Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Zayn loves this class! Of course; he took it for two terms, ecstatic about the idea of learning humans; how they think, how they perceive things in their own thoughts, why they do it all. He still had a lot to learn and that’s why he's here; to absorb it all. Yet sitting through this lecture, the only thoughts his mind was able to make up was whether he'd end his life now or twenty minutes from now, when the professor’s still doing his lecture on Sociology. The class goes back and forth—Psychology to Sociology to Anthropology, back to Sociology then Psychology. The professor decided to give an introduction, knowing most of the students don’t know much about the three, but he decided to spend the beginning of the semester teaching the difference between all of them. Right now, it's Sociology.

And Zayn could not take it all; the lecture was showing him the bright light after death. He can feel the heat of the light searing on him, making him feel the contrast of the light with his dying, cold body. His pen and paper wasn’t easing the pain his mind was going through. Neither did his phone, texting his friend what’s for dinner, having to wait in between for 10-minutes for his response. He's carefully made sure his phone is silent, avoiding the feeling of mortification when everyone’s eyes are set on him if his phone blares in the middle of the lecture.

“Hey!” Zayn hisses quietly. He feels this brick drop on top of his head all so sudden; making its way down right beside his feet. He's already dying and there's falling bricks—the world really hates him. "Butterfingers..." He blurts like a curse.

“Could you get that?” That familiar voice with that slurring accent asked with a sense of eager in his tone. Eager but collected.

Zayn's nice enough to reach down and grab the lad’s phone, but not as nice when his eyes fixate one the idiot’s text to the controller emoji person as he laughs. Zayn's got growing concerns for this lad.

Niall:  Study date without the first part. 7 at Heisman.

"Wow," Zayn couldn't help but laugh under his breath. He reaches over his head to pass the student's phone back. "Knowing the amount of girls you sleep with a month, I would've thought your approach would be better. But seeing your yard today, I should've avoided making expectations." The laughing stops when the phone dropped on Zayn's head again, obviously intentional. It's only been a few seconds from the first drop on his head that he gets a next drop on his head. Time must be going by fast, his time is coming real quickly now.

Niall is one of the roughest, dirtiest, and loudest fraternity representative he's ever met. His ash blond hair is always sticking out like he's just woken up, his eyes are always following the bounces of women's tits and men's dicks, and he curses far too much. Zayn's never found a liking to him, and to have a three hour class with the belligerent fool who likes to set dates up with everyone he talks to, it isn't a simple walk in the park with this transfer student who happened to be on the same boat he was when first year came by.

He read his phone again:

Niall:  Thick Prat

"Ah, that's how you feel..." Zayn's thumb hovers over the 'Send' option. "So you wouldn't mind if I—" He had the nerve to do it. Niall can't blame Zayn for his motive, since he set himself up for the loss.

"Dick." Niall takes back his phone and leans to the end of the desk. Zayn can feel him ready to whisper something to him down below. And he's ready to hear all what Niall has to say—not that any of what he has to say, he hasn't heard before.

This was the routine every day since the year started when he sat where he's exactly sitting now, when Niall entered the doors with a loud laugh. Zayn knew him before this class—tried avoiding him ever since. He hasn't done a good job at it. He could remember mouthing several times to himself "please don't sit here, please don't" when Niall was making his way up the steps. He can recollect the feeling of blood rushing, him trying to subtly watch Niall by keeping his sight on my phone, watching Niall from the corner of his eyes. And Zayn remembered that he was able to let the 20-second held breath out as Niall jogged past the row. But fuck, his eyes widened then squinted in anger right after a few seconds passed, and felt a presence behind him, made their selves comfortable.

"I know you and me," Niall let out a deep breath. "Have our differences but I'm willing to look past it, knowing butterflies are fluttering in your stomach when ya see me. We're both vice presidents for a reason and I can't help, but feel like you're lying to me, hiding your sexual craving for me. Now, vice presidents don't lie, do they?"

Ha! Zayn's tongue pressed on the gums and teeth at the left side of his mouth, holding in his laughter. This was new. "Gee, I'll keep in mind your amazing offer. I appreciate it really. Just tell me when your results come in for Chlamydia, yeah?"

He can feel Niall glaring down at him while he laughs to himself at his witty remark. Zayn might be funny but Niall didn't quite entirely see that. "Fucking twat, did you blow Harry to get V.P? Surely positive you've swallowed him down to be where you are."

"Yeah I blew Harry, alright." Zayn shook his head for a quick second, squinting to himself at the stupid and humorous come-back. What's in this lad's mind? Zayn thought. It's like he never thinks.

"But that's all I've done y'know?" Zayn continues. He shouldn't push it. He's already accomplished by winning this daily banter. Except, he believes it's right for him to become an over-achiever. "I mean it's nothing compared to what I know you guys do."

Niall tilts his head, a wry smirk taking over. "You're amusing, keep going."

"You Kappas’ earn your money from somewhere, yeah? We earn ours too, that's nothing to think about. But, you guys are fairly lazy, sleeping around—and that's it! That's how you earn your money—prostituting yourself around campus. And you, Niall, being the most favoured one around campus, bringing in the most for your brothers, yeah? Like how much, $200? Two bills a night for being the best power bottom they've had?" Zayn bites his bottom lip right afterwards, tilting his head back to look at Niall who's currently unamused by everything. Zayn loves when that happens.

Niall nods his head as if the lad was a bobble head himself. "This is why I like you, always full of stories. I hope one day you tell our kids some of this."

"For you, my darling little prick." Zayn's head shakes again, clicking his pen as his head tilts to peek over the notes of who he likes to call his real Psychology buddy. He'd type his notes down, but he's made it a habit to write everything down so the information actually goes to his head and sticks there. Teachers have always been saying this. He doesn't know if it'll be a difference if he types his notes but it occupies him. 

"What is that...?" He mutters, jotting down words in a hurry. She has horrible writing. It's not his reading. In fact, his reading is above his level. He's got doctors writing but her—she's got chicken scratch writing. He can't tell her how her kind of calligraphy hurts him when she's the one who helps him through this class but if he could without a catch, I would.

"An E." The girl beside him replies quietly. His buddy to save the day— always so thankful of her.

"E for easy. Just like Epsilon." Niall whispers and he completely ignores him, totally aware of that piece of shit behind him is being his obnoxious self like every day. If he knew what he thought of him—it'd be more than banters at Psychology 101. A classic saying—this is actually room 214A.

Just two more minutes and he'll be out. Just like that, the bell will ring and he will be out. Alive. He can't believe it.

"Please prepare for tomorrow," The professor projects out to a bunch of students who began to pull of their bags. He always knew kids would be packing their bags to leave five minutes before the bell so he timed himself when to end his lecture to have time to explain something valuable to the class that everyone else saw useless. "I'll be announcing your midterm project before the class ends tomorrow."

Just like he predicted, no one gave a good damn about it and left.

He was just really looking forward to going home. Not that he meant anything bad by packing early—it's his last class of day before succumbing into the call of his bed and his good ol' Bugatti. GTA obviously, he can't even pay off all his tuition without help.

And he knows the blond fuck himself wasn't looking forward to anything but his bed too. Bed and his date at 7 at The Heisman—if they actually agreed to him after all the name calling.

The Heisman is the campus coffee shop, slash pub where everyone comes to do anything really. Anyone can play pool and win a drink with loser buying or cash that'll feed enough for the weekend. They can even play up on the stage; show everyone your knowledge of indie music that everyone always favours. Zayn cannot stand it there. He only visits that hipster fest for the Cuban coffee, club sandwich and pool table. Then straight away, after getting what he wants, he will be gone. Far from those bands. If he's forced to stay there, he sits outside in the patio. It just saddens him when winter comes and he actually has to sit inside.

He arrives home, taking his shoes off by digging his toes down behind his ankles through the hallway, dropping his bag right on the counter where he went straight to the fridge. It was some kind of daily ritual of his that he goes through when he comes home. Not a ritual maybe but a habit to check if the food his left is still there. When Zayn lives with 15 other lads, his plate of food is always in danger. The only thing to prevent any of the other lads from eating anyone's food is to have a name printed clearly claiming ownership for them to see. Although, it doesn't work all the time. And they are called dicks. They are people who pay for the house's dinner to make up for that snake-like behaviour.

"Good, you're here." Harry jumps from the second last step to the floor. His chewing takes a pause, one cheek bigger than the other as he stares at Harry.

"Wha?" He starts to chew really slowly, trying to be subtle that he's in need of this sandwich right now.

"It's Thursday," Harry nods once, looking at him carefully.

"Eeh? I know." He replies muffled with cold sandwich in his mouth. Zayn's got to make sacrifices when he's hungry, and eating a cold, day-old sandwich is one of them under desperation.

"We gotta talk." Harry states slower for Zayn's mind to catch.

"Ah—awh shit!" He groans just as the normality of his Thursday's pop up in his head. "My bad Harry. Slipped completely out of my mind." 

"It's alright." Harry scavenges through the fridge for his Starbucks Frappuccino drink. Smart of him to transfer that thing into a water bottle. "Long day, I know but this'll only take like half an hour. Just tell everyone we'll be starting in an hour. You can nap by then, I'll wake you."

"Nah, it's alright. You can't wake me once I'm out." He shrugs, loosening the tie under this fancy shit zip polo sweater as he plops on the sofa. Zayn hates these. A lot. "Can we talk about uniforms? I mean do we really have to wear these sweaters?”

Harry grimaces apologetically. "We'll look like Kappa so that's out of the order. Sorry Zayn but, you only wear them during class hours and when we go somewhere as a group like a party or something on campus... It's not all bad."

"Baby blue tuxedos are better." He sighs, turning to Harry whose laugh stifles.

"You’re exaggerating." Harry shakes his head. "But how's Psychology for you? Psyched about it?"

"C'mon Harry," Zayn groans at the sad pun. It hurts his head sometimes. "Nice effort on the joke but no. The class is well, but could do better without that damn boy."

"Niall?" Harry laughs. "What'd he do now?"

He coughs out the disturbing feeling in his throat, trying his best to pull Niall's accent. "Fuckin' twaht, did yeh bluh Harry t'get VPeh? Surely positif yav swallowed him down to be VPeh! Bleh bleh...!" He coughs again.

"Nailed it." Harry's forefinger touched his thumb, putting the three fingers up at him as Zayn laughs. "He's just looking for a buzz to kill. Just happens to be you."

"Whatever," He shakes his head. "I've only got an hour with the guy and then I'm out..." He pauses, shaking his head. "But I've got tomorrow... Oh Christ!"

"Just move." Harry wipes his mouth, shoving the drink back into the fridge, hiding it between condiments.

"I sat there first." Zayn retaliated with Harry laughing at his answer. "I have a reason to sit there. What's his?"

"Well, what's yours?"

"I'm able to see everything perfectly. The intensity of light is swell to me..." He continued to list a few—all ridiculous reasons like having the air reach him perfectly when the AC or heater is on. Not too much but not too little either. Still, they were reasons to sit at his seat Harry found understandable. But he's just being extra; he didn't care where he actually sat. He just didn't want to move. Why should he be the one to move?

But the hour passed and he got over today's mayhem with Niall and concentrated on the meeting at hand in the living room. Meetings were usually held at the dinner table but they didn't feel like setting themselves posh for a meeting that was only gonna last for half an hour. And Harry let it slide. He was brilliantly flexible for a newly elected president but no one seemed to hate him for it. He was really receptive for someone who's leading a house full of prestigious brothers and he was really good at for someone who's not as strict as Kappa's leader.

But Harry can't blame that their leader is a hot-headed mess.

No one can.

“Rush week’s here boys!” Harry leaned forward from his seat, “Try not to scare them like last year.”

Last year’s Rush could’ve gone a lot better if Rho Epsilon didn’t go and intimidate people by setting deadlines in front of people’s faces. No one likes deadlines. And chores. Last year, they were pushing Rushers by pointing and shaking their forefingers at freshman, constantly reminding them to attend the party by 9 or forget Rho’s even doing a Rush. And the pledges suffered through a lot. About 20 attended their house for the annual get-to-know-the-frats but there was an estimate of 40 that were interested. It showed those 20 weren’t fit to live with Rho and out of the 20 who came, only 5 pledges made it in. This year’s gonna go through a big change in their recruitment strategy, with any luck now that Harry’s president with Zayn as his second hand. Nevertheless, it’s still terrible when Rho’s new alumnus is the last president who decided to coerce people last year. But the house believes the dick would never come back and they’re more than happy about it.

Harry shoots a look at Zayn and he returned the look reluctantly. He can feel sweat from his hands accumulating now. This was his first meeting as Vice President and it's racking him up—having to speak publicly to his brothers who voted him second hand. He didn’t want to disappoint them, that’s all. And he's positive that he will.

“I-I’m gonna set the rules straight,” He stammers, pausing on what to say. He's already fucked up. There's no going back. “Um, completely no hazing. We’re having none of it.” His words rush out completely. Some of the brothers nodded—some kept a straight face.

There were several cases of hazing that went around Rho last year. It terrified everyone and no one was actually interested in imposing anyone’s well-being. Except the one Alumnus.

“They can’t clean my room?” Anthony asks. He’s been here just as long as Zayn but he asked only for the 5 that’s new to the rules of Rush Week, making it more facetious for them.

“No, you idiot,” He points his finger at Anthony, trying to hold in his laughter. Humour was easing off the anxiety out of him. Thank you Ant. “Clean your own fucking room.”

“Just avoid any offensive shit.” Harry discloses. “Wear your letters through the week, by the way. It means you gotta keep the zip-ups or wear the shirts, I really don’t care. Just wear it. And finally—try to behave. We know how Kappa is. As much as we want to sabotage them, let’s avoid it from happening. Be the bigger person and—30 minutes have passed, we’re finished here. See ya guys.”

Everyone dispersed to God knows what—except Zayn, deciding to leave himself behind for a short time. That meeting was worse than he thought. At least the sweat from his palms are drying.

“That was quick.” He says to Harry, already kicked his feet up, turning the telly on.

“I said it was gonna be quick, didn’t I?” He says concentrated towards the show more than this conversation. “Everyone’s already got a sense of what’s expected during Rush so I see no point in running through it all over again.”

He nods before muttering out what he's been hesitant to say. “I’m sorry by the way, could’ve done better.”

“Don’t be hard on yourself. Everyone’s known you for a while now, Zayn. They don’t care whether you mess up on your sentences or not—they just wanna hear what you have to offer for the benefit of the house. They voted you, didn’t they? They must know what they’re doing.”

“Seriously?” He breathes out, unsure of it all. Unconvinced and amazed at the same time.

“Yes.” Harry says firmly. “Don’t be so doubtful. But go to sleep, weren’t you planning to knock out after?”

“Y-yeah,” He replies just as he enter back in the kitchen, slinging his bag over his shoulder, kicking his shoes towards the door where the other shoes are before making his way up to his room. “If I don’t wake up, goodnight.”

Zayn wishes he didn't have to.

—

Zayn found himself once again near death, seeing the same white illuminating light just like yesterday, getting brighter and brighter as the Professor continued to speak. His skin is starting to burn. On the other note, it was Thursday and there were only 10 more minutes for him to bear through before the Professor is supposed to reveal the step-by-step midterm assignment. Midterms weren't exciting but he's sure leaving this class is better than anything and if he has to get through the long, informative part of the midterm just to go home, he will.

He has gotten somewhat lighter in feeling than yesterday, knowing the lad behind him was sleeping through the lecture. He was talking for a while just before he slept but not to Zayn which he was thankful for. He hates it sometimes that he's gotta deal with Niall's obnoxious arse and the lectures all at the same time.

He tried to keep his head up but lost the fight, slumping his head down on the desk, fighting against  heavy eyes. All he could see as his head faced to the right was his neighbour taking notes—she's always taking notes and the rest of them on my right continuing down, near to death just like him.

"For your midterms everyone, you're going to be creating a Research Report." The professor starts the information about his midterms. Zayn's head shot up to listen.

Fucking great. One of the hardest things for anyone to do. And Zayn can't even decide on which pen to use to write because the three he has are so good.

"Choose a topic and make up your question. I'd say for you to email me your research question but you should have a sense of what the components are. I want to be able to see your topics in by next week. "

Interesting—how fast time goes.

"Nevertheless, you're not working alone anyways." He continues. "Just remember, it's a social science research report. This is not an essay. You won't have a thesis. So consult with your partner, what question you'll be answering. Be elaborative and precise when making your questions. I don't want to have to read up on a research question that's really broad. For those going through with surveys, make sure your surveys have a variety of questions to answer from. 40 at most, 30 being the least. Open and close ended questions are to be expected."

Shit. 30 questions it is then.

"If you're approaching this through participant observations, keep in mind—you've got a short and limited time. Make use of it." 

Zayn's not sure if he's able to juggle the rest of his assignments, especially ones that include papers to do as well. From the syllabus, his professor wants all the 10 steps to be handed to be checker over each week for marks. Hard enough he has to do it with a partner.

"You're given..." The professor opens up a document, showing through the project for everyone to see. "Until the first of November. It's September 22, that gives you a lot of time, really. So I'm expecting a lot from you, guys."

Maybe B plus for Zayn. But he was planning to work with his neighbour, seeing how hard working she is. There are many of them like her, maybe about twenty out of forty but he really never talked to anyone else besides this row and the several people in front of me and behind. He's a hard worker too, just when he has to like for this project. So maybe he'll be able to actually achieve a high mark for the midterm.

"Your partners are up on the screen. If you have any questions, email me or talk to me after class."

Spoke to soon—so much for his plan. His life is like a tragic sitcom. Yet, he's confident about this assignment for some reason. Giddy in his seat, thinking on a topic to do—maybe drugs, or bullying. His mind flourished with ideas to research about as he set the dates of each assignment on his phone. He finally looks up and his giddiness suddenly drained from him like a sink filled with water, his knees abruptly stopped shaking with happiness just as he saw—

"No way." Zayn finally hears Niall's voice, thinking the exact same thing as him. That's the first. No fucking way. They never agree on anything.

"Might I ask, can we request new partners?" Zayn asks his neighbour who's obviously satisfied with her partner. Everyone must be satisfied but Zayn. No one can speak for Niall.

She shrugs. "Talk to him about it, not sure."

"I'm finished." He burrows his face in his folded elbows over the desk.

He keeps his head down, hating the whole buddy-system for this assignment. How could he be paired with Niall when there are a hundred other students that could've been his partner. It had to be Niall, out of everyone.

He waited for the group of students asking the professor questions to clear. The idea was beginning to rot in his head now, having the Kappa idiot work with him on a single month project. He was not tolerating it one bit, just as he read over his name again.

Niall Horan.

Niall Horan.

Niall James fucking Horan.

With Zayn in the next column, beside Niall James fucking Horan. He couldn't swallow this down. Partners, really?

"Sir," He confronts his professor, gripping the straps of his bag. "If it's not a bother to you of any kins, I'd like to request a new partner."

"Why's that?" He asks, tentatively focused on his laptop.

"There's a toxic disparate between him and I. He communicates far more compared to myself." Zayn tried to make his reason more pleasant than it seems. He couldn't just say to his professor that Niall's the biggest, unsatisfying, asshole he's ever met. It's not professional. "It's not a good balance."

"Yeah," Niall joins in. Goodness! Not now! "As much as I wanna work with Zayn, let's actually not us have work together. He's always been distracted of me; I don't know what I'll do." He sighs afterwards. Zayn's never been distracted because of him. Maybe once or twice but Niall being distracted by Zayn topped Zayn being distracted by Niall won by far compared to that reasoning.

"To be more exact and specific, he's also confidently arrogant. Do what you will." He adds in. Maybe he can add a few more reasons.

"C'mon Zayn, we talked about this yesterday." Niall drawled out, throwing his arm around his shoulders and Zayn's cheeks begin to burn as he felt his stupid warm hands on him.

“Sir.” He implores, prolonging the blink of his eyes. “I'm not enjoying this.”

The professor watched the two of them look at each other sardonically. Even the professor was amused with this. Zayn thinks the two of them were doing it just to piss him off. “As much as I wanna change your partner—“ He found a lot of amusement coming from us. 

“Farewell.” Zayn quickly moved from Niall, ready to unleash some sort of wrath if he doesn't get out of there quick. He would if Niall pissed him off even more.

Walking back, Zayn gripped firmly on the straps of his bag—his hand occupied by a lit cigarette—his stress reliever if you can call it that. It’d take Zayn about 5 packages of Sterling to get through to be composed, having a clear indication that he has to actually spend time with Niall. For a goddamn month, he'll have to actually communicate with the bastard and listen to him when he's notoriously known for being a joker when things are everything but comical. No one likes those types of people and Zayn's got to practically see one at least once a day, more than an hour—maybe four at most.

He arrived home, not doing his custom of rummaging through the fridge for his stored food. Instead, he let the thought of him and Niall working together mesh around in his head. It’s made him dejected, avoiding everyone in the house by holding himself in his room, letting the heavy beats of his playlist drain the knocks on his door, calls of his name, asking if he wants to go out for dinner. He stayed.

Zayn hates the fact he let this get to his head—yet he can’t help that Niall makes him angry, makes him irate whenever he shows his face in class, laughing, talking. Whatever he does—Zayn disapproves of it all. Niall can save two puppies to show his ‘act of kindness’ but he’ll have to save a thousand more to make good terms against Zayn. It won’t even be for certain that he would accept Niall’s amends if he actually does apologize for orientation and his behaviour onward, he really hate the guy. He should be nicer, yet it's not possible for Zayn to try. His fraternity has nothing to do it with his detestation towards Niall but it’s one motive he uses to argue against him. Stupid but doable.

Rho isn’t one to let Kappa get to them, especially when Kappa’s got the nerve to act as if they’re potentially the best fraternity out there. Hands down it was Rho themself, and Kappa’s got their spotlight sometimes and they let them have it. But unlike them, Kappa looks for ways to overturn our time for the light. It infuriated them a lot, having to deal with it all every several weeks when the fraternities and sororities hold events for the school and charities. Always over-competitive and naive during the Greek games and charity runs. No one ever understands Kappa’s intentions but no one ever questions them on it.

They didn’t want to deal with the menace that was Kappa’s president.

Unknown Number: yooooooooo

Zayn's phone buzzed him awake to the next morning.

Zayn: Who’s this?

Unknown Number: A good mate of urs

Zayn: If you’re a good mate, why don’t I know your number?

Unknown Number: Maybe I changed my # Guess who it is

Zayn: Ant, Ben, Jordan… Leigh?

Zayn listed people he talks to the most. Harry was one but Harry’s not one to play games like these. Sometimes he is but he can tell right off the bat. None of his friends really text with proper grammar and punctuation.

Unknown Number: Im offended

Zayn: Why??

Unknown Number: Sit rii behind u in psych and im not a good mate

Zayn prolonged his eyes’ blink. He does it often when he's got nothing nice to say. How often does that happen with Niall? Really often. Approximately 10 times. Sometimes he'd even keep them closed for a solid minute to show how much of an idiot they really are.

Zayn: You've acquired my number exactly how? 

Unknown Number: Ppl. Know if I asked u , u wouldn’t give me

Zayn: What do you want that you had to text me. Not even letting a bit of leverage between the two hours since class has finished?

P sych Partner: Dont be gassed up I only got ur number to talk about the assignment

Zayn: I'm not interested in going far with any kind of conversation. Whether or not be via text or face to face. Make use of yourself, spill your idea.

Psych Partner: Lol. Was wonderin if you did

Zayn: You’re horribly useless

Psych Partner: Ur one to talk. Do u ? 

Zayn: I'm not compromising any kind of idea if you're not either. Equal work. Partners now rmr?

Psych Partner: Duck u

Zayn: Right.

Psych Partner: Whoopps **fuck u

Zayn: Sourpuss

Psych Partner: K

Zayn hates being K’d just like any other person via text or chat but he wasn’t gonna fight Niall against it. Thank God the conversation stopped. He buries his face down on his pillow again, waiting for the actual alarm to go off instead of this buzzing that Niall kept making happen.

Not even five minutes, his phone buzzed again. Never mind that peace.

Psych Partner: K got it
Sex

Zayn: What?

Psych Partner: Ik you're interested but let’s keep it on topic ..  What motivates teenagers to have premarital sex?

Unbelievably hard to think now that Zayn agrees with this kind of  sensitive idea to some of these students on campus considering how immature the majority is such as Niall. 

Zayn: I want a new topic. 

Pscyh Partner: Scared of sex? Haha! I'd rather you focus on my idea

Zayn: We’ll do it on Rush then

Psych Student: What motivates students to Rush?

Zayn: It ain’t bad  Who knows rush better than we do?

Psych Partner: Yeeeeah... It's better. But great you’re in charge of making survey questions

Zayn: Not quite, partner

This is a train through hell. And Zayn's the guy who paid a first class ride, dealing with Niall. Is it too late for a refund?

—

The beginning of the weekend: all the boys go out, doing anything that's fun, that relaxes them from work and classes. Anything heavy on their backs, the freedom of the weekend was a way to let everything fall back from them. It could be anything—the theatre for a few movies, a paintball game, skating if it was winter, go-karts if the weather is kind. They do anything up to playing polo to doing a porn club for the night—just like book club where they read a book and talk about it but with porn, watching it on their home theatre. It's funny—especially if Anthony is making commentary. But that only lasts for two minutes when you've got repeated moves and a movie about a dog is up instead.

And tonight's hang out is at a festival—Drake's OVO festival that all of them were crazy for. Zayn's a big fan of the Toronto rapper and who isn't? And with the opportunity to go to the festival he's wanted to go to ever since his album released, to go with his brothers—he will fucking take the opportunity any day, over anything.

Maybe over some things, but over a midterm project, he didn’t when Niall's been bugging him all day to finish survey at least 15 questions for the survey that didn't include the age or sex and gender or religion. How could he avoid losing his mind? He’s been texting him every now and then through the day about getting it done. And he dropped OVO festival tickets to meet with Niall later, to work all day on a goddamn assignment that won't be of any importance to his life after 3 years. Now Drake is something that will be but no, the dumb arse regrettably gave his ticket away to Harry’s sister. He skipped the festival. Zayn skipped it, He skipped it, and he fucking skipped it. He skipped it all for Niall so he can go through the assignment smoothly.

Why?

What a dumb move to make and Zayn made it, with a real sense of consciousness to do so. This is going to bite him in the ass one day.

He listened to Take Care through his sound system in his room and he knew the festival right now that the sound is way better through his ears than these Sony speakers on his desk. This is sad to him.

He changes artists, trying to remove this huge rain cloud over him just listening to Drake knowing his brothers are watching him without him. He'd cry if he has to but he couldn't get his sheets of paper wet.

Zayn: Hey, I'd like a reply by 8

Zayn's eyes are weary. It sounded easy—to make up 15 survey questions that would answer their social science research question. It sounds very easy but difficult when Zayn actually attempts to think of different questions. There had to be multiple choice questions, some ranking ones, and some truth and false. It had to be unbiased as well. It's fucking horrible. And he's eager to get his part done. Eight wasn't bad under his circumstances and it only took him the whole day to think through.

The whole day...

And skipped the festival too. Who was he kidding?

Zayn: What has you so preoccupied that you won't use your thumbs to reply a word back?

Zayn sent several frustrated texts to Niall. The lad hasn't been replying since 7 when Zayn was on his 8th question. It's exactly 8:06 and 8 o'clock was the time he agreed to meet the arse to show the questions he's come up with so far. He hasn't got a clue what to really do. He's not stingy about the 6 minutes after 8 but he's sure as hell with Niall's much delayed reply to his texts. How can he express his hate for late texts? He could smash his phone between the door 150,000 times and it would still seem like he loved it.

Zayn: I presume we're going to go over these....

8:19. Nothing

Zayn: Drake is both the ambassador of Toronto's ball team and a successful, world-wide rap artist who recently let out a single, "started from the bottom"

I didn't throw my night to share some facts about the rap artist

Zayn: Seriously?

8:35. Still nothing.

Zayn: Usually, those with striving ambitions start from the bottom before reaching the pinnacle of overachieving and success
You, Niall, on the other hand—will find yourself 6ft bottom if I don't get any kind of idea that you've acknowledged my texts.

9:13. Stiiiill nothing.

Started from the bottom, ending at the bottom

Zayn would let go being stood up, even waiting an hour. He'll forgive that he's been left at the Heis for an hour. It's not a big deal to him; he didn't want to be here in the first place and no one knew he was waiting on someone anyways. He brought his Mac Book to the Heis to work on the rest of the survey questions but as of now, he looks real stereotypical with a Mac Book on his table at a Cafe, slash Pub with an order of coffee right beside him.

Just sitting here, still anticipating Niall's arrival after an hour being late; he actually finished the two questions he needed. Zayn didn't need Niall to complete some for him at all. Fuck Niall. Useless sod he is. Now he had to do his part and he won't offer the tiniest bit of help. Zayn's not gonna help him just like Niall didn't help him.

Cynical? Sure. But Zayn wasn't raised by Mother Theresa.

On the other hand, Zayn can care less how ridiculous he looks with a Mac Book at a cafe. In his mind, the only genuine thing he's having thoughts for is how he was going to kill Niall for making him miss one of the biggest festivals after he told him he had to stay and do it with no buts or ifs.

He's crazy stupid to agree, yet this has been the first time Niall's ever been serious of something. Yet, he had been too quick to have thought that when Niall's been AWOL with Zayn texting his concerns to him about the survey. Now he was serious but he really can't give a good crap about this midterm assignment. They're given a good month to work on this and the two of them are working on it the day after it's been assigned.

A little procrastination wouldn't hurt anyone. Though, since the topic they chose to do was Rush, they had to get them done before Monday so they would be able to give 20 of our surveys out to people interested in Rushing and finally take a goddamn rest. He won't have to spend much of his time that he expected to spend with the arse—thank God.

Zayn kept his vow to kill Niall, walking across the campus from the Heis to go to Kappa Tau's territory. He might burn just stepping over their pathway of red mason bricks. He might not even make it to the door with his skin suffering from third-degree burns.

Kappa Tau had a reasonable large house like Epsilon. Kappa's is red all over with tall column support, keeping the Greek tradition alive. All the houses had the Greek columns to support their roofs above the door to have the houses stand out compared to the dormitories. So Kappa's house looks like a Beverly Hills mansion, just smaller and less prestigious—lesser than everyone's if you knew what kind of people Kappa are.

Rho wasn't with the white Greek tradition as their house was built with a run-down kind of grey bricks. If it was wet with rain, it'd look black. The all-white is great but they found it even better to have a black-and-white house. Black walls, white columns and windows. Even though the dark bricks were a mistake to begin with but the houses here have been up since 1962—this wasn't anyone's problem to deal with now in 2016 but the people in '62 Fraternity university generation.

He suddenly changed his mind about murdering Niall just as he placed his hand over their gate. He had done too much work already. And he won't spend his remaining energy to throw it all the way and kill Niall when he can be doing something far more productive. Like saving a beached whale.

He pulls his hands back from the gate, making his way home instead of pursuing his promise to kill Niall tonight. He'll keep his vows, remember it in his head and kill him tomorrow instead.

He's already burdened with the sad fact he didn't go to the festival and he didn't want to let all of this Niall shit pull him 6'feet under the ground. He's missed a festival he had wanted to go to—this was enough to have him crawl under his blankets commando and knock out early as 10. It's Saturday and he was calling it early. No one would believe it.

His brothers' won't even be home until 12, he believed. Except they'd actually be home by 1. And the house is dead silent. Anyone can make it seem like a horror film because it's too quiet for such as house as this. Hollywood can film in this house if they want and not have to hire any stage crew to set the atmosphere. They can hire Zayn as the next Dave Franco.

It's 10 at night, maybe being too early for any spirits to haunt the house. Just like it was too early for him to be sleeping on Saturday. He was there naked without anyone beside him. Pathetic, pathetic, all is pathetic. Could be better with someone—can still be.

He scrolls down his contact list, most of his contacts were brothers and there were some contacts he could call that'd be willing to come here at 11 then leave at 12 when he's not giving a good shit about anything anymore. Wow, was his phone bright alright.

Perrie

Frenchie

Shereen

Harry

Hot but insane.

Hot but boring.

Hot but very emotional afterwards.

Brother but willing. At that goddamn festival.

—

Zayn wakes up with a shirt over his head. He peels it off, chucking it to the side of the room when he noticed the front of the shirt.

Fucking OVO merchandise. 

He gets himself up from his bed, slipping on a new pair of boxers and putting a vest tank and shorts on after. He hates the idea of working out early in the morning on a Sunday. He hates the idea of working out to start with anyways. He rested really early last night so he was filled with energy he didn't expect to have the next morning. Usually he would sleep and wake up feeling like shit. Today's one of those rare moments where he'd wake up actually rejuvenated. Thank you, for once.

As for Harry—his fucking work out partner, the one who actually persuaded him to go with him every morning to the gym to do a bit of weights and sparring at boxing, is still sleeping in his bed. It was expected coming from a festival so he allowed Harry to get a few minutes before ruining it for him. He was too kind for this. He takes any opportunity to wake Zayn up whenever he feels like and Zayn doesn't give him anything about it. He should start.

He goes through the Sunday morning routine of his—wash his face, brush his teeth, and shave if he wants to but most likely not when he just did a few days back. He'd shower later since he'll be doing at bit of work, even though he often showers just before heading out the door.

"Harry," He croons, shaking Harry's ankle; his fucking ashy ankles.

"Wha—" Harry suddenly shoves his feet on Zayn's groin who fell right on the floor with a bursting explosion right in his crotch. Not the one bubble gum advertisers describe to be.

"Fuck, dude!" His larynx tightens to the exerting pain, trying to repress the pain coming from his groin. "Some reflex!"

"I would've punched you square in your throat if you shook my shoulders." Harry warns and wipes his face, pressing his thumb and forefinger on the inner corners of his eyes. "Sorry man."

Zayn hitches his arm on the end of the bed, lifting himself up. He bites his lip as hard as possible, still feeling the sharp pain. "That's a pain that'll be etched in my memory," Zayn wheezes. "The gym is calling us down." 

"Right, give me like two minutes." Harry mumbles and Zayn leaves him to his business.

His dick still hurts. A lot.

The campus had a gym moderate enough for a few students to go to. A small ring is included for sparring and tournaments which Harry and Zayn were into more than the weights or treadmill. Zayn think it's more fun to jab and lunge his fists towards Harry who made their sparring difficult with his will to punch more than to evade.

The two of them throw aside their sweaters; kick off their training trousers, revealing their sparring gear. Man, Adidas is getting popular these days when all Zayn saw was Harry who is across from him wearing his Adidas shorts while he came in here with an Adidas bag, wearing an Adidas sweater. He was a walking advertisement.

Sparring against one another is even more exciting in ways that neither weights nor treadmill can provide. The two of them do this every week on Sunday. It could be any day of the week. Except, Sunday's the day where everyone's wearing themselves down from a previous wild night. That doesn't include Zayn when he's been down since Friday. Sunday has something that lifts the heavy weight off his back that he's been dealing with, making his whole entire mood all but worse or bad. It's weird but he appreciates it.

"How'd you enjoy the festival?" Zayn coils his handwrap around his left hand.

"Great." Better than great. Zayn knew Harry avoided going farther than great, knowing how he had to spend his night. This was Drake they were talking about. It wasn't just great. "How was your assignment?"

"I don't appreciate the purpose of that question." Zayn shakes his head, eyeing the movement of handwrap around his knuckles.

"You should've left it to work on it today so you could have went yesterday. What are you gonna do today?" Harry queries, slipping his hand into his gloves.

"Work on it again," Zayn starts on wrapping his right hand. "I haven't quite finished."

"You worked on it all day," Harry points out confused. "You've not finished?"

"I'm kind of unlucky." He slips on his pair of gloves after. He tilts his head, causing his bone to crack.

"Unlucky how?" Harry asks, staring Zayn eye to eye. His knees bounce, clenching his fist, knuckles burning white under his gloves. "Twenty-five percent." He says to him. Zayn nods at the given percentage. The percentages were based on how strong they'd spar against each other. Twenty-five was decent enough for them. A hundred would have them fucked considering they weren't really trained to actually box.

"Recall the last time you said that—left a bruise on my cheek, yeah? Remember?" Zayn grins though, laughing at the memory. God, Harry's punches hurt. Purple for a whole entire week, had to ice it down with peas because no one wanted to freeze any ice.

Harry nods. He remembers well. Zayn put him in a kind of guilt people can't get out from as much as they try. And it got to him bad when he started crying to Zayn one day about how horrible he was.

He steps closer to the middle of the ring. Zayn does the same, clenching his fist. The two of them stand, face-to-face, staring down each other's eyes, trying to find that centre of weakness the two of them don't show to each other. Both Harry and Zayn eager to start, forget to bump fists with each other. Instead, they bring their fists close to their face, eyeing the opponent across them. If Zayn can play a song right now, he would choose to play an ACDC song just to get in the mood. But this was an open gym and Timber was playing by Ke$ha and Pitbull which lowered Zayn's motivation to do anything.

Zayn doesn't keep his eyes off Harry who's also having his sights attentively towards him. Once the two of them get in the Zone—it's as if they are able to read each other's minds.

A simple blink of his eyes sets Harry forward right at Zayn to jab at his torso, effortfully breaking his defence to get a good hit on Zayn's chin. Pay attention! He said to himself. Zayn keeps his hold, flexing his abdomen, avoiding the take down under two minutes into the spar. He is determined not to lose this time, especially when this will be Zayn's fifth loss if Harry wins.

Harry is relentless, not devoting any time to let Zayn stand on this ring for another five minutes. His left goes straight in for another good blow on Zayn's stomach. The force is enough for him to let his arms fall to attempt to hug his stomach to the jolting pain of Harry's punch. Harry takes the opportunity of Zayn's open defence to thrust his right onto the side of Zayn's torso, breaking the held spot. Either this wasn't twenty-five because it shouldn't hurt as much or Zayn is intolerable to pain now. 

Zayn let himself be pushed back to the ropes, flexing his whole body against Harry's left and right. He does the classic 1/2 punches on his stomach again. Out of nowhere, Harry hooks him right on the face from his left, followed by his right uppercutting Zayn's arm unintentionally. This wouldn't hurt if he worked out more. Harry's changing his pattern, trying to find his weak spots on Zayn's body. He was aware of Harry's motive, letting him throw more punches on Zayn.

A swipe from the left, a jab from the right. Left, left, right. Right, left, right. All ending with Harry's dominant arm. They were short blows to the face. It allows Harry to move quickly, disallowing Zayn to make any moves. He was being pushed back against the ropes. Zayn should have stretched a bit more than pulling his right arm to his left and his left to his right.

It's a predictable play by Harry that Zayn's plan to take Harry down is going according to Zayn's way. Harry's instinctive, fiery mind gives him the advantage right now. Harry striking weakened against Zayn's body that his muscles didn't need to be flexed to hold the pain off.

Harry pulls a straight right into the shoulder, sending his left onto the left shoulder. This knocks Zayn back with his shoulder joints suddenly throbbing in heavy pain. Final swing to finish his combo—Zayn ducks down from the expected hard hook at his face. He appears behind Harry, triggering his sharp instincts to do a 360 and a swing to his opponent. He jabs becomes effortless and messy—leaving his arm out longer than usual. Zayn swiftly dodges it again. He strikes his first blow to Harry's open defence. This sends him falling back onto the ropes, arm holding the ropes to keep his stance. Another open defence, another good opportunity—Zayn goes right in for his shoulder, knocking Harry down forward just as he presses his shoulder.

"Twenty-five," Zayn reminds him with a grin, breathing heavily. "Still twenty-five."

"I know," Harry on his knee, huffs for air. "So, how unlucky are you?" He remembers to continue to conversation.

"I've got Niall Horan working with me as my midterm partner." Zayn's knees bounce with his arms close against his chest—back to defence. His breaths were short and ragged as Zayn distances himself from Harry.

"Hasn't put in any effort?" Harry asks, rotating his shoulders.

Zayn shakes his head, firming his fists. "Afraid not. Stood me up yesterday at Heis. Texted him fairly a lot."

"Have you seen him?" Harry's back into his defensive position.

"Nah, the bitch hasn't answered any texts. I don't know what he's occupied with himself." He exhales.

"Maybe you're lucky after all," Harry grins behind at Zayn. He slowly turns his head, cautious if it was who Zayn's been anticipating to see for this assignment. He hasn't done anything and for him to, would be one thing that'll actually make him happy for the day. Or a second before he fucks up.

Fuck! Zayn turns his head back quickly at Harry, "He's no—" 

And BANG! A good swipe on his cheek and a straight punch to his gut sends him down on the floor holding his stomach. Zayn should've seen that coming.  Defenseless and vulnerable, he shouldn't have fell for his stupid tricks. But Zayn didn't get the memo that we were playing some today. Harry turns him over onto his stomach, bending his arm on his back. Zayn fought to take it back but Harry's persistent.

He suddenly sits himself on him with each leg over his sides. Zayn's chest started lifting faster as his breath quickened at this surprise. He couldn't help but stop the fight against Harry's weight on him. Won't fight against the good, missed feeling on him. Shouldn't like the feeling when they're in the middle of sparring—or ending. Zayn completely lost this.

"Boxing doesn't require any type of ligaments roping around each other's—whereas MMA—" Zayn huffs, trying to look back at Harry. Couldn't help but give Harry a smirk for this.

"I know," Harry croons near his ear. "Remember when I had you like this?"

"Yes." He says coolly. Zayn remembers well. He just didn't like how Harry was on him like this. Maybe he likes it a bit. Maybe a lot more if he wasn't sweating everywhere.

"You still flexible?" Harry asks.

"I-I'm unsure." Zayn shrugs, biting his lip.

"We'll see later, when we get back home?" Harry asks, right in his ear this time. Shit, Zayn can feel his sweaty torso on his back.

"I don't mind." Zayn breathes out. "I had thoughts occurring yesterday to make a call."

"I'd do you right here, right now if it weren't filled with people." Harry grins.

Zayn nods as the idea passes in his mind—being pounded on the ring—naked and sweaty. Fuck, not now. "N-nice... Can I get up now?" 

"Oh. Oh yeah, sorry." Harry immediately lifts himself from Zayn. He got up right afterwards when Harry got off Zayn, rushing to get off the ring to pack his equipment.

"That last punch wasn't twenty-five. Neither was that fair what you did." Zayn removes the handwrap and gloves.

"Had to go for fifth streak." Harry laughs.

A slow start for his Sunday, despite the quick paced spar that Harry cheated his way to win. Knowing it'll be slower as he gets through the day, Zayn plans to keep away from the house. It's always slow for everyone on a Sunday when everyone is focusing on work now. Unless Harry calls a meeting, the day will go even longer for Rho. 

He might even call another meeting with the annual charity auction where different departments of the campus, teams and all of the fraternities and sororities involve themselves in a team effort to raise high bids for divided charities and hospitals. The team or group who wins—raising the highest bids receives $1,000 for their team. And the fraternity needs it more than anyone. The science department does too but not much of them are into the whole charity giving until these certain ones come because of the money. There was no room for the inexperienced and selfish. Despite selfishness, the only reason the fraternity needed it was to put the funds towards their savings. 

Rho with the others, throw this massive themed party to celebrate the new brothers and sisters into the fraternities and sororities. All of them pitch about an equal amount to rent out a secluded hall beside the waterfront and past fraternities and sororities done this for over many years, and the hall is $700 but worth it. So everyone has to pitch in about $175 and if they add in, they would only be left with three figures and they kind of need to live. No one was willing to live under a budget, no fucking way.

This has been important to them and there's always a year where Kappa ruins it for Rho. Zayn is aware of it all but he didn't want to put it through his head when Harry wasn't making his Sunday so slow anymore.

Speaking of slow, that's how Harry paced himself against Zayn; his legs lifted over Harry's shoulder as he stood at the end of the bed. Still flexible. Still compliant to Harry's wishes. Harry leaned forward, pushing all of himself in Zayn as he bites his lip, feeling him prod on his prostate. Zayn's leg bends in with Harry's arm pushing his leg to bend more. Fuck, this is good.

Zayn wasn't supposed to make this a regular thing with Harry now that he became his right hand—figuratively speaking. The first time was just a drunk escapade where Zayn was dared to go full tongue with the person in the circle who he found attractive. And he kissed Harry—for the fuck of it at that night not knowing anyone in that circle. Didn't think he'd be doing it for the fuck of it now when Harry's making Zayn taste his tongue now.

Zayn didn't feel anything towards Harry—this was all but platonic. He was just a go-to because of his experience and he liked how Harry made him feel when they were doing things like this. And this was their president—nothing more, nothing less. Just fun.

But Zayn can promise he never sucked Harry off to become Vice President like Niall called. It just so happens the two of them like each other's company and Zayn's a humble and trusting guy that Rho could benefit from that Harry nominated for VP. And the nomination happened before things changed.

He left Harry back in his room even though that's not first choice on what to do noon on a Sunday. Zayn took a shower then headed down to the library—keeping his promise that he won't stray around the house much today. The assignment corrupted his head like hypnotization. He didn't need a clap or snap to trigger him to work—it just happens when Zayn believes Niall will kick his ass if they don't finish this by today. Zayn should be kicking his ass, not the other way around.

Zayn wasn't gonna go to the library alone—no one does that, not unless he wants to be alone or actually work. He didn't wanna be alone and he is far from having any interests in his assignment. Niall still hasn't replied to the 40 messages Zayn has sent about him coming to the Heis at 8 yesterday so he gave up the idea of trying to text him today. He hasn't seen him around campus since Friday afternoon.

"An apple." Leigh says sternly, eying the apple then Zayn. "You've brought me an apple. Healthy, yet—horrifying.”

She's very close with Zayn—the only person that she can tolerate from the Fraternity. Rho has a good name—about 10 of them altogether but 4 of those Leigh met who didn't get on her good side. She's definitely attractive—with a fit figure and a beautiful face—always catching Zayn's fucking brothers' attention when she visits the house to hang out. And he always has to remember never to invite her in the house. She only comes to the party and that doesn't even set the boundaries for them. Zayn has to pretend sometimes that he has something platonic with her to push the brother's and their friends to away from her. It's mighty ridiculous—annoying Zayn when he comes home from dates with her.

She wasn't interested in anyone. If she was, he'd be her first choice. She already let him know that. Yet, it was weird for them to go past beyond the stage of being friends.

"You said you were hungry." Zayn shrugs, tentatively focused on his Mac Book. "You're welcome."

"Thanks," she mutters embarrassed. "What I mean—I didn't expect you to bring an apple. You can't even eat it in this place."

"I'll buy you lunch if you help me with my assignment." Zayn rubs his tired eyes.

"Ooh, free lunch. I'm very interested in that. What d'ya need?" Leigh reads his screen, "What motivates students to participate in runch—rush! Sorry." 

Zayn folds the screen down, with a sheepish smirk on his face. "We'll go now, yeah?"

"I'll help ya—I swear." She laughs, "It’s an honest mistake."

"I don't mind—I really don't want to work either." Zayn beckons his head at her to go.

"So why'd we come t'the library?" Her eyebrows narrow in, slinging her backpack over her shoulders.

They make their way to the Heis. It's always a horrible 5-minute walk across campus from the library for a fucking sandwich plate at Heis. Too good to resist that $10 plate with curly fries.

"I've been assigned to a vexatious assignment of the year." Zayn sighs.

"When's it due?" Her arm loops threw the other strap of her bag.

"First week of November." Zayn says flatly. The more he reminds himself that this thing is due a month after, the more he begins to finally realize how out of his mind he is.

Leigh snorts at his answer just like he expected. Anyone normal would be laughing at Zayn's goddamn answer. "You're crazy, it's just October next week."

Procrastination not at its best. It's odd—society's accustomed to doing things last minute and when Zayn is finally doing an assignment at a moderate date and time, he gets shit for it. He's still with society—it is really better for him to be doing this midterm, this early.

"I'm partnered through this midterm with Niall Horan," Zayn gives a nod at Leigh whose face grimaces weakly. "It's a burden more than an opportunity of any kind. I question myself is to why I'm establishing myself to endure this kind of perplex work ethic with someone who doesn't even have a work ethic."

She suddenly starts burgeoning with laughter, "what the hell did you say? All I know is that you're talking about that little cute lad in Kappa?" And Zayn's raises his eyebrow at her. She said what?

Zayn stares at her for a while, evoking that smile of hers when she wants to apologize but she doesn't mean it because it's too much of a joke to her. "Well, that's unexpected," Zayn breathes out sullenly. "I've recalled my offer to buy you lunch. It's up for anyone but you."

"I apologize! Okay—w-what makes him a bad partner?"

She's saved herself that time. "The lad had me skip Drake last night—" Leigh 'ooohs' between his evidences. Zayn doesn't know why he has to prove himself when he's told Leigh countless number of times how he is. It makes Zayn think that she's not listening to his stories from all this time, lying to him. How much times did he tell his mates this story anyway? "I was told by that imbecile I had to put all my endeavours on our assignment and finish before Monday. We had to meet at Heis. More or less, he never arrived. The lad had decided it was a good time through the weekend to go incognito."

"Might be busy." She says. "So sorry you missed the festival."

"So am I." Zayn slightly grimaces. 

They reach Heis, not wasting any more time to look through the menu knowing very what they had. He can't understand why Leigh likes the Heis. He resents this place. It's dark atmosphere and the extensive smell of coffee. There's a limit and this was a lot for his taste. And this band; Jonny Roster—horrible. He doesn't need to hear any more indie. Instead, they sit outside in the patio, basking under the rare sun in autumn.

"Why do you have more fries than me?" She chews the fry between her forefinger and thumb.

"'Cause I'm fuckin' hot!" Zayn spits out arrogantly, his face twists in a wry amusement.

"I hope you fail your midterm." Her expression turns bleak at him. Zayn likes to do this a lot. Zayn likes to tell people how attractive he is because they can't go and counter the honest truth because—well, it's the truth. Sometimes like right now. There are other times he looks horrible and has no idea why he had gone out that day.

"Can't quite hear you—over my fries." Zayn smiles falsely at her.

"Alright, listen to this question, since you paid for lunch—If your parents forbid you to join fraternities and sororities," Leigh began to ask. "Would you still join?"

"Nice." Zayn nods, chewing between his food.

Zayn types it down on his phone, knowing he won't remember it afterwards without having her repeat it at least three times again.

"You should consider joining," he suggests. He looks up at Leigh for a reaction. He realizes, "you may or may not love it."

"I'd rather not." She scoffs, making out a bite on her lunch. Zayn knows it's too good to be true. "I like living at my complex. Alone. No one to go through the fridge and have them take my food."

"Occurs once in a while. They pay their debt with dinner, by any means." It happens frequently but Leigh didn't need to know the truth. 

"That's your mates, not the birds over there." She points out. "I'm used to how men live, considering how I've got three brother's back home, pulling the same shit as you guys. And I don't wanna be here for it."

"I'd formally invite you to join—" Zayn grins at the comical relief. 

"I can only stand so much of you guys," She grimaces. "No thanks."

Zayn swallows down his food. "Do me a favour and involve yourself in Rush week. I can ask Harry's sister Tiff to give you a tour."

"I appreciate what you're doing Zayn, but I'm not gonna fit." She lifts her hair from the back. "Maybe, I'll take the tour to waste time but I won't join."

"I don't want you to join," Zayn scoffs. "There will be an altercation by which you will have called upon them. Can't have that."

"Hilarious, but I can't stay for any more of your jokes. I'm gonna have to leave early Zayn, got a meeting with the team." Gymnastics team. "Good luck on your conquest."

Zayn gives a nod as she crosses over the fence, surprising customers. It made him think how Leigh's able to get through her gymnastics team full of girls but not any other girls. But he learned this on the lesson of groups. A sociologist’s way of looking at a group involves the separation of the group into two. Group 1 involves personal people in a person’s life that they often open up intimately compared to people in Group 2. The second group involves acquaintances and people you're forced to communicate—able to be easily replaced for your skill.

He didn't think he'd remember any of this, knowing he's half-awake when the lecture's going. He gave himself an imaginary pat on the back, for remembering something from a lecture and for finishing this fucking huge plate of club sandwich and fries. He decided to let Leigh choose what to do during Rush week, now understanding the position she was in.

He was only trying to help her. She didn't have a good sense of belonging in university and its third year now—first year when they first met. She's gone through a whole series of friends, not much she wanted to stay with except Zayn and a few girls from her classes. Anyone can count them all if they try and he did—ending with a total of 7. He didn't want to be that guy to push his friend to have any more friends. He couldn't grasp that since he was in a fraternity—he's meant to have more friends and connections than the next person who isn't. And he was trying to, almost able to see how Leigh was seeing the university around her.

And he finally finished all 30 questions.

It's 6 in the evening when Zayn finally finished the survey questions. He's proud of this two-day accomplishment that he did all by himself. A subtle help from Leigh but no one couldn't know that. Of course, the other students are scamming questions from others—if they started any early as Zayn. The only help he's able to get that the professor could know is from Niall. But where the fuck is he? He already had Zayn dedicate his weekend to this rubbish—he wasn't gonna let Niall go without doing any work. The only way to look for someone who's gone silent on him was their home. He found himself at the gates of Kappa again, looking at the eggshell white of the house again. It's fucking blinding.

He had thoughts in his head that made him contemplate how he can pull Niall out of that house. There was a strict rule for the rival houses and it's never to enter in the rival's house. That's why Zayn and Niall avoided making any plans to do any work at each other's house. There weren't any exceptions to be made and there were many that a few wanted to break because some had friends in there. Jordan has Lucas living in Kappa, so they couldn't play together over the Ps4 unless they played online.

Just like Jordan and Lucas who wanted the rule to make exceptions, Zayn did too only for a matter of minutes so he can drag Niall out himself and beat the living fuck out of the blond sloth.

Thirty questions, Zayn did them all.

Missed a festival, to do thirty questions. Zayn did them all.

Stood up in Heis, having to listen to indie music for a solid hour, to work on twenty questions. Zayn did them all.

Where was Niall?

Not doing it all.

Zayn shoves the gate wider than he thought he'd open it, not expecting the light weight of it. He marches right at the door, leaning on the wall before he starts banging his fist on the egg shell white door. That'll be Niall's complexion when he's through with him for causing all this grief on him.

Thirty seconds in—not a goddamn answer.

"Answer your door!" Zayn yells, trying to keep his voice in a moderate tone, still firm and forceful. His fist hits robustly against the door.

"Why all the yelling—" Lucas comes out with his eyebrows creased in with an exhale Zayn is able to hear from a meter away. His eyes widen at the company of mine before he narrows his eyes at him. "Why the fuck are you here? You know regulations." Jordan and Lucas were buddies—that didn't include Zayn and their other brothers.

"I'm on your condescending door mat, for your bright mind information—not in your house now am I?" Zayn scoffs, staring at the difference between Lucas' stance and his. "Such an attempt to become a smart arse with me."

Lucas sigh comes out exasperated towards him as Zayn's eyebrow's raises at him. He made it well known he didn't like the shit arrogance coming from Lucas when he knows how nice he is with Jordan. "If you're not aware, we're quite bus—"

"Where's your V.P?" Zayn cut to the matter of the point.

"... Busy with a meeting he's holding." Lucas continues. "If you're nice, we can let you sit on the steps and wait for—"

Louis intervenes. The amount of times Lucas was being cut off, made Zayn snigger, evoking some anger out of the two. More with Louis—not allowing him the opportunity to ask who was at their door as he hears the half-suppressed laugh. His eyes flare seeing Zayn at their steps with a smirk on his face. He knew how much Louis hated Rho—liked to take advantage of it.

Zayn hums pessimistically, eyeing fuming Louis with the rest of the house coming at the door. Most distraught with him by the door, a few curious to know who'll pull the first punch. Zayn's hum suddenly became optimistic.

"Hey babe," Zayn sneers when he notices Niall sneaking a quick look over Louis' shoulder. He hates these pet names. He calls Zayn pet names but he never approves of anyone calling him any. "Thanks for meeting me yesterday." A smiled formed from on Zayn's face.

"What the fuck, Niall?" Louis looks over his shoulder with a look of resentment.

"I didn't see him." Niall retaliates with a scowl. "I was supposed to."

"Why's that?" Everyone can hear the sharp hiss off Louis tongue as he questions Niall. All the attention peeled off Zayn, enjoying this Kappa vs Kappa scene.

"Midterm project." Niall drones.

"I admire fraternities." Zayn intrudes, his smile became tight. "The brother's look out for you. So, the choice to be made actually rests with you guys. Allow Niall to work on this midterm assignment with me or not."

"What the hell? Zayn, you're in our territory. I don't know how you can speak so rashly and openly." Louis snarks at him, while Zayn is keeping himself composed.

"I'm an achiever alright? I'm striving to keep my grade the way it is. I don't know if Niall does but I'm positive he might. Maybe even raise it a bit higher." My finger traces down the edge of the door. Sly fuck Zayn is—loved getting them all angry. "I quite despise you Niall, but I need the grade—a more important situated kind of manner than my hatred for you. So do you. So unless your brothers care enough about you graduating, they'd let you work this with me. Let me ask, why didn't you hold your end of the bargain to meet me yesterday?"

"Was busy." Niall whinges. He makes his way right where Lucas is, about a feet away from Zayn as he smiles which was beginning to irritate everyone in the house. "Fuck, ya can't do this rii' now ya know?"

"I need this grade and I'm looking over the high pinnacle of our distaste to each other to gain it. How many times must I explain it to you? I've thought up all thirty questions, you've not completed anything." Zayn lists, forgetting there's an audience behind Niall.

"Me phone stopped working." Niall decides to add in. "... And I actually decided to watch a marathon last night."

"A marathon... So your vulgar pornography?" Zayn's head nods in amusement. "Be at the Heis in ten if you don't mind." He scoffs at Niall, making his way towards their toy gate.

Zayn enjoyed ruining the Kappa's night just by making a simple appearance on their doorstep but he really only wanted to finish this assignment. These interruptions wouldn't have to happen anymore, the texts would stop, and they'd go back to their regular ways—Zayn seeing Niall once and it is only when he's turning to react to his smart ass comments and he sees Zayn's head back during class that he believed looked better than Zayn's face.

Niall huffs, astonished at by his nerves. Zayn's got a handful that he shouldn't be using it all. "I'm in the middle of something that you've made longer."

"I've got other classes." Zayn says flatly.

"Now that's not my problem, baby." Niall lets a smirk take over him just as Zayn leans off the wall.

Zayn hadn't had his hands tremble in such a long time as he began to light his cigarette. It still seemed like a dream to him that Zayn walked up to their door with confidence flourishing like a field of tulips during May. He faced Louis with his household alone—no one with a sense of consciousness does this. He's got a temper just like the Hulk that they'd cast him if he's more submissive to set rules. He didn't even expect Louis to pour some of his temper on Niall for being paired together with him. It's nothing Niall nor Zayn himself can help and it somehow worried him how Louis reprimanded Niall for it.

Maybe he needs cigarettes.

The air is brisk with a good warm and cool contrast for September that encouraged many students to sit out on the patio. Zayn's lucky enough to even get a seat outside and he needs it more than anyone here.

Did any of them face Louis?

Zayn orders about two bottles—finishing one and making his way down to his second. Zayn waits for Niall to come and work with him on this goddamn midterm. And confusion grows in him as the hand on the clock moves to the next tick, trying to complete a whole minute, moving forward with the time just like his anticipation for Niall's arrival. He won't come.

Niall reaches over the ten minute mark, disappointing and enraging him all over again. Zayn should've killed him when he had the chance. Yet, he decided to stay and let the alcohol and cigarettes compel him.

His phone chimes with Harry's name on the screen. His spirits liven a bit for now.

Pres. Styles: For the auction I'm gonna have to have you come up with an idea and work on it. If it's not too much trouble do you also mind coming up with themes for the party I have to propose?

Zayn: Np harry

Pres. Styles: Thanks

No meeting to occupy him but a text of requests. Great. It's not like Harry still pours work on him that he couldn't do. Zayn is open to do anything for Rho but to think of an idea for the Debutant? It's children's work that he can ask a middle schooler to do for him. Harry can't think of themes, really? And Zayn's got the midterm already, and here are more things to worry about.

Niall suddenly hops over the railing, seating himself right in front of Zayn—both anxious and filled with raging temper. Zayn knew he'd come and Zayn keeps his eyes peered onto his phone, trying to test Niall's patience just like he was with him.

Niall's slouched in his seat, legs spread wide, right leg shaking in edginess. He watched him with a disinterested kind of expression as he goes through his phone which would be better over Niall if Harry's text set him off in a bad mood again.

"Ya got me in real trouble," Niall finally speaks up. "Almost suspended me for your stunt."

"Now that's not my problem. Baby." With a sardonic grin on Zayn's face, he mimics Niall.

"Buy me a drink." Niall says inflexibly.

"Toilet water." He proposes.

"No, you have to make up for that stunt." Niall snaps. "I want four rounds."

"I don't have to make up for anything, you do." Zayn chortles. "Kind enough, I'll buy you your fixations, don't worry."

"Thanks." Niall murmurs under his breath. Zayn doesn't believe he'd ever think he'd actually to buy him drinks. Zayn will, just not pints he assumes Niall wants. Zayn know this fucking lads gonna make him run a tab so a pitcher might be fine.

Over the course of the moment that he and Niall had to sit here and actually tolerate the sight of each other, Niall actually did his part of the midterm. Jesus, it was almost a miracle. He's indulged himself in about three glasses of Alexander's and making down his fourth—another fucking pitcher Zayn is sharing with him, wanting to order one more. He's generous enough to even order a second pitcher—knowing he really fucked Niall up with Louis. Zayn is able to wait for Niall to finish his meeting, there was no rush. Except he hated that Niall didn't involve himself in this section of the midterm—it wasn't easy to think of twenty survey questions relating to rush that they start sounding all the same by the 6th question.

On the other hand, Zayn let Niall do a little bit of modifications to them. He was nearly drunk so he doesn't know if he can trust the changes made but he kept quiet, typing away, picking the beer up from time to time. He looks like he knows what he's doing. Even when his cheeks are red.

"Ya did all of dese?" Niall slurs really fast.

"Yup." Zayn shifts gawkily in his seat. 

"They're alrii'." Niall passes him his Mac Book back. "I changed some. Not all."

"Mm'kay..." He replies in discomfort, reading the questions over again for the last time before heading down to the library to copy about 50 of the surveys.

Niall turned restless on his seat and this didn't come overlooked. It may be the alcohol or Niall's nervousness breaking out the longer he sits here with Zayn. It may even be both.

"You okay?" His eyes glance at Niall whose fingers tap rapidly on the end of his arm rest.

"Yeh, sorry." Niall becomes completely still. Too still that Zayn is starting to become suspicious of the lad. Buzzed or actually drunk to the bone?

"We need to pay the library a visit and copy up about fifty of these." Zayn delays his words, eying Niall while stowing his laptop back in his bag.

"Exciting." Niall's eyes gleam, his forefinger taps on the chair again.

"My ideal of fun." He scoffs.

The walk from the Heis to the library could have been quicker and without a hassle if Niall wasn't preoccupied by so much objects on the way. The lad is seeing phenomena around this campus as if he's never seen the fountain that the majority of the campus has to walk by to go to their classes, or the track that many run on. At least he wasn't bugging Zayn about his face or how aggravating he is to him. He might punch him for it and this evening wouldn't end so nicely for the two of them.

"Alright, I've given you twenty of these to give out to students around campus during rush. Kindly and mannered." Zayn hands Niall a moderate stack of papers. "You need to have 20 completed and I'll have 20 too."

He grabs the sheets from him, reading it as if he's never seen these before, like it was made with unicorn hair. And he has—just 10 minutes ago.

"How d'I get these back?" Niall asks with his voice full of wonderment. His eyes gleam at Zayn as he watches him sordidly.

"Grow patience and wait for them to finish and take it back." He glares, in awe of stupidness brought to Zayn by Niall. Did 6 glasses really fuck the lad up?

"I'm so tired." Niall hisses quietly, clutching the sheets.

"You're crumpling it." Zayn says in a monotone voice. "Are you really okay?"

"Not really. It's loud." Niall muffles his ears. Zayn's face grimaces, wanting to point out that the two of them are in the library but it seems like Niall won't listen to reason. Won't listen to him.

Zayn can give less than a rat's ass about Niall's intoxication right now. He can't even walk straight going back to the house if he paid him to. And he's stuck making sure he doesn't walk himself into the fountain and walk right out like it's nothing. Why does Zayn even care? He's only content about Niall putting in effort and not leaving him to do all of it. It's not a lot to fix the grammar and punctuation or add where the bolds and italics belong but he did something for once. He's supposed to anyways—they're partners. They don't have to get along but they do have to finish a midterm that will determine their marks from then on.

Zayn would like to try and get along—at least for a minimum amount of time so the time he's spending with a person he hates isn't as dreadful and straining as being paired with him and fighting all the time. Zayn's no fighter—maybe more like an interrogator.

"God, Louis' gonna—" Niall stops himself, seeing Zayn by his side.

"Mhm, nice." Zayn mutters and nod, eying his phone. There's nothing about Niall to pay attention to.

Pres. Styles: Ideas?

Harry sends that to Zayn. Does Harry know he has things to do that are more important than the Debutant and Charity? It really is important to him; more than people think so but it’s as if Zayn doesn't have classes—classes that'll set his career after two years.

Zayn: No
Give me time. It's only been an hour

"Listen Niall—" Zayn turns to find Niall nowhere in his sight.

The lad must be out of his fucking mind. But Zayn guesses Niall's made his way home in his own way. Probably running or walking the long way but as long as he's getting home. Or somewhere. He's not his responsibility in the first place but wherever he is now, he's far from the loon.

"Gotcha!" Fuck! Niall's cackling behind Zayn almost got him to lose his balance, along with his arms suddenly wrapping around Zayn's neck.

Not quite. Why is Zayn always wrong?

"You're mad!" Zayn's voice rises, evoking more amusement from Niall. "Let go now, I don't want your hold on me." Zayn tries to pull apart Niall's hand. Why's he holding so fucking tight? Zayn is not a big stuffed animal. 

"You're so borin'!" Niall's laugh stifles, holding his grip around him.

"You're a mess, do you see yourself?" He contends. He really reeks of alcohol. "I want you to let go."

"You're not calling me babeh now are ya?" It's really hard to understand Niall with his fucking intonation while slurring all over the place.

"Ohh, you're getting on my nerves." Zayn sheepishly laughs. This isn't funny to him. He can't figure out Niall right now. His face contorts in dissatisfaction as Niall's arms are still around Zayn's neck.

"D'ya see dos stars?" Niall's chin rests on my shoulder and Zayn doesn't bother trying to get the intoxicated lad off him. He was even batting his eyelashes at the sky.

"No, we're near the city; the lights outshine them. I can't see anything at all." Zayn keeps his expression straight, dragging Niall behind him as he continues to walk.

"I see them." Niall's eyes focus towards the dark sky.

"You should count them," Zayn suggest to Niall.

His hold on him quickly vanishes. This doesn't relieve him in any way as Zayn watches Niall settle himself on the grass near the fountain. He lies himself down with his arms behind his head, lips moving without eliciting any words out and all Zayn could think is that he's really out of it. He's in his own universe now and Zayn is many light-years away.

"I-I did not m-mean it literally," Zayn stammers in remorse, standing over Niall.

He's made himself comfortable to the fresh grass and brisk air. Zayn doesn't want to pull him out of his exhilaration. He gazes to the look Niall has on his face just trying to count stars that weren't there. His lips were moving but no words came out. It's almost beautiful how his lips pout and purse when he exaggerates on the words—could be more striking if Zayn didn't hate Niall. He was really into counting the stars that his right eye tightened shut, trying to sharpen his focus with his left forefinger poking at the sky. It seemed funny to hm for a few seconds how indulged Niall is until Zayn saw the curve at the corner of his lips with his and Zayn's almost parting, before he composed himself from the feeling of admiration.

"Louis," Zayn calls him with a lacking spirit.

"Wha' are you doing with Niall's phone?" He growls. And of course, Niall's lied to him the whole time about his phone being broken when it's bulging out his pocket, full battery.

"Take your mate home, would you? He's drunk out of his wits." Zayn disregards the coldness of Louis voice. "We're near the fountain."

"What's he fucking doing? What'd you do to him?" He sneers.

"I. Didn't. Do. Anything. He's intoxicated." Zayn forces the words out.

He's only been endurable through this bullshit of Louis’ and his hostile behaviour. Zayn doesn't know how long he's able to take this snarky attitude of his just for being a part of Rho. Zayn is not even threatening or harming any of them so the understanding of this rivalry is far from his capacity to understand it at all.

"I'd tell you to bring him here but I don't want you anywhere near my house."

"That's quite kind of you. I don't care. Pick him up." Zayn ended the call before Louis was able to make any other arguments against him that he doesn't even need to say.

Nonetheless, Louis' thick head won't get that. Won't get anything at all unless he spells it out for him with wooden pieces. His head's thick as a bolted and locked door for a bank's safe. Nothing will help his mindset unless someone drugs him or put him under hypnosis.

As for the Irish lad with a rare case of lightweight drinking capabilities, he stops his counting of stars and begins his music career through a piece of grass.

"You mind stop blowing that? It's obnoxious." Zayn winces at the buzzing and whistling of the leaf that settled between Niall's fingers. It sounds as if a bee's collaborating with a kazoo.

"Why, ya want me t'blow ya instead?" Niall laughter bursts through the air.

"Cute. Cute..." Zayn shakes his head. "C'mon, stand on your feet."

"You need to chill. If you were way nicer, we wouldn't be stuck, on Sunday, doin' homework!"

"Whatever" Zayn exhales. "I will still despise you."

"We should name our kid, Zanna!" Niall gasps. Zayn hates how Niall tried to make it sound like his name. He would never think to raise a damn child with that guy. "Then you can tell your delightful stories."

Zayn sighs, offering Niall a hand. "I would never choose you in all of my years as my partner, let alone take myself with you to make a union of fortified admiration when all I feel for you is hate. C'mon, up on your feet!"

"Should really take that stick out of your ass. We should date again." Niall strains as he tries pulling himself up with Zayn's hand supporting him. Suppose telling him that was useless since he's intoxicated out of his mind. "You'll buy me drinks again and stargaze—brilliant!"

"Wasn't a date." Zayn tries tugging him up. Niall's weighing himself down through his stubbornness and this was really getting to him. "There are no stars out tonight. It's overcast."

"Y'know what happens on dates?" Zayn tries to ignore the caressing of Niall's thumb on his hand. Zayn tries to ignore Niall's smirk and raised eyebrows as much as possible. Sometimes it sucks to have the habit of looking people in the eye, like Zayn when he talks to people.

Zayn shakes his head, "I'm not interested in—" He suddenly pulls Zayn down to the ground. This'll be the last time he's fucking helping this lad with anything. Abruptly, Niall pushes his mouth on him and Zayn's eyes burgeon wide. This fucking drunk! He was kissing him! Zayn's not supposed to be tasting the drinks he's had. Neither was his hand supposed to be held by his.

"Niall!" Zayn immediately break from the drunk, faster than his mind thought to be. He pulls himself up with Niall who's laughing. This was far from his kind of humour. "I'll fucking obliterate you if you try that obscene shit of yours one more time." Zayn is really anticipating Louis' arrival now. What's taking him so long?

"I give that kiss a 4." Niall hiccups. "You waste those pretty little things on that fucking Styles lad, it's crazy!"

"Now, I've wasted it on you. And it's mortifying." Zayn exhales just as rolls his eyes off to the side, spitting on the ground. Tastes so bitter. Zayn would lick his shoe and it'd taste even better.

"Right, you'd like to spend it right on Harry?" Niall's words rapidly flow out his mouth, causing Zayn's expression to contort in annoyance.

"I'd love to tell you all about my life," like he would. Maybe another day when they actually stop being arseholes to each other. "But Louis' here. I hope to never do this again but we do have to. Not looking forward to it tho—fuckin' wipe!"

The push of Louis shoulder on mine caused him to knock forward. Way to make an entrance, push the fucking lad who's babysitting his vice president. He goes straight to Niall, egging him on to go home, how fun it'd be to go home and walk the way. No it wouldn't—not towards Kappa. That house is the kind of house that people drive by and know that house has got something out of the norm happening in there.

"What were you guys up to? I thought it was just the midterm?" Louis couldn't have made midterm sound any more cynical. He throws his arm around Niall's shoulder with the lad chewing on his nails. Zayn has never seen anyone so jumpy.

"I bought him two pitchers." He replies coolly.

"What happened to the midterm part of the night, hm?" Louis scoffs at him. What the fuck was hard to believe? If he doesn't want to believe what's coming out of his mouth, he can just ask his intoxicated vice president over there. Ignore the lad who still has his senses.

"In his hands." Surprisingly he didn't drop the papers. But he did fold it vertically in the middle and crumpled it a bit.

"Fuck! It's so bright!" Niall drops his phone just as he unlocks it. It'd be worse if he dropped it without the case, then his stupid brick wouldn't be able to work anymore. The name butterfingers lives on.

Zayn couldn't bid a proper goodbye to the two without sounding melancholy and deceiving at the same time. He slipped from the two with a nod and walked away. They wouldn't give him a goodbye anyways and he wouldn't find the two admirable enough to give a genuine farewell so all he's got up his sleeves are 'Ehm, yeah' or 'Ok'. It doesn't feel right to tell them a goodbye by actually including 'bye'. It's more on the funeral atonement if he does and he doesn't think anyone’s dying. Maybe soon, Zayn's delaying his vows.

"Next time!" Niall yells afterwards.

"What the fuck's wrong wid'ya?" Zayn could hear Louis' harsh tone again.

See, it's kind of hard to tell from his point of view the difference between Niall being sober and drunk. Frankly, Zayn sees him acting out a lot like this even without having a drink. He talks this to him all the time and it always ends with Zayn having to ask himself what the hell is going in his head and when this'll all be over.