SMILE – ZIAM AU
PART TWO; GET UNDER THE TABLE
WORDS: 1 167
CHAPTER SONG: SMILE BY SHEPPARD
“M-my story?” Zayn stutters. “My Christmas one, or, like. Life?”
Liam gives a small laugh, and Zayn nearly, nearly lets a grin creep up on his face. “Preferably your Christmas one, but either will do.” he says, and his eyes follow Zayn’s gaze out the large window opposite them. “What’re you looking at?”
“Mmm,” Zayn hums, and tries to organise some words that might explain what he’s feeling. (It’s so, so difficult.) “London,” he ends up saying, like he’s announcing something. Simple but effective.
“It’s gorgeous, isn’t it?” Liam points to a girl walking past who’s wearing a red beanie and a coat way too big for her. “And so is she,”
The girl outside the window sees the boy pointing at her and she scowls, hurrying up her pace so she darts outside the line of sight. “Liam!” Zayn says, voice high pitched and startled. “She saw you!”
“Yeah?” Liam moves his head to one side like a confused puppy. “So? I’ll never see her again. Plus, she’s pretty, and just further proves your point about how pretty London is.”
“I never said that.”
“I could see it in your eyes.” Liam smirks and taps Zayn on his nose, leaving the Bradford boy flushed red and nervously flustered. Liam just giggles at his friend’s (friend?) reaction. “You just seemed kind of... awestruck, I guess.”
“I guess I was,” Zayn blinks, forgetting for a second that he hadn’t remembered to blink for ages and his eyes were watering. He makes a reach for the coffee and he takes a sip, tentative, but grimaces when he swallows it, placing the mug back down on the table. “Oh, wow. I didn’t really – I left that too long.”
“Yeah, you did,” Liam says, “Here, I’ll get you some hot chocolate,” Liam scoops the mug up and makes a move to sidle out of the booth but Zayn’s hand clamps around Liam’s jacket’s wrist.
“I –,” Zayn swallows again, clearing his throat. “I don’t – you don’t have to. I don’t want any hot chocolate.”
Liam frowns. “Have you seen yourself? You’re so skinny. I’d give you a hundred hot chocolates if I could.” He places his hands on his hips and stares at Zayn, like he’s done something wrong. “On the house.” he says, and then he’s away towards the kitchen, pushing through the big doors and disappearing from Zayn’s line of vision.
Zayn sighs again, but not because this has happened before. He goes to look outside the window again, but the street lights are all he can see now. He can see a young couple, at least he assumes they’re a couple, of two boys around his age – they’re holding hands and sharing an umbrella so it’s safe to assume. One of them is smiling like something is ridiculously hilarious, and the other one has curly hair and is giggling like a schoolgirl. They look... happy. Zayn wishes he could be like that; with a boy who loves him on his arm and nowhere to go but forward.
As he waits for Liam, he takes out his notebook again, and this time he uses his black pen. “The waiter’s name was Liam,” he writes, “And he looked like a puppy.” No, Liam doesn’t look like a puppy; he just acts a bit like one. Zayn crosses out the words and starts again. “And he was beautiful.” he pauses, content with his work. “Not in the angelic or heart-wrenching supermodel type ‘beautiful’. Liam was the Liam type of beautiful, and it fitted him perfectly.”
Said ‘beautiful’ boy appears once again after five or so minutes with two take-away cups marked ‘HC’, and Zayn hurriedly stuffs his writing apparatus into his bag. He offers a weary smile in return and takes the cardboard cup reluctantly, letting the warmth seep through his hands. He doesn’t like the word ‘smile’ used like this – Zayn’s smile was more of an upturning of his lips rather than a sign of unspoiled happiness.
Ah, happiness. Dear old friend.
“Hey, Zee,” says Liam, and shuffles up next to Zayn. “I can call you that, right?”
“Yeah,” Zayn says, mostly to his cup than to anyone else. “My friends call me that sometimes.”
“Cool,” Liam places his mug on the table, “Sorry about the cups; the manager doesn’t really like me using the ceramics after hours.”
Zayn nods, understanding. “Cool,” he echoes. Then, he stares into his hot chocolate, because he can’t bear to look Liam’s way. “I think –,” he says, and tightens the shoulder strap of his bag over his shoulder. “It’s getting late. I should, like. Go.”
Liam pouts. He actually pouts; and if Zayn wants to continue the dog metaphors than he guesses that Liam’s expression is not dissimilar to that of a puppy being told off for peeing on the carpet. (Zayn’s got a dog, and he knows that look stupidly well.)
“Zee, how many times do I need to tell you,” the brown-haired boy folds his arms over his chest. “I don’t actually find you annoying.” and then, he smiles, and if Zayn didn’t know any better he’d say it was infectious.
Zayn, at least, has the decency to blush.
8:10PM
Ten minutes later, and at least fifteen times that Zayn’s entire face glowed scarlet for a few seconds – Liam ducks under the table in the booth all of a sudden and Zayn just stares at him for a full minute, so confused, and maybe he’s smiling at the idiot that is this coffee shop boy, but Liam can’t see from his view under the table.
“What’re you doing?” Zayn asks, slightly panicked.
“’M just under the table.” Liam replies quickly, easily, and a sarcastic remark is on the tip of Zayn’s tongue but he doesn’t quite say it.
“No, I mean,” the black-haired boy takes in a breath. “Why?”
“Oh,” Liam nods, “Because the manager is walking by to do the last lock-ups, and he thinks you’re still gone.”
“I knew I should have left! We’re in trouble now!”
Liam quirks an eyebrow, just before the lights turn off completely, and if Zayn squeaks; Liam’s not going to tell anyone. “You know,” Liam drawls, “For a bloke with that many tattoos, you sure are a stickler. Get under the table.”
“But, like –,” Zayn looks around, his eyes darting in every direction even though the whole restaurant is pitch black and he’s so disorientated he’s wondering how he hasn’t passed out yet. “No!”
“Why?”
“’Cos we’ll get in trouble,” Zayn pouts, and then scolds himself because he didn’t do that until Liam did. “And I don’t want to be in trouble.”
Zayn can hear footsteps, slowly becoming heavier with every advancing step, and he can feel his heartbeat mimicking it. Liam tugs at a random part of the tattooed boy’s body, which happens to be Zayn’s leg, and he whispers out, “We’ll only be in trouble if you don’t get under here!”
AUTHOR’S NOTE: i got the idea for this during one of my late-night coffee highs while watching a concert dvd for u2’s ZOO concert in sydney ((i love them lol)). so there you go, a little bit of behind the scenes. enjoy this story, because i really put my heart & soul into it.
QUESTION OF THE CHAPTER:
Why do you think Zayn doesn’t want to get in trouble? What makes him so scared?
YOU ARE READING
Smile
Fanfiction[ ZIAM AU ] [ ✓ - DECEMBER 2014 ] ❝You make me smile.❞ The one where Zayn is an amateur writer and is having a bit of a grey day(s) (week) (month) (actually, life is mostly grey) but a nice waiter named Liam manages to turn around his mood in one ni...
