Day/Theme: March 23rd/23. raining bed sheets and lover’s words
Character/Pairing: Malik, Anzu
Summary: Malik's a little more difficult to explain than her previous boyfriends. (Unedited, written in fifteen minutes to make the midnight deadline.)
Anzu could count on one hand the times Malik had left a positive, lasting impression on people he'd met through her, and the amount of times he hadn't on the rest of her fingers and toes. He was more difficult to explain to her family than her previous boyfriends, all of whom had been easy to read, too polite, or less than genuine. She could trust that Malik, at least, was upfront.
And maybe a little unorthodox, but it certainly beat lying.
"That's where she gets her legs," he remarked to Anzu's surprised mother when he first met her. Anzu's face flushed and she pulled him aside by the sleeve of his shirt, into the corridor.
"You're trying to embarrass yourself, aren't you?"
He didn't look at her, his eyes somewhere near the window high above their heads. "Not as much as you embarrassed yourself by doing that."
Anzu realised then that she didn't know Malik very well.
He came to pick her up from a dance lesson and Anzu knew something was going on because some of the girls from her class had gathered around one of the glass panels that overlooked the street below. Curious, she stood on her toes and peered down over the top of their heads.
The continuous and unnecessary revving of the engine should have given him away, but the streets of downtown Domino were always overrun by bike gangs by early evening and the noise went unnoticed, until she spotted Malik astride his motorcycle, one hand splayed on his thigh, the other around the grip of the handlebar. Taking out her cellphone, Anzu watched Malik cut the engine with a frown and flip his own open when he recognised the ringtone he'd chosen for her. The girls who had ventured outside to get a closer look approached while Malik wasn't looking, giggling and talking amongst themselves.
"Are you stuck in your leotard? Need help getting out?" she heard him say, his eyes flicking to the girls grouped around him.
Anzu rested a hand against the glass and leaned on it, staring at the back of his head. "Aren't you wasting your petrol doing that, Malik?" She saw his shoulders tense and he twisted around on the bike to look up at her, grinning helplessly.
"When you go into overtime, I get bored," he said.
Anzu hung up.
"Stop wearing my clothes," Malik told Anzu after finding a third shirt of his with make-up stains on the collar. "Or take that shit off your face before you sleep."
Anzu smiled from where she lay on the bed, crossing her ankles. "Then you should think the next time you try to hit on my mother."