no hearts bound - z.m.

hour one

hour one
7:16 PM

The night was cold, and Zayn looked outside the record store window to see snow falling across the busy Brooklyn streets. Strangers walked by clad in some variation of red or pink, or even if they weren't, their hands were entangled within the fingers of someone else's. To some, that was a romantic gesture.

To Zayn, he just wanted to throw up the deli sandwich he had just ate an hour ago.

He yawned, stretching his hands above his head and looked around the store, bored out of his mind. If he didn't own 8-Trax Records, he would've been home, comfortable in his condo or at the bar down the street, drinking his thoughts away with the other bearded hipsters who seem to think they ran Flatbush Avenue.

They didn't, but it was funny to him seeing them try with their tandem bicycles and artisanal cheese shops.

The empty store only made Zayn more annoyed, and he contemplated closing the store early because no one was coming in. He hopped off the stool in front of the register and grabbed the keys to the store, but the bell above the door indicated that someone walked in.

"Sorry, we're—" Zayn turned to look at the new customers, but all words died on his tongue when he saw her walk into the store.

She was clad in a floor length white fur coat, paired with a red corset, ripped jeans, thigh high red boots to match. Her long, curly hair fell across her shoulders as the wind blew in from outside and her brown skin almost flowed in the bright lights that hung around the store. Her facial expression was bored, and she popped her gum and looked around before walking further into the store.

She was too beautiful to be alone on Valentine's Day.

As if someone heard his thought, in behind her walked a light skinned guy with a beanie shoved over his blonde curly hair and a thick black bomber jacket. He had a skateboard in his hand, and he poked the girl in the back of her leg. His eyes were glassy, and Zayn could already tell from his demeanor and goofy smile that he was high off his ass.

Without even acknowledging him, they both walked to the other side of the store while bickering, looking around at records, so Zayn sat back on the stool and grabbed his phone.

Honey stood in the record store, trying to keep calm as Kevin threw his arm around her and kept laughing in her ear. "Kevin, shut up."

She couldn't help but look around, and she noticed there was only two cameras by the exit. If Kevin kept his mouth shut and stopped acting like an imbecile, things would go off without a hitch.

When Kevin and Hanaan were in the Lower East Side last week at a pawn shop trying to sell vintage items for quick cash, they noticed how much records were being resold for, and the only store in Brooklyn that had an unreleased Led Zeppelin record on vinyl was 8-Trax by Barclays. The store was mostly frequented by hipster wannabes and gentrifiers, so Honey didn't feel too bad about stealing from it.

"Calm down, Hanaan," he said with another laugh, a smile still on his face as he pretended to flip through records. "The record has to be behind the counter, so just distract him over here while I grab it. There's no one else here."

She looked around, and sure enough, there wasn't. "Are you sure?"

Kevin rolled his eyes. He looked around one more time, and just saw the cashier, sitting on the stool texting. The backroom door was open, and no one was in there. "Yes."

A pause. "Okay, good. And don't call me Hanaan, you know I hate that name."

Kevin sighed before plucking a record from the shelf and tossing it into her bottomless Hermès bag. "Whatever. Just flirt with him or whatever and I promise we'll be out and we can go meet up with everyone in LES, okay?"

She rolled her eyes before placing a bright smile on her face as Kevin walked away. "Excuse me, sir?"

Zayn looked up, and locked his phone before hopping off his stool and walking towards the back of the store to the corner she was currently in. Her coat was now falling off and draped at her elbows, and she sent him a grin before holding up a record she found.

"Do you need help?" He asked, and Honey's eyes instantly widened at the sound of his deep, raspy accent. It sounded like pure sex, and her toes curled just at the sound of it.

She then drank in his appearance, and his finger ran across short, grey hair. His brown eyes stared directly at her, and she almost wanted to take back everything bad she said about 8-Trax because this Greek god happened to be amongst the people it employed.

"Um, yeah," she managed to get out, nodding her head. "This is the R&B section, but I can't find any Marvin Gaye records. Miguel is nice and all, but where's the older ones?"

Zayn smiles, and Honey almost melted at his charming grin. He was just that attractive, and she wondered why she didn't take notice of him when she first walked in the store.

"We keep Marvin Gaye in the back with all the other classics," he explained, gesturing to the backroom that she saw opened earlier. "You a fan or...?"

She nodded, surprised at herself for genuinely telling the truth. The story she was about to utter wasn't, but her love for the Sexual Healing singer was actually real. "Yeah, I just copped a new record player and I wanted to hear what he would've sounded like when it just came out, y'know?"

He scratched his neck, and flipped through some of the newer records stacked up next to each other. "I get that. When I first opened this store, we didn't have that many records since a ton of them were some of my personal collection, and you can see I expanded a lot since then. Now, a bunch of fucking fake deep beards walk up in here..."

Rolling his lips into his mouth, he saw the smile on Honey's face and a blush crept up his neck. "And I'm totally rambling, but I guess I tend to do that around beautiful women."

Honey felt her ears grow hot, and she was flattered. It's not that she didn't know she was attractive—hello, have you seen her—but she found it nice that someone as handsome as him would even compliment her.

"It's okay—" she started to say, but a loud crash sounded from the front of the store and an oh shit was audible. They both looked up to see Kevin standing by the display case by the counter, his skateboard in the case with the Led Zeppelin record in his hand.

Honey's eyes widened, and she grabbed her purse from the ground before making a mad dash towards the door as fast as she could.

"Are you fucking kidding me?!" Zayn yelled, running after Honey down the aisle.

Honey's heart pounded as she tried to turn the corner, but the heel of boot skidded across the floor, sending her crashing into a shelf with more records. She quickly regained her balance, but her fur coat snagged onto the corner of the rack. She tugged but it wouldn't get free, and she saw Kevin hop over the counter and look around frantically before his eyes landed on her.

"Kev, help me!" She screamed, looking back to see Zayn still running towards the front door. "I'm stuck!"

He looked back at Zayn's angry form and he shook his head before saying, "I'm sorry" and running out the store. The sound of the bell jingling made her jaw drop and her nostrils flared in anger.

"Are you—oh my god, fuck you!" She yelled out after him, tearing her jacket off her shoulders before moving for the door, but Zayn stood in front of it, with his arms crossed over his chest and a storm brewing in his eyes.

Honey paled and she dropped her purse on the floor in shock as he took a step towards her. "Fuck."

——

a/n: hi guys!

everything is gonna be really fast paced since there's only gonna be like 5-10 chapters so bear with me.

I love this concept and I have written a fic in so long and I'm super excited yay

also have y'all ever seen the movie empire records? the store in the movie is what I envision 8-Trax to look like

love y'all,
rachel.