The Heart of Him

EVIF

Eyes squint at the small print on the bottom of the flyer sticking out of Zayn's spiral notebook.

If you'd like to participate in this groundbreaking research, please contact Liam Payne, Oxford University, Surgical Sciences PhD Researcher. Volunteers will be compensated for their donation, as well as have any treatment plan they are currently undergoing (regardless of the condition), accelerated through the NHS system.

Making sure it doesn't fall out, Zayn opens the front flap and tucks the piece of paper into the first page pocket. Upon entering the waiting room that Liam had instructed to meet him in that morning, he was given the research advertisement by the man for reference. Placed around all the local hospitals and medical centers, the single sheet outlined all the major points on what Liam is trying to achieve with as much of a sales pitch tone as was tasteful, in order to get others to help him accomplish his dream. The requirements aren't much: be under the age of thirty-five, have no history of heart or blood disease in your immediate family (including the person themselves), have no history of smoking, and only be an occasional drinker. Oh, and "have a want to change the world!", which, now that Zayn knows Liam personally, is hard to read in anything other than the male's enthusiastic tone of voice.

"Look at you in your scrubs!"

There it is.

Closing his notebook, Zayn looks up to see Liam damn near beaming at him in the sea foam green gown. He's matching, a mask dangling on the side of his face by one of its elastic strings around his ear.

"Tying the back was a bit hard to get to-"

"Do ya need help?"

In a flash, Liam's walking forward so he can get a good look at the knots Zayn had made behind his neck and waist.

"No, no, I think I did alright," Zayn speaks hurriedly, unsure as to why he doesn't want to make an embarrassment out of himself over something as simple as tying knots, especially with someone as non-judgemental as Liam being the one checking their security.

"Yeah, you did." Face to face, Liam sticks his hands in the pockets of the surgical uniform. "Can't even tell you apart from the rest of us. History of art professor, who?"

"I'm just a lecturer," Zayn insists, wishing that he could feel as raring to go as Liam seems to be, but that's just not possible for someone as weary towards blood as he is. By the look on Liam's face, it doesn't seem like Zayn's doing all that great of a job hiding that nervousness either.

"Everything ok?" The younger male asks gently, his facial features taking on a similar emotion.

For a second Zayn thinks about lying, telling Liam that everything's great, he was still just a little groggy from having to wake up at seven that morning to make it to the eight o'clock start time assigned to the biopsy he was about to witness, but what good would that do when he got inside the room and then immediately needed to leave? Sharing that he could really go for one of the cigarettes that are sitting at the bottom of his briefcase in the corner of the changing room they're currently standing in probably wouldn't go over too well either. The anxiety of having to watch a surgery in person, supersedes the possible heartbreak he's going to put Liam through by admitting to the fact that he's been using rolling papers since the age of sixteen. One disappointing secret at a time.

"Uh, yeah, I just..." Zayn's left hand comes up to scratch at his short beard, his right gripping his notebook a bit tighter. "I don't think I need to tell you that I've never watched a surgery before. Never even been put under myself."

The deep breath that Liam takes has a similar calming effect on Zayn, although he's not sure how.

"I know that this technically qualifies as a surgical procedure, but trust me," Liam shakes his head. "It's not what you're thinking, I promise. No scalpels, no crazy machines. The man's going to be awake during it; it doesn't even require him to be put under."