MALIK :: ZAYN

thirty one | stabler

°•

"No, over there," Zayn groaned, walking towards the cat walk and beckoning a mover towards him.

Crissle watched him in awe, surprised how level headed he was being during one of the most important events for him this year.

He was doing a fashion show in which young artists displayed their talents and Zayn chose at least one with his brand and the rest got with designers on a more discreet and underground level. He explained how both were beneficial because underground artists were in higher demand and anyone working with Zayn were also. It may have sounded conceited, but he was actually right.

Crissle looked up just in time to see Zayn run a hand through his hair. Most of the blonde was out now and his beard was more scruffier than ever.

She loved it.

"Crissle, come here."

She got up, clipboard in hand, and walked up to her boss. "Yes, sir?"

"What else do we have to check?"

"Uh, the catwalk, the actual designers, the models who are running late, and the security guards. Also, check your emails and look at the VIP lists to see who reserved front row seats, and," she scanned the paper one more time, "oh, and the host."

Zayn sat on the edge of the catwalk, a deep sigh leaving his lips. He looked at her. "I'm sorry."

"For what, Zayn?" she leaned beside him, her elbows resting on the catwalk.

"It's our one year anniversary and you're spending it under my orders," he pouted, "I should have looked at the date better. You know what? Forget this whole thing, I can just do it tomorrow--"

"No, you can't," she shut him up with a quick kiss, "Zayn, it's fine--"

"But--"

Crissle kissed him again, a little harder than the first. "Zayn, if you cancel this showcase I'm breaking up with you. It's fine, only a year."

"Only? That's a long time for me."

"Really?"

"Mhm," he hummed, "especially with you. My favorite person."

She grinned, hiding her cheeks with the clipboard. Zayn chuckled, pulling the clipboard away and kissing her lips once again.

"I love you," he whispered.

"I love you, Zayn."

°•

"Damn, babe," Zayn licked his lips when she turned around to meet his eyes.

"What? Is anything showing?" she asked insecurely, looking down at her stomach. As his girlfriend, Crissle was to sit in the front row of the fashion show beside him. And since she wanted to fit with the all black and sleek theme, she wore something that she never thought she would.

It was a simple body suit with fabric blocking, meaning some was sheer and other parts weren't. The material was thin and only bedazzled at the cuffs and turtleneck line. The sheer parts were what made her self-conscious because she couldn't wear a bra or underwear so she felt exposed.

Zayn made the suit, so it was his fault.

"Nah," he hummed as his barber brushed his hair. The idiot decided to cut his hair more and put silver dye in it. He looked so good. "It's perfect."

"Well," she smoothed the already clingy material down. It went over every curve of her body. "I don't know."

"Babe, you're fine."