~All in my zone, all in my space,

Life is always in the way,

All in my zone, all in my space,

Life is always in the way~

Adam didn't calm down to talk until the two of them were on the plane. There was no question of whether or not Zayn would not follow him to a different country - they were best friends. The first question he asked was, "Where are we going?"

"South America, silly." He already had a drink, and Zayn had already told the flight attendant that that would be his last.

"Why?"

"It's summer!" Zayn frowned, staring down at his satchel. "And I slipped something in your soda in the cab, so you're not going to remember any of this. Because you're afraid of heights!"

"Adam Clarke! How dare you!"

Adam danced along to the beat in his head - he had to be on something. "I didn't you to ruin all the fun with your whining! We're going to have fun. And I'll go back to MIT in the spring. It's a protest semester, because of what they did to you." Zayn felt himself falling into whatever Adam had given him, and quickly tightened his seatbelt and put his bag under his seat. "Did Hunter ever call?"

Zayn shook his head, glaring at this man who claimed to be his friend. Now if he tried to apply for a job, whatever he was on would be in his system. And he was too skinny to do a cleanse. He slipped into the blissfulness of the blackout sadly, thinking about the man who claimed to love him, but never called.

By June 1st, Zayn was ready to see him again. Ready to see where the relationship went when they could do whatever they wanted to, wherever.

But he never called.

---

Zayn woke up twenty-four hours later in an apartment bed, Adam nowhere to be found. But this time, they were in a different country. Which meant that everything was different. With the minimal money the both of them had, they could keep the apartment and survive on a little bit of food every day. Sometimes they explored the city and the country together, but most of the time, Zayn was alone.

So, he got a job at a comic book store, which allowed him the freedom to sit on his laptop and program all day. It wasn't a busy place, but it paid surprisingly well. When people came in, they bought a lot, and that business let Zayn survive for months and months.

But the time December came around, he could fluently speak Spanish and was having too much fun to go home. So he didn't. Then it was ten months since they had left, Adam hadn't been seen by Zayn in two months, and Zayn was still working at the comic book shop and traveling. His tattoos were numerous, he was ripped, and he still didn't ever sleep.

Then the CIA walked in.

Of course, Zayn didn't know that they were CIA until they showed their badges. All he saw was three tall men in black suits enter the comic book shop. He shut his laptop - the one Grant had given him more than a year ago, and greeted them, thinking they'd look around for a moment.

Then the badges came out.

"We speak English," One started with, to which Zayn nodded. "You're Zayn Malik?"

"Yes," He was curious as to what this was about.

"We'd like you to come with us," The second one said, holding a hand on his hip.

"Regarding what?" Eyebrows furrowed, he began to put his laptop in his satchel and slung it over his shoulder. Of course he would go with them, he would just like to know why. No one answered the question.

Zayn got into a car where a woman drove, and no one else was in the vehicle with him. Internally, he was panicking about being contacted by the CIA, because he had done some very illegal hacking in the last couple of months when the comic book shop got slow and he needed some extra cash to buy new sheets or another hard drive. He was certain that whenever he was going was where he was going to die, so he texted his mom - I love you.

He wanted to ask a question or two to the woman driving, but didn't think she seemed like the type to give over information easily. Besides, she probably didn't know much of anything.

As expected, the building that the train of cars stopped in front of was an empty warehouse. Thin steel walls that made it look new, but piping leading in through the doors to let you know that it definitely wasn't. Zayn was escorted with a hand on his elbow through the door and to the only thing in the room besides stairs and crumbling beams - a dusk so rusted it probably came off of the Titanic, with a perfect working computer on it. And a man, sitting behind the computer, pushing around files and replying to emails. Or watching the Area 51 surveillance footage, because what does the CIA do?

"Hello, Mr. Malik." The man smiled pleasantly, but it was clear that this was not to be a friendly conversation. "We've heard from all of the people in the town where you are that you are a computer programmer and hacker."

"Just a programmer," Zayn clarified. He wasn't going to willingly admit to legal things in front of these people. That was suicide.

"Okay, just a programmer. And they say you're one of the best."

"I got kicked out of school. I'm not the best." He was the best. And he didn't get kicked out of school for anything related to academics - the disciplinary board let him keep his math credit.

The man closed his eyes and blew upwards to get a long strand of hair out of his eyes. "The fact of the matter is, whether you are the best or not, we need a...computer programmer based in South America for something that may happen in the future."

Zayn wanted to lean back in his chair and pull out a cigarette, but he hadn't smoked in more than a year. "Sounds secretive."

"Yes, we're the CIA, Mr. Malik." He was obviously already fed up with Zayn's idiocracy. "If you were to come work with us, we'd provide you a great deal more money than you are making where you are currently employed, and you would be trained. We just need you to be a man on the ground, close by if we need you."

Zayn didn't have to think twice about it. "I'll pass. A generous offer, but I'm not interested."

The man did not expect that. "You can't pass."

"I just said I am, though."

A sharp inhale. "Mr. Malik, we are the kind of people you don't reject offers from. We can take evidence of all of your "computer programming" and leak it to the government - both sides."

Zayn stood, and the man was appalled. He had the audacity to just stand up and go? "Thank you for the offer, once again. I am thrilled to be thought of for such a position. But I'm really just a computer programmer who got kicked out of the best computer school in America for sleeping with my math teacher. Sorry."

The same car with the silent woman took him and his laptop back to work. When he thought of them trying to uncover real evidence against him, he laughed to himself.

Let them try.

---

There was only one person in the world he could talk to about what had just happened, and that was Adam. Unfortunately, Adam was AWOL, as he usually was, and it was going to take some serious investigative work to find him. Three more calls to his cell phone - no answer. Hacking his google location - gave him the place where his phone currently was, but Zayn knew that his friend wouldn't be attached to it. If he was, he would've picked up. It was Zayn calling, after all. His best friend.

Once his shift was over, he went and retrieved the phone from a friend's house, who had saw Adam earlier that day and said he was headed to see another friend, which had him ping-ponging all over town until he was walking down a narrow dirt path with a sketchy man who was yelling in Spanish - Get him out of here! Please! I can't bear to see his dirty face any longer!

Zayn didn't know what he would find, but he assumed that it would not be good. But he would help Adam through anything. Because he had been there for Zayn through the good and the bad, and he had to do the same.

The river washed up brown water, and it was lapping at Adam's toes as he sat, watching the sunset over the trees on the other side. The spot was secluded, but it was clear that it was a little place of his own, because there were blankets and a pillow there. Why hadn't he just come back to the apartment? To his room?

His shoulder turned, and Zayn could see the empty cheeks. But the voice was the same as he called out - "Hello, Zaynie."