Bright lights, she's fading//z.m. au

0% - but first, coffee

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It's a common mistake for baristas to mis-spell his name into a poor, hurriedly written Zane on the side of his cup. Only this morning, though, there's an odd kink to the lips of the girl with dark hair as she passes his empty cup over for a fill of hot Americano. And as much as he wants to lean over the counter, to call out and reiterate it for her, he chuckles and stands by waiting for a call. That is after he scribbles it off as the work of the suit he's supposedly wearing.

And Zayn hates the hassle of a suit. More so the process that leads up to wearing it rather than wearing it in general.

"Hey." She smiles at him from across the counter-top. She left manning the cash register because let's be real, it's way too early for the cafe to have any customers save for this cute guy with chiselled cheekbones and a funny accent- as she likes to put it. "Zane, is it?"

"Z-a-y-n, actually." He steps up claiming his coffee cup and before he can move around to gather a few napkins because he knows too well he's prone to spilling it today for two reasons.  One, he's a nervous wreck and well, two, Murphy's law (extension to the first?). "Thanks..?"

"Nicole." She punctuates it with a smile and something tugs at his heart, a pull, and he feels a vibration in his pants. Hold it, that one's his phone. "It's quite early to visit a cafe in a suit."

"Yes." He grins. "I have an interview and this tie is suffocating me." And people just won't stop texting him good wishes because every-time his phone vibrates in his pocket, he wants to slam his fist into the wall. Let him be, you people, it's too much pressure this way.

"But you look amazing, it's a compromise."

"Why, thank you." He says and there it is, again. A pull. And he doesn't mistake it with the phone this time.

"Well, I certainly hope you ace it." She  nods at him and tips her imaginary hat just as a cackle erupts from him.

"I hope so too." Because that way he'd come in to get his morning dose of coffee (and her) every day. "Thanks for the coffee, again."

"See you." She says well after he is out the door.

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Warning: The story may contain mentions of suicide, abuse and depression not so much as to make anyone uncomfortable but just, you know, trigger warning? Also, I do not wish to be reported. So, hey, if you're not into these kind of things, best leave now than curse me (or report me).

But if any of you have read Alive (Z.M. AU) I think you'd know what kind of a story this'll be (like positive besides the low-stuff) so...I hope you like it. It's all the support on Alive that I'm writing this :)