Epilogue: Zayn

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Scars And a Cup of Coffee

Zayn's hands shook as he wrote on the chalk board. His handwriting was messy but legible. Today was the day to prove himself, today was when he could make something of his life and make a better future: one lecture at a time. He turned around, facing the 10th year students like a man. He could face war and bloody images, but sixteen year olds were a new territory. It felt like so long ago that he had been one, but it hasn't even been a decade.

"Hello," He spoke aloud. "I'd like to welcome you to Advanced Literature Studies and Decryption of Classic Art, but a majority of you don't want to be here. This academy is one of the only academies that offer this class, and here you are listening to me drawl on and on."

Everyone laughed in hushed tones. Zayn took that as progress, a good start. He had been so unnerved, almost called in sick thinking that he'd mess up. But Harry kissed him on the forehead, telling Zayn that he was over thinking everything.

"This is my first time teaching my own class, so you can expect me to mess up. A lot." The laughter continued. "But why don't we get to know each other first. And I know what you're thinking, 'he's going to make us stand up and introduce yourselves', but no, that's not going to happen. I'm going to be the one getting interrogated. Ask away."

He waited, and the class stared at one another. Zayn could feel their hesitation, he watched as no one had the courage to raise their hand. He raised an eyebrow.

Then slowly a hand came from the crowd. "What's your full name, Mr. Malik?" A blonde boy with blue eyes that reminded Zayn a lot of Niall, asked.

"Zayn Javaad Malik."

Another hand shot up, "How old are you? "

"Twenty-five."

A holler from nowhere asked, "Are you single?"

"Nope." Zayn answered without missing a beat,  and half the class groaned. He laughed, "Would you prefer it if I were a bachelor?"

A boy from the back with black hair and green eyes snorted, "Heck, I would've even taken a chance to get into your bed, Mr. M."

"I'd prefer to take that as a compliment." Zayn chuckled.

The boy licked his lips, "I meant it as one."

"What's your name, young man?"

"Alexander Vixen, at your service." The boy offered. He didn't expect so many flirts at this only boys academy. Zayn was already picturing the look of laughter on his fiancee's face as Zayn would tell him about this moment. The moment a student blatantly flirted. It would be priceless.

"The only service you will do for me is turn your assignments on time." Zayn chirped. The class ooed. "Which I expect all of you to do, I'm not strict but I will not tolerate my students not trying their hardest."

Another voice came from across the room in the form of a boy with glasses and unruly hair. "What do you have planned for this hour?"

He stared into the eyes of all the boys here. Knowing what he said could be crucial, but he also knew that it was only crucial to those who wished it to be. "I plan on not teaching you but educating you. You may not see the difference between them now, but I hope by the time you leave this classroom at the end of the year you will."

His class nodded.

***

Zayn left the school building with the students as they headed back to their dorms. He had been the talk of the day. By the time his afternoon classes came around they already knew his name, age, and birthplace. Zayn wasn't sure how they got the last one, but he didn't want to dwell on it. It was freaky enough as it is.

He was walking passed the gates and to the lot where Harry was waiting with his Jeep. Zayn couldn't help but appreciate how well the day had gone, and the positivity that seemed to radiate around him. The air was crisp, but it felt alleviating against his skin. It was an awakening, somewhere deep inside another door opened.

This was amazing.

Here he was three years later teaching. Time had graced him with moments, but persistence had gotten Zayn through them. It seemed that even through the years the pain of the people he lost still hurt but it was the fact that the new people that filled their void made them pain bearable. Not a razor sharp stamp but more of a dull ache that reminded him. Zayn refused to forget.

Harry's car pulled up in front of him, his curly haired lover's hair was long from a lack of being cut but the smile on his face still bright and brilliant. Zayn still wondered how someone so beautiful stumbled into his life. Or how Zayn limped into Harry's. Whatever it was, so be it divine intervention, fate or luck, he was grateful. Grateful for all the kisses and hugs and long talks.

"Hello, Professor Malik," Harry keened as he opened the door. Zayn rolled his eyes before he pecked Harry on the cheek. "What's the order for today? Wait, let me guess, the usual."

Zayn laughed. Harry had been teasing Zayn for such his simple order of coffee for years. They didn't know how or when it started but it had. Each time it made him laugh or brought a smile to his face.

"You know what? I'm going to change it," Zayn purred. He saw his fiancee's look of surprise at the words. "It's going to be complicated, too, Mr. CEO."

"So, what is it?" Harry murmured. "A latte, a boba tea? I'm dying to know."

Zayn leaned over kissing Harry fully. Raking his hands through the tufts of hair he couldn't get enough of. Zayn could feel the material of Harry's suit rub against his skin, loved the way the suit fit his lover. He couldn't help but wonder if he would ever get enough of Jade eyed prince, but he knew the answer.

No. Never would he get sick of the crooked smiles, and extremely bad puns. This was his endgame and he wanted nothing more.

"I want a coffee black with two sugars," Zayn answered as he pulled away. Harry's lips were a brighter pink than usual, but they curled into a smile.

"That's a complicated order."

"I know it is."

"We might be out of sugar." Harry drawled sarcastically.

Zayn smiled, shimmying his way closer to Harry, so that their shoulders touched. It should have been uncomfortable but it wasn't even in the car seats. "I have a sweet tooth."

Harry laughed so hard that he snorted. He was red faced, and just laughing like his life depended on it. Zayn wondered if it did. In that moment, Harry was stripped of the CEO of Á La Mode image, and was just Harry. A dork that liked to hide the fact that he had a hidden stash of chocolate, and preferred being the big spoon. His dork.

A dork that was Zayn's, just as much as Zayn was that special dork's.

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For the last time on this book (I'm sobbing uncontrollably again),

COMMENT, VOTE, or FAN!

Love you all so much,

Mitch

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