Archive of Our Own

It starts like this.

Zayn's sat in the back seat of his parents car, looking out the windows through tired eyes, pretending to sleep, reading a book propped up on his bony knees. He's done something wrong - or there's something wrong with him. He's being sent away for the summer and his mother puts on a front, says in forced cheerful tones, where you might make some friends, with a kiss to his forehead. Zayn looks past the corner of his comic and counts the scars on the triangular bone of his knee.

He's twelve and awkward and painfully thin. Zayn usually keeps to himself, he's learnt by now that it's better than the alternative. He doesn't understand why he still gets pushed around in the hallways, jeered and picked on. He hasn't done anything wrong. He rubs at the letters written on his desk, on his seat, on his skin. On the bike he gets for his birthday after he loses his bus change too often, before that too gets too fucked up for him to ride home. How every little thing about himself seems to be wrong, despised, down from his hair to his shoes to his name and he doesn't understand any of it but he doesn't have to understand to get used to it.

The first time Zayn sees Liam, he's getting out of the car on the opposite side of the car park. Zayn hugs his parents goodbye distractedly, even though he knows he won't be coming home for the whole summer - that's the point of summer camp - to get a better look at the boy who's crying. He's about as thin as Zayn and his face has gone all red and blotchy from his crying. Zayn feels it like a punch to the gut, as if it was himself sobbing. His parents drive away and Zayn waves one last time, kissing his mum on the cheek and smiling because she looks close to crying and that's always the saddest thing he's ever seen.

They're all herded together to sort out cabins and teams and Zayn follows the crowd of kids. He hitches his sleeping bag more securely on his shoulder and makes his way through them all, trying to keep his eyes on the boy so he won't lose him. He can't keep his head down like he would usually, he wants to get to him before he's swallowed up by the others.

He's not crying by the time Zayn reaches him. Up this close, Zayn can see how puffy his eyes have gotten. He's a bit taller than Zayn but he wouldn't have guessed, not with the way his shoulders are hunched in on himself. Liam sniffs, rubbing at his face with his palms as if he's embarrassed to be caught like this. Zayn doesn't usually go up to strangers, kids his age, he doesn't usually do anything. Not even when he's given a day break, when they're picking on somebody else for being a bit different, and it's the relief he feels that makes self-loathing curl in his belly and makes him retreat. He doesn't usually do anything.

He nudges Liam's shoulder with his, trying to stand tall.

"Come on, I think we're in the same cabin," Zayn says, elbowing him. He starts to walk after their team leader and the other kids without looking back. He hopes Liam will follow after him.

Liam stumbles him after a stunned second, scrambling to pick up his bags off the floor and follow after him. Zayn turns around and smiles in victory. They get to their cabin, the both of them still rather quiet surrounded by a group of a rowdy bunch of boys. Zayn makes a beeline for the bunk at the very end of the cabin and stops when he gets there, dropping his stuff and resting his hands on his hips.

"You take the top one, I'm scared of heights," Zayn says, jerking his head towards the top bunk.

He would rather eat grass than admit that out loud to a million other people, including his mum (who knows plenty enough). He's never pointed out his own shortcomings before everyone else did, he wouldn't be fast enough anyway, but he feels like he should level the playing field. Liam's still got a dangerous quiver to his bottom lip.

"It's not that high," Liam says and his voice is much steadier than his appearance. Still, he throws his sleeping back on the top bunk easily, not climbing up after it yet but standing there in front of Zayn. "I don't mind," he says with a shrug, smiling for the first time since he's left the car. It's small and quiet and Zayn wants to keep it in the palm of his hand.

"I'm Zayn," he says, shoving his sleeping back into his bed and crawling after it. They're supposed to put their stuff in their bunks and then get together in the hall again. Zayn's rather tired and he doesn't want to do the 'get to know you' exercises or write his name on a sticker or stand in front of a bunch of people and tell them his favourite colour. He figures that's why he's here in the first place, to get to know other people outside of his school, somewhere new and fresh, but he'll get over it.

"Hi, my name's Liam," Liam replies enthusiastically, climbing into the bed besides him. His face is still patchy but he doesn't look like he's going to start crying again. "Are you really scared of heights? Have you been on a roller coaster before?"

Zayn glances up at him, surprised that he's staying. They're going to be dragged out sooner or later but Liam's crossing his legs like he means to stay a while, leaning forward with an earnest look on his face. "No," Zayn says, shaking his head and leaning back against his sleeping bag.

"A ferris wheel?" Liam urges.

"Once, when I was a little kid. Threw up when we got to the top."

"Wicked."

"Not really," Zayn says, wrinkling his nose and Liam laughs, easy as that, his eyes scrunching closed. Zayn's smile widens and he feels the constant ache from the tightness in his shoulders start to ease.

And just like that, they're almost inseparable.

Liam sticks his head down from his bunk in the middle of the night, scaring the bejesus out of Zayn who's trying to read his comic book with his shitty little key chain flash light.

"Come up," Liam says in a hushed whisper. Nobody yells at him to go to bed so Zayn assumes they've all fallen asleep. Zayn smothers a laugh into his palm at the way his curly hair is flopping onto his face. Liam pull sat his ears, blowing air into his cheeks like a monkey and Zayn finally relents.

"Fine," he says, bookmarking what page he's up to and crawling out from his sleeping bag. He climbs up the creaky stairs with his bottom lip between his teeth, moving slowly so he won't wake anyone up and get sent to his own bed.

Liam grabs his hand to help haul him up, making the whole bed creak dangerously. Zayn snorts but falls into the bed besides him. They're both skinny enough to fit into the bunk comfortably, side by side, staring up at the darkness.

"Are you feeling scared?" Liam asks for the billionth time Zayn's climbed up into his bed. Zayn tugs the pillow out from underneath his head and hits him in the face with it.

"The things I do for you," Zayn says in a long-suffering way, smiling freely now that Liam won't be able to see how pleased he actually is. Liam laughs, trying to keep quiet at the same time, and puts the pillow back in place so he can share it with Zayn. Liam, the idiot, presses his own smile against Zayn's shoulder like he doesn't care if he knows, like he trusts him not to take it away from him, and Zayn takes in a huge happy gulp of air.

"Do you want to know why I was crying like a ninny on the first day?" Liam asks, resting his head back on the pillow, tilting it against Zayn's.

"If you want to tell me," Zayn says as offhandedly as he can, locking his fingers over his own belly, his arm against Liam's.

"I didn't think I'd make any friends," Liam whispers back honestly, unafraid.

"Why not?" Zayn asks, honestly confused because Liam's great, he's the greatest boy he's ever met. He's funny and kind and brave and a little bit stupid all at the same time and so, so, determined, it's hard to keep up with him at times.

"I don't really have any back home," Liam says even quieter, his fingers fidgety, knuckles brushing against Zayn's thigh.

"Yeah?" Zayn asks, turning his head slightly, trying to catch sight of Liam's face without pulling away.

"Yeah. I was always the sick kid and nobody wants to be friends with the sick kid. After a while, after I got better ... I guess it's just me," Liam says and shrugs, their shoulders bumping together.

Zayn squeezes his own fingers tightly, swallowing hard. His heart feels unbearable in his body and he doesn't know how to ward it off.

"Me neither," Zayn says, barely audible in the silence.

"You don't like me?" Liam asks, not in an outraged or joking way, just a kind of terrified seriousness that makes Zayn's heart stop in its tracks.

"No, not that," Zayn says urgently, letting go of his own fingers to grope around blindly for Liam's instead. "Of course I fucking like you. You're my best friend."

"Oh," Liam says after a beat and Zayn tries to even out his breathing again. Liam squeezes Zayn's hand, hard, and it hurts a little but he sounds excited and unable to contain it when he says, "You're mine too."

Liam tilts his head, leaning back just a bit so they make eye contact. They're only a few centimetres away in the dark and the proximity and seriousness sets the both of them off, giggling like there's nothing funnier in the world, their weary hearts beating in unison.

In broad daylight, Zayn can't figure out why anyone wouldn't like Liam. He's not closed off, not like how Zayn can get, he's bright and chatters away with all the leaders and suggests games they could play even when some kids roll their eyes at him. He's enthusiastic and open and Zayn feels like himself when he's with him. He tries his hardest at everything he does, whatever it is and it makes Zayn want to try too. And then he thinks, for the first time, that there's got to be something wrong with everybody else if they can't see that.

Zayn climbs into Liam's bunk almost every night and they talk about everything, from comic books to their parents to Liam's sisters to the worst bruises they got and the fastest they've ever run. Liam gives him tips, how to run better and breath easier, and Zayn writes out a list of comics Liam should check out when he goes back home and flips through his favourite comic book with him, waiting patiently for Liam to read through the whole page, mouthing the words silently to himself. Zayn doesn't mind, he's almost memorised all the words by now and he likes that he has time to watch the changes in Liam's face as he reads, catching up to Zayn.

"We should take up boxing," Liam says one night, lying side by side with Zayn and holding his fists out towards the ceiling like he's challenging it.

Zayn laughs, shaking his head against the pillow. He grabs Liam's hands and pulls them back down. "No thanks, I'd rather not have someone trying to break my face in my free time," Zayn says. "You should do it though, I could be your coach, I'll read up on it."

"Alright," Liam says, giving one last weak punch to the air before shoving his hand underneath the sleeping back they've split open to cover the both of them. "Or you could be, you know, the girls with the numbers? You're prettier than any of them I've seen," Liam says with a yawn, curling in on himself slightly like he does when he's falling asleep.

Zayn flushes in the dark even if the words settle uncomfortably in the pit of his stomach. He doesn't like being called pretty and he doesn't like being referred to as a girl, mostly as a reaction to what's shouted at him sometimes, but it doesn't sound malicious or anything to be ashamed about when it's coming out of Liam's mouth.

Zayn squirms, clenching his fingers in the material of the sleeping back. "I'm not your whore," Zayn says instead, light-hearted - he saw it on the telly once when his mum let him stay home, watching soap operas and eating cereal at 2pm.

"Wha - I didn't - wha," Liam blubbers, flustered, wide awake again.

That makes Zayn start to laugh, covering his face with both his hands because Liam's such an idiot and Zayn loves him so much.

They're supposed to be canoeing or swimming by the lake but Zayn tunes it straight out after he realises they're supposed to be near a body of water. He grabs the back of Liam's shirt as they all make their way down the trail and pulls him aside. Liam slows down, letting everyone pass by them and following after Zayn instead.

"I don't want to go swimming," Zayn says, crossing his arms.

"Alright. Why not?" Liam asks curiously, following Zayn back up the path.

"I don't know how," Zayn says simply, looking around inconspicuously in case they're caught. No-one seems to have noticed yet and Zayn straightens his shoulders, tries to walk around like he's supposed to be here. He doesn't want to be made to get back to the lake though so he walks faster, trusting Liam to follow behind him.

"Aren't your parents supposed to sign off on that kind of thing before you get here, though? I could teach you," Liam chatters on behind him, ducking belatedly when one of the cooks come passes by to take the trash out.

"They're going to make me learn and I don't want to," Zayn says. He turns around and looks Liam in the eye, "but you could, some other time."

Liam smiles at that, heartbreakingly earnest, and follows Zayn up the wooden stairs to one of the cabins. It's the one that's full of the paint and colourful paper and Zayn pulls out a set of keys from his back pocket. He gets it open in no time, Liam staring around them in worry. He closes it behind the both of them and walks to the centre of the room.

"Where'd you get that?" Liam asks. "Won't we get in trouble?"

"Scared?" Zayn asks, biting down on his bottom lip. He takes a sit in the middle of the room, crossing his legs, ducking out of sight. He's down low enough that nobody will be able to see them if they peeked in through the windows.

"No," Liam says and sits down opposite Zayn on the cold hard wood, still in his swimming shorts. He mirrors Zayn's pose, close enough his knees keep bumping into Zayn's.

Zayn didn't have any real purpose in bringing Liam here. He didn't think it'd be a good idea to get back to the cabin, that'd be the first place they looked. He just wants some peace and quiet, somewhere they can be alone while the sun's still out and he can clearly see what's written on Liam's face.

"You know the redhead leader girl?" Zayn asks, leaning forward consiprationally.

"Martha?" Liam asks because of course he knows her name. He nods and does the same, leaning forward.

"I saw her kissing that really tall one, the one who's in charge of the cabin next to ours," Zayn says, grinning, rubbing his palms against his thighs. As far as secrets go, it's not a very good one, but he wants to tell Liam all the same.

"Zeke?" Liam asks, his mouth falling open. He's a good listener and he reacts in all the right ways and Zayn finds himself wanting to talk to him all the time. He wishes he could've met him so much earlier. "That's crazy," Liam says in a hushed voice.

"I know," Zayn says, nodding. He pauses, leaning back a bit, and tilts his head to the side. "Have you ever kissed a girl before?"

Liam pinks up, going shy unexpectedly. He shakes his head, avoiding Zayn's eyes but he seems to reconsider it, looking back at Zayn and finally blurting out, "Yeah...but it was - it was for a laugh, all her mate's were in on it."

Zayn pokes Liam's knee and does the thing with his fingernails, gathering his fingertips together and spreading his nails out against Liam's knees where it's ticklish to get him to smile again. Liam cracks a smile, squirming a bit. Zayn shuffles in closer, close enough their knees are touching now and Liam mimics him, his head tilting to the side to match Zayn.

"Have you?" he asks, smiling, all soft and grateful.

Zayn shakes his head. He's suddenly so very nervous, his heart's thudding in his chest so hard he's afraid it might actually break. His palms are sweaty and he has a million things he wants to say but then his eyes flicker down to Liam's lips and he can't really think of any of them.

"Do you think we could - so I'd know what I was doing with a girl later on," Zayn asks finally, feeling a burst of energy after he gets the words out. He glances up to Liam's eyes and shakes his head, "Shit, that's not - can I kiss you? It won't be for a laugh, I promise."

Liam doesn't respond but he doesn't look like he's about to do anything like lurch backwards or punch Zayn in the face. He just nods, as if it's an every day occurrence, and closes his eyes. Zayn takes in a shaky breath, resting his shaking hands on Liam's knees to have something to hold onto. He leans forward, noticing stupid details like Liam's eyelashes and his pink cheeks, and finally closes his eyes too. He kisses him softly on the lips and pulls back.

"Can you do it again?" Liam asks, eyes bright when he opens them. Zayn can't help grinning at him and Liam smiles back, meets him in the middle this time, his hands folded over Zayn's on his knees.

Not much changes after that. They still run around after each other until they're gasping for breath, collapsing onto Zayn's bed only to get up and do it all over again. They're in their own little world, even if it's for a while. Zayn barely has time to read his comics, or to doodle in his sketchpad, not this summer, not while he's busy getting sun burnt and scratched as they go hiking with the group and Liam's holding a wriggling tadpole in his hands like it's the most fascinating thing in the world. He almost shits his pants when he pushes himself to try the flying fox, screaming his lungs out while praying the cable doesn't break. It's all worth it for the huge smile Liam gives him when he gets to the end, hugging Zayn tight like he's proud and Zayn can rest more than half his weight on him because he feels faint from it all.

Because Zayn's found a best friend in Liam and he doesn't anything could be better than this.

And of course, that's why it has to end.

Liam's crying again, curled away from Zayn this time and it's ridiculous, he's ridiculous and Zayn wants to laugh and poke him in the ribs but he thinks he might start crying too and Liam's the one person he never ever wants to cry in front of. Zayn doesn't do any of that, just rubs his palm across his back and sides until his breathing calms down to a wet snuffle. It's the last night before they're all going back home the and they've spent the whole day packing and cleaning up and avoiding the topic. He's loaned Liam his favourite comic book - well, he hid it at the bottom of his bag, it's supposed to be a surprise. He thinks Liam might have already found it but he hasn't said anything yet,

"I don't want to go home," Liam says, nose all blocked, his shoulders still shaking.

"You didn't want to come here either," Zayn says, pinching his side softly. He's being cajoling, trying to get him to turn around although Zayn doesn't think he'd fare all that well if he had to look at Liam's face now.

"I didn't know you'd be here," Liam says stubbornly, refusing to turn around. He takes in a sharp breath of air and his spine stiffens up as he says excitedly, "We could run away!"

Zayn sighs, turning so he's lying on his back again, blinking up into the familiar darkness. "No, we couldn't. I can't even swim, we wouldn't make it alive."

Liam starts crying again.

"I didn't teach you how to swim yet," Liam says once he's calmed down again, says it like it's the saddest thing in the world.

"You're ridiculous and I'm going to miss you," Zayn tells him instead, trying to knee him in the bum. "And it's not like I'm dying or anything, we'll still keep in touch."

"Really?" Liam asks, finally spinning around.

Zayn glances down at him, at his swollen red nose and his clumpy eyelashes and his cheeks still wet with his tears. He smiles softly, wiping roughly at one of Liam's eyes so the tenderness in his heart won't threaten to overtake him completely.

"Yeah. I'll give you my address and you can write me letters full of your terrible spelling," Zayn says, grinning properly now. "And you can call me any time you want."

Liam brightens up instantaneously, like he didn't think that would have been an option five minutes ago. Like he thought they'd just spend the whole summer together and forget it all. Like it'd be that easy for Zayn to forget about Liam. "And you could even come over during the holidays, if you'd like!" Liam says, shy and enthusiastic at the same time, still rather red and wet but seemingly less sad.

"Uh-huh, I could meet all your sisters and stuff," Zayn says, nodding against the pillow.

"What do you want to meet them for? We could do so many things," Liam says and starts to list them off his fingers, go-karting, bowling and paint ball.

Zayn listens with a smile on his face, feeling lighter than he has in ages, since last week when he'd realised this would be the last week of summer spent with Liam. He had been thinking about it a lot but it wasn't until Liam started crying, clearly upset about it, that Zayn could work up the courage to ask if they could keep in touch. In the end, he didn't really ask but it's done and Zayn falls asleep happy.

Liam doesn't cry when they say their last goodbyes, which surprises Zayn more than anything. Their parents are waiting at the opposite sides of the car park again and Zayn knows they're both stalling, they don't want to go, not just yet.

"I love you," Liam says in broad daylight and wraps his arms around him, hugging him tight. When he pulls back, Zayn sees the way his lips are set in a determined line, like he's told himself he's not going to cry - not this time - and Zayn laughs at that, gently knocks his knuckles against his chin.

"Don't worry," Zayn tells him firmly.

He's the first one to walk away. Zayn turns around to wave at Liam, still standing in the middle of the car park, his eyebrows drawn together. He looks like a kicked puppy. Zayn waves at him vigorously, grinning as wide as he can and popping up a thumbs up. Liam waves back and he still looks visibly upset but Zayn keeps walking away, biting on he inside of his cheeks so his mouth won't pull out of shape, so he won't cry.

He hides his face against his mum when he hugs her hello and than his dad. He climbs into the back seat of his parent's car. Zayn can feel everything just balling up in his chest, the back of his throat raw and aching.

"Did you have a good summer, darling?" Did you make any friends? Are you okay?

"The best," Zayn says and pretends to fall asleep.

Zayn prefers riding his bike to school than to taking a bus full of screaming school children. It also means he can smoke on the way to school but then again, he really shouldn't unless he wants to get into another accident. He's still got scratches on his thighs from the last time he hadn't been able to take a drag and make a turn at the same time.

Zayn gets the bike lock secured around his bike and straightens up, fishing in the pocket of his jacket for his pack of cigarettes. He shakes one out, lighting up immediately, and looking around at his new school. He keeps his eyes on the stream of students entering the building, blowing smoke out the side of his mouth, clearly unimpressed.

He knows he's unapproachable at best, what with the smoking on school property and the tattoos and his preference for darker clothing but he tells himself that's the way he likes it. He glances around again, flicking the ash off his cigarette and briefly entertains the thought of skipping. It's the first day of the school year and he's the new kid in a new school in a new town and he's done this enough times to know the routine. His dad said they wouldn't be moving again, that this was going to work, but Zayn doesn't think he'll hold him to it. There's no point in making friends if they're going to have to leave again to chase after his dad's work. He doesn't mind, he has a feeling they would've moved from town to town either way, a fresh start for Zayn.

Zayn knows the drill. There's going to be some mild interest in the "mysterious" new kid, mainly from girls but Zayn's blend of shyness and awkwardness seem to translate into near hostility. He doesn't really have to do anything to be left alone.

Zayn keeps his eyes on the front of the building as he starts to walk around his bike, still deciding whether he should stay or not. He crashes into someone soon after, stumbling back from the impact. The blond boy yells, wiping ash off his arm in a hurry.

"Oi," he says, rubbing at his arm. He has a football tucked under his arm, in trackpants on the first day of school. He winces at the reddened mark left on his forearm from the lit tip of Zayn's cigarette, screwing up his nose and making a ridiculous face.

Zayn says, "Fuck," tensing up on instinct. Misery balls itself into a hard knit at the centre of his stomach and he feels like falling off the edge of the earth. He's only been at this school for five fucking minutes, this has to be a record.

"Watch where you're swinging that thing," he says in an Irish accent. He grins brightly all of a sudden, winking obnoxiously, "Get it? It's like a sex joke." He starts to laugh and it startles Zayn who looks around like the world's playing a prank on him. He still hasn't had an opportunity to get a word in when he says, "Hey, are you new? I'm Niall! Alright, see ya around."

And then he fucks off without getting Zayn's name or anything else, catching up with a bunch of his friends up ahead. Zayn blinks after him silently, his cigarette forlorn on the ground, because that was definitely not what he was expecting. At the very least, he was expecting a football to the head. He shakes himself out of it, rolling his shoulders to try and relax. He decides to stay for the day. He looks ahead for Niall but he's already disappeared inside with his friends.

Zayn walks himself to the main office, he's pretty good at figuring these things out by now.

The thing is, Zayn somehow doesn't see Liam until almost a whole week later and then he has to wonder how that's even fucking possible as he can't seem to stop seeing him everywhere after that.

It's been a long, tiring week and Zayn went to all his classes and remembered his books and sat in the back corner, scowling at nothing as he doodled flowers on his notebook. It's mostly so they'll leave him alone and it seems to work. His teachers don't call on him all that much, they've already made up their minds about his abilities anyway. The Irish boy he saw on the first day of school, Niall, sits next to him in History and chatters away about football and what he did on the weekend and the funny shaped slug he saw on the way to school. He keeps talking even if Zayn doesn't really contribute to the conversation. It's not great but it's not entirely shit either.

It's been a long week and Zayn almost misses him entirely.

He doesn't see him first, not this time.

"Zayn? Zayn!" Liam shouts from across the car park.

Zayn looks up in surprise, expecting Niall or the girl from his art class with the purple hair. He didn't get her name and it's too late to ask now, he's just been calling her Purple inside his head.

Zayn gapes at Liam silently, fingers going slack on the bike lock. He fumbles with the key, managing to screw it up in his fist before Liam's running at him, gathering him up in a hug. Zayn's alarmed for a second, too much all too soon, but his arms come up around Liam as if on instinct, reaching up and that's new.

"Liam," Zayn, stupidly stating the obvious, pulling back.

He's almost unrecognisable. That's not true, he's still very much Liam with the nose and the smiling with his whole face but now Zayn can see the strong line of his jaw and the strength in his broad shoulders and he has no hair. He's taller than Zayn, arms thicker too, and Zayn's mouth works uselessly for a bit as he stares.

"You've taken up boxing, then?" Zayn croaks out, flash memory of his solid body up against his three seconds ago.

Liam laughs, cheeks dimpling and his eyes squinting shut. He nods and says, "Yeah, actually, I did! I can't believe it's you - when did you move here?"

Zayn didn't think he'd ever see Liam again, that much was a fact to him. He never wrote and he never called. Zayn wrote letters, he wrote loads of them but he never had the courage to send them because it felt like Liam left him, didn't want anything to do with him and without Liam there to tell him otherwise, it was so easy to believe. He doesn't have any of the letters any more, they became lost in their series of moves until they finally settled on here. Zayn's forgotten Liam's address, he could never write them out on the envelopes anyway.

"About three weeks ago," Zayn says, crouching down again to unlock the pad. He shrugs like it's no big deal, that seeing Liam is not a big deal, and carefully wheels his bike out of the stand.

"Oh, alright," Liam says, taking a step back, following his cue. His enthusiasm dies down a little at Zayn's lack luster reaction but he's still grinning, huge and unbearably ecstatic and Zayn's having trouble keeping it up. "We should hang out, catch up, you know? How are you?"

"Good, yeah, I'm good," Zayn says, smiling convincingly. He swings his leg over the bike and says, "running late, but. I'll talk to you later? It was good seeing you, Liam." Zayn wants to kind of ride his bike onto oncoming traffic at the amount of times he's said good in the last five seconds. He makes a face at himself and starts to go, his heart hammering in his chest.

"I'll see you around!" Liam says and Zayn turns around to catch sight of him running back across the car park to his friends.

He's friends with Niall apparently because Niall waves at Zayn as well. Then Zayn realises, right, that's the football team. And it's like all of twelve year old Zayn's worst fears came true. Liam decided he didn't really want to be friends with Zayn any more, not after he took up boxing and got into sports the way Zayn got into art and wasn't the dweebiest kid on the playground any more. He made proper friends and didn't need Zayn any more. And now he's not the same Liam Zayn spent the summer with, he's on the other side of the line.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," Zayn mutters under his breath, pedalling away as fast as he can.

He thinks, ridiculously, that he's going to need to change schools again. He knows he's panicking over something that shouldn't matter, that his reaction is disproportionate to the situation but it doesn't help at all. He's imagined meeting Liam again, more so when he was thirteen than he does now, but this didn't even compare. He risks it, pulling out his pack of cigarettes and slipping one into his mouth, taking both hands off the handles to light it. He gets both hands on the handle again, cigarette held carefully between his fingers so he won't get smoke in his eyes. He still swerves dangerously when a car honks at him, yells at him to get a fucking helmet. Zayn throws his middle finger up back at the driver and focuses again, taking a drag every now and then and keeping the panic at bay with each drag.

He finds out soon enough that Liam is kind of actually really popular. Zayn doesn't want to get caught up on it because it's Liam, but it's harder and harder not to. Especially when Liam seems to be oblivious to half of it, walking down the hallway and waving back at everyone. He gets this confused little crease between his eyebrows but he stops by to say hello to anyone who says it first and he smiles politely and accepts cookies from girls who have baked them especially for him. He's so kind, he's still Liam, and Zayn doesn't understand any of it.

He tries to be inconspicuous, asking Niall about it during their class together - and, well, Liam's the captain of the football team.

He's told himself time and time again that it was one summer, they were twelve - he doesn't really know Liam at all and neither does he. But there's something deep inside him, this certainty, that he does. Or maybe it's just the other way around, maybe Liam knows everything that he needs to know about Zayn, what he's like stripped raw, all the ugly crooks and crannies he tries his best to cover up. Maybe that's why he feels so terrified.

Zayn understands the irony in skipping his art class to doodle in his notebook on the grass but he can't be fucked staying inside a classroom for another minute. Perrie texts him a sad little face when she realises he's skipping so he changes her name back to Purple on his phone. He wants to soak up the last remaining bits of the sun, it's getting rarer and rarer. He makes himself comfortable out on one of their fields, notebook propped up against his knee. He's sketching nothing in particular with the same, tiny, broken pencil, enjoying the quiet and the sun for as long as he can.

There's a shadow that's too immediate to be a cloud and when Zayn glances up, it's to Liam grinning down at him.

"Hey," Liam says. He drops down next to Zayn with no hesitation. He doesn't have his bag or anything else with him.

"Hi," Zayn says, ducking his head to keep sketching. He can't focus enough, the whole thing's a blur, fuck it - he just starts colouring the whole outline in.

"Aren't you supposed to be in class?" Liam asks, stretching out against the grass. He looks around himself and rests his head on Zayn's bag, near his hip.

"Aren't you?" Zayn shoots back, the corner of his mouth starting to lift involuntarily.

Liam laughs at that and says, "Asked you first. He ends up replying anyway, "I was going for a wee and saw you out here."

"Better get going, they're gonna think you're doing a crapper," Zayn says with a snort and Liam laughs again, crossing his legs at the ankle. Zayn glances down at him and he looks relaxed and at ease, comfortable to be in Zayn's company.

"I like your hair," Liam says simply, motioning to the blond streak. He can't quite keep his eyes open, not with the way the sun is shining behind Zayn's head, but he squints past it, determined to look at Zayn.

"Thanks, my mum hates it," Zayn says. He finally gives up on his notebook, throwing it down besides him. He tucks the pencil behind his ear to reach for his bag. Liam shifts his head but not a lot, enough for Zayn to get at the zipper and his knuckles brush against the buzzed side of his head. He gropes around for his pack of cigarettes and pulls it out, fishing his lighter out of his back pocket.

"You shaved all yours off," Zayn says, pushing the cigarette between his lips and rubbing his own fingertips across his knuckles.

"I only did it at the start of the year," Liam says, running his palm flat against his head. "Danielle broke up with me and, well, Niall had beers, Louis had a trimmer." He shrugs as if drunkenly shaving all of one's hair off after a break up is a very common occurrence.

Zayn shrugs, it probably is. He still pauses, his thumb stilling on his lighter. "Danielle?" he asks around his cigarette.

"I thought she had to be having me on at the start, she's so beautiful," Liam says, laughing again and it's genuine, like it doesn't hurt as much any more to talk about her and he's more than willing to remember all the good things over the break up. It gets to Zayn a bit and his eyes soften over Liam. "But she's gone off to university now," Liam says and shrugs. He nudges Zayn's elbow with his knuckles to get his attention again.

"When did you start smoking?" he asks curiously, watching him snap out of the trance and light up.

"How do you know I wasn't smoking when I was twelve?" Zayn asks, raising an eyebrow at him.

He regrets it almost immediately. He was trying to remind himself, remind Liam, that they don't really know each other that well. Trying to confirm it between them. But all he's done is bring up being twelve and terrified, spending the best summer of his life with Liam.

"Because we were together like 24/7! Unless you were sneaking them in the three seconds we spent apart," Liam says, laughing.

Zayn laughs along humourlessly, feeling panic start to seep in, taking over the sun-warmed melting into his core. He doesn't want to talk about the summer camp. It was so long ago and he was young and stupid and he doesn't want Liam to bring it up, to remind him of it. He doesn't want Liam to remember Zayn kissing him and he doesn't want him to ask him about it and -

As much as Zayn wants to stay here with Liam, he can't. He doesn't know Liam, he doesn't know what he'll do. He might tell all his friends and Zayn thought he'd be done with moving schools with this one.

"I gotta head off," Zayn says, running away again. He takes a long drag, closing his eyes to feel the sun against his eyelids. He jerks away from Liam when he reaches out to trace the bone of his ankle peeking out from his jeans. "I'll see you around, Liam."

"Wait," Liam says, not getting up so Zayn can't get his bag out from under his head. "I want to - can I have your number?" he asks, flushing slightly. "We haven't really caught up at all."

"You're actually gonna call this time?" Zayn asks and it was supposed to be a joke, flippant, but it hits too close to home and his smile feels too forced for him to pretend. He tugs his bag out from underneath Liam and starts to get up.

Liam sits up suddenly, frowning. He grabs Zayn's wrist, keeping him from walking away.

"I did call you! Your landline was disconnected," Liam says. "I wrote you a bunch of letters too. I just thought you got busy or something," he adds, mumbling the last bit to himself.

"No you - I didn't get any," Zayn says, blocking the sun so Liam can look up at him properly. He feels so fucking stupid, like an icy bucket of water's been dumped over his head. "We moved and the landline - it's not important, it was a joke."

Zayn winces, shaking his head at himself. He can see the accusation in Liam's eyes now that he's looking up at him properly, Zayn's head blocking the direct sunlight. You could've called. He grabs a pen from his bag with his free hand and eases Liam's grip off his other wrist. He pries his fingers open and writes down his number down at the centre of his palm with a soft, "here."

"Thanks," Liam says when their hands slide apart.

Zayn's walking away before he knows it. He doesn't know where he's going, probably getting on his bike and riding around the town for a bit to clear his head. He feels so dumb, so much time spent feeling sorrow and upset when it would all end up useless. He wants to go back in time and shake thirteen year old Zayn, fourteen year old Zayn, tell him to send the fucking letter anyway. He'd given up by fifteen and took up smoking instead. He shakes his head again and starts walking faster.

He gets a text a bit later when he's sitting alone on a bench, fish and chips spread on his lap.

louissss thinks i did a Craperrr :-((

Zayn can't help crack a smile, getting grease all over the screen as he saves Liam's number.

Zayn has History with Niall and they're supposed to split up into pairs for a mini in-class project. They're supposed to stand at the front at the end of the class and briefly give talk about one of these dead white guys but Niall doesn't seem all that bothered by it and neither is Zayn. Niall pairs up with him like it's the most obvious thing in the world and sits besides him, happily munching away on his packet of crisps. Zayn's drawing over his biology notes with nothing in particular in mind. That's a lie, he really wants to draw Liam's hands, the bones in his wrists and the shape of his fingers - he's trying not to think about it.

Niall gets Zayn's attention by nudging him in the side with his elbow, offering him some crisps. Zayn shakes his head but Niall lifts one to his mouth with an expression on his face like he's feeding a reluctant baby and Zayn finally takes it into his mouth, rolling his eyes over a smile when Niall whoops in triumph. He shoves at his shoulder and chews, at least trying to keep it quiet unlike Niall who's staring the teacher down while he chews.

"You are getting awful friendly, Niall," Zayn says dryly, overcompensating for how pleased he is that Niall keeps choosing to sit next to him. At the fact that a person like Niall can exist and that person wants to sit next to his moody, quiet arse and feed him crisps like he can see how it's all just not true and he's too smart to fall for it. "Sure you don't have a thing for me?" Zayn asks, jabbing his pen into his ribs.

He's trying to find a reason to dislike Niall, something that irritates him that he can build upon. Being on the football team wasn't enough, his insistence on wearing snapbacks towards the end of autumn wasn't either, neither was the fact he liked to play the guitar in public quite a bit. Zayn knows he's being fucking stupid, trying to find a reason not to get on with Niall, but it's a lot easier to cut ties before Zayn gets invested in a friendship that wasn't real in the first place. He's half expecting Niall to overreact, shove him on the shoulder and say something that's going to make Zayn despise him a bit.

"Nah, man, you're pretty and all that but I have a boyfriend," Niall says, grinning at him with an open mouth full of soggy crisps.

"Ha ha," Zayn says. He figured Niall would take the joke further on instead of getting insanely defensive about his heterosexuality, he doesn't seem the type.

"Don't tell him I said you were pretty - no, tell him I said he was prettier than you," Niall says, hitting Zayn in the chest.

"I don't even know him - he exists?" Zayn says, turning around to face him, frowning in confusion. "But you're on the football team."

"Yeah?" Niall asks, defensive. "I'm bloody good at football and I have a boyfriend." It's the first time he's seen Niall when he was being exactly, well, Niall. He supposes it's all a part of Niall, stupidly thinking, while he tries to process the rest of what Niall's said in the faraway distant part of his brain.

"But," Zayn says, screwing his face up.

It takes another moment for Zayn to see past his thoughts and register the look on Niall's face, the one where he looks disappointed in Zayn of all things. Zayn straightens up, he wants to suddenly shout that he's not being a dick - he just - he just wasn't expecting it. He's not like them, there's nothing wrong with Niall having a boyfriend, that's not what he was saying at all -

"Alright," Zayn finally says, abruptly cutting off his train of thought to look back at Niall. He's not making that face at Zayn, he just looks a bit wary about it all. Zayn tells himself to relax even if his heart's kind of feels like it's being replaced by a feather, floating. "What's he look like then, this pretty boyfriend of yours?"

Niall eyes him for a bit, steely blue eyes hard and questioning before he settles on a decision. He follows in Zayn's stead, dropping the tense line of his shoulders and the familiar stance of someone getting ready for a fight. He gets off his chair, standing up straight, but nobody pays him any mind. He puts a hand to his mouth and then adjusts it higher up and his other hand at his crotch and then adjusts it the same.

"Niall, are you guessing the height of your boyfriend by where his dick and mouth is," Zayn says very patiently, dropping his pencil.

Niall turns to face him, grinning, and shrugs. The tension dissipates as Zayn laughs, watching as Niall finally decides on how tall he is. "He's about this high," he says, holding his hand above his head a bit, and sits back down. He reaches for his crisps again and Zayn keeps drawing, looking up every now and then to get Niall's general likeness and the details of the shirt he's wearing today. He looks up at Niall and smiles, nodding in encouragement.

"He has big green eyes and they get all sleepy and heavy in the drop of a hat. Umm," Niall says, pondering. "Oh, christ, you should see his lips, they're like," Niall pauses, waving his hands around vaguely like he can't find the words to describe them. "Like a fucking Shakespeare musical or something."

Zayn laughs, muffling it into his fist while Niall looks at him perplexed. "Go on," he finally chokes out.

"He has this dimple on his left cheek, speaking of, he's got two left feet, and dustbin hands - like Hagrid hands, you know, from Harry Potter? And his name's Harry," Niall says, looking off into the distance now.

"How about his hair?" Zayn asks, using his eraser to clean up the smudges he's left unintentionally.

"The best," Niall says and Zayn smiles at him, feels like his heart's about to explode at the look on Niall's face. The ugly jealousy doesn't even come close to touching the surface, not when Niall looks like that thinking about his boyfriend. "All curly and massive, like swept across his face but sometimes he wears a headband to play footie - fucking terrible, two left feet! - but it's, it's cute."

The bell rings and Zayn looks up in surprise, glancing around the room to see if they manage to get to the part of the presentations or if their teacher ran out of steam and let everyone do whatever they wanted to do. That's the problem with group work, nothing ever works out. Zayn shrugs to himself and rips the page out of his book, handing the quick, crudely done drawing of Niall and his boyfriend to Niall.

"Whoa, mate," Niall says, eyes scanning over it. "This is fucking ace."

Zayn ducks down to retrieve his bag, slinging it over his shoulder. "Thanks," he says, scratching at his cheek. He never draws for other people and he never gives them out either. He figures it's worth it.

"I look spot on, you fucker, you even got my zit," Niall says, grinning. "Harry's face though - you'll just have to meet him," Niall says, holding the piece of paper carefully out in front of him and as if it's something precious. He slings his other arm around Zayn's shoulder, leading them out of the classroom.

Zayn grins, shrugging as if it doesn't matter to him, and let himself be led away.

Liam invites him to come down and watch their football match against their rival school and then Niall invites him again. Zayn wasn't going to go, not at first, but Liam looked at him, all fidgety shuffling like he was nervous and before he knows it, Zayn's walking through the muddy grass on a Saturday morning. He has a general idea what Harry looks like and Niall's told him to go say hi when he arrived. He wanders over through the crowd of parents and friends in their respective school colours. He finds him easily enough, he's texting by the looks of it, staring intently down at his phone. He's wearing a flannel shirt that's too big for his frame, unbuttoned enough to show off his multiple necklaces and Zayn shivers on his behalf, tugging his jacket closer to his frame. He thinks he would've really been into that once, when he was deeply into his Johnny Depp phase.

Harry looks up, darting up to glance at Zayn and back down to his phone. He looks up again, properly this time, and smiles.

"Hey, you're Zayn, right?" he says, putting his phone away for a second to shake his hand. He has large, warm hands and he pulls Zayn closer, standing side by side behind the wooden rail fence.

"Yep," Zayn says, nodding. He tucks both hands back into his jacket pocket. "And you're Niall's boyfriend, Harry."

"Uh-huh," Harry says, looking up to wave at Niall when he jogs onto the pitch. He grins when Niall waves back him, dimpling at the sight of him.

"Niall told me about you," Harry says, turning back to Zayn. He's still smiling, easy and pleased, "he's framed the picture you drew him. He replaced my baby picture with it but then he always said he felt fucking weird making out in front of it."

Zayn laughs, leaning against the wooden rail. He looks towards the pitch where the team's stretching. Niall must see Zayn too because he starts waving enthusiastically, almost taking one of his teammate's eyes out, and pointing at Harry like Zayn didn't figure out it was his Harry a whole five minutes ago. Liam looks up at the way Niall's waving and follows his line of vision. He looks surprised to see Zayn but it fades into a smile, eyes squinting shut from the force of it as he waves too. Zayn quirks two fingers at him, smiling lopsidedly in return, and decides he should brave the cold and stay for the rest of the match.

"Did you design any of these?" Harry asks suddenly, pointing at the tattoo outline of the bird on his hand. "Can I?"

"Go ahead," Zayn says, pushing the sleeve of his jacket up to bare his forearm to Harry. Harry trails his fingertips across it and taps the 'zap' with his index finger. "Some," Zayn says in relation to the question.

Harry nods and goes back to his phone, leaning forward on the rail besides Zayn. He seems to have a sixth sense for whenever Niall's five metres from the ball, managing to glance up every time he gets the ball and cheering loudly when he scores halfway through the match. Niall shoots him a thumbs up, grinning widely as Louis musses up his hair, and Harry does a weird little dance, entirely self-unconscious, his fists in the air.

Zayn stays with Harry, waiting together for Niall to finish showering. Harry seems ecstatic that they've won and Zayn smiles too, watching the boys all jump on each other, Niall rubbing at Liam's head and refusing to get off his back until they were both covered in more mud than they'd managed throughout the whole match. Harry's talking to Zayn about football or art, he can't remember, either way he's saying he appreciates it but he's absolute pants at it - when he looks past Zayn's shoulder, his face lighting up.

Niall runs up to Harry, still running high on their win. He whoops, leaping high into the air before crashing into Harry, all knees and elbows and giggles. He hits Harry hard, going with the momentum and knocking the breath out of the both of them. Harry laughs, tilting his head back and trying not very hard to fight him off. He gets an arm around Niall's neck, kissing him on the cheek with a dramatic mwah while Niall preens.

"You're going to catch something," Harry says, letting go of Niall to get a better look at him. He tugs at Niall's wet fringe with mock, disapproving frown, half-serious.

Niall shrugs like he doesn't care, still bouncing around like he's going to burst out of his skin. "You can warm me up," he says to Harry, wriggling his eyebrows. Harry tugs him along by the front of his new clean shirt to do just that, kissing him quiet. Zayn realises he's just kind of grinning at the both of them and feels like he should look away, so he does, to Liam and Louis lumbering towards them from the shower.

Liam's still trying to dry Louis' hair with a towel while Louis protests, trying to duck out from under him.

"Oh, gross," Louis says when he gets to Niall and Harry. He pretends to vomit before clapping both Zayn and Liam on the shoulder and saying, "I've gotta run. Keep it clean, you two."

"Don't mind him, he's just cranky El didn't show up," Liam says, grinning at Zayn. "You stayed."

Zayn just nods, looking past Liam's shoulder at Louis.

"Aren't you cold?" he asks, motioning at the flimsy t-shirt Liam's changed into.

It's old and worn-thin and still damp around the collar from his shower. Zayn frowns at it, feeling the cold enough for the both of them. He starts to shrug out of his jacket, it's big - it should fit Liam, trying to pull his arms out when Liam leans forward to stop him. He gets his hands on Zayn's arm, pulling it back up and tugging it around his shoulders again, keeping his hands there. From this close up, Liam smells freshly showered and lovely and his lips look awfully red and wind-chapped.

"I'm fine," Liam says and drops his hands, going shy.

Zayn just goes with instinct and reaches up to run his palm along the buzzed top of his head. It doesn't come out like he wants to, like Niall did a moment ago, rough and congratulatory. His touch gentles and Liam ducks his head, letting him do it, and looks up afterwards with a smile.

"Congrats," Zayn says softly. He clears his throat, dropping his hand awkwardly and smiling back.

"Thanks," Liam says, running his own palm across his head. "Do you need a ride?"

"Nah, I'm nearby. Actually, I've gotta go," Zayn says because it's a Saturday and he did promise his mum she could teach him how to cook so he wouldn't starve on nights both his parents worked late.

He actually does live nearby, he'd get there faster on foot than by car, but he regrets saying no as he walks with his head ducked against the cold. He's got his hands screwed up into fists in the pockets of his jacket, so he can retain some heat, but all he can remember is the way Liam's hair felt under his palm and more importantly, the way he waited for it.

Liam texts him all the time now and sometimes Zayn wakes up to them and he can't help smiling dopily at his screen for a few minutes before he shakes himself out of it. Sometimes he gets them during a test at school or after his football practise when Niall falls into a puddle and apparently Zayn urgently needs to know about it. Zayn replies back every time, trying not to over-think it, making it a rule to write out a reply in under a minute so he doesn't stress over it like an idiot. He tries his best not to fall into whole conversations via text but before he knows it, he's tapping his pen against his homework, biting down on his stupid grin and waiting for Liam's reply.

Liam sends him another text towards the end of last period, asking Zayn to wait for him a bit since footie practise has been cancelled.

Zayn stands against the building, right outside the main entrance where Liam won't miss him, and scrolls through his phone so he looks like he's got something to do. He's only got a couple of people's numbers in it anyway, his parents, his nan, Danny from the tattoo parlour two towns ago, Perrie, Niall and Liam. Liam appears then, waving his hand in his face a little and pulling back after he manages to catch Zayn's attention.

Zayn's eyes follows his hands, the smudges of ink on the middle finger of his writing hand and the way his last two nails are bitten down and uneven. Zayn's still unfairly fascinated by them, he wishes he could get a feel for them, it'd be easier to sketch from memory.

"Hey, thanks for waiting for me," Liam says, smiling softly.

"No problem, it was barely five minutes," Zayn says, feeling warm even though the wind's kind of whipping at his face in an unpleasant manner. He walks over to where his bike his chained and gets the lock open, wheeling it besides him down the pavement. He doesn't get on it, just keeps at that pace until Liam joins him.

"Do you live far from school?" Liam asks, falling into step besides him. He's holding a box of cookies in his hands, the tin obviously decorated by hand in an abundance of pink and glitter.

"Not that far," Zayn says, his hands are a little bit slippery on the handlebars, Liam's shoulders bumping into his as he walks unnecessarily close. "What have you got there?"

"Cookies! Want one?" Liam asks, opening the lid and shaking them invitingly at Zayn.

Zayn reaches out for one, turning it over to check out the pink icing painstakingly traced over it. He bites into it and the sweetness floods his dry mouth, looks up to see Liam staring. Zayn raises an eyebrow and wipes at the corners of his mouth, making a face as if it's passable.

"Emelie gave them to me," Liam says, shrugging. He eats a cookie himself. "I don't eat a lot of sugary things, gotta keep in shape and all. I usually give them to Niall, he doesn't seem to put on a pound no matter what he does."

"Why do you think girls keep baking you cookies?" Zayn asks

"Because I'm the captain of the football team," Liam says, he scrunches up his nose, "though, I think it really should be Louis - I mean -"

"I think it's because they like you, you numpty," Zayn says, nudging his shoulders firmly against Liam's.

Liam makes a face at that and shakes his head like it doesn't make any sense. "You can have these if you like," Liam says, closing the lid.

"And let Niall starve?" Zayn teases and Liam laughs, tucking the tin under his arm.

"Hey, I don't live too far from here," Liam says, looking around the neighbourhood. "I guess most people don't. Niall lives down there," Liam says, pointing.

"Do you usually walk home?" Zayn asks.

"No, I have a car, I drive to school," Liam says distracted, still looking around as if he's remembering street names, trying to figure out where his house is in distance to Zayn's.

"Did you drive to school today?" Zayn asks, stopping in his tracks.

"Yeah."

"What the hell, Liam, why the fuck are we walking home?" Zayn asks, reaching forward to hit his shoulder in something like outrage.

Liam stops looking around the neighbour and stops as well, looking at Zayn without really looking at him, his eyes darting from Zayn's eyes to the space behind his shoulder. "I wanted to talk to you," Liam says as if it's obvious, flushing a bit belatedly when Zayn looks at him dumbfounded. His shoulders come up, his head ducking in turn, as if he's trying to cover up the blush.

Zayn bites down on his bottom lip because Liam's an idiot but and he has no idea what his face is capable of doing and Zayn doesn't really have an response to that. He knows he's going to regret it, not saying something in return, but he can't speak when Liam says stuff like that, all honest and truthful like no one can use it against him.

"Come on, it's not far up," Zayn says, tugging at the front of Liam's shirt once and then starting to walk again, steadying his bike next to him.

Zayn makes a vague gesture with his hand when he gets to his house. He abandons Liam for a bit to wheel his bike into the garage, locking up after it. He turns around to see Liam gazing up at his house in curiosity, still holding the pink box of cookies under his arm.

"You're going to walk all the way back and drive home now?" Zayn asks, walking up the doorsteps.

"I guess," Liam says, shrugging when Zayn turns around.

He pauses, resting his hand on the doorknob, his other hand gripping his key and says, "Alright then, at least come in for a cup of tea - Emelie needs to work on her baking skills, those cookies are dry as fuck."

"I think they're just the dry kind of cookies," Liam says, coming up behind him, close enough for his heat to bleed through to Zayn's back, making him fumble with the keys.

There's no-one home, like every day Zayn comes home from school. Zayn walks down the hallway, expecting Liam to follow, and heads straight to his room. Zayn turns around, once, to see Liam looking around, pausing at the baby photos of Zayn all around the house, the marker of an only child. He used to hate them, hate having his own face looking back at him wherever he turned, but that's neither here nor there.

Zayn dumps his bag on the floor when he gets to his room, looking around in quiet dismay. He's not usually a messy person but he couldn't find the shirt he wanted to wear today and had to wear the one he's already worn for four days in a row. It's getting quite rank so Zayn takes it off, trying to change his shirt quickly before Liam gets to his room. That's what makes him panic a little bit, and his elbows get stuck and Liam's staring at him from the doorway. Zayn looks up, not exactly caught out but yanking his shirt over his head quickly, searching through the fresh pile of laundry his mum left on his chair.

"Take a picture, it'll last longer," Zayn finally chokes out because he can fee Liam's gaze on him and it makes him feel jumpy and hot underneath his skin.

Liam finally enters the room, carefully putting his bag on the floor besides Zayn's desk. He shrugs a bit, rubbing at his face with both hands and finally says, "It's just - you had no tattoos before."

"I was twelve," Zayn says with a disbelieving laugh, pausing with his arms in the sleeves of his new shirt.

"When'd you get them all?" Liam asks, coming closer. His finger twitches as if he wants to reach out and touch his skin.

"This was my first one, I'm pretty sure I was fifteen," Zayn says, pointing at the Arabic script on his chest. He keeps his shirt off while he tells Liam the rest, Liam listening intently, tracking the tattoos with his eyes. Zayn finally pulls his shirt over his head again.

"Do you mind if I do some of my homework? It's just with footie practise and Niall wanting me to come out with them all the time - I'm really falling behind," Liam says, setting his bag carefully on the floor. He looks apprehensive, like Zayn's going to kick him out for trying to do his homework in his company.

"Sure," Zayn says, nonplussed.

"Oh, alright," Liam says and smiles suddenly. Zayn's still staring at him, confused, and he says, "Louis throws things at me when I try to do any work at his place. He thinks it's about Danielle, he always thinks it's about Danielle unless I'm distracted enough to do something stupid."

Liam says it fondly though and Zayn doesn't know who he's jealous of more. Well, both of them, of having a friend like that, but he thinks it'd be nice for Liam to look like that while he was talking about Zayn too. He's still happy for Liam and it's all just a mess, frazzled up inside him, tangled together until he can't even try to separate it all out yet.

Liam gets started on his work, lying down on his belly smack dab in the middle of his floor. Zayn stares down at him for a second, smiling stupidly, before getting to work cleaning up around him. He's just been in a massive rush to get out of the house in the mornings. He can't seem to go to sleep at night until he tires himself out at 4am when he can finally pass out. He's always groggy and fucked in the morning for it but he doesn't know what else to do.

When Zayn finishes putting all his clean clothes away, he drops down next to Liam. He stretches out besides him, propping himself up on his elbows and peering over to get a better look at what he's doing.

"Are you writing your essay out by hand?" Zayn asks with a snort. He didn't know people still did that.

"Uh, yeah. Niall was looking at something on my laptop and it crashed, it's in the shop," Liam says with a little shrug but he doesn't seem all that put out by it.

Zayn nudges his shoulder because he should be - he should be at least a little bit less giving. Liam glances up at him in surprise, corner of his mouth quirking up at finding Zayn right there.

"What's this for, then? English?" Zayn asks, leaning over even closer so he can skim over his introduction.

"Uh-huh. I read the book, it took me ages, but I have no idea what's going on," Liam says truthfully, pointing at the half-finished sentence with his pen.

Zayn laughs and pulls back, reaching out to the other side so he can reach his bag without getting up. He slides around on his belly and brings it back, splitting it open to rummage inside for his English notebook. He's pretty good at English, he could probably help him out. Liam's not very - he tries his best.

"You can look at my notes," Zayn says and hands it over to him. He's had people steal his homework before, or plagarise his essays after he lent it to them, he's had people make him do their homework - but he doesn't think he's ever shared his notes like this before. He nudges it at Liam and waits for him to open it. He's a little bit anxious at the state of it and then he feels stupid because he shouldn't be feeling nervous about something so fucking stupid.

"Thanks, Zayn," Liam says, pausing to look at Zayn like the heaven's have opened up above them and there are angels singing by his head. Zayn tries to keep looking at him in the eye but has to look away soon after. Liam flips through the notebook, his thumb resting against the pages and finally stops at a page. There are doodles on almost every page because Zayn can't just sit there and listen without doing anything with his hands, and they're drawn over lines of words. He makes an awed noise, tracing his thumb over one of them and looks up in slight panic when it smudges.

"Don't worry about it. Write your essay," Zayn says, nudging his shoulder pointedly and ducking his chin against his chest to smile at nothing.

Liam writes his essay and Zayn feels a bit weird just staring at him so he takes out his own homework. He spreads it out besides Liam, biting his lip and trying his best to figure it out without reaching for his biology textbook because he doesn't want to move. He spends most of the time staring at the back of Liam's head though and Liam must feel it because he finally looks back up, startling Zayn.

"Is there something in my hair?" he asks.

"Nits," Zayn says quickly. And then he thinks about it, he shouldn't lie about Liam having nits because he's been caught staring. This nobility thing must be contagious. Zayn says, "Nothing. It's nothing. Write your essay." And resolutely goes back to his homework.

Zayn finishes his homework, yawning until tears are clinging to his eyelashes, and Liam gives up on his essay. Zayn reaches out for the remote and turns the telly on, lying in comfortable silence with Liam until Liam spots the console stashed underneath the bed.

"I have FIFA in my bag," Liam says excitedly, reaching for it.

"Why?" Zayn asks.

He moves so he's sitting on the ground, leaning against the footboard of his bed. Liam settles down next to him once he's finished setting everything up, sitting close so he's pressed all along his side. The telly's too close to their face and they have to crane their necks a bit to see but it's not too bad.

"Niall and Louis really like playing FIFA," Liam says as an explanation and Zayn wants to die a little bit.

He has no idea what he's doing but he figures he can play for a bit.

But the thing is, Zayn's really tired and before he knows it, he's lulled to sleep by the solid heat of Liam by his side, through the denim of their jeans at their thighs and Zayn's bare arm pressed along the soft material of Liam's shirt. It's not pretty, the way he wakes up, with his cheek smushed awkwardly against Liam's shoulder and an awful crick in his neck that's going to be a fucking pain all day. He blinks stupidly for a second and then he registers that someone's face is close to his, too close, and he lets out embarrassing shriek and scrambles backwards.

"Holy crap, you just looked so cute, oh my god I'm so sorry, your eyelashes were, I wasn't, oh shit, are you alright?" Liam says, scrambling back away from Zayn as well, his controller falling between them.

"Bloody hell," Zayn says, rubbing at his eyes with the heel of his palm, embarrassed beyond relief at his reaction. "You scared me!" he says instead, re-directing, reaching out to kick Liam in the thigh.

Liam intercept easily, he has faster reflexes than Zayn, and holds onto his sock clad foot, starting to laugh. Zayn tries to get his foot back, flushing but unable to keep the stupid smile off his face, still sleepy, his guard down. It's not long before he starts laughing too, pulling his foot out of Liam's grip and poking him hard on the side with his toe.

"Your eyelashes are so long," Liam says.

"I'm not cute," Zayn murmurs, trying to work up some indignation while sleepy warmth still floods his body.

"You kind of are," Liam says, laughing. Zayn thinks he's teasing, he hopes he's teasing, but it's hard to tell with Liam sometime. He tries to kick at him again but he only manages to nudge him in his side, sending him sideways, laughing his head off like this is the funniest thing that's ever happened to him.

See he just laughs too easily, that's the thing, Zayn's seen him walking around with Louis, laughing almost every time he glances over. Zayn grins down at him, leaning his elbows against his knees and holds his fingers together.

It's like things are almost okay. Zayn pretends he hasn't noticed because he thinks it might disappear, like a ghost in his peripheral vision. Liam seems content not to mention summer camp and he doesn't ask about the years they've spent apart. Zayn doesn't want to talk about it and he's still scared that it'll come up and he'll be too comfortable, too happy, to stop. He feels like kissing Liam when he was twelve might have been a huge mistake, something that made him so happy back then is haunting him now, making him miserable. It's irrational but it's an irrational fear and there's not much he can do about it.

It's been a long, long week and Zayn feels drained bone deep. He's got assignments piling up on each other and not enough time to go out for a pack of cigarettes. He's tired of how his heart still hammers in his chest when a group of rowdy boys brush past him in the hallway. He snapped at Niall during their class for doing nothing that would be worth it and he's just feeling like utter and total shit. He wants to go home and crawl into his bed and have a nap, shut off his brain for a little bit even though this is one of the reasons he keeps suffering in the mornings. He just wants to stop thinking for a second, it's getting too fucking exhausting inside his own head.

He remembers Perrie's hand on his arm during art class, the way she crouched down to peer into his eyes, voice sincere and warm. How she said he could talk to her about anything if he wanted, as if she could see the cracks starting to form already. He jokingly brushed her off like he always does, biting down on the inside of his cheeks.

Zayn wishes it was Friday already, wheeling his bike down the pavement and feeling an unreasonable surge of loathing at the thought of having to come back the next day. He just needs a nap, he's sure of it. He's not watching where he's going, concentrating on the cigarette butts littering the street and walks straight past Liam, pushing his bike along besides him.

"Hey, Zayn!" Liam calls out after him.

Zayn turns around to see him standing next to Louis, grinning widely at him. He's surrounded by some of his team mates and their girlfriends and they all look up curiously as Liam sets the spotlight on Zayn. He doesn't like being stared at, first and foremost, and Zayn just feels a terrible sense of foreboding at the set up of it all.

He waves half-heartedly but turns back around, keeps on walking away from Liam and away from them.

He doesn't expect for Liam to run after him, footsteps catching up before he rests his hand against Zayn's shoulder stopping him too. They're a bit further away, Liam's friends won't be able to hear them and a bunch of them have lost interest but Zayn still feels hyper aware of everyone staring.

"Are you okay?" Liam asks softly, concerned.

Zayn looks up at Liam and then past his shoulders to his friends. They've been hanging out a bit, in the library during lunch sometimes, at Zayn's place where they mostly do homework. It's not like they're together all the time at school though and Zayn doesn't know what this is about, what it's going to be like in front of his friends. He glances back at Liam, panicking at what he might do. At what he might lose. At what might happen - always with the fucking might.

"I'm just tired, going to head home is all," Zayn says, a bit too brusque.

"I can drive you if you're tired," Liam says, rubbing at his arm.

"No, I'm good," Zayn says, shaking his head. He looks back over at Louis, he can't help it, he's in flight or fight mode, and the knowing smile on his face makes his stomach turn into stone. "I - bye," he says, trying to escape.

"Wait," Liam says in a hurry, quickly glancing back at Louis too, a worried crease between his brows. Louis shoots him a quick thumbs up, wriggling his eyebrows, and Liam turns to Zayn, opening his mouth. He can't possibly guess what he's going to say before he says it but he knows it's something he doesn't want to hear. He tries desperately to tell him to stop but he's already saying, "We never did talk. About the summer. Zayn, I know we were only like thirteen but-"

"We were kids, we didn't know any better," Zayn spits out, his chest hurting like he's run a marathon. He tries his best to keep his voice steady, "It wasn't anything - I didn't - I've gotta run."

Zayn doesn't bother looking back at Louis again, he can already picture the disappointment on his face for letting him get away. He's told Louis, he's probably told all his mates, how Zayn tried to kiss him, how he let him. He gets on his bike, pedalling away even if he Liam calls out after him. He speeds up, turning his face around to find Liam running after him, the both of them getting further and further away from Louis and his friends. Zayn turns the corner the corner too fast, his head still tilted towards Liam.

He doesn't see the truck coming.

He doesn't see the truck coming until the last second when he swerves out of the way, the truck honking loud and insistent as it passes. He can't keep control of his bike for long. He's breathless for an endless moment, air borne, before he crashes back down to earth. The next thing he knows, he's on the ground, flat on his back and all he can feel is the crushing weight of something on his chest, so heavy he can't breath at all. He knows what it is though, he's had enough falls to know he's just winded, that he shouldn't panic and focus on getting his breath back. He takes in a huge heaving breath, the ice breaks and it all comes back to him, natural as breathing. He coughs, propping himself up on his elbow and wincing when the sting from the gravel stings. His knees and elbows and knees are scratched bloody.

He blinks hard, disoriented, and tries to get his bearings. He's had worse falls before trying to light his cigarette on his stupid bike. He pushes himself up into a sitting position, hissing at the way the heels of his palms are scratched raw. His bike's just a few feet from him, the wheel still turning. He didn't even land on the road, he takes another deep breath, he's fucking fine.

"Fuck," Zayn coughs out, making a face. He wants to leap back up, embarrassed but able to make a hasty retreat, and get back on his bike and ride home but he thinks he needs a moment down here.

"Zayn!" Liam says, finally rounding the corner. Time speeds up again, too fast now, and Liam's crouched down in front of him.

"I need to get a helmet," Zayn tells Liam.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," Liam says in panic, his hands hovering over Zayn as if he's not sure where to touch first.

Zayn hasn't heard Liam swear that much in one sentence and he can't help smiling humourlessly. "I'm not dead, Jesus fuck," Zayn says, coughing again. He tries to lift himself up, looking up to see the one or two people stopping to see if he's okay. He wants to be swallowed up by the ground.

"C'mon," Liam says, grabbing his arm and helping him stand.

Zayn kind of feels invincible. It doesn't hurt that much, not just yet, the pain's a distant blur and he's just miraculously missed getting hit by a truck and he hasn't hit his head on anything and he can still move all his limbs. He doesn't think he's broken much besides his pride and he feels like he's actually invincible. He feels pumped up full of energy, his heart still beating wildly from the fall. He leans on Liam anyway.

"What about my bike?" Zayn asks as Liam gets him into the front seat of his car.

"Louis said he'll take care of it," Liam says and Zayn's missed that part of the conversation completely. He didn't even notice Louis. There's been a rushing in his blood before this point though and now that he's settled down again, Liam reaching over to do his seatbelt like he's too injured to do it himself, it's all quietening down.

"Where're we going?" Zayn asks, wincing as he checks out his bloody elbow. The adrenaline must be washing off beacuse everything's starting to filter in again, the hurt and the tiredness.

"My house, my mum's a nurse - do you want to go to the hospital?" Liam asks, worrying at his bottom lip.

"No, it's fine," Zayn says, settling back into his seat, his head turned towards Liam. His sweat's cooled down and he feels cold and tired. He doesn't want to go to the hospital, he mostly wants a nap and then wake up to get himself cleaned up before his mum gets home.

He stares at Liam's profile and thinks of how he could've died. Because he's such a fucking idiot.

The drive's short and by the time they get to Liam's house, Zayn's aching and drowsy as all fuck. He's had worse than this, he's had bruises and broken fingers, he wants to tell Liam he can handle a few scratches. Liam's hand on his forearm doesn't let up either way, gently leading him into the house.

"Mum?" Liam calls out as they enter the house. "She's not home, fuck."

"Watch your language, mister," Zayn says with a snort but Liam doesn't laugh.

Zayn lets himself be led into the bathroom, Liam still holding onto him like he's just survived a car crash. Liam tells him to get his kit of. Zayn stares at him for a second, considering just saying no and going home to lick his wounds but Liam's already turned around, soaking a flannel in warm water. He leaves the bathroom to get the first aid kit, asking Zayn to stay, and when he gets back, Zayn's sitting at the edge of the bathtub in his underwear, poking at where he's bleeding.

"Stop that," Liam says, pulling an unhappy face. He starts by wiping all the dirt and blood off and Zayn makes an effort not to hiss out loud, biting down on his tongue instead.

Liam's taking care of him even after Zayn said he basically didn't give a fuck all about him, never did, and Zayn doesn't see why he's still trying. Zayn chews on the inside of his cheeks, making an involuntary noise when he starts with the bactine. He can do this himself, he's done it loads of times before, but Liam's hands are warm against his skin and Zayn can't bring himself to break away.

"How are you feeling? Is your head okay?" he asks and Zayn nods, going all quiet again. He shivers and rubs at his eyes, stopping immediately when the proximity of the disinfectant on his palm makes his eyes water.

"Do you want to rest for a bit? I don't think it's that bad but mum's going to want to have a look at you when she gets back," Liam says, offering Zayn a hand. Zayn blinks at it sleepily for a second before taking it, letting himself be hauled up.

"Alright," Zayn mumbles and falls into Liam's bed, crawling underneath the covers, still only in his pants. He winces as he gets in, finally letting his head fall against Liam's pillow, breathing in the comforting smell of fabric softener and clean soap andteenage boy and Liam. He opens his eyes only to yawn again, Liam still hovering around like he's not sure what he's meant to do when he's got a scratched up boy in his bedroom.

Zayn reaches out for Liam, takes his hand and thinks it's a lot easier when he's so tired. He tugs and it's not enough to get him to fall into the bed besides him, much too small for the both of them, but Liam sits down anyway.

"I didn't mean it," Zayn says, his face smushed into Liam's pillow. It's adequate cover-up of his face, he feels, even if the scratched on the high point of his left cheek is complaining a bit. "I thought you were going to - to hurt me. But. I didn't mean it. It was stupid. I'm a bit stupid."

"No, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have chased after you," Liam says softly, voice so low Zayn has to strain to hear him.

Zayn's warm underneath the duvet and mostly comfortable, everything's soft against his achy skin and the drowsiness is really washing over him now. His throat feels terrible and raw though. He doesn't know what to say, he's terrified but it's anything like his fear of heights or open water. Zayn's taken back to the nights spent in Liam's bunk, whispering in the dark as everyone else fell asleep around them.

"Louis said I should at least try, if it meant so much to me, if you did," Liam says.

"You do too," Zayn mumbles, "I just can't." He trails off, he can't stand to voice it out loud let alone think about it a the moment.

"Alright, that's fine," Liam says, sounds as if he's comforting him. Zayn closes his eyes again, curling in on himself a bit and Liam says, "We can still be friends, right? Like before?"

"Yeah, I'd like that," Zayn says thickly and falls asleep.

Zayn wakes up a short while later and stays until Liam's parents get home. His mum goes over his cuts and bruises again while Liam tries his best not to hover in the background. And then they realise it's Zayn, that he's the Zayn, and they both stare at him in wonder for a moment, looking back and forth between him in Liam.

"We thought he made you up," she says with a laugh, grasping his hands, and insists Zayn stays for dinner.

By then, Liam's sister Ruth comes home and she stares at him like she's seen a ghost when he introduces himself. Zayn doesn't mind, sitting down at the table in Liam's clothes a couple of sizes too big for him. The jumper is red and fresh from the laundry and it doesn't have that lingering scent of Liam that was on his pillow but it's nice all the same. Zayn likes Liam's parents, he can see bits of them in Liam.

After they finish with dinner he tries to help with the clean up but it's apparently Liam and his dad's turn and his Karen's not having any of it. She insists he shouldn't be exerting himself after a fall like today. He sits with Karen in the living room and she reaches for his hand again, blinking sudden tears from her eyes.

"I just wanted to say thank you," she says and Zayn gapes at her, panicking. He looks around for anyone to save him but it's just the two of them. He doesn't know what to do, Liam's mum's crying.

"For what?" he asks instead, feeling like a useless lump on the sofa.

"For being his friend," she says simply. "After he came back from camp, he was just - he was happier with himself, I think, and I really think you helped him with that."

Zayn can feel a lump growing in the back of his throat but he wants to speak, he wants to tell her that was years ago, he couldn't possibly have done much at all - it was one summer. He doesn't though, he just squeezes her hand and nods mutely, jumping when Liam finally comes back into the living room. He's looking around for his keys so he can take Zayn home and Karen hids her tears easily, disappearing off into the kitchen so Zayn's just left to deal with that dump of undeserved gratitude all by himself.

"Oh god, what's she been telling you now? Alright - I used to wet the bed until I was seven, it's a lot more common than you think," Liam says in good spirits. He seems better now that he's mum's checked over Zayn, assured he's fine. "Well, apparently more common in kids who have to spend nights at the hospital."

Zayn shakes his head and says, "She didn't say anything."

"Well, I've just dug myself deeper now," Liam says, shrugging as if he doesn't really care.

They drive in silence but it's not exactly uncomfortable, it's more like a sort of understanding has passed between them even though Zayn's trying to keep the memory of that as groggy as possible. Zayn just watches Liam's hands on the steering wheel because it's easier than staring at his profile, the pink of his worried bottom lip. He focuses on how competent Liam's hands are, easy skills memorised.

"I'm off," Zayn says, reaching for the handle when they arrive at his house. "Thanks for everything."

"No problem," Liam says. He follows Zayn out of the car and when Zayn stares at him in confusion he says, "You're coming home covered in scratches and bruises, your parents are going to be worried sick. I just don't want them to get the wrong idea."

Zayn nods like it makes sense and Liam walks with him up to the door. He doesn't know where his keys are so they have to wait for Zayn's mum to open the door, standing close on the doormat. The door opens and she makes a noise of relief at the sight of him, hugging him in close immediately and then pulling back to take in the visible scratches left on his cheek.

"Where have you been?" she asks, stroking her hands over his face in worry. Zayn lets her for a moment and then tries to pull back, making a face.

"I had dinner at Liam's place," Zayn says, jerking his head towards Liam. "I got into a bit of a scrape, actually, but I'm okay. My bike's a bit screwed up, though."

"Are you sure? We should go to the doctor," she asks, turning his head this way and that, involuntarily squishing his face out of shape.

"Liam's mum's a nurse and she did everything - mum, let go, I promise I'm fine," Zayn placates, grabbing the hands on his face but not pulling them off until they slide down on their own accord.

"Liam?" she asks, as if she didn't notice this whole time. She steps out of the doorway to get a better look at him. "Thank you," she says, taking the hand she offers him.

"It was nothing, Mrs Malik," Liam says politely, giving her his parent smile. Zayn snorts but he's ignored by the both of them.

"Alright, come in then, I've made samosas for dinner if you're hungry," she tells them and disappears back inside.

"I've got to get back, actually," Liam says, raising his voice a bit as if he expects his mum to be able to hear him.

"Yeah, of course," Zayn says.

He hesitates for a moment, looking at the way Liam's broad shoulders are bunched together, his head ducking a little bit in a way that's familiar now, his hands deep in his pockets. He throws caution to the wind and does what he's wanted to do for a while now. He reaches forward and hugs him, wrapping his arms around his shoulders and pulling him in. Liam doesn't move away in surprise but it does take a moment for him to take his hands out of his pockets, adjusting quickly and getting his arms around his waist.

"I'll see you tomorrow, yeah?" Zayn asks.

"I'll pick you up in the morning," Liam says, letting go and Zayn nods, waving back at him when he turns back around.

Zayn's grabs a piece of toast on the way out of his house, waving behind him distractedly when his mum protests. He holds it in his mouth, his bag hanging off his shoulder as he hurriedly finishes zipping it up. He opens the door to Liam's car with his free hand and dumps his bag underneath the dashboard, following it in. He finally falls back against the seat, end of all the noise and movement, and pulls the toast out of his mouth, breathing out a sign of relief because they won't be that late this time. Liam's been picking him up until his bike gets fixed and Zayn's getting better at waking up in the mornings.

"Sorry for keeping you waiting, mum wanted me to have breakfast," Zayn says as an excuse, waving his toast around. He's not going to eat it, obviously, but he can't safely throw it out of the window until they've at least turned the corner.

"No worries," Liam says with a laugh, waving past Zayn to his mum still standing in the doorway in her work clothes.

Zayn turns around and she disappears quickly inside, smiling giddily as if she thinks Zayn can't see her. He resolutely turns back to the front, holding his toast in his lap.

"How's the battle wounds?" Liam asks, like he does every morning.

Zayn turns his head to face him, unknowingly into Liam's waiting open palm. That doesn't usually happen. Zayn feels hot all over a sudden, warmth radiating from his cheeks onto Liam's hand. Liam runs his thumb gently over his cheek, where it's almost entirely healed now, a look of concentration on his face.

"Alright," Zayn says, his voice climbing. He clears his throat, trying to slow down the racing of his pulse through sheer will. "They're fine. Now drive, we're going to be late."

Sometimes Liam's class is on the way and he walks with Zayn, almost tripping with the way he's walking, his head tilted towards Zayn. It's normal, it's comfortable, it's like their friends again. Except Liam doesn't ask for his jumper back and smiles all day when Zayn wears it to school, almost entirely by accident, in a rush to grab another layer of clothing so he doesn't freeze to death in his art classroom. Perrie lends him her jackets sometimes but then Zayn always feels like a dick because she'll be freezing to death. Liam tugs at the front of his jumper and tells him to keep it and Zayn tucks his nose under the collar every now and then, even if it doesn't smell anything like Liam any more.

It's like their friends except Liam touches him sometimes, all soft and gentle and in a way Zayn's entirely unused to.

It's like their friends except for the way Zayn wants to kiss him and his birthmark and the hairline at his temple and the second knuckle on his left hand with the little scar.

It's like their friends except for all the ways their not and it's burning Zayn up from the inside out.

Liam's parents are out of town for a whole week to visit their relatives and it spreads like wildfire that Louis' throwing one of his parties. Zayn wonders if Liam knows he's allowed to say no but then again, he doesn't think he would mean it. Liam asks him if he's coming, brown eyes going big and hopeful. Zayn knocks his knuckles against Liam's chin, it's meant to have more force but it softens before he reaches his skin, like always, and Zayn nods.

When Zayn arrives, Niall's already having the time of his life. He's in the middle of the living room, surrounded by a group of people, and he's well on his way to shamefacedly passing out on the couch just an hour later. Harry stumbles in behind Zayn, dressed in all black, his fingers firm at the small of Zayn's back as a form of greeting. Niall jumps off the sofa, trying to land on him. He winds his arms around his neck, holding his drink out carefully so it won't spill all over the both of them - just everyone else around them. He kisses Harry's ear sloppily, nuzzling into the curls there in greeting.

"You're here! The hottie with the sexy body!" Niall shouts enthusiastically, throwing his head back and laughing, loud enough to be heard over the music.

Harry laughs along, leaning down to hug Niall properly while Niall ignores that and tries to climb him like a tree. Zayn grabs two beers, handing one to Harry from behind Niall, winking at him when he says, "Cheers!"

Zayn sets the lid of his beer bottle on the mantle on his way out of the living room, walking down the hallway where the music is quieter. He takes a sip, getting away from the crowd of people. He peeks in the kitchen, trying to find Liam, and sees Louis pressed up against the counter, between Eleanor's legs. He doesn't notice Zayn, or of anything but Eleanor, and Zayn keeps walking till he gets to Liam's room.

He has his hand on the doorknob about to enter when it occurs to him he should probably knock. There's no answer and the light's off but that can mean a lot of things right now. He opens the door anyway. There's nobody in the room and Zayn sighs out in relief and closes the door behind him. He drinks half his beer in one go, tilting his back and swallowing multiple times. He walks around the room, the street lights giving him enough light, trailing his fingertips over the surfaces of his bed and wardrobe, hopelessly intrigued. He walks over to his desk and puts his bottle down.

There's a mounted bookshelf above his desk, mostly empty, but there's more than one picture of Liam and his friends. Zayn smiles at the pictures of Louis, Niall and Harry. Liam looks incredibly happy in all of them, to have found them, and he has his arms around them all as if he's trying to get them to take a decent photo for once. Zayn thumbs at Liam's smile, smudging the glass, and moves on. His eyes track over the title of the books he has, mostly books he needs to read for school and comic books. One catches Zayn's eyes, the sticky tape over the thin spine jutting out beyond the rest. Zayn pulls it out carefully and lays it out on the desk, turning the lamp on.

It's the comic book Zayn left in Liam's bag. The one he used to read all the time, his favourite, the one he loaned to Liam - back when he was sure they were going to meet again. He doesn't know if he wouldn't have given it to Liam if he knew they would never see each other again. He's always wanted to give his best to Liam.

It's ruined, for lack of a better word, barely held together by the ridiculous amount of sticky tape. The pages are worn with age and wear and Zayn grins to himself at the smudges here and there, of food and accidental pen marks and he's pretty sure that's a drool mark and he imagines little Liam going through the comic over and over again until it becomes like this. Liam kept it, he might've still believed they'd see each other one day - which is more than what Zayn can say for himself.

The door opens and Zayn spins around, his fingers still on the comic book. He expects to see Louis and Eleanor more than he expects to see Liam staring at him like he can't quiet believe it.

"I didn't think you'd come," Liam says, closing the door behind him. "I was looking for you anyway."

Zayn looks at him, surprised, "Of course I did."

Liam walks over, pushing his hands into the pocket of his jeans. He looks nice, slightly out of place with his button down shirt, but he's slightly flushed and he's smiling. Zayn thinks it'd be terribly hard for Liam not to look good when he's smiling. Liam looks over Zayn's shoulder, close enough to be touching him, to the comic book on his desk.

"I was going to give it back," he says.

Zayn turns away and sits down on the edge of his bed. He's just there, solid heat behind him, and Zayn wants to kiss him so much, every nerve in his body's drawn to it. He looks up at Liam and undoes all the good that physically moving away did. It must show on his face, everything he's trying to hide, because Liam walks over as well, sitting down besides him. Zayn's eyes are drawn to Liam's hands on the bed sheet, moving slowly, only his fingertips pressing against Zayn's fingers.

Liam starts, like he's going to say something, but Zayn leans forward and kisses him before the terror can seize up his heart. He presses his lips against Liam's, soft, waiting until Liam kisses him back, cupping his jaw and trying to get closer, like he's been waiting for Zayn to make the move.

Zayn wants to tell him everything. He wants to turn all the lights off and lie down in bed side by side and tell him how it didn't get better - not much did. How it made him think he had to be the one that was the problem, he couldn't be loved. He wants to tell him how he thinks it might have fucked him up a little, the hurt left inside. He wants to tell him how much he missed him, how fucking miserable he was all by himself.

"Liam, I'm really scared," Zayn tells him instead, closing his eyes, swallowing repeatedly to keep the sting in his nose at bay.

"Of what?" Liam asks softly, his hands resting at the sides of his neck, his thumb brushing against the corner of his mouth. He's still close enough Zayn can feel his breath against his lips.

"Of everything," Zayn confesses, his heart beating loud and clear over it.

Liam leans forward again, kissing his cheek. Zayn opens his eyes, hot wetness smearing his lashes together. He blinks hard and Liam wipes at his cheek with his thumb, his touch gentle.

"I'm sorry it took so long," Zayn says, swallowing down the ache in his throat. He kisses Liam again, his pulse racing at the shape of his mouth pressed against his, kissing him back like he understands. Liam pulls back, kissing the corner of his mouth, the high point of his cheek and over his eyebrow.

"I love you," Zayn says, his fingertips pressed against the skin of Liam's neck, everything narrowing down to this, that look in Liam's eyes, trust and love and hope.

This isn't how it ends, but it is another another start.