Smile

one; coffee shop boy

SMILE – ZIAM AU
PART ONE; COFFEE SHOP BOY
WORDS: 1 011
CHAPTER SONG: LONELY BOY BY THE BLACK KEYS

5:00PM, CHRISTMAS EVE, 2014

Zayn takes out his notepad and digs around in his pocket of his jeans until he finds an old pen, splatters of ink dotting the denim material. He just sighs, lowly and one might say disappointed, because it’s not like it’s never happened before. Zayn goes to write, he really does, but his hand falters and he can’t.

The blank page scrutinizes him like he’s some kid that everyone picks on, snarling that he’ll never, ever, do anything. Zayn crosses his arms and leans back in his chair – mostly since he’s only just starting to agree with his blank page, and to be honest, it scares him a little.

He decides to chew on his pen lid, which only results in a spillage of ink all over his pink lips (which are now a ghastly blue) and God, he couldn’t mess up more if he tried, could he?

Wait a minute, thinks Zayn, and he looks around the café where he’s sitting. He can see a pretty blonde waitress and a couple of other girls and guys huddled in booths, while Zayn watches on from the other side of the room, in his own four-seat booth by himself.  (When he asked for a larger table for one, the waitress just gave him a pat on the back and mouthed, “It’ll be okay,”) (Zayn wasn’t sure whether to be flattered, offended or mildly patronized.)

He can hear the sounds of birds that are chirping in the distance, outside, and it sparks something. Zayn doesn’t know what – he doesn’t think he’ll ever know – but it’s there and it’s happening and it needs to be written down right now. Picking up his pen and pressing it to the paper, Zayn writes his first words, and it all just stems from there, exploding outwards in a tree with a thousand branches that stretch in every direction. Creativity, that is. It’s why Zayn loves being an author.

8:00PM

 “Hey,” says an English-accented voice. Zayn doesn’t recognize it, so he ignores it and keeps on with his writing (He’s almost written twenty pages, now) (He’s on a roll.) Zayn holds his pen tighter and presses a little harder on the paper, filtering out background noises as all his attention is refocused on the task at hand.

“Um, excuse me,” says the unfamiliar voice again, but Zayn only blinks by way of acknowledgment. Without so much as a warning, Zayn’s shoulders are shaken and his hand loosens the grip on the pen. A blue streak embeds itself on the page, scribbling out and rendering incomprehensible at least three paragraphs.

“Hi,” Zayn grumbles bitterly, using all of his self-control to tell himself not to kill this idiotic English person. “Can I please finish writing?”

“I’m so sorry, sir,” the voice replied, and Zayn turns around to face him. He’s got short, caramel-coloured hair and a beard that obscure his soft facial features, the same darker colour as his thick eyebrows. Zayn guesses that the boy works at the little cafe, judging by the black uniform he’s wearing. For the first time in a very long while, Zayn is speechless – his words halted by this beautiful boy. “But we’re closing soon, actually,” the boy scratched his chin thoughtfully; “We’ve been closed for an hour, now. Once again, sorry to interrupt you, but I can’t persuade the manager to keep you in here much longer.”

Oh, thinks Zayn. That’s sweet. “Thank you,” he says, nodding. “Um..?”

“Liam,” says the boy, smiling like someone’s told him something funny. Liam – that name suits him perfectly. Zayn knows that it comes from the name ‘William’ and that William means ‘Helmet’ or ‘Protector’. Liam looks good-natured, like he’s give his life for a stranger to be happy. Zayn likes it so far. “What’s your name?” Liam asks, sliding into the booth with the raven-haired boy.

“Zayn,” he replies quietly. (He’s always been one to admire from afar rather than converse up close.) “I – I should stop now,” he mumbles into his scarf around his neck and starts to shove his two pencils, eraser, blue pen, black pen and pencil case into his black over-the-shoulder bag. “I don’t want to keep you waiting.”

“No, it’s fine, really.” Liam smiles again. “I’ve worked here long enough for them to trust me with the keys.” he dangles the plastic keychain in front of Zayn’s face and then winks at him, before raising his voice and saying, “Hey, boss, we’ll be out before you do the last lock-ups.”

“Okay, Liam. We’ll see you tomorrow,” replies an older-sounding male voice, followed by the jingle sound of the door to the café being opened and closed, due to the tiny brass bell attached the doorframe.

“So,” says Liam. “What’re you writing on this lovely Christmas Eve?”

Zayn looks up from where he was staring at his feet and coughs, murmuring out a few words that Liam didn’t quite catch. He feels his cheeks flushing some God-awful red colour that would make him look like a scandalized tomato. (Not a good look.)

“What’s that? I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you, bud,” Liam encourages, and scoots closer. Zayn impulsively moves along the seat, a few centimeters in the opposite direction to the brown-haired boy. 

“A story,” Zayn says, “For Christmas.”

“Oh,” Liam picks up Zayn’s (mostly) full coffee cup but puts it down hurriedly again once he feels how cold it’s gone. “That’s cute.”

“Thanks.” Zayn quips robotically, and he looks out the window to the now-empty streets of London, wistfully, like he’s missing the way that the sidewalks were packed with busy people doing busy things. Maybe it’s because he felt more invisible, safer. Now, he’s all out in the open and noticeable, and he doesn’t like it one bit. He prefers it when everyone’s so preoccupied that a black-haired, tattooed boy like him could go completely unnoticed and he could sneak from café to café, jotting down notes and drinking unhealthy amounts of coffee without any questions being asked.

“So,” Liam leans in, “Tell me your story.”

 AUTHOR'S NOTE:
new story! dedicated to @spread-your-wings bc she proofread this for me, and she's awesome and has the same hairstyle as me.

QUESTION OF THE CHAPTER:
What do you think of Zayn’s character? Would you want to be friends with someone like him?