There was this overbearing feeling of urgency; an undeniable tension that almost seemed tangible in the increased paces of the three boys' breathing. The lingering smell of mocha and freshly baked pastries have long been brushed away and pushed back to the farthest corners of Harry's mind.
"Zayn, is there a quicker way to an exit or are you secretly avoiding one because you're scheming our demise?" Harry quickly hissed in a hurried whisper as he looked past his shoulders for any reporters.
"Shut it, Styles. No amount of your snark will make me remember any faster," the older boy retorted with another snarl. He could feel the unsteadiness of their impromptu cooperation, but with Harry on the edge and practically vibrating in anxiety, Zayn couldn't be bothered to argue with him.
"What are you even doing here? In London?" Harry whispered loudly yet another time, drawing the attention of several of the people walking past them.
Niall nudged his linked hand against Harry's hip, "Harry, we've gotta stay quiet if we don't want the paps to hear us."
"Yeah, yeah, but this is all a bit odd," Harry responded quickly, "Why would Malik ever wanna do something for us?"
"I'll get to it soon enough you talkative prat, just shut your incessant gob for a moment and listen to your boyfriend. I'll explain once I find the-ah-" Zayn reacted with a short little noise after he spotted the metal door that, if his memory hadn't failed him, would lead directly out of the store.
They pushed past the heavy door after they glanced over their shoulders for a final time, and squeezed their way out into the back alleyway of the shop. The untimely cool air whipped against their cheeks as the whistle of air flew past them with every cloaked passerby.
Zayn stumbled into an open lot a little way from the bookstore and signaled for the other two boys to follow suit; keeping his chin tucked within the collar of his top and his eyes focused on the ground, the dark haired boy led the youngest two away from any suspecting eyes.
Niall looked at Harry some time during their silent walk away from any large crowds and quirked his eyebrow in question of Zayn's purposes. He walked in front of them, occasionally looking to his left and right, and kept his pace until he located a sound place that would suffice as a safe haven from the media-for the moment at least.
Zayn walked towards an empty bench near a lesser known sidewalk café, and gestured for Harry and Niall to sit down as he took out a cigarette.
"Quite a display back there, hm?" He chuckles amusingly, lighting up the tip and burying his free hand in his jacket pocket as he looks over at Niall, "I see our paths have crossed again, Blondie. Fate, is it?"
He winked at Niall with a satisfied grin to his face and Harry cleared his throat when he felt Niall shift in his seat next to him.
The curly haired boy kept his head to the side as he muddled in his own self wallowing resentment. His fingers traced absentmindedly along Niall's jeans, but he wouldn't meet either of the two in the eyes.
"Zayn, what're you doing here," he finally manages, staring blankly at the lamp across the street.
"Don't I get a 'thank you' first?" Zayn shrugs and takes another long drag of his cigarette, blowing out a stream of smoke through his smirk.
"I swore I'd never see you again back when we were sixteen, yet I've seen you twice in the last two weeks," Harry continued.
The model blew out a last cloud of smoke before he threw the bud on the ground and doused the dying flame with the toe of his shoe, "Don't flatter yourself, Styles, it's not like I wanted to see you either."
