The Heart of Him

RUOF

Why did I pursue a career in education? is the question Zayn asks himself every morning when his alarm goes off at seven. Tired eyes crack open just enough to find the source of the blaring siren and push snooze. Another nine minutes won't do much for his energy, but at least he can put off experiencing the chilly morning temperature by staying warm under his grey comforter.

By the time the fourth snooze alarm hits, Zayn actually sits up. He could probably afford one more if he wanted to really push it, but at this point Liam might end up getting homemade brew instead of some hole in the wall place off his list; if Zayn sleeps any longer, they might wind up with whatever black stew can be found in the hospital.

"J. Edgar Hoover: FBI leader or traitor? On this episode of the Conspiracy 101 podcast we investigate whether or not the US Government Official used blackmail as a way of keeping his position."

Running his hand through his towel dried hair, Zayn stares at himself in the mirror hung in the entryway to his flat. The closely buzzed sides of his head contrast with the top that's about 10 cm longer and falling flat rather than sticking up in a quiff thanks to his laziness that day. His earphones cord peeks out from underneath a black and white striped jumper, a thick, black velvet biker jacket covering it. The top's got faux fur lining, which causes the teacher to keep its collar popped up so his neck and lower jaw can stay warm. If it weren't for the white in his jumper, Zayn might've thought of his outfit as a bit too dark, especially with black jeans and his usual black framed glasses completing the look.

It matches my mood, he thinks grumpily. It's gonna be a long day.

As he waits for his two flat white's at the corner shop near his house that he likes to go to (when he's not running late for the bus), Zayn eyes the freshly baked pain au chocolat in the display case. In his morning fog, he had managed to make himself a bowl of Weetabix, but the sugar from the pastry could do him well. He'd blocked out two hours for Liam in his calendar that morning, a staff meeting at half past eleven not giving him much choice for any more than that. Afterwards a quick lunch, then his office hours, which he planned to use as a time to transcribe whatever he and Liam talked about that day, should no students show up and he be left to his own devices. A quick bolt of sugar couldn't hurt.

"Zayn? Two flat whites for takeaway?"

A practiced, fake smile finds its way to Zayn's lips as he takes the two cups from the barista. "Thanks." Turning to check out the decadent pastries, he notices that four new people have joined the queue. "Bullocks," he grumbles to himself, choosing to forgo the baked goods in order to make it to Liam on time. Although, looking through the window that's centered in the research lab door soon after, ten minutes early doesn't seem to be early enough.

With each hand holding a paper cup, Zayn uses his right knuckle to knock on the glass and get Liam's attention. A few other heads inside the room turn at the sound, but once Liam registers who caused it, he's out of his chair before anyone can say anything.

"Morning," the man greets cheerfully, immediately relieving Zayn of one of the white cups.

"Morning," he replies, doing his best to sound half as awake as Liam is.

It helps that the other didn't use the full 'good morning' because then it might be a little harder to come across as civilized; there wasn't anything good about having to turn his brain on this early. The fifteen minute walk over from the coffee shop woke him up considerably, but only because of the ice cold weather. If Zayn wanted to be shocked into consciousness, he would've taken the liberty himself and turned his shower faucet all the way to the right, not the left. At least it wasn't raining today, that would've been the cherry on top.