Midnight • (Zayn Malik)

mon univers

"You finished all seven already?" Zain asked, with a subtly impressed expression.

"All eight," I corrected.

Zain looked at me then shook his head, trying to hide a smile and sighing, "Oh Luna."

"Oh Zain," I sighed back jokingly.

"That's why you asked m-"

"Yep," I smirked.

"You're just going to assume I'm c-"

"Uh huh," I gave a curt nod.

"Alright," he shook his head again, "so you want these on the front or back of the shirts?" he asked, moving my sketches around to view each one.

"Which would look better?" I asked, angling my neck so that I could look at my sketches too.

"I think putting it on the front would give it the attention it needs and then the name on the back," Zain suggested.

"Yeah, I like that. Also I found these really cool shirts at Jo-Ann's, do you think I could bring in my own shirts for you to print on?" I looked up at him, then back at my sketches.

"'Course," he nodded then took a picture of the eight drawings on his phone.

"Are you sending that to your boss or something?"

"No," he half-smiled, paying more attention to his phone, "I'm puttin' it on my story."

I felt a blush rise on my cheeks faintly and I gave his shoulder a shove.

"They're sick," he told me defensively.

I shook my head and smiled at him, taking a minute to really look at him while he was preoccupied. We had come such a long way in the short time that we had known each other. When at first, the only thing he had to say about my drawings was that they didn't have a signature. Now he was putting them on his Snapchat story.

"Hey wait," I poked his arm, "when am I going to see the product of your artistic creation?"

"When Lunas wear color," Zain taunted.

"How did you even know that's not my thing?" I tried to talk over the rock that fell to the pit of my stomach.

"I should get a dollar every time I explain this to you. You're predictable. I have never seen you wear anything with color so I assumed that was just part of your aura I guess," he explained casually but his words sunk a little bit deeper into my skin. It seeped to my core and circled my mind.

I breathed out a laugh, "Yeah my aura."

"Alright, so I'll get these printed once you get me your shirts and you'll be set," he concluded, sliding his phone back into the front pocket of his black jeans.

"Okay, thanks for doing all this," I attempted to be nonchalant.

"Yeah no problem. Still can't believe your mom is letting you take six crazy teenagers to Europe for the week and funding the whole thing," he shook his head and gathered my sketches in his ring littered hands.

I shrugged, "Might be seven. You have until twelve tonight to tell me whether or not you want my help," I reminded.

"I really wish I could pull money out of my arse," he sighed and looked at me.

We both erupted in laughter and bursts of snorting. I couldn't really explain why I had any desire to help Zain of all people. I think it was because we were sort of friends now. But I knew a better reason was because no matter how annoying and blunt Zain was, he is a human being with real feelings. I had to remind myself of that because most of the time it seemed as if Zain couldn't be touched emotionally. He was always just Zain around me. Helping him to see his friends (who he probably missed a lot more than he was letting on since he didn't really have friends here) was the least I could do. I couldn't imagine what it would be like to move to a different country away from my friends. My mom was already letting my whole group go to Europe, so what was one more person? The money meant nothing to me anyway and my mother was more than happy to spend it if she thought it will make things go back to the way they were between us. That's not really how it worked but I pushed the thoughts away, not really wanting to think about that in right now. Though there really wasn't even a moment that passed where I wasn't thinking about it.