Chapter 4: 03

'Stereo Hearts' X 'Zaalima' - Adam Levine & Raees

Unedited

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"Right." he answered, promptly gathering his possessions and moving them to his side of the table.

She walked around and placed herself on the chair, yet again filling his nostrils with her lavender scent. He tensed up, and she seemed to realise this so she shuffled along to the opposite end of the table, placing her bag between them on the floor, resulting in him letting out a breath he wasn't aware he was holding in. After setting up her belongings, she paused with her hands folded in front of her and turned to look at him with a neutral expression. He thought he noticed her falter, but in a blink any trace of hesitation disappeared.

"Well, I'm not sure if you read the paper but you have to get to know your desk partner. You know, we'll be representing our country because there will be a, um, a competition at the end of this month." she announced slowly.

Zayn inwardly smirked. She was nervous. Why should she be nervous? Probably because you are a guy, and she's a girl in this current world idiot. That brought his ego back to Earth swiftly. She fiddled with her pens and looked at him expectantly, one eyebrow slightly raised with a questioning tilt to her head.

"I didn't read everything, got caught up but Old'Malley earlier. But now that you've told me I don't gotta read it innit." he countered.

She nodded and asked, "I'm Syra. Syra Hayat Siddiqi. Born 5th of July 05. You?"

Syra. Meaning fate, perfection, princess. Fate. That stood out to him. And then hayat. Meaning life. Interesting, he pondered. Siddiqi. Truthful, righteous. That's what he saw. But some of his snotty relatives only saw her last name symbolising her caste. It was considered a 'high' one, like his, but he would never understand nor accept how you can think of someone lowly because of the social status of ones ancestors.

She was sixteen. She's definitely in her first year, like him. She was probably turning seventeen soon. He wasn't much older than her.

He processed that all in a few seconds while nodding. He cleared his throat.

"Zayn Malik Ahmed. 15th of November 2004. From Northwest London. I was born in Harrow but raised in Wembley."

"Ahh. We live in Harrow currently, on rent, while our house in Wimbledon is being renovated. I wasn't born here however, but in Sydney, Australia. We lived there for a couple years before we moved here due to my dads business. We go every year during the Christmas holidays - as it's warm over there at the time - because we have family there." she spoke softly, her eyes portraying how much she missed her birthplace.

"So why don't you go during the Summer holidays? You can stay there for longer," he couldn't help asking.

"We save the summer for back home, Pakistan. Most of my mother's family is there. Being surrounded by so much family there, the food and exploring our crazy city Karachi, it needs more time. In contrast to over here, where we only have my dads sister and her family - but I'm sure sitting in a snake tank is much more enjoyable," she explained, rolling her eyes.

Zayn lowly chuckled at this. Phoppos, (paternal aunts) often had a tendency to be one of the disliked aunts due to their snakiness and intrusiveness. Despite the voice in his head, he couldn't look away from her. Her hand gestures while she spoke showing her enthusiasm, her facial expressions ranging from her adorable nose scrunches to raising her eyebrows and rolling her eyes-

Focus. Snap out of it. Weren't you supposed to be mad? Look at you, acting so soft. Man tf up, spat that voice in his mind.

"Hmm. Yeah. Look let's just look through the papers to see exactly what we need to know about each other. I can't exactly unload my life story onto you just cuz they put ya next to me." he spoke briskly, sitting up and reaching for the papers.

If his words had an affect on her, she didn't display it. Her eyes narrowed and she nodded, eyeing him, probably to try to figure out what cause the sudden change of mood.

"Don't think that I was pleased to be paired with you. I can chat to a bloody wall and expect more of a reaction. I'm only doing this because -" Her retort was cut short upon the arrival of two lanky boys, one rolling his eyes at the other, who's shirt was untucked, unbuttoned from the top and ripped, his tie wound around his left wrist, bloody cuts on his cheekbones, lips and hands and blood spatters decorating him and his clothes - he'd clearly been caught up in a brawl.

"Assalamualaikum, Zayn bhai. It's been a while! Your sorry ass actually succeeded in avoiding me. And - hmm, who's this girl?" spoke Shahzad , unaffected by the blood dripping down his face. His face morphed into one of surprise upon acknowledging the presence of the Syra, discreetly raising his eyebrows for a split second at Zayn, meaning 'she's fit'. (May peace be upon you), (brother).

"Walaikumasalam. I wasn't avoiding you- you know I was busy. This is Syra- we were paired up for the competition ting innit. Syra, this is my chacha's son, Shahzad Ahmed, and that's my khala's son, Ahmad Khan." Zayn conveyed. (And may peace be upon you), (dads brother/paternal uncle),(mums sister/maternal aunt).

Shahzad, ever the charmer, bowed and did the adaab, saying Salam, while Ahmad just muttered a quick 'Assalamualaikum,' clearly still irked about Shahzad's earlier activities. (Adaab is a greeting used by South Asian Muslims in which they slightly bow/incline their head and raise a hand sort of in a cupping motion to their head, while saying Salam, meaning peace).

Syra responded to their greetings, with a small smile at Shahzad's manners. A bitter feeling coursed through Zayn upon witnessing that - he'd never seen her smile- For fvcks sake you just met her, you jealous prick. You have no right to be jealous or possessive. Get a grip, he scolded himself. Shahzad noticed the clench of Zayn's jaw, showing his annoyance, and shook his head, trying not to smile. He'd never steal his bros girl. Even if she wasn't his yet.

"Why are you guys here?" asked Zayn monotonously. Syra tuned to him in surprise - she wasn't prepared for him to be so blunt.

"That's Zayn for you. Doesn't beat around the bush. He's always been like this so no one takes it personally. It saves time and energy - his words not mine," murmured Ahmad to Syra after taking a place infront of her, while Shahzad sat across Zayn.

Zayn looked over at Shahzad, who was unusually quiet. His untamed jet black curls rested messily over his forehead, his thick eyebrows furrowed in thought. He absently rubbed his dark stubble, onyx eyes squinting at nothing in particular. His sand-toned skin glistened with sweat. A swift kick from Zayn under the table snapped him out his reverie. His head snapped up to see Zayn looking at him expectantly with a questioning tilt to his head. Shahzad mutely shook his head, widening his eyes at the oblivious girl across him. Zayn nodded, understanding his friend didn't wanna discuss it with Syra present.

He turned to look at her, to see her playing Among Us with Ahmad, both immersed in the game. He looked over Ahmad, trying to make out his motives with Syra. His pale skin betrayed his slight flush. His medium brown crew cut was messed up by him constantly running his hands through it; his hazel orbs focused on his screen. Zayn noticed a long cut from the corner of his mouth to his jaw, partially hidden by his facial hair. What tf happened before? He wondered.

Zayn sighed irritably. He couldn't look at Syra, with Shahzad now assessing him and making faces at him and his cousins wouldn't talk with her there. He decided to listen to their conversation.

"Why don't you just speak to her? To clear up the air so she don't assume your in the wrong innit?" Syra questioned Ahmad. Zayn relaxed, knowing Ahmad wasn't blushing because of Syra.

"Because! Like she gon tell her bro ofc what I said and these lot will assume I'm tryna get with her! Asians are mad creative with their assumptions yeah."

"Well you kinda are tryna get with her-"

"In the correct way. I want this issues solved up so I can go and ask her dad for her hand. If they agree then we can just have a nikkah - that way she can still live with her parents and when we are older, we get the registry done and move in together. I've got my whole future sorted. And thankfully my parents are more than happy with my decision. I'm just scared this incident might screw things up." (Islamic marriage contract).

Syra looked up from her phone in surprise. She seemed impressed - not many Muslim teenage guys had their life sorted like that.

"Damn boy. You're making us seem like we're wayyyy behind," commented Shahzad.

"That's cuz you are. You still gotta sort your shit out."countered Ahmad. Zayn chuckled at this.

"I'm not gonna tie myself to any expectations. Yeah like imma just go where life leads me. And I dunno why your laughing big man. Only a few months into your first year of college and you've got community service. Not to mention your little excursions after school-"

Shahzad's rant cut short by Zayn throwing his bottle at him with a murderous look on his face. He didn't need Syra knowing about that. He turned to her to find her already looking at him with her face carefully wiped of any expression. Her tight grip on her phone gave her away - she didn't want to get caught up in his shit, he guessed.

Great.

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Zayn never understood what roadmen actually did. Like where did they get their money from if they're busy walking around with shanks, acting all macho. Okay a fair share was from all that mugging but was being a roadman a part time job or something? God they were like a cult, wearing the same jackets, covering their faces, dressed in all black, saying the same phrases. They probably added a new word every month. He generally wanted to know.

His town, Wembley, was a very diverse town. In fact you saw more poc than white people, as were the schools. So racism wasn't as frequent as other parts of London, but it was still there. But one thing they still retained was the Islamaphobia. You'd think he could easily wear his Islamic dress out and about - people wore their cultural clothes - and not get as many judging stares. But he unfortunately did - and it was much harder for his mum and sisters. He knew he shouldn't let anything get to him, but when he saw people complain about their hardships in society and then do shit like that; his blood boiled at the hypocrisy.

The roadmen population grew over here; now you could turn in any alleyway and sniff out the marijuana; go to secluded places and see drug deals going on; knife crime and gang violence increased - it was no longer safe for even a young man like him to be out after dark.

Now as he sat on the bus to go home, he went and sat right at the back at the bottom floor, wanting to be away from the chatter as his thoughts swirled about a certain someone. He wondered what she thought of him now that Shahzad partially exposed him. She didn't talk to him after that but she wasn't exactly chatting with him before. Oh man, does she think I'm in a gang or sum? he thought. Does she think I'm doing drugs? Bruh I'd never do that shit. But he may have spoke too soon.

He was so preoccupied in his thoughts about her, that he didn't notice the bus empty and some guys walk in and address him,

"Ay you man at the back! Yeah, you. So like what ends are you from?" Zayn snapped his head to see 3 guys, freaking roadmen to be precise, standing in the middle of the bus, facing him. Just my luck.

"From here, of course," Zayn spoke carefully, not wanting to trigger them but not wanting to reveal anything about himself. He slowly sat up properly, discreetly zipping up his pockets and got his bag ready incase he needed to bolt.

"That ain't an answer. Man asked what place you were from-"

"And I said here. Surely you know where we are?"

"Listen man I don't appreciate that tone but you can set me that coat and your phone and we won't do jack to you,"

Bruv, he thought. This coat cost him fifty quid there was no way he was going to hand it over to ensure his safety. In fact the material didn't look like a knife could easily cut through. Maybe he shouldn't have interrupted him, but his tolerance for bullshit was already on a low. And his phone had some of his most important things saved on it. Naa fvck these yutes.

"I'm good. You won't find anything of value. Look my stops here. Gotta move."

Zayn promptly got up, walked down the isle, his eyes never leaving the one closest to him. Once he reached the door where they were standing, he paused and before any of them could react, he swiftly turned and shoved one onto the other while swiping the last one's feet out from under him. The bus doors open a second later and Zayn was out like in no time, quickly going and hiding in someone's front garden incase they chased after him or saw him from the bus.

He hoped they didn't get a good look at his face - these lot didn't easily forget about those that pissed them off; they held grudges. Now he'd have to change his bus route, knowing they'd be here everyday at the same time just to finish off what they begin today.

Little did Zayn know they'd meet again in much different circumstances.

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I guess it's too early to make out Syra and Zayn's relationship but share whatchu think so far.

What are your views on the roadmen - I tried not to use too much slang because frankly I knew I'd be too lazy to Idk translate that or sum lol. x x x x x x x

2450 words.