Ziam one shots

Mirrors- I Can See You Looking Back At Me

Chapter 4

There's a lot he could say about his trip to The Treehouse Cafe.

It takes too long and he's exhausted. Its dirt cheap and Liam hasn't a clue what to order, so he settles for everything. They only had a selection of roughly twenty-five items, including deserts, so Zayn had to like 1/25 of what he brought. He fights with himself on whether or not he's making the right decision, but Zayn is waiting for him and he's already here, so he might as well suck it up.

Bradford wasn't London and it felt cramped in comparison, even with the small suburb they lived in outside the big city. He doesn't have trouble finding it, his GPS is spot on. He has to park on the curb. The cafe is tucked in between two ma and pop stores. A chalkboard easel is on the sidewalk with the restaurant's title written in pretty cursive handwriting. It's quaint on the inside, wooden tables filling up the place with kids his age biting into sandwiches and an older couple holding hands in the corner. It's bright and sunny, the windows let in a breathtaking light from the street. He can see why Zayn would like this place. The sidewalks outside accommodate passer-bys and rough looking kids on skateboards and bikes. It's homey and the people are friendly, especially when Liam puts a large order in. He thinks Zayn would fit here.

He looks around for anything that would call out to him, anything that would signify Zayn had been there. He looks over the walls and the windows, leans forward to see things hidden behind a counter. It's silly to think that a town Zayn had left behind so long ago would still have a piece of him in it.

He could have imagined it but he thought he saw small wheel treads on the tile, small enough to match those of Zayn's skateboard; but his mind was probably playing tricks on him.

One thing that caught his eye was a picture on a wall closest to the back room, a small canvas painting with black swirls and lines; he'd seen it somewhere before, some time recent. The cashier, a blonde girl with long arms and a big smile, had to snap her fingers at the back of his head to break his trance just before he realized the canvas was a tattoo of Zayn's. Zayn's arm piece was strikingly similar to the painting.

He got out his wallet, handing his credit card over to the girl. "Do you know painted that?"

She seemed confused until her eyes trailed to where Liam was looking. Her face lit up with recognition, or remembrance, maybe both. "Oh, that? It doesn't go with the place, does it? 'S kinda dark, innit? That's Zee's," she said, handing Liam his receipt and card, ducking down to dig underneath the cabinet. She came back up with a cooler to pack all of Liam's things in before sliding it to him across the counter. "He used to be a regular. He moved ages ago. My mum found it when she was cleaning and hung it up. It reminds us of him. Good guy, Zee. Tough around the edges," she shrugged, "but decent once you get to know him."

Liam could have asked. He had the opportunity standing before him. He could have questioned her about what happened, why he left, where his parents were. If she knew, that would be great. If she didn't, Zayn would be none the wiser. He could have inquired the information Zayn wasn't willing to share with him and connect the dots on his own.

But he wouldn't.

Liam wanted Zayn to trust him. He wanted Zayn to tell him all of his secrets of his own accord. He didn't want to know anything Zayn wouldn't tell him until he felt comfortable enough to do so.

He thanked her, smiled and waved once he was out of the door and got in the car.

He sat there for a while, thinking about what he'd just done. He'd driven three hours to get gourmet sandwiches and cakes for a boy he hardly knew a thing about. He started Lou's car and turned back the way he came.