Escapade » z.m

7. There Are Secret Bathrooms?

He took a deep breath, trying to calm his nerves before he pushed the large door that opened into the Headmaster's office. His legs were jelly, frozen to the floor so he never walked inside the room.

Just his torso tilted as he peeped inside. He must have looked like a peacock craning his neck to watch for his prey.

Except, he was the prey in this case. His eyes focused in the room. On the contrary of what he'd expected, it wasn't huge.

Moreover, if he would refer a dictionary-- the word that it'd use to describe the room's aura would be...cozy.

It was a semicircular room- he realised- as he stepped inside the office, closing the door behind him. It made a loud click indicating it had locked.

Zayn turned in a flash, clutched the cold brass handle and pulled the door fiercely.

Well, hello, bad luck my old friend but I don't want to spend my afternoon locked in an unfamiliar room?!

He pressed his forehead on the door, rapping it several times. "Hello?? Can someone hear me?? I'm locked here!" He grunted, kicking the door hard. "What a lovely day."

He pouted his lips innocently, moving forward on the matt troy porcelain floor. However stupid this was, he could explore.

He scratched his gelled hair. If he had known he would be greeting an empty office he wouldn't have dressed at all. Not that he would have come naked, of course- he laughed at himself. God, where was Louis when he cracked better jokes?

The room had a desk in the middle, a head chair producing itself high. Two more chairs were kept near the desk. A landline situated on top of it.

The circumference of the room was embedded with shelves. Some had books, some were empty. The spaces left between those shelves were beautified by paintings of former Headmasters.

He prowled near the shelves, his eyes bulging as they trained on the books. He ran his fingers on the aisle and didn't take it away until he'd completed the curve of the semicircle.

His index came off dirty, smudged with dust that was pasted on the books. Wiping it on his jeans he neared to examine the paintings.

He made weird noises with his mouth, that resonated in this office- even when it wasn't necessarily desolated.

The paintings looked like they'd lunge at him any second.

He stepped back, suddenly alarmed.

Something had definitely creaked. His eyes darted everywhere, mostly on the paintings.

"I was just...messing around." He announced loudly. "Please don't eat me...? Paintings...?"

The creak grew louder and he spun on his heels. One of the shelves were detaching from the wall- no, no it was falling. No, it was going to fall down on him. "Shit- what-" His heart hammered inside his rib cage, finally allowing his head to wrap around what was happening. The shelf was not falling down; it was- it was opening?

Then it finally stood ajar and a man, taller than him- entered the office. As if it was usual, everyday stuff, he closed the shelf casually, wiped his hands over his tweed blazer and rubbed his palm, puffing into them as if he was cold.

Suddenly his eyes fell on Zayn and he surveyed him for a second as Zayn stood frozen at his place. He grinned, "You must be Zayn?"

Zayn came out of his trance, looking at the shelf wide-eyed. He was fascinated. "Oh, this? This leads to a bathroom."

Zayn struggled. He struggled to keep the laughter in it's place. Don't screw your first impression, bad boy.

As if it's not ruined already? What are you doing lurking in his office like it's Central Park?