Chalk Dust || z.p.

three

You're already used to the games, babe
You play your role and I play the same

~ Still Got Time. Zayn J Malik 

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you seemed off yesterday. hope you're okay :)

zayn sighed reading it once again. it's been a week since he read some or the the message every morning. first he thought it might have been some student's work but later on they indicated the incidents from his previous day and zayn's mood. so he guessed, maybe not. 

it all started on the third day at work. zayn was provided with a permanent classroom like every other teacher. he usually likes to arrive early, sit in the classroom with some coffee and recite his notes and lessons for the day. so on third day, when zayn walked in, there was a message on the black board.

hey, how are you? it was nice talking to you. write back, please? 

and of course, zayn didn't think it was for him. he erased the message, crinkling his nose at the floating chalk dust. the next morning, there was another message.

you didn't end up writing back. that's okay. you don't need to. you were just meant to read these words :)

zayn still thought it might be some student trying to talk to the other or something like that. so, he didn't right back. then again, wouldn't that be weird to just write a reply like that to someone whom he doesn't even know, probably? the third time, zayn thought that those words might be for him.

you look good with leather jacket. you should wear it often :)

yes, he wore a leather jacket the previous day but he actually didn't wear it to classes. and he's sure no student wore a leather jacket the previous day because they have uniforms and dress codes.

and yes, he was upset yesterday because he saw two girls bullying another girl. they didn't even seem sorry when he questioned them. zayn coughed at the wisps of chalk dust floating through the air, thinking about why the school hasn't upgraded to white boards.

but no, he's not replying. it'd be damn awkward if it's some prank. not to mention how spoiled the teenagers, nowadays, are. he feels like he's playing a game. the one where you just sit still and look pretty. ha. also, this human didn't ask for a reply again. so he'll play his 'silent' role in this game as long as that person keeps on playing the 'secret' role.

he has been the last one to leave the building every evening, with marcel of course. the students don't have access to the class rooms in the evenings unless its detention and he doubts that it's a colleague. well, whoever it is, they might probably be coming to the class earlier than him to writ the message.

zayn didn't understand why he was not freaked out as probably should be or why he hasn't called the security. speaking about the security, he couldn't get those brown eyes out of his mind since the day one. he sat at his desk, yes - he claimed it as his. his black coffee mug that he had since he was teen, has stained the wood with it's heat, thence, the desk is his now. he chuckled at his silliness. it's funny how attached we get to things we affect, isn't it?

his phone vibrated in his pocket again. he didn't need to look at the screen to know that it's gigi, his on again and off again girlfriend of two years.

with a sigh, he took his phone out, she knows he shouldn't be calling or texting him at work.

from gigi: look, we need to talk. call me when you finish.

the four words that everyone dreads, well, not zayn. he had heard them so much these past year that he had grown immune to its connotations.

gigi loves zayn. she'd do anything for him and zayn loves her, she's his best friend. she knows him. but she doesn't know him and that's probably his fault. they'll have a safe and secure future, so he owes it to her and himself to try. But if he were to be honest, it's not what he wants, desires or craves in his heart. don't get him wrong, he knows love isn't grand demonstration akin to Nicolas Sparks' adaptation but it'd be nice to feel desired, wanted and to be craved for.

he sent a quick reply telling her 'okay' and instantly felt guilty for seeming so distant. why does love have to be so complicated?

the bell rang and soon in five minutes, the doors would open, bringing with it the multitude of teenagers and hormones.

he sighed and brushed off the chalk dust from his fingertips.

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author's note:

I'm republishing it after editing a little. but I feel like I should erase these author's notes. They're so fucking dumb lol

word count: 850