Tunnel Vision » Ziam AU «

Chapter Two

A few weeks later, Zayn is still not on board. He can't keep milking his injuries anymore, though, because he really doesn't have any. Other than a scar that splits his one eyebrow, he's pretty much back to normal, on most fronts. And Louis and Harry refuse to get off his back any more about this.

Which is why Zayn is stuck sitting on his couch between Louis and Duane, the head of his security, on a Tuesday morning when all he really wants is to be asleep. He told Harry he didn't want to do this. He'd purposefully left his apartment in shambles so no one would feel welcome. And yet, he's still stuck here.

"So, Mark," Louis says while looking down at a clipboard, instead of the man (if that's what he really is, because Zayn's pretty sure he's related to Hagrid) squeezing into Zayn's favourite recliner. "Tell us about yourself."

"Uh." Mark frowns. "I've been in this business for fifteen years. I've worked for-"

"Yeah, we have all that on paper," Louis says abruptly, cutting him off. "I mean personally. What are you like? How often would you say you pass gas in the company of others? Frequently? Infrequently? Daily? Hourly?"

"Thank you," Zayn says loudly. "Next."

The next guy isn't any better. He's just as huge, just as conspicuous. He clearly remembers Niall saying 'normal dude' and, unless they're putting a high amount of steroids in the public water, these guys do not fit that description. The only person that Zayn would even consider was Melanie, who was this tall, sturdy woman with sandy hair that reminded him of a motherly figure. Only he wouldn't want his mother following him around all the time, so he shoots her down. He did like her, though.

"Okay, number seventeen," Louis sighs. "Seriously, Zayn, you're such a picky little shit."

"I liked that last one," Duane puts in.

Louis and Zayn both give him blank looks. "That's because he had a tattoo of your favourite wrestler on his bicep. Which is just weird, by the way. Someone go let the next one in." He looks down at his clipboard. "Liam Payne."

Zayn tilts his head back against his white leather couch as Duane gets up. He doesn't want to meet another person. He doesn't want to interview Liam Payne, who's probably some sweaty middle aged guy who weighs three hundred pounds, all muscle, and has barbed wire tattoos. What kind of a name even is that? Liam Payne. God, he was just born to be a bodyguard, wasn't he? Or some psycho doctor from a horror movie that grafts animal parts onto human bodies or something equally weird. Dr. Payne.

The couch sinks next to him as Duane returns, and Zayn takes a deep, steadying breath. Only three more to go and he can say he tried, and it just didn't work out.

He meets a pair of warm brown eyes. They're crinkled just a bit at the side, soft despite the set, cool expression on the guy's face. That's the first thing Zayn notices about him. And then he notices the fact that whoever he is - Liam Payne- he's got to be the youngest person they interviewed today.

"Normal dude," Louis says, sounding surprised. "Well fuck me."