Midnight • (Zayn Malik)

last name

I found myself sucked up from my perfect day/night at the beach- perfectly pale- and spit out behind my boring counter, red as the yarn I was checking out for a grumpy middle aged woman on a Sunday afternoon.

"Have a nice day," I said politely as I handed her a plastic bag with her yarn in it.

She gave me a nasty look and huffed away. You would've assumed I just told her to get her lard ass out of the door or something. Should've.

I went back to sketching the Polaroid picture of our feet and the sunset and smiled as the song playing on my phone switched to Knee Socks. I always liked this one because I sometimes wore knee socks to bed and I don't know I guess it made me feel like Alex Turner was singing about me. It didn't have nearly the same affect as Matt Healy had on me when he sang we're dressed in black from head to toe, and I'm wearing- you guessed it- all black. I shook the thoughts from my head, feeling a little too much like an obsessive fangirl. I wasn't, just to clarify. I looked at it more like I was in love with their mind. The way they made music and the lyrics they wrote for that music, there was something about it that made me fall in love. It was a different kind of art form that I appreciated a lot. I had never encountered something that made me feel so deeply the way music did. Even drawing didn't have that sort of affect on me. I have yet to find something that affects me more than music.

Feeling a bit like a philosopher I continued to sketch our blissful moment on the beach. I hardly noticed when the sliding doors opened and another customer walked in. They made their way towards my counter, knowing this because my eyes focused on their brown oxfords. My eyes trailed up to their face and I half smiled, half breathed a sigh of relief as I looked up from the drawing of the ocean to eyes that resembled it so well. After Zain's little phone stunt of sending me two hundred and sixty messages while I was at the beach, I don't think I could've handled him bugging me at work today.

"Hi Louis," I smiled, my pencil paused in my hand and resting on my crossed legs.

"Hi Luna," He smiled warmly, "what've you got there?"

He glanced down and his eyes followed my drawing as I lifted it up for him to see. His smile grew wider.

"Luna that's lovely," He complimented with voice that felt like a warm hug, if that made sense.

"Thanks. You can have it when I'm done, I already got to keep the picture," I offered as I set my sketchbook down beside my place sitting on my counter.

"I'd love that, Luna, thank you," He smiled again while he held my sketchbook in his hand.

"So what are you here for today Tommo?" I asked, hopping off of the counter.

He laughed a little, "Tommo, I haven't heard that in a while. Are you sure we haven't always been friends?"

The corner of my mouth slipped up a little, "'fraid not ole chap."

He laughed and shook his head at my attempted british accent, "That was truly dreadful."

"Hey it wasn't that bad. I've watched the Harry Potter movies enough times," I defended.

That just made him laugh harder.

The doors to the store opened again, letting in a little humid air and someone that I had previously hoped wouldn't show. I needed to start knocking on wood or something, I was always jinxing things. As soon as he stepped across the dirty mats in front of the automatic doors, his gaze flicked from Louis before they locked straight with mine. His eyes flashed before he painted on a fake smile.

"Luna, Louis fancy seeing you two here," He walked up to the both of us and leaned his elbow on the counter.

"I work here," I replied, slightly irritated.