Smile

five; beetroot and cheese

SMILE – ZIAM AU
PART FIVE; BEETROT AND CHEESE
WORDS: 918
CHAPTER SONG: WALKING DISASTERS BY THE WOMBATS
WARNING: MENTIONS OF EATING DISORDERS

10:00PM

During the second hour that the two boys are locked in the café, Liam’s done a lot of things. One, he’s closed the blinds on the windows so people outside can’t see in (even though there is literally no-one outside) (it’s a snowstorm, for God’s sake) (Zayn just didn’t want people to look through the windows and think, wow, there are two guys locked inside a café, what a pair of idiots.) Two; Liam has turned off the desk lamp and put on the main room light, (so Zayn can do some writing in the back of one of the far booths) and then, thirdly, he grabbed one of the little pre-made sandwiches he had and shoved it in front of the black-haired boy.

“No,” Zayn looks up from his notepad to shake his head. “I can’t eat, I’m working.”

“How does that mean you can’t eat? I eat when I work all the time.” Liam says, confused, and pushes the sandwich closer along the table.

“It distracts me.” Zayn replies, simply, “It’s a thing I do. I write better when I haven’t eaten anything.” and then he goes back to scribbling nonsensical words into his margins. “Don’t worry about it,” he says when Liam flashes him a judgmental look.

“So,” Liam moves the item of food he’d gotten for Zayn off to one side of the table to clear room, and then he sits on it like it’s a seat, facing Zayn. “How long have you been ‘working’?”

“Three days now,” Zayn snaps, irritable, and places his notepad back on the seat. No real use trying to write when Liam the Apparent Psychologist is criticizing your life choices.  

Liam’s eyes go so wide Zayn briefly wonders if that’s actually supposed to happen. “You’re telling me that you’ve had nothing but coffee for three days? How are you still breathing? You should, honestly, be dead by now.”

Zayn just shrugs like he’s not too opposed to the idea.

“Eat the sandwich,” Liam says like it’s a command, like he expects Zayn to do whatever he says. “It’s beetroot and cheese.”

“That sounds disgusting.”

“Yeah,” the brown-haired boy allows, “But I guarantee it isn’t. It’s actually one of our best sellers. I’ve even stolen a few of them from the fridge before. They’re nice.”

“You’re just saying that to get me to eat.”

“Well, partly, I am.” Liam crosses his arms. “But it’s because I care about you and I don’t want you to just die one night, alone with a notebook on your face because you fell asleep ‘working’. That’s all.”

“Why would you care?” Zayn barks, and stands up, walking to the other side of the café, sitting down and taking out his notepad again. “I only just met you,” he says, and then connects his pen with the paper, writing this little scrawl across the faded page. (It’s not the only thing that’s faded.)

(Liam thinks for an ephemeral moment that Zayn and his notepad might just be a metaphor, but he doesn’t voice it.)

 “Because you’re nice, and I don’t know –,” Liam answers, and grabs at his hair, exasperated. “I don’t know! It’s – I’m just a caring person!”

“If you were a caring person, you wouldn’t have me locked in your café!” Zayn shouts, rising to his feet.

“You’re only here because you were writing –,” Liam makes quotation marks with his fingers in the air, “— and I thought you looked pretty content, so I persuaded the manager to keep you here a little longer. How does that not make me a caring person?”

“You locked me in a café!”

“I’m locked, too!” Liam pauses, and then searches through his pockets, a panicked expression on his face.

“What are you doing?”

“I think I’ve got keys!”

“You idiot!”

“I’m sorry!” Liam offers his hands up in half surrender, half apology. “Look!” he shouts, victorious, and produces a silver piece of metal from his pocket. Zayn’s eyes go nearly as wide as Liam’s had before, and they’re trained on the key.

“Well, what are you waiting for?” Zayn says, obviously trying not to yell, “Get us out of here!”

Liam nods once, excited, and bolts towards the café’s door, instantly bringing the key towards the lock, and from Zayn’s angle he thinks he can see Liam unlock the door, but Liam backs away slowly, with his head hung low.

“So?” the black-haired boy asks, “Are we out?”

Liam shakes his head, slowly, “The snow’s piled up outside the door,”

Zayn’s eyebrows knit together in a questioning look, and then he runs forward, snatching the key off the Wolverhampton boy and trying hopelessly to unlock the door himself, each failed attempt punctuated with a growl of frustration. He swears, once, and then twice; then a string of the most colourful words Liam’s heard in a while.

“It’s no use, Zee,” Liam shrugs. “We’ve been snowed in.”

“What the hell do we do now?” Zayn throws his hands up in exasperation, his face turning slightly red. Liam is so close to smiling at the boy (he looks like a bloody kid throwing a tantrum) but he wisely bites his lip to ward off any potentially nasty comments, as he’s almost a hundred percent sure Zayn will not hesitate to punch him.

“You could eat the sandwich,” Liam offers, nonchalant. Zayn strides up to him, crowding up into his space, their breath mingling in the air. “It’s beetroot and cheese,” Liam says, voice impossibly hushed.

Zayn slaps him.

AUTHOR’S NOTE: so zayn has a few problems. that’s ok. we’ve all got some problems. and liam’s trying his best to fix them, as he should. he’s a good friend – zayn’s just a bit of a hermit.
i wrote this on the way to and the way back to school on the bus over maybe two or three days. do you even know how hard it is to write a fanfic in a public place? ((omg my laptop autocorrected ‘public’ to ‘pubic’  just then i’m laughing so hard))
j x

QUESTION OF THE CHAPTER:
Why does Liam care so much? Why doesn’t Zayn want Liam’s help?