Alcatraz

Bonus: Full Chapter 3

Zayn stood in front of the dirty, fingerprint-smudged mirror at the petrol station, running his fingers through the spiky blond buzz cut that Zayn had agreed to sport after a too-close call in a McDonald's restroom. The dark coffee-ground roots were beginning to show through, but somehow, Zayn kind of liked his developing look. The dark and light contrast of colour was basically his motif now, symbolizing his relationship with Niall. Well, the bourgeoning whatever-it-was they had. Plus he looked damn sexy, if the wanting looks he was getting from both men and women alike were any indicator.

So far, this new "disguise" had worked. Not to say that he didn't feel the jittery, panicked butterflies in his gut take flight every time he was to go out in public, but paranoia was to be expected, he thought. In fact, it might be odd if he wasn't a bit on edge.

The trip so far had been hell. First, they'd had to wait what seemed like ages as Zayn's wounds healed. Too suspicious going out with numerous cuts, bruises, and bandages immediately following the carnage that was the demolition of Alcatraz, according to Hamilton. Zayn supposed he was right. Smug bastard. After that, there was the run-in with the off-duty cop at the burger joint. Zayn had been minding his own business, and was just zipping his trousers up when he turned directly into the chest of a large, muscular man at least a metre taller than him and nearly twice as wide. Zayn muttered a quick apology, receiving a stiff grunt from the other man. As he was washing his hands, the other man--who was at this point still taking a wee, mind you--grumbled, "Oi, mate. Anyone ever told you that you look a pinch like that gangster prick Zayn Malik?" Zayn quickly dried his wet hands on his trousers, shaking his head "no" rapidly; he couldn't say he had. The man finished up and gave Zayn a rough clap on the back. "Well unfortunately you do, mate. Bit unlucky for you right now, innit?" Zayn nodded his assent and scrambled toward the door. Before the door closed, the man called out, "Say, if you do happen to know anything about that Malik, you be sure to let the police know, all right?" And with that, Zayn hurried back to the table Hamilton was sat at, and the two of them got the hell out of there. 

After that nearly catastrophic incident, Hamilton decided it would be best to lay low awhile, just in case. While Zayn couldn't bear the thought of leaving his beautiful blond with his monster of a friend any longer than he had to, he eventually agreed to Hamilton's request. After all, it would do neither Zayn nor Niall any good if Zayn got himself locked up again. He was positive he'd run out of miracles. 

Now, nearly a month later, Zayn was finally in Chicago, and yet he strangely felt no closer to finding his blond-haired beauty. Zayn was beginning to regret chastising Niall for giving out too many personal details when they'd just begun conversing. His "treasure map"-- the treasure of course being Niall-- was pathetically incomplete. He knew the boy liked McDonald's and that he went to Uni somewhere in the massive city. So basically, he knew nothing. 

"I've got it!" Hamilton yelled triumphantly.  He was perched atop the ugly green and dusty pink floral duvet at some inconspicuous hotel they'd holed up in. 

Zayn peered at the warden quizzically. "Got what, herpes from lying on that STD-infested duvet?"

Hamilton made a face of disgust and stripped the offending blanket from the bed. "No, you twat. I know how we can find your boy. It's not going to be easy, though."

*****

Famous last words, those were. Hamilton's plan was horrifically awful. Worse than a vaccine to the arse, probably. Not that Zayn would be well-versed in that particular type of pain. He didn't go around showing his arse to just anyone, you know. 

Right, back to it. 

Hamilton's brilliant Princeton-worthy plan was to sit in a goddamned library at some Uni he'd claimed was their best bet and go through every database they could get access to. Anything that would possibly show proof that it was the school Niall attended.

After hours of searching online, asking random professional-looking people walking purposefully up and down the halls, and even breaking into a trophy case, the two men finally caught the break they needed. It was an essay that Niall had written--brilliant, really-- that had been published in the English department newsletter. How Zayn had managed to stumble across the piece was a mystery to him. He'd been fucking about, really, typing nonsense into the search bar like "best arse at University of Chicago," "why's my best mate such a wanker," and "Niall Malik" (which had quite the ring to it, thank you very much). It was the last search term that did it. Zayn was so dense sometimes. How could he have forgotten the essay Niall had written all about Zayn himself?

Turns out, finding the Uni Niall attended was the easy part. Classes were out for the term, so it's not like they'd happen to bump into the boy as he was walking to class. Given the sheer size of the University and the number of students it bragged, it was unlikely they'd find him even if class was in session. 

In the end, Hamilton's infuriatingly inhuman knack for being good at whatever he tried was what led the two men to what they'd been searching for. Apparently, Hamilton was able to use his Princeton brain to hack into the class list of the English professor for whose class Niall had submitted the essay. From there, Hamilton was able to find Niall's student account. Hacking that might've been a bit of a challenge, had the boy's "I forgot my password" question's answer not been so incredibly easy for Zayn. His face lit up as he read the question. "What's the first name of the boy you love?" He confidently typed in Z-A-Y-N, and voila, he was in. 

The treasure map to Niall was really coming together, thanks to the information they were able to find on Niall's account. His billing address luckily looked like it was his home address as well. Now all they'd have to do is scope out the place to make sure.

Zayn could practically feel himself buzzing with excitement. In a matter of hours, he would be holding the love of his life tight in his arms. And there was no way he was ever letting go.