Chapter Text
Liam
Liam’s not exactly known for spending a lot of his free time in the library. To be honest, he can barely remember the last time he finished a proper book. He doesn’t think he owns any books that aren’t related to his course. Once, a girl he was starting to get into dating wanted to make out in the aisles, said it was dead romantic and she had always wanted to try it. It was his first year at university, he shamefacedly couldn’t find the library and she never called back. That’s why it’s all very confusing when he gets a letter sent to his apartment from the library. Apparently, he owes them quite a lot of money.
“That’s hilarious,” Louis says, rather unhelpfully. He eats another bite of his cereal and keeps reading over Liam’s shoulder.
“You haven’t pranked me, have you?” Liam asks, a little bit worried. He knows Louis wouldn’t actually pull a prank that would cost Liam this much money. They’re poor university students. It’s a sacred bond.
“No,” Louis says in outrage although he does sound a bit hurt that Liam would doubt him after all they’ve been through. “It’s not even a good prank!”
“The thought of Liam incurring a fine from a library he has never set foot in, the thought it being over Shakespeare,” Eleanor points out, literally pointing her spoon dripping with milk at all of them, “is pretty funny.”
Louis looks at his girlfriend like he’s being heartbreakingly betrayed. Eleanor reaches over and touches his hair and he pretends he’s still being heartbreakingly betrayed for all of five seconds before he caves. He leans back in his seat but tangles their ankles together underneath the table and Liam grabs a rag to wipe away the little droplets of soy milk. He misses having a girlfriend.
Niall’s already cackling away at the breakfast table. “Too good,” he says, also rather unhelpfully.
Eleanor draws him a map of how to get to the library from the gym. He’s there most of the time before or after his classes and it’s really thoughtful of her. It’s because she’s kind and smart and knows about this kind of stuff, studious stuff, while Niall and Louis spend an hour coming up with more and more elaborate ways to get out of it. Liam was intrigued of making a run for it and moving to Antarctica for an indefinite period of time but apparently he’d have to burn off his fingertips. He’s not all that fond of the cold and he is all that fond of his fingertips.
He stands at the entrance of the library, peering into the hushed silence. He fingers at his snapback hesitantly. He doesn’t know if it’s like church, is he supposed to take his hat off? There certainly seems to be that kind of atmosphere. He sees a kid at a table further in with a beanie on, bent over a piece of paper and scribbling furiously. Liam decides to chance it and leaves his hat on. He readjusts his backpack on one of his shoulders, holding onto the strap so his bicep bulges out. It’s just a habit. He’s not the type to try and intimidate people with his muscles. It’s not the reason he goes to the gym regularly, that’s just for stress relief (“Bullshit. Liam, rip the arms off your shirt, that security guy just gave me a funny look. What is the point of you wasting all that time being sweaty and gross if you’re not gonna hulk out at everyone who looks at me funny!” “He’s just doing his job, Louis. Please try to be sober for a minute, we’re never gonna get in if you keep swaying like that.”)
Liam makes his way to the counter with all the signs. There isn’t a bell, Liam was expecting a bell like the libraries in the movies. Liam knocks on the wood counter instead, already unimpressed with the reality of a university library. Eleanor told him they have more than one on campus. Madness.
He’s too caught up thinking about whether he’s going to get told off for wearing a hat or not that he needs to hurriedly take half a step back when a guy pops up from underneath the counter. The guy takes a moment to scrutinise Liam, his eyes narrowing slightly at Liam’s snapback.
“Sorry, mate,” he says. He doesn’t look all that sorry though, he looks rather wary. That’s not the first thing Liam notices.
They’re not standing very close but even from across the counter Liam can tell the man has very long eyelashes. He also has an impressive amount of stubble that would make a grown man (Niall) cry. Liam immediately feels the need to grow some stubble. He thinks it might suits this guy a whole lot better than it would suit him. Liam’s seen a lot of good looking blokes before, he’s seen some of the guys Niall’s pulled and thought yeah I get it but he hasn’t ever seen someone like this guy. He’s not even done anything with his hair, it’s just all soft and effortlessly falling into his glasses. It’s like seeing someone from a movie and realising they actually look like that in real life too. Overwhelming. The man pushes his hair back out of his eyes impatiently and arches one eyebrow expectantly.
“Sorry,” Liam says, apologising as well because it’s his turn after all. “Hi,” he says belatedly, looking into his eyes and momentarily getting distracted trying to figure out if they’re hazel or brown.
Does this happen to a lot of people? He should ask Louis about it. Ask him if he gets intimidated by really good looking people once in a while. It’s most probably definitely normal.
“‘Lo,” he says with an amused tilt of his head. Maybe he thinks Liam’s being slow on purpose. “Did you need something?” he finally asks, shrugging so the collar of his thin v-neck dips over his collarbones, a flash of his tattoos.
“Yeah,” Liam says, trying to move faster because he’s spent too much time staring now and it’s weird, he’s the weird one now.
He scrambles to get the letter out of his bag. He hands it over wordlessly to the Good Looking Library Man (perfectly symmetrical faces exist, Liam’s seen proof of it with his very own eyes). He still feels like an idiot just standing there and waiting for the Library Man to finish reading it so he overcompensates by starting to talk very fast. “I got this letter saying I’ve borrowed Macbeth in my first year.”
“Uh-huh,” he says, not looking up. His eyes are skimming over the piece of paper and Liam doesn’t say anything because he usually can’t concentrate on reading something when someone’s talking at him at the same time. He waits until he reaches the end.
“I’ve literally never stepped a foot into the library,” Liam says. He wonders if he should tell him about Lisa and the story about her wanting to make out in one of the aisles. He doesn’t, though, because this man works here, he probably doesn’t want to hear about people almost desecrating his work place. And he doesn’t think it’ll help his case.
“I can see that,” he says with a sudden, razor sharp grin. Liam stares, he has a feeling he should be feeling slightly offended - he’s great at telling when people are making fun of him (he used to think everyone was making fun of him all the time but he can tell the difference, most of the time, now) - but he’s too busy wondering if his own face improves that drastically when he smiles.
“It says that I owe a lot of money. I don’t even know why I’d borrow Shakespeare, I’m doing Physiotherapy. You have to believe me, mate,” Liam says, putting his hand down on the counter. He meant to slap it but ran out of steam and now it’s just kind of resting there. Louis told him to go in there guns a blazing and threaten to take them to court. Liam doesn’t think this is what he meant.
“It’s not that hard to believe,” Zayn says, in that same tone, vaguely motioning to Liam with one hand before abruptly stopping himself like he’s realised he’s being rude. He makes a slightly apologetic face.
Liam glances down at himself. He’s come straight from the gym but he’s showered and put styling stuff in his hair. He’s wearing jogging bottoms and a vest, hoodie tucked into the strap of his bag because he’s still burning hot, but he doesn’t think he looks that bad.
“So are you gonna waive the fee?” Liam asks hopefully. He hasn’t made a very good first impression.
“Well,” he says, pushing his glasses further up his nose and picking up the letter again. He types something into the computer and says, “it is a lot of money, Liam."
“There’s got to be a mistake,” Liam says. “Is there someone else I can talk to?”
“Big Dave’s out for lunch or wherever he goes when he says he’s going out for lunch at 3pm and never coming back,” he says grumpily. “Sorry. He wouldn’t be much help anyway.” He clicks away for another moment on the computer and when Liam leans over the counter to peek at it, he tilts the screen further away from him.
“Can’t you just click on something and make it go away? You believe me, right?” Liam says.
“Yeah, computer says no,” he says dryly, looking up with an amused huff of laughter. He seems to take pity on him because he says, “Look, I have all your details on file here. I’ll just give you a call if we can get this sorted out. Or the book is returned. Did you lose your student ID card or something?”
“Once,” Liam says, he got blackout drunk after breaking up with Danielle. At least he’d managed to take advantage of the university student discounts at the pub down the road with his card. “How do you have all of my details on file? Is the library actually like a Secret Spy Agency?”
“Your student ID doubles as your library card, you know that, right? That’s what the bar code is for,” he says rather patiently for a man who looks like he’s at the end of his tethers.
“Sure,” Liam says quickly. He didn’t know that. “So I’m being framed. It’s like a burn notice.”
“No - okay, yeah, maybe,” he says making a face as if he’s reconsidering the whole situation. He looks more interested than he has been in this whole conversation.
“Cool,” Liam says. “Wait, no, I can’t pay this!”
“You’re just gonna have to pay the fine,” Zayn says, shrugging. “Or go on the run."
~
“Hi,” Liam says, dropping into the opposite seat of the table. He gets back up again and gives Mina a kiss on the cheek. “Sorry, didn’t mean to be late.”
“It’s okay,” Mina says and smiles up at him, her eyelashes touching.
Liam sits back down and Mina leans forward in her seat, her elbows on the table. He was five minutes late to the cafe because he got distracted thinking about what he’d take, besides Louis and his favourite watch, on the run. He’d probably have to get a gun or something for it to be a proper burn notice. He shakes his head at himself because he’s being ridiculous. He’s not going on the run. Not over a library fine anyway.
He focuses back to Mina who is looking even more adorable today, her fringe falling into her eyes. He doesn’t know what her eyebrows look like yet, which is crazy, but they’ve only just met and her fringe is always covering them up. He’s sure she’ll show him her eyebrows when she’s well and ready. Either way, he thinks she’s pretty perfect already. She has the sweetest rosy cheeks and her nails are always covered in crazy designs.
“Were you at the gym?” she asks him, grabbing his hand lying next to hers on the table to get his attention.
He smiles down at their hands for a moment and she laughs, holding on to his fingers and shaking it to get his attention back to her question.
“Yeah,” he says, nodding. “I went to the library for a bit after, though. Did you get anything yet?”
“No, silly, I was waiting for you,” she says and Liam feels a stab of guilt thinking of all the hot chocolates she could’ve been drinking if he’d been on time. She doesn’t look bothered though and not the type of unbothered people sometimes get when they’re actually really bothered about it.
“I’ll go get us something. Hot choc, yeah? Extra cocoa powder?” he asks her, reluctantly letting go of her hand to stand up. She beams up at him and nods.
They first met in the middle of campus, five past the hour which meant it was filled with students rushing to their next class, and he almost broke her nose. She was just so tiny, he barely saw her when he swung around and elbowed her right in the face. She was in the process of picking up the loose leaf of paper that had tumbled out of her folder and ended up with a bloody nose marring her fast paling face. Of course Liam freaked out. His near hysteric made her laugh through the little gasps of pain. Then he realised how much of an unhelpful donut he was being and helped her clean up and then felt terrible about all the blood on her music sheet and she laughed some more. Storybook meet cute. Except all Liam remembers is feeling rather terrified that he'd broken her nose. He has no idea how he got her to agree to have coffee with him.
“So someone that looks vaguely like you picked up your ID card and used it to borrow a book, evilly planning to never return it and therefore blaze notice you in the process?” Mina asks, sipping on her hot chocolate, licking her upper lip when the foam transfers.
She’s so cute and she’s not getting this at all.
“No. I’m being framed. It’s a burn notice,” Liam says, adding the three more packets of sugar into his tea, there’s already five in there - it’s his cheat day and he’s too embarrassed to tell them straight up when he orders that he’d really like eight sugars. “Would you come on the run with me?”
“No,” she says immediately.
Liam tries not to pout.
“You’d be terrible on the run. Louis would have to come along, of course, then I’d be stuck feeling like the third wheel now, wouldn’t I? I’ll just wait for you at home,” she says.
Liam had no idea he talked about Louis so much.
“You’d still wait for me if I was a runaway fugitive?” Liam asks, grinning like an idiot.
“Yes. Your only crime was loving Shakespeare so much,” Mina says, lighting up with a laugh.
~
Liam doesn’t end up paying the fine - he doesn’t have the money anyway. He’s not sure if there’s still being money added to it every day - or if that stops after the first year or something, he doesn’t know how it works. He doesn’t get a call from the library, from that man, about the fine being waived but he goes there anywhere. He needs to study for the upcoming quiz and he reckons now that he knows where it is and all, he should make use of it. He gets in early when it's not so crowded and sits in the middle of one of the big tables. Inevitably he ends up with an explosion of his books and highlighters everywhere. He owns a lot of highlighters. He likes to highlight everything in different colours - it’s the only way he can study and have it stick in his head. Nobody comes around to bother him, even when the library gets a bit more full and the other tables slowly start to fill up. Liam took a shower after his run in the morning, he’s pretty sure he doesn’t smell that bad.
He sees the Library Man who read his letter casually strolling a book trolley down into the aisles and before he realises what he’s doing, he jumps up to hurry after him. He doesn’t know what it is about him. Maybe it’s the fact he doesn’t know anything about him except he wears glasses and has tattoos while he knows what day Liam was born and where he currently lives. He probably didn’t care too much about either of that. Or maybe it’s just all the money that Liam owes the library that he doesn’t really owe them that’s making him more and more panicky every day. He still needs to set that straight, preferably sooner than later.
It doesn’t take too long for him to catch up after him. He’s stood there in the middle of the aisle, putting some books away with a certain calmness that Liam envies.
“Hey,” Liam says, waving awkwardly when he turns his head towards him, like he has all the time in the world. He doesn’t know if it’s the hush calm and quiet of the library or just this guy.
He has one earphone plugged in and he plucks it out, turning around.
“Liam,” he says, almost a question but not quite.
He seems to be in some kind of daze, as if he’s not sure Liam’s real and actually standing there. It doesn't last long. He sorts himself out, mentally rearranging something because he suddenly straightens up, the relaxed slouch gone, and he tries to lean on the book trolley and misses.
“Liam,” he says, a lot more firmly. “Hi.” He tries to lean on the book trolley again and slips a bit when it starts to roll away from him. Liam reflexively tries to help but he gets it under control in a moment, leaning against the book trolley casually like he’d initially intended.
“Yeah, m’the guy who still owes you a lot of money,” Liam says, putting his hands in his pockets because he doesn’t know what to do with them except fiddle around with the zip of his hoodie. He cautiously walks up closer.
“You don’t owe me,” he says, “you owe the library.” He goes back to shelving.
“I’m gonna be honest, I’ve considered going on the run,” Liam says, “burning my fingertips off and all that.”
Zayn gives him a horrified look, his hand pausing on a book. “You probably don’t need to do that.”
“Yeah,” Liam says, embarrassed, “obviously.”
“You could just get some gloves,” he says and now that he’s said it out loud it sounds a lot more sensible than going off and burning his fingerprints off.
“You’d be very good at going on the run,” Liam says, nodding approvingly. “You’d probably know where to get a gun and everything.”
He stops putting the books back and narrows his eyes at him dangerously.
“Not that - obviously I didn’t mean - I’m just saying because you're,” Liam’s been sky falling with Louis, this feels the same, except there’s nothing to save him falling face first into the ground.
“Because I’m what?” he asks.
“Because you’re a librarian,” Liam finishes lamely.
“What?” he asks, staring at him incredulously.
“Y’know, you’re a librarian so you’ve got to be pretty smart, knowing where to put all them books and everything,” Liam says quickly, feeling dumber with every word that’s coming out of his mouth. “You know things."
He starts to laugh. He keeps laughing so hard he has to hold onto the trolley and Liam’s a little worried they’re going to get kicked out of the place. He doesn’t want to get Library Man into trouble but at the same time he doesn't want him to stop laughing. He seems genuinely chuffed, not like he’s taking the piss out of Liam or offended at the fact Liam can’t seem to keep his foot out of his goddamn mouth for five seconds.
“I know things,” he says and starts giggling again and Liam can’t help laughing along, leaning against the bookshelves. His clenched fingers relax in his hoodie pockets as he watches him try to stop himself from laughing.
“I never got your name,” Liam says and offers him his hand. “You know where I live and I don’t even know your name.”
“It’s Zayn,” he says, wiping at his eyes, leaving his eyelashes smudgy and somehow better than before. He shakes Liam’s hand with a nice firm grip. “And it’s not that hard.”
“Right, I got that. Zayn,” Liam says, repeating his name to prove that he does have a brain. He doesn’t want Zayn to think remembering his name is going to be too difficult for Liam. He did look like he was worried about Liam’s brain capacity when they first met.
“I meant about putting the books back where they’re supposed to go,” Zayn says with a friendly grin, still holding onto Liam’s hand.
“Oh,” Liam says. Zayn finally lets go of his hand and grabs one of the books on the trolley.
He shows him the thick spine and points at the white sticker. He runs his thumbnail underneath the number and letters and says, “Dewey decimal system.”
Liam doesn’t know who Dewey is but he nods like he gets it.
“How did you ever find a book?” Zayn asks, slotting the book into its rightful place in seconds.
“I didn’t! How would I ever have found Macbeth if I didn’t know how to use Dewy Decimal's system?” Liam asks, totally revelling in his a-ha moment.
Zayn pats him on the shoulder in consolation. “I believe you, mate.”
“Thank you,” Liam says sincerely and Zayn looks up from his books to smile at him again.
“I like your shirt,” Liam blurts out, gesturing at the singlet he’s wearing.
He hopes he doesn’t sound like he’s just complimenting Zayn for believing him because he really does like it, it suits Zayn well. It’s dark grey and has bits of distressed holes in it, the kind where Liam can’t tell if he bought it like that or if he’s just worn it around a lot, and a band slogan printed on the front. He’s got a loose cardigan thrown over the top and it’s practically falling off his shoulders. It probably gets cold in the library, what with the air-conditioning and all.
“Oh, do you like The Blisters?” Zayn asks, tugging at his shirt so his multiple necklaces clink together and disappear underneath the stretched out collar.
“No idea who they are,” Liam says honestly and looks up in surprise, smiling, when he gets another laugh out of Zayn. It’s unexpectedly warm and his eyes crease. He laughs rather easily and Liam loves that, they’re always Liam’s favourite kind of people. Liam feels inordinately pleased with himself, adjusting his snapback.
“What are you even doing here?” Zayn asks, going back to putting the books on the shelf. He turns away from Liam, disappearing down the aisle before resurfacing.
“I came here to study,” Liam says. “Do you go to the uni or do you just work here?”
“Mhmm, I’m doing Film Studies at the mo’,” Zayn says.
“Cool. D’ya watch a lot of movies then?” Liam asks, interested.
“Pretty much,” Zayn says. He looks back up at Liam and he’s still smiling when he says, “You’re gonna lose your table, mate. Also, be considerate, you’re taking up three seats with your shit.” His smile’s still warm and he puts the last book away, right by Liam’s arm, and he nudges him gently with the back of his hand.
“Ohhhh,” Liam says. He wasn’t being a douche on purpose, he just doesn’t think sometimes. “Right. I thought I smelled or something,” he says to himself.
“You smell fine,” Zayn says.
Liam tries not to flush too obviously. That wasn’t even a compliment, being told he doesn’t reek is not a compliment. It’s like when he was a kid and he really wanted one of the older boys to notice him and say he was getting better at boxing.
"I’ll - I’ll see you around, Zayn, yeah?” Liam asks, reaching out to touch his elbow briefly and beats a hasty retreat.
He goes back to his table and clears up most of his stuff into a neat little pile. He flips his snapback backwards again and tries to go back to studying. People start trickling over to sit on his table and Liam moves his stuff into an even smaller pile and stops tapping his highlighters on the desk. He’s being considerate and all that. He looks up the next time Zayn passes him with a fresh pile of books, trekking all the way to the other side of the library without so much as breaking a sweat. He smiles when he sees Liam at his table, the way he’s squashed all his stuff into his own personal space. Liam finds himself smiling back.
~
Zayn
Zayn finishes his shift up at the library, looking forward to going home and having a cup of tea and Skype-ing with his family for a little while before he goes to bed. He probably knows that’s not the way the night’s going to go. Somebody will probably have got paid today, somebody will have bought more weed, somebody will have found the uno cards. It’s all good, Zayn can get started on his essays after a couple of hits, a couple rounds of uno.
He looks down to the table where Liam was sitting. He’s not sitting there anymore, he must’ve left while Zayn was in storage, searching high and low for some book that seemed to have disappeared into thin air. It’s fun, a bit like being a book detective, but after a while he gets sick of the darkened lights and the cold.
He honestly has no idea how to deal with Liam’s fine. He’s going to have to pay, that’s just the way it goes. Unexpectedly, he finds himself wanting to help. Initially, Liam reminded him so much of every douche-bro on campus who shoulders past people without a care and talk too loud in public. Zayn knows he shouldn't judge a book by the cover but he even had a snapback on and everything - he had a faux hawk. Zayn could almost hear Liam asking him how much he could lift. They're always hanging around the library, trying to pick up girls, talking trash in the aisles when they think the girls can't hear them.
But then Liam opened his mouth and he seemed so bloody earnest about everything. Zayn wasn’t intending to be rude but Liam made him feel guilty either way. It's made Zayn want to help him out if he can. He’s not going to lie, the fact that Liam’s not exactly ugly helps. Zayn has eyes, the part of Zayn that still wants to let boys who claim they’re undeniably straight in public then push him up against dark hallways would most definitely not mind learning exactly how much Liam lifts.
Not that Zayn would do anything. Zayn is going to judge this book by its cover because Liam is undoubtedly straight and Zayn said he wasn’t going to do that anymore. His first year, hell, the first part of his whole life involved Zayn falling in love with straight boys who wouldn’t love him back, again and again.
Zayn abruptly realises he needs to stop planning out there life together when the cashier repeats how much Zayn owes him, making a gimme motion with his hand. Zayn scrunches up his face, embarrassed at himself and comes down back to reality.
He curses to himself when he roots around in all of his pockets and realises he doesn’t have a lighter on him. He has so many at home, scattered all around his room and in random pockets of his jeans and jackets. They’re never on him when he needs them the most. He grimaces and just buys another one while he’s at the convenient store. He could probably save some money every month if he just remembered to take his lighters with him instead of having to buy another one every time he was out and about. The lump sum could be a rather sizeable amount.
“Cheers,” he mumbles, cigarette already between his lips. He lights up when he gets out, shoving the pack and the lighter into the pockets of his jacket and pulling his hoodie up.
He walks home since he only lives five minutes away from campus. It’s the beauty of working on campus, he rarely has to go far. He closes the door behind him, slamming it accidentally like usual, and it’s quieter than usual. There’s just the normal amount of expletives coming from the kitchen as Mirjana attempts to cook something for dinner. Zayn’s not hungry or more likely he doesn’t have the heart to tell Mirjana that he’d rather not risk food poisoning tonight.
He creeps upstairs, careful to tiptoe past Christel’s room because she has a 8am class tomorrow morning. He gets to his room, remembering to shut the door to his room quieter this time and turns the light on.
His heart leaps into his throat, his feet taking him a step back against the door in surprise. There’s someone sitting on the edge of his bed. His hunched shoulders are more familiar than his own, the bow of his spine, the curls long enough to reach the edge of his collar now. The pale, pale, back of his neck. Harry’s sitting on the edge of his bed, his head in his hands.
“Harry,” Zayn says, his heart calming down and resettling back to its rightful place.
It’s a testament to how little Harry stays with him anymore that Zayn’s so surprised to see him.
Harry looks up at his name, like he hadn’t heard Zayn coming in at all, and he looks wrecked. His eyes are bloodshot and puffy, telltale signs he’s been crying, upset. Zayn dumps his bag to the side carelessly, for all intents and purposes focused on Harry. He strides over to him quickly. He gets up close, stands between his legs and cups his cheek, makes him look up at him so Zayn can check if he’s been hurt in anyway.
“What’s the matter, babe?” he asks, his heart squeezing, anger already thrumming in his veins. He wipes at Harry’s eyes with the pads of his thumb and Harry leans into his touch, breathing out slowly and closing his eyes like the mere fact Zayn’s here now is enough to calm him down.
Harry doesn’t reply, he just shakes his head and leans forward, hunching like he’s trying to hide, trying to hide his face against Zayn’s stomach. He can feel the crazy heat of his face from the crying through the thin cotton of his shirt. He swallows hard. He runs his fingers through the back of Harry’s head, his fingers getting tangled in the curls easily now that he’s not wearing a stupid bandana. He rubs at his scalp gently until the tension seems to drain out of him a little more.
“M’sorry,” Harry says, his hands on Zayn’s hips, pulling back to blink up at him, his eyelashes clinging wet.
“It’s okay,” Zayn says even though it’s not, not really. He wants to make him feel better. He still wants to kiss him until he’s okay.
“You’re the only one,” Harry says, pausing to hiccup, “to ever get it, y’know?”
Zayn remains silent, his whole chest a bruised mess at what Harry can reduce him to.
“You always made me feel less alone,” Harry says, voice raspy.
Having Harry here, when he’s not really Zayn’s anymore at all, makes him feel more alone than ever.
They’re not together anymore. It all comes down to the fact that Harry didn’t want to be in a relationship with Zayn, not like this. Zayn supposes he can look back on it in a couple years time and say it didn’t work out. They weren’t the best together. Harry didn’t understand when Zayn needed space, he’d turn to other people and it was easy for Zayn to get jealous. Neither of them took their problems seriously until it mattered too much. It doesn’t change the fact that they loved each other, grew together, learned each other in and out, even all the ugly bits hidden shallow inside. Zayn knows he shouldn’t but he still wants him, he wants to love him, he wants Harry to love him back.
It’s hard to let go as it is and Harry’s not making it any easier. Zayn hates that he doesn’t mind, he always hopes Harry’s home when he gets back.
“Me too,” Zayn says and uses his shirt to wipe Harry’s face. He takes his leather jacket off, stripping off the plaid shirt layered underneath next and dumping his now dirtied t shirt on top of the pile. He unbuttons his black jeans with one hand, pulling it down and throwing it into the corner with his foot. "C’mon, you could do with a cuddle,” Zayn says and gets into bed.
Harry gives him a watery smile and crawls under the sheets, still fully dressed, his pointy brown boots sticking out the end of the bed. It’s a reminder he’s not staying very long.
“I miss you,” Harry says and Zayn thinks that’s not fair, I’m right here.
“I miss you too,” Zayn says, letting Harry curl around him. He likes to think he’s a teacup puppy instead of a sizeable german shepherd. “What’s happened?”
“Just having a really shitty day,” Harry says with a heavy sigh. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to come here.”
“You live here,” Zayn says, rubbing his hand up and down Harry’s back. He doesn’t, not really.
They weren’t living together when they were dating. Harry doesn’t have a place to stay at the moment, everything kind of fell apart for him at the same time, including his gallery showing, so he’s staying with Zayn for the while. Harry has many friends though, and they all adore him equally, he doesn’t sleep at Zayn’s anymore. He still has all his stuff here, though, strewn together with Zayn’s. Maybe it’s taking so long because it’ll be too hard to extract bits of everything from Zayn’s. To get a clean break when their lives have been so intertwined for so long. It’s comfortable the way it is now. Painful too, everything’s a reminder of Harry, of the time they spent together, but Zayn doesn’t want to think of how much more it’ll hurt when it’s all stripped away.
Harry doesn’t reply but rubs his cheek against Zayn’s chest, trying to find his heartbeat.
Zayn remembers the very first time he met Harry. He’d been reading a novel in his Art History lecture, vaguely wondering why he even bothered to show up to lectures if he wasn’t going to pay attention. It was only his second semester, he had no idea what he was doing most of the time, no matter how hard he pretended otherwise. Someone had barged into the lecture hall fifteen minutes late, juggling a carton of berries and a water bottle in one hand, a cracked iPhone in the other. Zayn had glanced up at him, irritated at the interruption of the lecture he wasn’t even paying attention to. Harry made a fuss, climbing over people to get to the lone free seat besides Zayn.
Zayn’s glance turned curious, watching the way he almost elbowed a girl in the face. He flails and Zayn grabs his other elbow before he can fall face first into his lap. Harry stares at him, green eyes huge and surprised. Zayn felt his face go hot and he quickly dropped his hand, making sure he was steadied beforehand, and went back to his novel.
The next time he chances a look up at him, Harry’s steadfastly staring at him. He doesn’t turn away abashedly like Zayn expected him to, his cheeks staining the same colour as his lips. Instead, he smiles, slow and honey sweet, bold as anything. He has dimples. Zayn feels his stomach tighten, his heartbeat starting to quicken. He went back to his book, thanking the gods he doesn’t blush, even if his face is burning.
Harry, kudos to him, waited until the lecture ended before leaning over into Zayn’s seat. He just very simply said, “Hi.”
Zayn noticed that his lips and fingertips were stained from the berries.
“Hey,” he finally said, cracking a smile.
He remembers their first date, it was to the museum. They sat outside together on the bench afterwards, just talking about nothing and Zayn felt like a child at the way his stomach did somersaults at the brush of his pinky against his.
The first time they kissed, after Harry had seen the draft for his major film project for the first time. It was about Harry, of course it was, Zayn was consumed with him, he invaded every waking thought. Harry stared and stared before he kissed him, big hands cupping Zayn’s face like he’d disappear. He said thank you like Zayn had done the impossible, like he’d plucked the stars right out of the night sky for him.
He remembers the awful moment when he got the news that his grandmother had another stroke. Harry had come with him back home. They stood on the train station in the bitter cold and Harry cradled Zayn’s head against his chest, trying for all intents and purposes to shield him from the biting wind. He tangled his fingers gently into Zayn’s hair, longer at the time, and let him breathe, touched the soft skin of his neck and Zayn knew through the knot of misery and worry in his heart that he was in love with him.
He won’t forget the first and last time it occurred to him that Harry didn’t love him back, not quite the way Zayn loved him. The last time they kissed. It was soft and chaste, goodnight. He didn’t know it would be the last time. He wishes it could have been different, if he could’ve done anything that would’ve kept them together.
It’s been so long now. Zayn doesn’t want to forget, he doesn’t think it’s possible. He doesn’t think it would help him if he tried to forget Harry, it would only get worse. Zayn thinks a large part of him doesn’t want to move on at all and therein lies his problem.
~
Liam
Liam loves his friends and he loves that he gets to live with them. He’s been told again and again not to room with friends because they’ll all turn on each other. It hasn’t happened yet. They get into their arguments but it’s nothing earth shattering. It’s mostly about the almost transparent blond hair clogging the drain, whoever’s had the last of the milk and put the empty carton back into the fridge, or who got drunk and pranced around with Eleanor’s bra on, stretching it beyond the loosest hook.
They don’t have any solid plans for this Saturday night. Eleanor has her own thing going on and they’re definitely not invited because she’d very much like to spend time with her friends and deal with her various society obligations and have a life apart from them once in a while. Liam and Louis decide they’re not going to go out and spend all their hard earned money on getting into a club and buying crazily overpriced drinks when they can crash something instead. Louis mostly decides that. Niall takes them to a house party, he’s been proper invited by his many mates, obviously, but Liam and Louis will just have to deal with the fact they’re shamelessly taking advantage. They rock up with a few shots in them each, the last of Eleanor’s vodka polished actually, and stand gaping at the doorstep.
It’s funny, how Niall has friends that are so different from each other. He brought home a guy that was busking down the pub in a Woody costume once. They’re mostly always good people.
They walk into the place and have to take a collective second to adjust because it’s definitely not like the parties they’re used to. Louis drags Liam to all kinds of parties but this is one of those artsy fartsy parties with music they don’t listen to, music that’s hard to dance to. It feels like everyone’s looking down their noses at Niall’s shoes and Liam’s favourite snapback. Liam’s probably building this up in his head and he’s right because everyone goes back to their drinks and conversations in another moment.
“How do you even know these people?” Louis asks in a not so hushed whisper.
“I dunno,” Niall says vaguely, shrugging, in that vague shruggy way he gets. He waves at someone from across the room, his face splitting into a delighted grin and he’s bounding off to talk to them.
“And we’ve lost him,” Liam says, watching him hug someone and get a bunch of back slaps from the surrounding people. Niall’s friend is tall and has curly hair and what look suspiciously like a ripped up flannel shirt tied around his head.
“I’m going to get a fucking drink,” Louis says and stalks off to find the bottles.
Liam looks around himself for a bit, looking for something familiar to make him feel comfortable and tide him over, something to focus on to make him feel more at ease. He realises alcohol is really the only way to go and follows after him. He doesn’t get far because he runs into Zayn at the landing of the staircase.
“Oh, hey,” Zayn says, raising both eyebrow at Liam in surprise. “Didn’t expect to see you here.” He’s standing on one step higher and Liam has to look up at him, leaning against the banister.
Liam shrugs. The shrugging thing must be wearing off from Niall. He opens his mouth to reply, he doesn’t really know what he’s going to say - maybe how he’s not all that surprised to see Zayn here, this seems like his type of party, effortless cool and hip - but he never gets to find out. Some guy who’s walking up to the second level makes a point to smash his shoulder into Zayn’s. Zayn holds his ground, more or less, he doesn’t go flying like Liam expected. He doesn’t even spill the drink he’s holding in his hand, it’s impressive. Still, Liam holds up a hand at the guy and says, “Excuse me, mate.”
He says it politely because maybe it was accidental, Liam’s giving him the benefit of the doubt. The guy turns around with a frown on his face. He looks extremely unimpressed with Liam. He flips him off and practically stomps up the stairs. Zayn snorts, rolling his eyes and takes a large gulp of his drink.
Liam stares after him for a beat in disbelief. Zayn looks annoyed but not all that bothered by it and Liam’s not going to be an arse and make a huge deal out of it if Zayn’s keen to keep the peace. He looks back at Zayn and says curiously, “Someone you know?”
“Just some twat. Personal vendetta against me or something," Zayn says with a shrug, splaying is arms out like what can you do? Liam thinks there’s an awful lot he can do, really, random assholes shouldn’t be pushing Zayn around like that.
"Happen to have a lot of enemies?" Liam asks instead.
"I'm kind of a super hero," Zayn says grinning happily and it's only then Liam realises Zayn's kind of sloshed. He does a pretty good job of acting like he isn't. Liam's usually all over the place after two standard drinks. It's apparently quite embarrassing.
"Screams from the haters, I guess every super hero needs his theme music," Liam half-sings and watches Zayn's face split into a wider grin, his tongue pressing up against his teeth in delight.
"Kanye!" he says, raising his cup and spilling a tiny bit in his enthusiasm. He's quite an adorable drunk.
"I tried listening to The Blisters," Liam says, unable to stop grinning back up at him. Zayn’s looking down at him, his eyes downcast and his eyelashes look longer than usual. He’s not wearing his glasses. He looks good either way.
Zayn laughs and asks, "how did you like them?"
"Not much," Liam says, scrunching up his nose. One track had a two minute buzzing sound, like a mosquito flying too close to his ear, inserted right into the middle of a perfectly decent song and it just made Liam paranoid. He had to listen to a lot of Ke$ha to feel better about it.
They don’t get to talk for much longer before Louis comes back with drinks, dragging him away and putting on like Liam’s abandoned him. They’re not as co-dependant as they were in their first year and it’s mostly a joke but Liam lets himself be pulled away from Zayn.
“Here, drink this,” Louis says, handing him a cup. He takes a sip immediately, Liam trusts whatever Louis has put in there. “Isn’t that the library guy?”
“His name is Zayn,” Liam says as if he’s imparting great wisdom. He feels like he went through a lot to get that information and he treasures it.
“What are you doing with him?” Louis asks, jerking his head towards the staircase. “You’re like obsessed with him.”
“Am not,” Liam says after he’s finished chugging back his drink, wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand. “He’s interesting.”
“Or is he just sad?” Louis asks, narrowing his eyes at Liam.
“What?” Liam asks. Louis grabs his wrist and pulls away further away from the music playing in the living room, just a tad out of sight so they can talk without being overheard.
“He’s had a pretty nasty break up with Harry,” Louis says, pointedly glancing at the bandana guy from before. “It’s been a couple of months. But. Like. I know you want to, y’know, save people, but what if you’re leading him on or summat?”
“I don’t know, he’s cool. I just want to hang out with him,” Liam says defensively. He didn’t even know Zayn had broken up with his boyfriend, he didn’t even know he was gay. He wanted to get to know him better because he was actually interesting and funny and seemed to know a lot of things Liam didn’t know about. He just really likes the guy.
“Hmm,” Louis says, patting him on the shoulder. “I’m not saying it’s a bad thing."
Liam stares at the brief flash of concern on Louis face and wonders if he’s thinking about Liam’s break up with his first serious girlfriend. They all used to hang out together, the four of them, but Danielle said she couldn’t do it after they’d broken up. She couldn’t keep being friends with Louis and Eleanor, it was just too hard for the both of them. Louis helped him through it.
“They don’t seem like they’ve been through a nasty break up,” Liam says worriedly.
They watch as Harry ducks outside. He comes back in just a moment, Zayn’s arm slung around his shoulders. They’re both laughing and Harry ducks his head so Zayn can ruffle his hair, thumbing at his ridiculous bandana. They seem fine, they’re still friends. Or maybe Liam’s just not that observant, he did somehow incur a staggering fine from the library two years ago without noticing.
"Maybe he's looking for a rebound guy," Louis says, lightening up. He makes a rude gesture at Liam. It’s pretty implicit that Liam’s the rebound guy.
Liam bats at his hands until he puts them down again.
“I’m not gay,” Liam says, more's the pity, shrugging.
Liam watches Harry. He’s ballroom dancing with Niall in the middle of the living room. Niall tries to dip him and they both go down in a tumble of limbs.
Later on Liam goes upstairs to find Zayn, just to see if he’s actually alright, to see if he’s missed anything blatantly obvious this whole time. He hears Zayn’s voice down the hallway and walks towards it. He stops suddenly because he’s right there in the shadows, leaning up against the wall. The rude guy on the staircase from earlier is sucking on his neck. Zayn’s moan cuts off and he pushes him away abruptly and says, “You can’t treat me like shit because you’re going through a fucking gay crisis and then try to hump my leg, Mattie.”
Zayn immediately pulls him in again, curling his hand around the back of his neck and letting himself be roughly shoved up against the wall, the front of his red jumper fisted in the guy’s hand. The guy makes a desperate noise in his throat, staring down at Zayn’s lips. “Ah, fuck it,” Zayn says, his breath caught high in his throat, and kisses him again.
Liam goes back downstairs and has a couple more drinks after that.
Liam and Louis make it home in one piece. They congratulate themselves for all of five minutes before they realise they forgot Niall and they have to go all the way back. It’s only when they’re halfway back they see he’s texted them both to say he’s got a place to stay for the night. They finally make it home another two hours later and Eleanor laughs fondly, pushing back the hair on Louis’ flushed, triumph face before leading him into their room. Liam stumbles into his own room and checks the time to see if it’s too late to call Mina. It most definitely is, he falls asleep holding onto his phone to remind himself to call her in the morning.
~
Zayn
Zayn hasn’t gone out with the sole intention of socialising with a large group of people in a while. He’s never been the type to go out every weekend anyway. He doesn’t understand how his friends seem to enjoy getting smashed, having to recover throughout the rest of the week and then repeating it all over again. It’s just never been his thing. Once in a while, he’ll admit it’s a lot of fun but he can’t imagine doing it every week. He’d have to sleep for half the week to get over the weekend.
There isn’t an excuse Zayn can use to pull out tonight. Or maybe he’s sick of being a hermit. His mates’ are throwing a house party only a couple of blocks down the street, it’s close enough - walking distance - so that Zayn can’t use cab fee as an excuse. A couple of people have already texted him about it, complaining they’re forgetting what he looks like. He could point out he had coffee with Jade last week and he showed up to class with half of them every other day but just decides to go.
“Oh my god, alert the press, you’re coming out with us,” Mirjana says, gripping at the doorway of the bathroom like the news has overcome her.
“Don’t sound so surprised,” Zayn says, feigning nonchalance. He fixes his quiff, not even sparing a glance at her. It lasts for all the time it takes for Mirjana to roll her eyes, walking over to pinch his side. He laughs, squirming away and she weaves in-between to grab her own hair products.
“You know Harry’s going to be there, right?” she asks, impatiently grabbing at his wrist when he tries to fix her hair. It’s a goddam mess. She likes it to look like she’s been rummaging around the forest for a few days. She fixes him with a steely look and doesn’t let go of his wrist.
“Of course I know,” Zayn says, pulling an irritated face. “I see him all the time, it’s not like he’s going to be reopening any fresh wounds. How many times can he tell me he doesn’t love me, huh?”
It’s a very sad attempt at a joke and his heart tinges at it. It has the desired effect anyhow because Mirjana looks two seconds close to crumbling and just staying home with him instead, sharing a bottle of vodka in the dry bathtub. That’s happened a lot the past few months.
“It’s been months!” Zayn says, changing tact and injecting a hint of anger - like Mirjana’s being the ridiculous one here.
“I know, I know,” she says and hugs him hard around the middle. He taps the top of her head. It’s not one of her nicer hugs, it feels like she’s trying to squeeze his pain away. “I miss having him around too. I miss him cooking all the time in our kitchen and singing and doing his dumb dances.”
Zayn sighs because she’s obviously read right through him. He doesn’t see him all the time, Mirjana knows too much about everything.
“I mean, obviously, you miss him too and me bringing it up isn’t helping, is it? I’m going to stop talking,” Mirjana says. Zayn hugs her back, warmer, and releases her.
It’s only a short walk to Andrew’s house but the nights are getting colder and Zayn regrets coming out immediately. However, as soon a they get through the door, Zayn’s subjected to a lot of enthusiastic yelling and, well, it’s always nice to be missed. He grins at everyone, being pulled into hugs and kisses, smiling sheepishly, pleased.
He hasn't been avoiding everyone since Harry had broke up with him, it wasn’t like that. He’s been busy, so incredibly busy with uni. He’s in his final year and he’s working on his research project, his animated film piece, and it takes up a lot of his time. At the same time, he's trying to figure out if he wants to start his post graduate degree straight after he graduates, try to get more experience with internships or just say yes to the first job offer he gets. Sometimes Zayn wishes he could just be a librarian forever.
Nursing a broken heart did play a role in his intervals of withdrawal but there’s been a lot of other shit going on in his life too. Though he can’t deny that when he was with Harry, they did spent a lot of time out with other people because Harry loved being surrounded by people, thrived on it. They went out all the time, tried new things, learned about the world around them and their place in it. Harry met Zayn’s friends and Zayn met Harry’s friends until they all became enmeshed, each of them forming relationships with people separate from each other.
He just needed a break, that was all, Zayn was appreciating his time alone.
“Zayn!” Jade squeals, running over to free him from Andrew’s bear hug. Andrew’s actually part bear, with a huge beard, a bigger heart and a man bun to boot, Zayn’s nothing but grateful to be saved. Until she throws herself at him and he has no choice but to keep the both of them up, staggering slightly.
“Christ, I saw you three days ago,” Zayn says fondly exasperated.
“I know! I’m just excited to see you. At a party,” she says. It’s not really a proper party, not like the ones Zayn used to go in his first year when he didn’t know what kind of friends he wanted, before he realised that’s not how friendship works. It’s quieter, he would almost say mature if there wasn’t a massive cock scribbled onto the wall.
Zayn looks down at Jade, she’s proper pleased to see him, and Zayn feels the same way. He missed this. She’s wearing a lovely peter pan collar dress and there’s a sprinkle of diamante studs that shimmer when she moves just so.
“You look nice,” he says, feeling warmth spreading through him from the core out.
“Aw, I got lipstick on your jumper, babe,” she says, thumbing at the stain she’s left on the knit.
“S’alright,” Zayn says, shrugging. He gets an arm around her and pulls her in close, tucks her into his side and says, “let’s get me a drink.”
Harry shows up soon after, he’s too polite to be obnoxiously late but too scatter brained to be on time. He’s wearing his greying skinny jeans, worn at the knees and at his bum, and his favourite bandana. He slinks over to where Zayn’s talking to his friends and deliberately bumps his hips against Zayn’s. He always does this thing, his hands held behind his back, almost hunched over - even if he’s taller than Zayn, has more mass on him too, and can’t possibly shrink himself down to be smaller than him. Zayn pulls him into a hug in greeting and Harry always ducks underneath, he likes being hugged. He always said Zayn gave the best hugs.
“Hiiiii,” Harry says belatedly.
“Hey babe,” Zayn says, letting go of him when he would have usually held onto him at a party like this. They would’ve both got drunk and went back to his place for sloppy blow jobs. Zayn says, “you’re late,” to watch the little outraged frown appear on Harry’s face.
“M’not!” Harry says. He smiles suddenly, sweet and eager, “I didn’t know you were coming.”
“Jaewon was getting separation anxiety,” Zayn says, pointing at him. It’s amazing, they’ve found each other in almost every class since their first year, a work of fate.
“Aww,” Harry says with a bark of a laugh. He looks genuinely delighted to see Zayn. He disappears in a few minutes to make his rounds and Zayn keeps talking to his friends about his final project and drinks his drink.
Mattie’s also here. He wasn’t expecting that. He started hanging out with some of Zayn’s friends when he dated someone from their group a while ago, back when something like having a central group was possible. It’s too hard now, Zayn doesn’t bother. He has his friends, whether they be scattered all the uni, England, or the world. Mattie and Tamara broke up a while ago for some unknown reason. The only thing anyone really knows is they made each other so fucking miserable. Tam seems to be having a lot more fun on exchange, she’s certainly enjoying New York from what he’s seen on Facebook. Zayn had been ridiculously jealous of her, he doesn’t even have his passport.
There’s always been some kind of weird hostility between Zayn and Mattie. Mattie’s always snarking unnecessarily about anything Zayn even begins to think of saying. And then by some weird twist of fate, they’d hooked up at a party and then Mattie pretended he was so drunk and nothing had ever happened. He always made a point to kiss girls in front of Zayn, in front of everyone really, and then stopped talking to him completely. Zayn figured out what was going on pretty early on. Still, it wasn’t the last time they’d hooked up.
“Hey, man,” Zayn says cordially, tipping his drink at him.
Mattie had been staring down into his cup. He looks up, startled. Zayn smile at him in response, still being as polite as he can. He’s over this shit, he’s kind of turned into a cyclical drunk mistake. Mattie finds himself smiling back before he catches himself, looking around, and hastily frowning. Zayn rolls his eyes and downs the rest of his drink.
Someone else Zayn hadn’t been expecting to see at the party was Liam. He sees him for the first time as he enters the house, standing next to two of his friends. The blond one looks kind of familiar. Zayn’s standing at the staircase because Jaewon made him promise he’d stay right there while he went to get his bong. Zayn had a lot to drink by then and had to tether himself to the staircase so he wouldn’t forget. He was holding on tight with one hand, trying not to forget why he was standing aimlessly at the staircase when Liam caught sight of him too. He cut a path through the people towards him immediately.
Zayn’s drunk, he’s allowed to think Liam’s cute. He smiles like an idiot, like he’s putting all his being into it, and his cheeks go up and up and his eyes look unbearably happy. Zayn doesn’t know how he survived this long in the world with that smile, like he still believes the world’s made up of daisies and corgi puppies. He likes it. He’s endlessly optimistic. And cute. God, his arms.
Zayn’s eyes come up from Liam’s biceps when Mattie bumps into him. He keeps stomping up the stairs and Zayn doesn’t even bother. If Mattie hates him because he wants to kiss him, well, Zayn thinks that’s terribly immature. He’s not going to let Mattie put him in a bad mood.
Liam is dragged away shortly after by his friend who vaguely resembles a handsome porcupine. Zayn forgets why it was important to stay on the staircase and goes outside for a quick smoke. The need for a cigarette trump whatever the other reason was. He lights up as soon as he gets out to the backyard, closing the glass sliding door behind him so none of the smoke seeps inside. He’s only three quarters of the way finished with his cigarette when Harry comes bounding along. He almost smashes into the glass because his night vision isn’t the very best. Zayn patiently slides it open for him.
“What ‘cha doin'?” Harry says.
“Quantum physics, what does it look like I’m doing?” Zayn says with an amused quirk of his lips. Zayn takes one last drag of the cigarette and then crushes it under the heel of his boot.
“Come back inside, it’s getting cold,” Harry says, his cheeks flushed and giddy from the all the drinks he’s had.
He thinks of himself as some kind of mixologist. He’s been making his own cocktails all night, filling them all up with bits of fruit he's found in the kitchen. His lips probably taste all sweet from the amount of red cordial he’s been mixing with his vodka.
“Alright,” Zayn says easily and Harry does a stupidly endearing little cheer, fists in the air. Zayn grins fondly, wrapping an arm around him and getting the both of them back inside.
He doesn't know how it happens but the next time Zayn turns around, Harry’s slow dancing on the living room rug, trying to manoeuvre himself and the blond guy without bumping into the coffee table. They giggle and paw at each other as the backs of their knees bump against the edge anyway. Mirjana miraculously materialises at his side and rubs her hand at the small of his back. Harry and the guy fall down, Harry laughing the loudest.
“Do you wanna go home?” she asks him, watching him carefully. Zayn hates being treated like this, like he’s heartsick and made of glass.
“No,” Zayn says, trying to smile at her even though he is heartsick. He rubs at her chin gently where her dark purple lipstick has smudged, he’s not angry at her, and says, “I’m good.”
It was inevitable. It was going to happen sooner or later, they were both going to move on from each other. From strangers to lovers back to strangers. They’re not quite there yet. He thinks they might be able to be friends, some time later. It hadn’t occurred to Zayn that they would start loving other people, people that weren’t each other. That it would be devastating but they’d survive, they’d keep on going with their lives. It hurts a lot more than Zayn expected.
He knows that look in Harry’s eyes. Zayn doesn’t know if he wants to be in love with someone else. He’s not really sure about anything when it comes to the mess inside his chest. He looks at them one last time, the way Harry’s mouth is split into a grin as he laughs, the guy’s adoring face looking up at him.
“I just need to use the bathroom,” Zayn says and kisses Mirjana quickly on the temple so she won’t bug him about it. She lets it be.
In the upstairs hallway, Zayn bumps into Mattie again. He literally bumps into him and the next thing he knows the bump turns into a shove and the shove turns into them kissing against the wall. They fumble towards the darker unlit end, stumbling over each other. He knows it’s a bad idea going into it. Mattie’s a fucking mess, this can only end badly - Zayn can’t deal with anyone else’s fucked up shit when he has a pile of his own the size of Mount Everest.
Zayn pushes him away, craving the warmth of his mouth immediately. He needs to be rational. He’s so fucked. He sees Harry on top of another boy, the light in his eyes, how happy he looked. He pulls Mattie in again and kisses him hard, fumbling for the fly of his jeans already.
Zayn doesn’t remember too much after that. He goes back home with Mirjana and Jade, all three of them stumbling a little in the dark streets leading to their house. Jade’s sleeping over at theirs because she doesn’t want to stay in the same house she’s vomited in. It feels like she might float away, the way her dress keeps shimmering like the stars, so Zayn holds her hand and desperately tries not to let go in case she does.
Harry didn’t leave with them.
“I need to pee,” Mirjana says, turning around from where she’s walking in front of them. She stops, waving them on and starts to hike up her dress, trying to squat in the middle of the street.
“Oh my god,” Jade says, letting go of Zayn’s hand to stop Mirjana.
Zayn’s too drunk to deal with this in a rational manner. Bloke’s piss over the streets all the fucking time, he doesn’t see why Mirjana shouldn’t. “Just let her pee,” Zayn says, waving a hand between them and somehow hitting his own face.
“True friends don’t let their drunk friends wee wee on the pavement!” Jade says, frantic.
Zayn starts laughing then and he finds he can’t really stop. He ends up with vomit all over his shoes.