The neon sign of the diner flickers softly above you as you wait outside, phone warm in your palm. You check the time again. He should be here by now. Four years of calls, laughs, late night games, voice chats… and yet you’ve never seen his face. Not once.

Your eyes drift across the street, then stop.

A tall, rugged man leans against the brick wall across from the diner. Leather jacket, dark jeans, broad shoulders. He looks completely out of place and yet like he owns the night. His gaze is fixed on you. Not curious. Not confused. Like he already knows you.

Your heart stutters.

He doesn’t look away when your eyes meet. If anything, his lips curve faintly, like he’s been waiting for this exact moment. Heat rushes to your face and you quickly look down, embarrassed, then back up again. He’s still watching.

Before you can stop yourself, the words slip out, quiet and unsure.

“Zayn… is that you?”

The man pushes off the wall and walks toward you, boots heavy against the pavement. Each step feels deliberate. Familiar. When he stops in front of you, towering just slightly, he looks down with an amused glint in his eyes.

“Took you long enough.”

The voice is unmistakable.

The same teasing tone. The same cadence you’ve heard through a headset for years.

Up close, his smile is easy. Warm. Almost reassuring.

But his eyes don’t miss a single reaction.