#*ziam

It’s not long after that Liam calls for him. He figured the boy might’ve come back to gather him in his arms, having to struggle to get Zayn out of bed. But he doesn’t; his voice is somewhat muffled by being in the room over, the water coming through at a steady pace, and with an unnatural amount of ease for someone in his state of wear, Zayn picks himself up easily and heads to the bathroom.

Liam’s there already, of course, hand under the faucet, no doubt feeling the temperature of the water as it hopefully heats up. He’s dressed down, nothing but pale, pink skin and brown wispy hair. Zayn admires, gives himself the chance to do so as he hears Liam call his name once more, obviously not knowing that he’s just a few steps away. Zayn’s hard pressed to not get sentimental, and he’s had other night’s with Liam, rough and more casual in nature than he would’ve liked, but maybe this feels a little different, the calm before the storm, one last go around because things might blow up in their face.

Having a plan doesn’t guarantee shit.

Zayn can tell when Liam’s lip begin to move again, growing impatient that he’s most likely being a stubborn asshole. So he relieves Liam of that mindset, makes a startled noise before he shuffles forward, hand reaching out for Liam’s shoulder as a way to balance himself, a sign of need that he’s been afraid to give in the past.

The water’s about halfway full in the tub before Liam stops it, and Zayn knows why. He’d go on about some science-y shit Zayn doesn’t care for, body mass and the way the water will rise too much while their nestled within the porcelain.

He moves, Liam. Slowly and towards Zayn’s shirt, slipping a hand underneath the material to rub a soothing thumb alongside Zayn’s hip bone. Their distance is awkward though, and Liam’s not high enough to help Zayn off with his shirt, so he chooses the trousers, pops the buttons and lets Zayn stare as he pushes them away from the older male’s body.

And despite Liam’s hands having been soaked by the water, they’re somewhat cool to the touch. Not enough to pull Zayn out of his lull of solitude and quietness, but it’s a push in the right direction that gets him in motion, sliding his arms through his shirt and eventually over his head, so he’s only left to kick off the rest of his clothing.

Liam’s hand immediately returns to it’s previous position, albeit this time tightly against Zayn’s hip. Zayn only watches broad shoulders and brown eyes, with Liam leaning forward to place his lips against the sharp jut of bone. “Will you-”

But he doesn’t get to finish, not when Zayn tangles his hand into Liam’s hair, alongside his neck in order to pull his gaze back up. It gives Zayn the opportunity to have the upper hand here, knowing that Liam’s already eager for him anyway. “No,” he says roughly, swallowing down the dryness in his throat in the process. It feels thick, too raspy for his liking, but since Liam’s not looking at him funny, he boils it down to his own hearing. It’s a rare occurrence, if ever, for Zayn’s voice to crack, and even if this is only due from a long day behind him, he’d be damned to admit it. “Help me.”

And Liam does as he asks. He’s standing up, catching Zayn when his balance is thrown off kilter from his hand resting on the younger lad’s shoulder. He’s a warm presence, settled in behind Zayn as he steps into the water, warm with the instant feeling of release of pressure crawling up his leg.

He’s guided, maybe an embarrassment to anyone else, but he’s helped by Liam knowing that this is their space now; no longer will it be occupied by anyone other than the two of them, at least for this moment. And it’s easy to tell Liam’s pleased, feather’s ruffled in a show of happiness despite the minuscule display that says otherwise. They don’t need theatrics or grand gestures. It’s always been there between them, something prideful and unrelenting to know that each of them are in each other’s presence, only theirs for the taking.

“Yeah, I’ll be up in a few. Can you go and unlock the door for me?”

After hanging up, Liam had immediately done as Zayn had asked and then slid back underneath the covers. It was chilly in Zayn’s flat, and even with a jumper and socks on, Liam still felt goosebumbs on his skin. He was a  bit nervous; in two months this was the first time Zayn had invited him  to sleep over, and he was running late. He was already anxious, and picturing  Zayn downstairs sneaking in just one more smoke only made him more jumpy. What if he decided that he didn’t want this? What if his mood swung and Liam was kicked out? In his thoughts, ‘a few’ minutes turned to ten, then to fifteen.

After a half-hour, Liam heard the front door creak open softly, and quiet movement as Zayn took off his shoes and jacket. He decided to pretend to be asleep, thinking it would be too awkward if any words were exchanged. The silence in the room was thick, and it seemed even a whisper would sound like a gunshot.

Zayn walked into the bedroom and took off his jeans as quietly as possible, and Liam bit back a smile as he heard Zayn tip-toeing to the bed, carefully slipping in beside him. He remained quiet until Zayn’s strong arms found themselves around his waist, pulling him close. It was cold, but Zayn’s body was warm as he pressed against Liam’s, his head resting comfortably in the crook of the brunette’s neck.

“Goodnight, Liam.” He muttered softly against his ear, a chill running through the boy he was holding. Liam could smell the smoke on his breath, and somehow found enough comfort in the familiar mix of smoke and Zayn’s cologne to mutter a soft ‘goodnight’ in return before falling asleep.

———

The following morning, Zayn was up first. It was a bit odd for him, but he was awake and getting breakfast nonetheless. When he got back to the flat with coffee and a bag of Mac Donald’s, Liam was still asleep, blankets askew and the cutest expression on his face. Looking at his boyfriend and best friend lying there so peacefully, Zayn didn’t want to disturb him. Still, his food would be cold if he didn’t wake up. Besides, they had to be up and getting ready for interviews in an hour anyway.

“Liam…Liam, wake up.” Shaking him gently by the shoulder, Zayn only gained the reaction of Liam turning over to his stomach, face buried in the pillow.

“Don’t wanna.” He groaned sleepily, pulling the covers with him.

It was moments like that when Zayn thought he would simply burst. Liam was adorable, and he just wanted to kiss him…but that would be weird, first thing in the morning, right?

They’d been dating for two months, but Zayn was still unsure about when to kiss Liam.

Opting for a laugh and shaking the mattress until Liam was awake and laughing with him, Zayn fell onto the bed beside him.

“Hmm, good morning love.” Liam smiled brightly, sitting up and looking down at Zayn’s head resting in his lap. When he was greeted with hazy brown eyes, Liam bit his bottom lip softly. Taking it as his que, Zayn reach up and threaded his fingers into Liam’s hair, pulling him down to eye level. Just as Liam’s heart stopped, and he could feel Zayn’s warm breath on his skin, the dark-haired boy moved from lingering towards his lips to a soft kiss on the cheek.

“I..Um, I got breakfast for us.” Zayn said after a long moment of silence, looking up in Liam’s eyes for approval.

“O-okay.” Liam stuttered, both boys standing up and walking into the kitchen. They ate in a comfortable silence as the TV made noise in the background.

The rest of the day was filled with people asking them questions they’d been asked a hundred times each, fans following them everywhere they went, There was not a moment of their day that was not photographed or recorded. That is, until they were home that night.

———

The boys had all stayed at Zayn’s flat for a few hours before they parted ways, much later on in the night.

The rest of the band didn’t know about their relationship; so it began as just a normal night of talking and Niall playing guitar and Louis and Harry smiling too much for anyone’s good. It was nice to be in a band with their best friends; but neither Liam or Zayn felt comfortable telling the other boys yet. They knew eventually they would, but when the right moment came.

The moment almost slipped early when the couple was in the kitchen with Louis and Niall that night. Liam had been making tea for them, and Zayn walked in from a smoke and leaned against the counter next to the stove , not realizing the other two boys were in the room.

“Make a cup for me too, baby?” Zayn asked softly, looking up at Liam innocently. Liam shot him a raised eyebrow, and Harry looked up with a curious glance. Niall was eating; and therefor totally oblivious. However, the moment passed without a question asked.

Liam, however, couldn’t get it off his mind. Zayn wasn’t big on terms of endearment; he wasn’t big on affection at all. He was never the one who kissed first, who reached for Liam’s hand, or who called Liam ‘baby’. But he just did. And to Liam, that tiny insignificant moment meant everything.

——-

Later that night, once everyone else had gone back to their respective flats and it was just Liam and Zayn again, the only sound was a soft, muffled laughter.

“Zayn! Don’t, It tickles!” Liam chuckled softly, smiling down at the brown eyes that greeted him. Zayn kissed his stomach again, the scruff on his chin tickling and making Liam laugh again. Crawling back up the bed until they were face to face, Zayn planted a warm kiss over’s Liam’s smile.

“You need a shave, sir.” Liam smirked, his thumb rubbing over Zayn’s cheekbone.

“You can’t tell me what to do.” Zayn teased, arms wrapping around Liam’s waist and lips trailing down his neck with soft kisses.

“Oh really? Well, we’ll just see about that.” Liam continued the banter, both of them laughing and tangling in the other’s arms. After a moment, Zayn was surprised by a kiss from Liam, warm and gentle as his arms wrapped around Zayn’s neck.

“I love you.”

And this time, it wasn’t Liam who said it first. It wasn’t Liam who looked into the other’s eyes and laid his heart on the line, expecting nothing in return. It wasn’t Liam who took the leap of faith.

This time, It was Zayn, sure and promising.

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”What time is it?”

With a flick of his cigarette, Zayn looked up from his book, giving the guy in his bed barely a pirate’s smile, replacing it quickly with his cigarette again.

“Past two.” He muttered on the exhale, holding his cigarette between his fingers as he went back to his book. The guy sat up and rubbed at his eyes, passing a hand through his dark brown curls. This one was younger, with bright green eyes and a tiny frame.  He’d worn tight black jeans and not much else when Zayn had brought him home from the bar the previous night, and those same black jeans were laid neatly on the chest at the bottom of the bed along with his shirt and shoes.  Zayn watched him out of the corner of his eye, tugging on his pants and pulling his shirt over his thin torso. He was so fragile, his body too small for his huge head of wild curls. Zayn had seen the track marks on his arms last night, but he didn’t ask any questions. Who was he to care anyway?

Once he was dressed, the boy came over to the window seat and asked him for a light. Zayn closed his book and reached over to a table next to the window and opened the drawer. He tossed the lighter to him and watched as he took a pack from his back pocket. Zayn was a little disappointed when he saw that he smoked Camels, and not Marlboros.  Before he could poke fun at it, the guy was up again, grabbing his phone from the nightstand.

“Call me.” Was all he said, walking out of the bedroom after a small wave.

After he heard the front door of his apartment close he put out his cigarette and got up, walking to the kitchen with his blanket still wrapped around his hips. Within minutes he was sitting on the sofa with a bowl of cereal, flicking through channels until he found something distracting enough.

Sunday mornings usually began this way for Zayn, more or less. The cigarettes and the cereal were always there, and sometimes the guy he’d slept with would stay for breakfast as well. More often than not, he would wake up alone. Zayn liked the pattern, having the freedom to reject or deny someone’s sultry glare at the bar. He came home with a pocketful of numbers sometimes, and other times it was just as simple as picking one from the crowd. Zayn loved his job for that, because there were always new people in the bar and Zayn never liked to fuck the same person twice.

He left his apartment around an hour later, walking a few blocks to Niall’s apartment building.  Niall’s latest was a pretty redhead named Joanna who greeted Zayn at the door in just an old t-shirt. With a bright smile and a twirl,she led him into the small apartment, walking back in to the bedroom. Niall was already up and dressed, grabbing his keys and kissing the curvy red-haired girl goodbye before walking out with Zayn, back into the busy New York city streets. Once they were on the subway, they chatted here and there about work and who Zayn had brought home and Niall went on and on about how wonderful a cook Joanna was.  It was around five by the time they got to work, a small group of day-drinkers still lingering at the counter as they switched with the day-shift. The first few hours were easy on them, all they had to do was pour a beer every twenty minutes or so to a faceless person with a credit card.

The band was set to play around nine, with a few amateurs performing beforehand to warm up the crowd and keep people coming in. Normally, no one listened to the opening acts; they were simply background noise for warm conversations and fond greetings of friends with clinking glasses.  This part of the night was just a prologue, and each night Zayn, Niall, and the rest of the bartenders got to watch the story unfold as the band that had been hired got louder and the customers came back for a third drink.

For now the night was still in chapter one; a girl with a sleek black bob sitting onstage with her guitar, singing about lost love or some other shit like that. Zayn gave Niall the signal that he was sneaking out for a smoke before walking out the back and lighting up his fourth cigarette of the day while leaning against the wall.

For living in a city that was constantly in motion, Zayn’s life didn’t really shift from its normal pattern very often. He wasn’t going to complain because who wouldn’t want to be single and living in the big city, all the freedom in the world at the palm of your hand.  Zayn only thought about that missing piece when he was out here like this, listening to the sound of the city and wondering how he was part of it all. New York had a way of doing that to you, as he’d discovered early on.

Stubbing out his cigarette with the toe of his boot, he walked back in to the bar and made his way through the crowd to the counter, taking his place again like nothing had happened. The next opening act was stepping up on stage, and he seemed like an easy enough distraction for him.

This one looked a little bit more nervous than the usual ones, and he didn’t really look like the type to be playing in a bar in the first place.  He had that clean-cut boy-next-door look to him, and Zayn determined from the second he opened his mouth—there was no way he was a New Yorker.

“Poor guy, looks like a wet puppy up there.” Niall said, startling Zayn and making him realize he’d been staring.

“You know him?” He asked, looking away and leaning against the counter, his back to the new kid.

Niall shook his head, taking a swig from the beer in his hand. “Tommy said he booked him for a month. Pity gigs, man. He’s good but —-“

“But he’s not gonna get very far looking like he’s scared shitless.” Zayn smirked, turning his head at the sound of the person in question speaking up to introduce himself. Liam, that was his name. Liam payne.

“Sounds like a fucking boy band member.” Niall muttered under his breath, Zayn barely registering the sound as Liam started playing and then a few moments later he was singing. Suddenly the mood in the bar shifted, people’s voices hushing mid-conversation as eyes trained on the stage.

It wasn’t like Liam was the best singer in the world, he was still learning the ropes and you could hear that in some places, his pitch dropping just a little too low. He wasn’t bad, not bad at all. He just had this way of singing that made people pay attention. It was pretty hard to get a room full of drunk people to shut up and listen, but even Zayn couldn’t bring himself to look away.

Somewhere in the second verse, he realized that he didn’t even know what song Liam was playing. He was letting his eyes roam; watching strong hands strum guitar strings.  He couldn’t see his face all that well with the dim bar lights, but he could see the way his sandy brown hair swooped to the left but curled in different directions, and if he really squinted he could see his eyes shine—- They were brown eyes, warm and full.

“Zayn, you fucking prick.” With a tongue true to his roots, Niall punched Zayn’s shoulder.

“What?” Zayn asked as if he was surprised, a smile breaking through on his lips. Niall just rolled his eyes and said, “You know what. And we both know that sleeping with him won’t go well. He’s working here every night for a whole month, and he looks like the type to get attached quickly.”

Zayn just smirked, talking over his shoulder as he poured another beer for a customer who certainly didn’t need one. “You’re a real dick, you know. He’s new and the least I can do is welcome him to the city.”

Without a reply Niall moved on to the other end of the bar, leaving his friend to catch the last few moments of Liam’s first song.  Zayn decided that for once, he was going to take Niall’s advice.  He didn’t usually get his hopes up about anything, so he decided to wait this one out.

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