs his arm and pulls him away. Zayn watches as other people filter out of the room, some in groups and pairs, some alone. Liam is the last one out the door, his application held tightly in his hand. And he walks straight past Zayn like he doesn't see him there, smirk in place.