Red vs. Black

Chapter 13

Out of all the offices Zayn's ever worked in, none have ever come close to providing the array of snacks that Louis' current one does. And coffee. The coffee's to die for here. Which doesn't entirely make sense considering Zayn's industry of publishing seems to be the crowd worth impressing via hot drinks, not the software engineers who can't stand when you come too close to their laptops with so much as a bottle of Visine. Zayn knows from experience; it's how he's made friends with most of Louis' coworkers over the past couple years.

"Hey."

Startled by the abrupt greeting, Louis looks up from his corner workstation. Once he notices it's just Zayn, he relaxes, hitting save on his work before turning in his chair. "Why are you here?"

"Sorry," Zayn leans back to look at the name tag on the cubicle's partition. "I thought my best mate sat here, not some prosaic suit."

"I'm not a suit," Louis protests, arms crossing protectively over his chest as he does so.

"Then don't act like one." Checking out the random letters and numbers on the three screens Louis' got lined up next to each other gives Zayn a headache. "C'mon, let's get out of here."

"I can't," Louis replies firmly, eyeing the other's formal attire that contradicts his lax attitude. "And you shouldn't either. How have you not gotten fired yet?"

Zayn's eyes tear away from the monitors and focus back on his friend. "Because I can read like, five thousand words a minute. Same as you with lines of code. Don't think about it," he shrugs, "just leave."

"I have a boss."

"Not for long you don't," Zayn says, a sneaky smirk twisting its way onto his lips and immediately putting Louis in a panic.

"Zayn..."

He's pulled away from the desk area by a fistful of shirt that Louis grabs upon standing. After a few steps, Louis lets go, assuming Zayn will follow his fast-paced walking that leads them to a lounge area of colourful, oddly shaped chairs that are dispersed along a wide expanse of windows that overlook Shoreditch.

As Zayn sits in a teal throne, he looks around at the other workers taking a break from their projects, seeking comfort in a few minutes of quiet time. How is it that the nerdy software engineers get all the good stuff? Snacks, Work From Home Friday's, built-in office relaxation spaces. What gives?

"Now, what'd you do?" Louis asks, settled in the middle of a bright yellow bean bag chair.

Zayn really needs to change companies.

"Nothing bad," he answers, sighing when Louis continues to stare at him in royal disbelief. "I mean, in the grand scheme of things it's not." The menial clarification doesn't do much to waiver Louis' misgivings. "We came across each other in the break room when I was raiding your guys' sweets cabinet."

The older male's eyes divert to the satchel in Zayn's lap that's being patted in reference to where several packets of Haribo are hidden. "Are you still posing as someone from finance upstairs to get in?"

"Yeah," Zayn chuckles, humoured at just how easy it is to get people to believe what you want them to if you're confident enough. "Anyway, I made her some tea. Thickened up my accent and told her it was special, from my home country. Wherever she thinks that is. Racist," he mumbles. "You won't have to worry about seeing her for a few days. At a minimum."

Again, Louis looks down, staring at Zayn's left arm that's now exposed enough to show a faded lotus flower that's tattoo'd right below the bend in his elbow.

"You poisoned her," Louis deadpans.

"I only used one leaf. She's not going to die."

Leaning back in his free-forming seat, Louis casually surveys their surroundings. "Things aren't like how they used to be when we were younger. Going around, causing mischief for the hell of it. I'm going to be thirty this year."