Chapter Text
They’d only been sitting on the sidewalk for a few minutes when Zayn’s phone started to vibrate with an incoming call. Zayn awkwardly adjusted Liam on his lap and pulled it out of his pocket.
“Lou and Harry,” Zayn informed Liam after glancing at the caller ID. He swiped his finger across the screen. “Hello? Yeah, I’ve got Liam with me. He’s fine. Well, not fine.” Zayn looked down to scrutinize Liam’s probably tear-splotched face. “But intact.”
Liam pushed his nose into Zayn’s shoulder and Zayn brought his free hand up to comb through Liam’s hair.
“Right now? We’re...I don’t know. Close-ish to downtown. I’m taking him back to mine?”
Liam, understanding that the question was meant for him without looking up, nodded against Zayn.
“Yeah, back to mine, then. Okay. I will. Hey, will you call Niall for us and just let him know everything’s okay? I know. I’ll call him soon as we’re in the car. Just shoot him a text or something, yeah? All right. See you in a bit, then.”
Zayn ended the call. “Louis and Harry send their love. If it’s cool, they’re probably going to drop by after their shift ends.”
Liam nodded his assent.
“Good.” A pause. “So, how do you feel about getting up off the concrete and heading for my car?”
Liam mentally debated. On the one hand, he’d sort of been dozing off into a sleepy state of comfort for the last couple of minutes, and he was loath to get up and break the serenity. On the other hand, Zayn’s legs were probably falling asleep, and now that he was no longer in a state of complete panic, it occurred to Liam that he really needed to go to the bathroom.
Liam reluctantly peeled himself away from Zayn and stood up.
“Th-thanks,” he mumbled as Zayn slung Liam’s backpack over one shoulder.
“‘s no problem,” Zayn assured, holding out his hand to Liam.
Liam looked back at it hesitantly. Despite the very close embrace they’d just shared, Liam wasn’t sure whether this meant things were back to normal yet, or Zayn was just throwing Liam a lifeline in his moment of need. “Is—are w-we—”
Zayn enclosed Liam’s hand in his own and drew him closer to kiss his temple. “Don’t worry,” he soothed. “We’ll talk about it later, okay?”
Liam nodded, not entirely at ease, but not willing to relinquish his hold on Zayn’s hand either.
Zayn led the way over to his car, which was rather dreadfully parallel parked outside a convenience store a couple blocks away.
“Wow, that’s just terrible,” Zayn remarked of his parking job as they approached. Liam had to agree; it was a wonder Zayn’s bumper hadn’t been taken off by passing traffic. “I might have been in a bit of a hurry to find you.”
Liam’s heart did a cartwheel.
As soon as he slid into the driver’s seat, Zayn phoned Niall.
“Hi—” was all Zayn got out before Liam heard Niall speaking both very loudly and very quickly on the other end. Zayn moved the phone a few inches away from his ear. “Ni—Niall. Calm down, dude. I’m putting him on. Christ.” Zayn held out the phone to Liam.
Liam gulped. He was about to get an earful. Liam took the phone from Zayn and held it up to his ear cautiously. “H-Hi, Niall.”
“Liam Payne, do you have any idea what the hell you put me through today? Do you?” Liam cringed away from the phone, but Niall was already plowing on, “Jesus Christ, Liam. One call! One call would’ve done. I’ve been driving myself mad over here all day. I was ready to jump back on a bus when Zayn texted to say he was picking you up. Fuck, Liam—”
Liam was curled into a quivering ball in the passenger seat when Zayn pried the phone from his hand. “Niall,” Zayn said sharply into the phone. “You’re upsetting Liam. You can call back when you’ve calmed down a bit.” And then promptly hung up on Niall.
Liam could have laughed, if he wasn’t already on the brink of tears again. Zayn laid a hand on his shoulder.
“He was just worried,” Zayn said softly. “He’s not angry with you, even if he’s got a really shitty way of showing it just at the moment.” Zayn gave Liam a half-hearted grin. “Such a mother hen, that one.” Liam flinched at the word mother, and Zayn grimaced apologetically.
“Here,” Zayn said, hooking up his iPod to the auxiliary cord and handing it to Liam. “You pick.”
Liam gave Zayn a grateful smile and started to scroll through the artists while Zayn maneuvered his way out of the parking spot. Soon, The Black Keys was blaring from the speakers while Zayn belted out the lyrics, taking hold of Liam’s hand over the gearshift. Liam wiped his still-runny nose against his sleeve and couldn’t quite bring himself to hum, but.
It felt a bit like coming home.
***
“So, Liam,” Zayn said as they stepped into his room. “Is this...where’s the rest of your stuff, if you don’t mind me asking?”
“Um.” Liam scratched his arm awkwardly. “With m-my mom?”
Zayn blinked.
Liam, blushing furiously, confessed to how he’d quite literally run away from his mother. A decision that, in retrospect, seemed a little rash. Although if Liam had it to do all over again, he wasn’t sure he’d spend one more second in his mother’s presence, even if it was to gather up the rest of his belongings. It’s not like there had been much to begin with.
“You can borrow some of my clothes, if you want,” Zayn offered, dropping Liam’s backpack next to the bed.
Liam nodded, kicking off his shoes. He was more than ready to purge himself of every memory from today, including these disgusting, slept-in, sweaty clothes. Liam brushed the remaining dirt off the seat of his pants and accepted the folded clothes Zayn offered him. Overcome with a wave of déjà vu, Liam stepped into the bathroom. After finally taking the opportunity to relieve himself, he wadded up his soiled clothes and slipped on Zayn’s t-shirt. He drew the collar up over his nose and inhaled; it smelled like Zayn’s room. Like safety. Liam pulled on Zayn’s sweats and exited the bathroom.
Zayn was reclined against the headboard of his bed, flipping through a comic, in what would seem like a relaxed position--if not for Zayn’s fingers tapping agitatedly against the pages and his set jaw. He looked up when Liam emerged and gave him a tight smile. Liam, didn’t allow himself the chance to stop and over-think the complicated situation between himself and Zayn. He promptly went over to curl back up against Zayn’s chest. Zayn didn’t seem to mind. He put the comic on his bedside table and pulled the duvet up over Liam’s toes before wrapping his arms securely around Liam’s waist.
“Do you want to talk about it?” Zayn offered quietly, obviously trying to respect Liam’s feelings and not sound too much like he wanted to talk about it, but not quite pulling it off.
Liam figured he might as well. Not talking about it hadn’t done him much good, had it? But where to even begin?
“I’m g-guessing N-Niall told you ab-bout my parents,” Liam mumbled, picking at his fingers, because he wasn’t sure how else to start.
Zayn’s arms tightened around him. “He told me enough. Called mid-morning and said his parents told him your mom was coming to visit, really panicked, like. At first I didn’t understand, ‘cause like…well, you’d said she didn’t have your back when your dad kicked you out, but then I thought maybe…” Zayn shrugged.
“Yeah, m-me too,” Liam whispered miserably. “But she j-just came bec-c-cause my dad is, uh. H-he’s in p-prison, ap-apparently.”
“What?” Zayn hissed.
“Mmm-hmm. As-s-ssaulted a coworker? I th-think.”
“Ah,” Zayn said grimly. “Niall told me about. About what your dad, um.” Zayn cleared his throat and Liam closed his eyes against the word he knew was coming. “That he was abusive.”
Liam whimpered. It wasn’t that he didn’t know (now) that what had gone on in his childhood home was abuse. But having the label slapped on there seemed to make the whole thing so much more…real. So much worse.
“Liam.” Zayn’s voice was choked.
Liam looked up at Zayn with surprise. Much to Liam’s horror, Zayn looked nothing short of devastated. Liam opened his mouth but could find no suitable response. Zayn brought his hand up to rest at the curve between Liam’s neck and shoulder. “I just. I don’t even know what to say. The idea that someone could fucking lay their hands on you like—” He broke off, and took a deep, calming breath through his nose. “I’m just so sorry, Liam. So sorry.”
Liam gave a weak chuckle. “Ap-p-polog-gizing for s-something that’s n-not your fault,” he evaded.
Zayn’s mouth spread into a humorless smile. “Not apologizing,” he countered softly, rubbing his thumb rhythmically across Liam’s neck. “Just sympathetic.
“Although,” Zayn added, stony-faced once more, “I am apologizing for ever blowing up at you. No,” he interrupted when Liam opened his mouth to reassure Zayn that he didn’t need to keep apologizing for that. “Jesus, Liam.” Zayn looked at him with a combination of wonderment and incredulity. “How did you ever even tolerate me, always flying off the handle like that? Beating the shit out of people at the drop of a hat. You were so scared of me.” The last bit came out as hardly more than a whisper (a regret Zayn had expressed before, but now seemed to carry infinitely more weight).
“I w-was,” Liam admitted, “but Z-Zayn.” Liam shook his head, not knowing how to even articulate this. “My d-dad always made m-me feel like sh-shit. Always. I w-was never…he n-never…” He took a deep breath, trying to concentrate on the weight of Zayn’s hand on his shoulder and the pad of Zayn’s thumb on his pulse point. “I c-can’t remem-ember the last n-nice thing he s-said about me. Or to me. H-he int-t-tentionally hurt m-me. And m-my mom always s-sided him, in the end.
“Niall l-looks out for m-me. And I l-love him, but.
“That night, w-when I called you in N-North Carol-l-lina, and you just d-dropped everything to t-talk to me. T-told me the ki-indest things. I couldn’t rememb-ber the last time anyone…” Liam sniffed frustratedly and wiped furiously at his eyes. “And y-you never tried to hu-urt me. You’ve always p-protected me. B-been angry on m-m-my behalf, but n-never w-wanted to hurt me, or m-make me afraid, l-like...like he…”
Zayn leaned forward and pressed a kiss to Liam’s forehead. “How you turned out the way you are is totally beyond me,” he told Liam. “You’re the kindest, gentlest person I’ve ever met. If I was—if that was me, I mean. You see how bitter I am towards my own dad, let alone—”
Liam shook his head to silence his boyfriend, because it was no use letting Zayn make himself feel guilty over a hypothetical situation. “It’s n-not like it did-idn’t m-mess me up.” Zayn made to protest but Liam hurtled onward, “L-like being af-f-fraid of people. The anxiety. Always f-feeling like…” Liam brought a hand up to clutch at his chest, as if the next bit might physically wrench something from his heart, “I’ll alw-ways f-fuck things up, s-somehow.”
Zayn’s lips formed a thin, severe line and he was silent for a long, painful moment. “Do you think maybe,” Zayn began tentatively, watching Liam carefully, gauging his reaction, “that’s something you want to talk to a professional about?”
Liam’s jaw slackened. “What?”
“I don’t want to pressure you into anything,” Zayn hastened to add. “I’m always here, you know that. To listen, help, however I can. But Liam, your family situation is really…”
Fucked up? Liam mentally supplied.
“Complicated.”
Well, that was nothing if not diplomatic.
“Obviously the other guys and I are going to be there for you no matter what,” Zayn continued. “Niall’s not going to let you out of his sight for the next year, probably.” Liam cracked a weary smile. “But I know I found talking to someone helpful, with the anger stuff. And if you maybe ever feel like you need some outside help, too, then you need to tell us, okay?”
This was all a bit much to process. Therapy? It was a laugh if Zayn thought Liam could pay for something like that. Liam had exactly one backpack full of stuff to his name.
“Liam.”
Zayn’s sharp effort to regain his attention made Liam realize how close he was to hyperventilation. He gripped at Zayn’s shirt while Zayn made soft hushing sounds and steadied Liam by his shoulders. When Liam felt he had his breathing under control once more, he slumped back against Zayn’s chest.
“I didn’t mean to upset you,” Zayn apologized, sounding dejected.
Liam shook his head. “N-not your f-fault,” he said. “It’s a l-lot, is all. I’m t-tired.”
Zayn hmm-ed sympathetically. “You wanna go to sleep?” he suggested, even though they both knew this was not the kind of tired Liam was referring to.
Liam decided he could probably do with a nap anyway. He nodded and clumsily rolled out of Zayn’s arms to lie down beside him. Zayn pulled the blankets over top Liam, who snuggled into the pillow and inhaled that now-familiar Zayn smell.
Zayn reached over to run a hand over Liam’s hair. “I’ll text Lou and Harry, so they know not to enter like a herd of elephants when they arrive,” Zayn joked.
Liam smiled without opening his eyes.
“Hey, Liam.”
Liam reluctantly peeled back his eyelids to glance drowsily up at Zayn.
“Whatever you decide you want to do, about talking to someone about all this, or where you’re going to live, or about school or anything, we’ll figure out a way to make it work, okay? You don’t have to worry about figuring this out on your own. We’re here for you.”
Liam didn’t bother to point out how ludicrously optimistic that was, or express his own lingering doubts. For now, it was enough to know that Zayn (and by extension, Louis, Harry, and Niall) felt that way about him. That they honestly would do anything in their (admittedly limited) power to make sure he was safe and happy.
Liam wasted no time falling asleep to the click-click sound of Zayn typing out his text messages to the others.
***
Liam awoke sometime later to the sound of soft voices. At first, he wasn’t sure whether or not he was fully awake, or if they were the vestiges of some dream he’d been having. But when Liam rolled over to press his face into someone’s side (probably Zayn’s, he realized sleepily), the voices stopped. Liam was teetering on the brink of drifting off again, and so did not open his eyes. A hand resumed its petting of Liam’s hair.
“So where is she now?” Liam heard Harry’s voice ask, somewhere in the vicinity of his feet. Liam felt a hand rest on his ankle gently and the cloud of drowsiness started to clear from his mind.
“Dunno,” Zayn said, right above Liam’s head. “Took his phone, and there’s a couple missed calls but it was on silent, so I don’t think he knows about them. I guess he was going back with her, and then decided not to? I found him sitting on the sidewalk like, twenty minutes away from the park.”
Someone let out a low whistle.
“Shit.” That was Louis.
“It was...bad,” Zayn disclosed in hardly more than a whisper.
“I wonder why he…” Harry did not finish the thought, but simply trailed off into contemplative silence.
Liam, who couldn’t help but feel like he was eavesdropping, decided it was probably time to casually announce his consciousness. He did so by nuzzling a bit deeper into Zayn’s side and then turning to blink up at him.
“Hey there.” Zayn granted Liam a tired smile. “Feeling better?”
Liam nodded against Zayn’s waist, and then, with a great effort, shoved himself up into a half-sitting-half-lying position beside him. Harry was stretched across the foot of the bed, head propped up on one hand, and Louis was lounging on the couch.
“Hey,” Harry greeted in a low, quiet voice. Liam felt Zayn take his hand under the covers, and gave it a squeeze.
“Hi,” Liam replied, equally quiet. Even Lou looked subdued, watching them from the couch, turning his phone over in his hands agitatedly. Liam kind of wished they would all stop staring at him like that.
“S-sorry for not showing up t-to work today,” Liam said to break the silence.
Louis snorted. “Yeah, really inconvenienced us, that. ‘s actually why we’ve gathered you here, to tell you off.”
Liam frowned.
“Louis gets a bit sarcastic when he’s worried,” Harry said needlessly, eying his boyfriend sharply. “We’re glad you’re okay. And we told Simon you were sick today, so don’t even worry about it.”
“Thanks,” said Liam as he picked at the duvet with his fingers. “Sorry t-to worry you.”
Harry just rubbed his foot consolingly. “Don’t sweat it. You’re here now, that’s all that matters.”
“Your mom, did she leave town?” Louis asked in that same icy tone, which would have had Liam scrambling to get under the covers if he didn’t know it was directed at his mother, not him.
Liam shrugged, pressing closer to Zayn all the same. “Not sure. She m-might…” Liam looked uncertainly at Zayn. “What if sh-she comes back? T-to try and t-t-talk me ‘round?”
Zayn adjusted to wrap an arm around Liam’s shoulders protectively. “You can stay here until Niall gets back.”
Liam smiled gratefully. Then realized, “Oh, Niall!”
“He’s been calling for you,” Zayn said. “Even though I told him you were asleep.”
“I sh-should call him,” Liam said. It did not escape Liam’s notice that the phone Zayn handed him was Zayn’s, rather than Liam’s. Liam decided not to mention he’d overheard about the messages Zayn was hiding (and no doubt planning to delete). Whatever, Liam had no desire to listen to them anyway. Instead, Liam took the phone and crawled out of the bed to put on his shoes. As soon as he’d stepped outside and descended the staircase into the garage, Liam dialed Niall’s number.
“Zayn. What’s up? Is Liam okay?”
“Not Zayn.”
“Liam.” Niall breathed his name like a sigh of relief and Liam felt a pang of guilt jab at his heart.
“I’m sorry,” Liam said desperately. “I’m so, s-so sorry, N-Niall. I don’t kn-now what—”
“Hey, calm down. It’s fine,” Niall placated. “Liam, it’s fine. I’m not mad. I’m sorry for upsetting you earlier. I was just really, really worried. I’m glad you’re safe, okay?”
Liam nodded even though Niall couldn’t see him (it was mostly to reassure himself anyway). “Okay.”
“Okay,” Niall echoed. Then huffed out a sigh. “I’m glad you didn’t go with her.”
“Me too,” Liam admitted. He quite actually couldn’t believe that he’d been so foolish.
“I can’t believe she had the nerve to show up at our place,” Niall said venomously. “After nearly three months. Jesus Christ.”
“Sh-she came bec-c-cause my dad is, um. In p-p-prison.”
“Holy fuck.”
“Yeah.”
“So is she…”
“Staying wi-ith him,” Liam confirmed. “Yeah. ‘s w-why I decided not t-to go back.” Liam barked out a hysterical laugh. “C-can’t believe I alm-most…I’m so s-stupid.”
“No. I mean, it’s your mom,” Niall said, trying to sound reasonable despite his blatant hatred of Liam’s mother (and, whereas Liam would’ve found this offensive in May, he was now more than sympathetic to Niall’s opinion). “I think I understand why you might have felt like you needed to go with her. I’m not even gonna try to pretend like I know what that’s like, to have parents that are so…” Niall heaved another sigh. “I’m sure it was complicated.”
There was that word again. Complicated. Liam paused for a moment, debating whether or not to say what was on his mind. “Zayn s-said maybe I should, um, t-talk to s-someone? About everyth-th-thing. Like. A therapist.”
Liam chewed his lip while Niall was silent on the other end of the line. “Is that…is that something you want?” Niall was cautious.
“I don’t know,” Liam confessed. “N-Niall, I feel s-so…”
So what?
Lost. Hurt. Insecure, always. Afraid for his future, haunted by his past.
The other boys were…grounding. They were Liam’s family. But the more Liam reflected on the past twenty-four hours—the culmination of nearly twenty years of emotional (and sometimes physical) disregard by the two people who should have loved him most in the world—the more Liam was thinking...
“I n-need some help,” Liam whispered into the phone.
Niall’s answer was immediate and determined. “Whatever you need, Liam.”
“Okay,” Liam agreed, and almost believed it—that come hell or high water (or, as the case may be, excessively expensive therapy sessions), Niall would be able to do whatever it took to make sure Liam was okay. There was a burning lump in his throat, but it felt more like the imminence of happy tears than sad ones.
“We can talk more about this when I get back, yeah? I was planning on coming home Sunday, but I can come back sooner if you need me.”
“No, n-no,” Liam assured. “I’m s-staying at Zayn’s.”
“Oh. Good. That’s good.” Niall was audibly relieved.
“Yeah.”
“Well, then.” Niall took a deep breath and adopted a more playful tone. “Don’t cause too much trouble for Zayn, you hear? I know what a rambunctious guest you can be.”
Liam rolled his eyes. If Niall was making jokes, then he must truly feel reassured. “I’ll try,” Liam promised sarcastically.
“You do that,” Niall commanded faux-seriously. Then added, more genuinely, “Take care of yourself, Liam. I’ll see you in a few days. Call if you need anything.”
“Will do,” Liam agreed. “Th-thanks.”
“No problem. Love you, man.”
Yeah, there were those happy tears again, nearly spilling over now. “Bye, Niall.”
***
The Maliks, as it turned out, were less keen on having their son’s boyfriend stay over for multiple nights in his room (Liam had to admit, from an outsider’s perspective, it did seem kind of shady, what with Zayn’s room separate from the rest of the house). Liam could respect their wishes, despite the fact that, as Zayn pointed out, he was away at school for nine months of the year, when his parents had no idea what strange boys were sleeping in his room (Liam tried hard not to think too much about that). And of course, there was also the small matter of Liam and Zayn’s sexual relationship being, for all intents and purposes, nonexistent.
The comforting embraces, kisses, and handholding, well. It was exactly that: comfort. Zayn had still expressed no burning desire to get intimate with Liam, and even though it consistently reminded Liam of what had gotten them to this point in the first place (cue the renewed waves of guilt), he couldn’t say that he minded. Liam wasn’t sure how physical intimacy would affect his fragile emotional state, anyway. It might just totally fry his brain, he mused.
Since camping out at Zayn’s was not an option, it seemed that Louis, Harry, and Zayn had all taken up self-appointed positions on Liam Watch until Niall returned. This involved staying with Liam at Niall’s apartment all hours that they were not working (and totally disregarding Liam’s protests that it wasn’t necessary). The constant company was not as tiresome as Liam initially feared it would be. Zayn was the one who followed him home from work and spent afternoons at the apartment, chatting with Liam or watching TV or reading in silence. Liam was relieved that Zayn seemed to require no entertainment, as Liam really couldn’t bring himself to care about the conventions of being a good host on top of everything else. At night, either Harry or Louis or both would arrive to spend the night.
Liam did a lot of stress baking over the next few days. He didn’t recognize that’s what it was until Zayn pointed out the trend on Friday, as Liam removed an eighth batch of blueberry muffins from the oven.
“It m-makes me feel bet-t-tter,” Liam confessed, rubbing his oven mitts together self-consciously.
“I’m not complaining,” Zayn assured him, unwrapping a muffin. “Those snickerdoodles you made yesterday were to die for.”
Liam glowed.
“But this does seem a bit excessive today,” Zayn continued as Liam searched for a tupperware container to store the muffins, only to discover he’d used them all up already. “Anything you want to tell me?”
Liam tugged at his shirtsleeves and directed his response at the counter. “Phone s-service cut off t-today.”
Zayn stopped munching on his muffin and swallowed thickly. “Oh.”
Liam nodded, trying not to feel too upset about something that he’d known was inevitable. The finality of it was unexpectedly, sharply painful.
“Well, you can use my phone for now,” Zayn said with an air of confidence that did not match the worried tightness around his eyes.
“Thanks,” Liam said with a forced smile.
“You can thank me by getting me another muffin,” Zayn said with a grin. Liam passed over another muffin without complaint. “I love your cooking.”
I love your cooking.
It was the type of thing Zayn had been saying a lot over the past couple of days, and it had not evaded Liam’s notice.
The first time it happened, Liam was giggling at an episode of 30 Rock (the first uninhibited laugh Liam remembered emitting since the whole debacle with his mother). Liam had his hand clapped over his mouth, tears of mirth in his eyes when he noticed Zayn watching him.
“What?” Liam asked, unable to wipe the dopey grin off his face as he turned to look curiously at Zayn, who was also wearing a smile. Though his seemed less amused, and more pleased.
“I love your laugh,” Zayn told Liam.
That did wipe the smile off Liam’s face, only to replace it with an expression of surprise.
“Oh,” had been Liam’s only reply.
Luckily, Liam was spared the task of coming up with something else to say because Zayn leaned over to kiss him, really kiss him since...you know, that whole other debacle, and Liam felt himself melt inside.
Since then, Zayn had been peppering these comments into their conversations. And given that they spent nearly eight hours together everyday, Zayn found many opportunities.
“I love it when you hum,” Zayn had paused in singing along to “Whole Lotta Love” to inform Liam.
Liam paused in the act of cleaning off his spatula. “Thanks.”
“I bet you have a great singing voice,” Zayn mused.
Liam shrugged. “Too m-many words, th-that way,” he explained.
Zayn frowned, but didn’t press the subject. Just went back to singing. Liam was grateful.
(They’d been listening to a lot of music, which was par for the course when hanging out with Zayn, with the notable exception of Pink Floyd. When flipping through the library on his laptop for musical selections, Zayn had almost immediately gone for Dark Side of the Moon, one of Liam’s known favorites, but they were only about two chords in before Liam begged him to turn it off.
“My m-mother really likes—l-liked that one,” was all Liam needed to say for it to be determined that there would be no Pink Floyd for a while.)
Sometimes Zayn announced the little things he loved about Liam unprompted. “I love that you always put DVDs back in their cases,” was a more trivial one, followed by the explanation, “Have you ever watched a movie over at Louis’s? Can’t get halfway through without skipping or getting stuck.”
“I love your smile,” was a simpler one.
“I love it when you wear my clothes,” was a more confusing one, because that was all Liam had been wearing since he’d left his own clothes somewhere across town (it felt rude to go rifling through Niall’s stuff while he was away) and yet Liam was still strangely flattered and delighted that Zayn had said it. Weird.
Liam didn’t need to ask why Zayn had taken it upon himself to provide Liam with another List (if this time a sneakier, unofficial, verbal one). Over the past few days, Liam had been filling Zayn in on...everything. Not just the Sparknotes version he’d given Niall, either. He told Zayn about his family’s financial struggles, the crushing, unrelenting pressure to be more masculine, the resultant household homophobia, the perpetual reminders of how stupid he sounded whenever he opened his mouth, the weeks that turned into months of near total silence, the bullying, and the brief but life-changing salvation that Niall brought.
He didn’t divulge everything all at once, but sprinkled painful tidbits into his conversations with Zayn, each one a small plea for understanding and acceptance.
Zayn offered both. He held Liam’s hand through recounting his feelings for Andy. He dropped kisses into Liam’s hair when Liam recalled his father’s treatment of the two men in the restaurant on his middle school graduation day. When Liam eventually mustered up the courage to tell Zayn about the day he’d been banished from his household, Zayn held Liam in his lap and didn’t complain about the tears dampening his shirt. Zayn was all soft words and soft touches and if, after Liam had been sufficiently consoled, Zayn disappeared for a bit and returned smelling strongly of cigarette smoke, then Liam didn’t mention it.
“I’m just totally in awe of you,” Zayn said one afternoon, startling Liam out of his book. They’d been sitting in silence for some time, and apparently Zayn had been deep in thought about Liam. “After all that, with your parents being...how they are, and treating you...and fuck, even just those bastards at school, how are you not the most cynical motherfucker on the face of the Earth?” Zayn looked at him curiously, like Liam was really meant to answer that question.
Liam had no answer. In truth, he was in awe of Zayn for sticking it out this long, despite all Liam’s hang-ups and issues. It occurred to Liam that, in light of all Zayn’s efforts to do so for him, he should probably tell Zayn how much he mattered to Liam.
***
Liam had sort of given up trying to contrive his own romantic gestures for the time being. He’d clearly not reached that level of romantic maturity yet, which was fine. Liam was really fine with it. So he was going to shamelessly steal Zayn’s idea, and not feel bad about it.
Liam’s List was going to have to be written out, because he was nowhere near as eloquent as Zayn. He was surprised how difficult it was to find a spare moment away from Zayn, who was a near constant presence this week, to actually write the damn thing. In the end, Liam had to wait until Harry and Louis had arrived for the night and were caught up watching Reservoir Dogs.
Liam tapped his pencil nervously against the piece of paper before him. How could he even compile everything Zayn meant to him into a simple list?
Okay I’ve been sitting here staring at this stupid piece of loose leaf for about fifteen minutes now, wondering how to start this off, so what I’m going to do is just start writing and see where it goes, if that’s okay.
Liam took a deep breath and plunged into the word vomit.
So, Reasons I Like Zayn Malik. I’m going to start off with physical things because that’s the most obvious. I’m not sure whether you know this, but you’re actually like, the best-looking person I’ve ever met. No joke. That day I was staring at you being a total creep by the vending shack? Well, I was totally entranced by your singing, but it also might have had something to do with your back. And your arms. And your bone structure. And (after falling on my ass and getting to see you up close) your eyes.
Liam felt his ears heating up just writing this, but forced himself to go on.
Sometimes I really just can’t even believe that someone like you could want to be with me. And I know as you read this you’re probably rolling your eyes and wishing you could jump in to ease my mind (another one of those things I like about you), but you’re seriously the most beautiful human being I’ve ever met, so yeah.
Liam cast a paranoid look over at Harry and Lou snuggled on the couch, embarrassed by his own silent thought process.
I like that you share things with me--the things you care about. Your comic books, and especially your music. It’s difficult now to imagine how I lived nineteen years without something so amazing. Thank you for giving me that.
I also like that you’re patient with me. When I’m trying to say something and I can’t get it out right away, you never interrupt. You hold my hand when I get nervous about stuff that wouldn’t faze a normal person. You’ve always tried your best to respect my boundaries, even when I’ve not been totally honest with you (sorry again about that). You never push me, and I don’t think I’ll ever quite get used to how wonderful that is. I’ve told you some just...really fucking awful things about my family and growing up, and you haven’t left, and I owe you so much for that.
I know that you worry a lot about your temper, and that it’s something that might hurt me. But just the fact that you recognize it, and it’s something you do worry about, is something I admire and appreciate—and is the reason why I know everything will always be okay between us.
Zayn, you are one of the kindest people I’ve ever had the good fortune to meet, and getting to know you has made this summer one of the best few months of my life. I owe you so much more than this list.
“Liam, while you’re over there, would you mind grabbing me a glass of water?” Harry whispered. Liam glanced up to see that Louis had fallen asleep on Harry’s arm.
Liam folded up his piece of paper, figuring he was about finished anyway, and slipped it in the pocket of his (Zayn’s) shorts. After filling up a glass of water for Harry, he returned to the couch and curled up on Harry’s other side.
“Thanks,” Harry said, and took a big gulp of water. He set the glass down on the coffee table and draped his other arm around Liam. “Doing alright?” (Something Harry asked half a dozen times daily, not that Liam minded.)
“Yep.”
And it was true, Liam thought as he closed his eyes. Liam really was alright.
***
When Niall arrived home the next day, he wasn’t alone.
Liam hadn’t seen Mr. Horan since his junior year of high school, but he looked more or less the same. Perhaps a bit more tired, though Liam thought that could probably be attributed to having a newborn at home for the first week. Nonetheless, just after Niall released him from a tight embrace, Mr. Horan leaned forward to hug Liam as well. “Good to see you, Liam.”
“Y-you too. How’s G-Greg?” Liam asked while Niall went into the kitchen to grab lunch, waving at Zayn, who was, as usual, sitting on the couch, waiting for the tea to boil. Liam wasn’t exactly sure what else to say; honestly, he was at a loss as to why Mr. Horan was here, but it seemed a bit rude to demand why a man was in his own son’s apartment.
“Absolutely fine. Perfectly healthy, though he still keeps us up for most of the night.” In his cheerful exhaustion, Mr. Horan pulled out his phone to show off pictures of the newest Horan family member. Zayn wandered over to take a look. The baby was tiny and pudgy and pink but he had the same round, happy blue eyes of Liam’s best friend. Liam couldn’t believe he’d ever seen this baby as cause for sadness.
“Don’t let the pinchable cheeks fool you,” Niall said as he squirted mustard on a sandwich. “Kid can raise hell when he wants to, which is all the time.” To Liam, with a grin, “It’s good to be home.”
“Glad to have you back,” Zayn said. “Congratulations, Mr. Horan.”
“Please, call me Bobby. And you are…”
“Zayn.” Zayn held his hand out for Mr. Horan to shake.
“My b-boyfriend,” Liam clarified cautiously, unsure how Mr. Horan would react to the label (though it was worth it just to see the blinding smile flash across Zayn’s face).
Mr. Horan was totally unruffled. “Nice to meet you,” was all he said, accompanied with a polite smile for Zayn. Liam exhaled with some relief.
“I see tea on the stove. Do you guys want tea?” Niall offered from the kitchen.
“Please,” Mr. Horan accepted, taking a seat on the reclining chair in the living room. “This place is so much cleaner than when we visited over Thanksgiving,” he commented. “That must be Liam’s doing.”
“Yup,” Niall said proudly, like he’d been the one to receive the compliment. “He’s a good influence, that one.”
Liam ducked his head shyly and accompanied Zayn back over to the couch, where Liam’s bedclothes were still strewn across the cushions. Liam bunched them up into a corner self-consciously.
“Zayn’s the one transferring this semester,” Niall explained to his father from the other room.
“Oh.” Mr. Horan looked pleasantly surprised. “I’m sure you’ll have a great experience. Niall loved his first year.”
“I’m looking forward to it,” Zayn said politely, resting a hand on Liam’s knee, undoubtedly sensing Liam’s mounting anxiety at the discussion of school.
“He’s going to major in English,” continued Niall as he carried over mugs of tea.
“Really?” said Mr. Horan with interest. “My undergraduate degrees are in Professional Writing and Rhetoric, and Literature.”
“Really?” Zayn leaned forward. “That’s awesome. I’d love to study Lit. What is it you do now?”
“I went on to law school,” Mr. Horan said, sipping his tea. “In corporate law, now. That something you’re interested in?”
“Not really. Thinking more about teaching, though monetarily I’m sure law school’s the better bet.” Zayn gave a hollow laugh, and Liam covered Zayn’s hand with his own.
Mr. Horan was nonplussed. “Maybe. But I can tell you, the English teachers I had in high school changed my life. Never would’ve discovered my interest in the subject without them.”
Judging by Zayn's raised eyebrows, Liam would say this was not the answer he'd been expecting.
Niall brought in the last of the tea and plopped down on the floor across from Liam and Zayn. Silence fell, and Liam could feel that they were about to get down to the crux of Mr. Horan’s visit.
“So,” Niall began, but made no effort to actually finish the sentence.
Luckily, Mr. Horan seemed to have gone into business mode, and had his wits more about him.
“Liam, when Niall told Maura and me in May that you would be moving in, we had absolutely no problem with it. You’re a good kid, and I think it’s been nice for Niall to have company. And obviously you’ve been a, uh,” he smiled wryly at Niall, “good influence.”
Liam tensed at the impending “but.”
“But,” Mr. Horan continued, all seriousness now, “we were under the impression that this was just a summer arrangement, and we were not made aware of the circumstances surrounding your visit.”
Liam felt the prickles of anxiety and looked to Niall, mouth open.
Niall was looking back at him with a slightly guilty expression. “I told them,” he admitted. “When your mom, ah, visited. I told them what was going on.”
Liam choked on his breath and felt Zayn’s hand tighten its hold around his knee. “I—oh.”
“Obviously this changes things, somewhat,” Mr. Horan said somberly.
Liam blinked, struggling to process what Mr. Horan was saying. Did he want Liam to leave? Was he being too much trouble, attracting possibly dangerous people to Niall’s home? Could Liam no longer be considered a good influence? “D-don’t make m-me leave,” Liam begged in a hushed voice.
“Fuck, Liam.” Niall’s face was pulled in a pained expression. “No one’s making you leave, okay?” Zayn slipped an arm around Liam’s waist comfortingly.
But then...Liam still didn’t understand. He looked questioningly at Mr. Horan, who looked slightly uncomfortable for having upset Liam.
“No one’s making you go anywhere, Liam,” Mr. Horan reiterated. “But if Maura and I had the full story from the beginning,” here he shot a reprimanding look at Niall, who averted his eyes, “then we certainly would have handled things differently.”
This didn’t sound any better to Liam, but he was too anxious to ask where Mr. Horan was going.
“If we’d known that you were running from an abusive household, we would have, of course, been more involved. I’m sorry that we weren’t there to offer you the support you may have needed over the last few months.” Liam was speechless. “I just want you to know that you can count on Maura and myself for anything you need. We are more than happy to finance your academic endeavors. Or, if you are, understandably, not quite ready to go back to school, you always have a place to stay with us.”
Liam leaned against Zayn’s side for support. “Wh-what? No...I-I…You c-can’t—I mean, I’m n-not…”
“Liam, you may legally be an adult, but you’re nineteen years old,” said Mr. Horan reasonably. “You expect to handle all this on your own—and Maura and I wouldn’t let you. I know it’s overwhelming, but we’re here to help in whatever way we can.”
Liam was, quite suddenly, overcome with tears, which pretty much put an end to the conversation until Zayn finally coaxed Liam out of his neck to take a sip of stone cold tea nearly ten minutes later.
***
After Liam’s emotional outburst, he did manage to get a few things settled. First, he would be staying here with Niall. Kind as the Horans were to offer their household, 1) they had a newborn to take care of, and 2) Liam could not bear living apart from Niall and Zayn. Second, the earliest Liam would be enrolling in school was spring semester, mostly because registration for classes at even the local community colleges had closed by now. But also because if Liam was going back to school, he wanted to apply somewhere with a bachelor's program. (The issue of whether or not the Horans would be paying his tuition was a debate Liam was still carrying on with Mr. Horan, but had only minimal hope of winning, given that Mr. Horan was a lawyer and Liam was Liam.) Also, Liam would be damned if he didn’t contribute something to this whole school expenditure, so spending the fall and winter saving up some money seemed like the best idea.
Mr. Horan did not stay for very long. He called a cab just after dinner, carrying a tupperware of Liam’s lasagna and enough muffins to feed a small army, and still resolutely ignoring Liam’s insistence that the Horan’s loan him the money for tuition.
“It was nice to meet you, Zayn,” Mr. Horan spoke over Liam, reaching out to shake Zayn’s hand once again. “Keep me posted on your studies.”
“Will do, sir,” Zayn said with a radiant smile.
“And you,” Mr. Horan directed to his son, “stay out of trouble. And for the love of god, get another twin bed for that room. It’s a wonder Liam hasn’t already developed debilitating back issues, sleeping on that couch.”
“Will do, sir,” Niall echoed Zayn, bouncing on his heels happily.
“M-Mister Horan—” Liam tried again.
“And you, Liam,” Mr. Horan interrupted as he pulled his son in for one last hug and opened the door, “we’ll be in touch soon, okay?”
Liam deflated. “Okay.” Mr. Horan graced them all with a departing grin and closed the door.
“Your dad’s awesome, Niall,” Zayn said, and returned to the kitchen sink to finish scrubbing the dishes.
“Yeah, he’s pretty great,” Niall agreed.
Liam followed Zayn back into the kitchen to resume his dish-drying duties.
“Told you Niall’s parents loved you,” Zayn said smugly and Liam stuck out his tongue.
“Seriously, though, N-Niall.” Liam turned to look at his best friend. “Your p-p-parents can’t—”
“Dude, my parents are going to do whatever they want,” Niall said with a shrug. “And I wouldn’t say this in, you know, any other company, but honestly? The money isn’t an issue.”
Liam had been to Niall’s house in high school. Liam was very aware of that.
“But they’ve g-got a new b-baby…” Liam trailed off miserably, not sure how this changed matters, but still feeling like it should somehow.
“Try to imagine it from their perspective,” Niall said instead, putting a stack of dishes back in the cabinet. “They find out that their son’s best friend has been kicked out by his abusive parents, one of whom is now in jail—oh yeah, mentioned that part too, sorry—and is planning on sleeping on your son’s couch and working minimum wage jobs for the foreseeable future because he can’t afford school. You really think they’d just be like, ‘well, sucks to be you Liam’?”
Liam stared miserably down at the plate he was wiping off.
“Liam, I know it’s difficult to accept, but they care about you and they just want to help.” Liam’s eyes flicked up to see Niall looking at him earnestly. “Just let them help you. Please.”
“Okay,” Liam sighed, handing over the dried dish to Niall with resignation. “Okay.”
***
Liam didn’t get to give Zayn his List until the following evening when they were hanging out at Zayn’s place. Now that Niall was back in town, he’d been more or less attached to Liam’s side. Liam didn’t mind—he knew it was probably as stressful for Niall to be away from Liam for the past week as it had been for Liam—but that meant getting Zayn alone at the apartment was a virtual impossibility.
They were sitting on Zayn’s bed, flipping through his comic books, when Liam chalked up the courage to give Zayn the List. “I have something for you,” he blurted out into the nearly silent room and Zayn looked up from The Avengers in surprise.
“Sorry?”
Liam fumbled around in his pocket, where he’d been keeping the List on hand for the past couple of days, and held the folded-up loose leaf out to Zayn tremulously.
Zayn took Liam’s offering with a bemused expression and unfolded it. The crinkling of paper seemed to echo, impossibly loud, around Liam’s head. Liam, unsure what to do with himself but wholly unwilling to watch Zayn as he read the note, distracted himself from the mounting urge to make a break for it by staring vacantly at the comic book on his lap and turning the pages with what he hoped was believable frequency.
After an eternity, “Liam.”
Liam tore his eyes away from the panel he’d been staring at to look nervously up at Zayn, who immediately leaned forward to capture Liam’s lips in a kiss. Liam allowed the comic to slide sideways off his lap as Zayn moved to kneel before him, hands on Liam’s cheeks, kissing him fervently.
“You really think all that?” Zayn finally managed to get out between kisses.
“Y-y-yes,” Liam said breathlessly. “Y-you’re the b-b-best thing that’s ever h-h-happened t-to me.”
“Liam,” Zayn breathed against Liam’s mouth, pressing a kiss into the corner of his lips, then his cheek, then his jaw line. Liam felt something fiery bloom under his skin at each spot Zayn touched. Grappling for an anchor, he lifted his hands to hold onto Zayn’s waist, and felt one of Zayn’s hands run through his hair. “I love you.”
Quite suddenly, before Liam even had the opportunity to process the words that had just come out of Zayn’s mouth, Zayn was leaning back on his heels, looking startled with himself. “I—sorry,” was all he said.
Liam brushed his fingertips across the spot on his cheek Zayn’s lips had just been touching. “Sorry?” he parroted back to Zayn.
Wait, Zayn loved him?
Loved Liam?
Zayn pulled an apologetic face. “Sorry,” he said again. “I know we’ve been dating for, like, less than two months. And maybe it’s a bit too soon to say it, and you don’t have to say it back, but. I really do love you, Liam.”
Liam was floored. He felt light as air, like if Zayn’s hand wasn’t resting on his knee, he might just float away and bob around on the ceiling. At the same time, he felt like his whole body was filled with hot, heavy molten lava. So very strange. Liam also believed his heart was on the verge of beating out of his chest.
“You…l-love me,” Liam tested how the words sounded coming from his own mouth, and nearly smiled at the happy flutter in his chest when he said it.
“Yeah. I do.” Zayn appeared carefully optimistic, now that it was apparent Liam would neither break down crying or flee the room.
“Wow,” Liam whispered, staring at Zayn in awe. “You—r-really?”
Zayn swatted him playfully on the knee and let out a shaky laugh. “Yeah, really.” Then leaned closer to Liam to say slowly, deliberately, “I love you, Liam Payne.”
To which Liam responded by planting his lips back on Zayn’s. It felt like he should be freaking out more over this...this grand declaration. But in a weird way, Liam felt like he should have already known Zayn loved him.
Zayn chuckled against Liam’s mouth and pushed back with equal enthusiasm. Liam allowed himself to be lowered so that he was lying on one of Zayn’s pillows before Zayn withdrew a couple inches. “Is this okay?”
The tone demanded honesty, which Liam was more than willing to offer. Zayn wasn’t exactly straddling him, just on all fours above Liam, using one hand to brace himself against the mattress and cupping Liam’s cheek with the other. As Liam gazed up at his boyfriend, who was watching him intently, Liam realized this did feel okay. It was nothing like the incident with the door, a position already associated with painful memories of feeling trapped. This felt more like…protected. Zayn covering Liam’s body with his own without invading. Safe.
Liam brought his hands cautiously to Zayn’s sides again, and rested them on Zayn’s hips, where his shirt had fallen open to expose bare skin. Zayn shivered a bit at the touch, but his face broke into a happy smile. Liam relished the minor skin-to-skin contact, awash in the feeling of being loved.
“Y-yeah. I’m good,” he whispered, matching Zayn’s smile. “This is good.”
***
Liam would have spent a lot of time worrying about when it was appropriate to say “I love you” back to Zayn, if not for the fact that a) Zayn, having anticipated this dilemma, made a point of reminding Liam what felt like every hour, on the hour, that Liam should never say those three words because he felt like he should say them, and b) with the summer winding down, there were plenty of other things to demand Liam’s attention.
First and foremost, Liam needed to start looking for a new job. Simon had offered to keep Liam on for post-season work, but that mostly involved moving things into storage, doing a lot of heavy lifting, and working with people (primarily landscaping employees) that Liam neither knew, nor particularly cared to know. So Liam was on the job hunt again.
But only very briefly.
“Guess what?” Zayn said as soon as he arrived in the filter room attic on Thursday, looking gleefully at Liam.
“What?” said Louis without glancing up from the card game he was engaged in with Harry and Niall.
“Not news for you, sorry Lou,” Zayn said without sounding sorry at all. To Liam, “Found you a job.”
Liam’s mouth popped open. “What? R-Really? Where?”
“That bookshop I was telling you about on our first date. Well, pre-first date,” Zayn explained. “I was talking to the owner when I was in there the other day, and he says he’s hiring for the fall, since the kid he’s got on right now is going back to school.”
Liam wrapped his arms happily around Zayn. “Thank you.”
“No problem, love. We can swing by after work, if you want. I’ll introduce you to the Mr. Tombaugh--the owner--he’s really nice. I think you’ll like him.”
“Zayn, I’ll be looking for a job on campus this fall, if you want to get a head start on that for me,” Niall mentioned, like Lou, totally engrossed in the game.
“I’m flipping you off right now,” Zayn notified Niall when it was apparent Niall would not be looking up from the fan of cards in his hand.
Niall returned the gesture before laying his next move.
“Oh, and I have something for you.” Zayn looked excitedly back at Liam.
Liam emitted an audible gasp when Zayn withdrew his iPod nano from his pocket and turned it on. “H-How?” demanded Liam, taking the little device reverently in his hands.
“Waliyha put it in a bowl of rice that day after I took it home and left it in there all vacation. I totally didn’t expect it to work, but when we got back, poof!” Zayn clapped his hands together enthusiastically. “Like magic, dude, I swear.”
“But y-you alr-r-ready bought a new one,” Liam said.
Zayn looked at him blankly. “It’s for you,” he said slowly, like he couldn’t believe Liam could be so oblivious.
“What?”
“Yeah,” Zayn laughed. “Obviously I have my new one, and obviously you need an iPod. I’ve already made sure all my old stuff is back on there for you.”
“Y-you--I--mine?”
“Yours,” Zayn confirmed, and Liam could have kissed him (and did, in fact).
“But I d-don’t have anyth-thing for you,” Liam lamented, trying to remember when he would receive his next paycheck.
“You don’t have to get anything for me.”
Liam gave Zayn a disgruntled look.
“Think of it as a belated birthday present, if you want.”
“M-my birthd-day’s in March.”
“Early Christmas, then?”
Liam wasn’t having it.
“Here’s how you can return the favor, if you insist,” Zayn allowed. “You’ll have tons of time to read while you’re working in the bookstore. It’s basically all the cashier ever does when he’s not checking people out. You didn’t read Harry Potter this summer, despite my explicit instructions to the contrary. So you have to read it this fall. Deal?”
This was the weirdest agreement Liam had ever been party to. “Deal,” he said, because what choice did he have?
“Zayn if I promise to read all your favorite books, will you give me an iPod?” Louis inquired.
“Not a chance,” Zayn quipped.
“You’ve never offered to read any of my favorite books,” Harry said, affronted.
Lou shrugged. “You’ve never paid me off with an iPod.”
Harry hmmph-ed.
“Thank you,” Liam murmured to Zayn, holding the iPod tightly to his chest.
In lieu of you’re welcome, Zayn responded with a firm kiss on the lips.
***
“So I was thinking,” Zayn said the next afternoon, apropos of nothing, as they sat on his bed. Liam cast him a curious sidelong glance and dog-eared the page of the Spider-Man comic he was currently immersed in. “We should maybe have a discussion about…touching type things. Like, when we’re not already into doing something, ‘cause I just want to make sure we’re on the same page with everything, after. You know. That.”
Liam winced. Yeah. That.
“Which I’m not mad about,” Zayn hurried to elaborate. “Seriously, Liam.” He twisted in bed to take Liam’s hands and look him dead-on. “I’m not. I just don’t want to hurt you ever, if I can avoid it.”
Liam gripped Zayn’s hands a bit tighter and nodded quickly.
“Okay. So, can I start off by asking what exactly it was that bothered you? Are you fine talking about that?”
Liam shrugged. “The…the d-door,” he admitted. “Being pushed up ag-gainst the door. M-My dad…” Liam shuddered.
“Hey, it’s okay.” Zayn brought a hand up to Liam’s cheek. “You're okay.”
Liam swallowed.
“Anything else? Or was it just generally too much touching?”
Liam took a moment to consider his answer. “I’m just n-not used to ha-aving someone in my s-space in a w-way that doesn’t…hurt,” he disclosed softly. “The l-logical p-part of me knows that you’re n-not going to hurt me, but somet-t-times the r-rest of me forgets.” He scratched his arm irritatedly. “Does that m-make sense?”
“Sure,” Zayn said, but Liam wasn’t sure whether he actually understood, or whether he was just trying to comfort Liam. “Then, does going slow help at all? Telling you what I’m doing before I do it?”
Liam nodded slowly. “Some. I w-want you to k-keep d-doing that. Please,” he tacked on for good measure.
“Obviously I will,” Zayn said without a moment’s thought. “And you tell me immediately if you don’t like something.”
Liam nodded hastily. “S-sorry this is so…complicated.” Liam was starting to hate that word.
Zayn raised an eyebrow. “Liam, I love you,” said Zayn, and no matter how many times he heard it, Liam wasn’t sure he’d ever be accustomed to the wave of happiness that rocked him every time Zayn said that phrase. “All the kissing and hugging and cuddling and anything else we do in future—it’s an expression of how much I care about you. None of that matters if you’re not totally on board, if it’s not something that makes you feel good. If doing that stuff makes you uncomfortable, it’s sort of counterproductive, don’t you think?”
Liam tipped his forehead to rest against Zayn’s, mulling that over. “H-how did I g-get so lucky?” Liam wondered aloud, echoing the words Zayn had spoken to Liam the day they officially started dating. While sometimes Liam still couldn’t quite believe those words could ever be directed at him, especially by someone like Zayn, Liam often found himself wondering the same thing about Zayn. How did Liam get so lucky?
“Because you’re an especially wonderful person,” Zayn said in a duh tone of voice.
Liam rolled his eyes but smiled all the same.
“Well, thank y-you, still. F-for going s-slow, and everything.”
“’Course, love.” Zayn paused for a moment. “Can we try something?”
Liam’s heartbeat quickened. “What?”
Zayn adjusted himself into a kneeling position. “Is it okay if I take my shirt off?”
Liam opened his mouth, unsure what to say. What an odd request. “Yes?”
“That won’t make you uncomfortable?” Zayn clarified.
Liam thought about it and shook his head. On the contrary, he felt a twinge of...excitement? Or at least, anticipation. Zayn pulled his shirt over his head and Liam’s breath hitched as he ran his eyes of Zayn’s bare chest. He felt a blush creeping up his neck and permeating his cheeks. Zayn scooted forward so that he was right in front of where Liam sat cross-legged, back against the headboard.
“Hand?” Zayn requested.
Liam held his hand out tentatively and Zayn took it, leading it slowly to rest on Zayn’s chest, right over his heart. Liam could feel the faint thump-thump beneath his fingertips.
“What are w-we doing?” Liam asked in a hushed voice that seemed appropriate for the circumstances, even if he couldn’t pinpoint exactly why.
“Well, the touching thing is a two-way street,” Zayn said, taking Liam’s other hand to place it on his waist. “And I figured, maybe this might help you get more comfortable with physical intimacy, as a thing. Just in general. Without making you feel...encroached upon.”
Liam cautiously ran his hand along Zayn’s side, coming to rest on his ribcage, but did not move the other hand from Zayn’s heart.
“What are you thinking?” Zayn asked, stroking his own thumb along Liam’s jaw encouragingly.
“It f-feels...nice,” Liam said honestly. Niggling feelings of inadequacy as he beheld Zayn’s naked torso aside, Liam could kind of understand why people wanted to touch each other all the time. Feeling connected to someone like this was nearly incomparable to anything Liam had experienced before. It felt like another way of Zayn saying I love you, just without the words.
“Have you ever…” Liam met Zayn’s eyes uncertainly. Could he ask? Was it inappropriate?
Zayn raised his eyebrows expectantly.
To hell with it. “W-with other...anyone e-else, d-d-did you ever…” Fuck, Liam couldn’t even force himself to verbalize it.
Zayn, though, seemed to have already guessed what Liam was trying to ask.
“A guy in high school,” Zayn replied, looking at his own hand on Liam’s face instead of at Liam himself. “We’d been dating a while, mostly just casual. It was our senior year, so neither of us was particularly invested in the other, long-term. Broke up a few months after losing our virginity to each other.” Zayn shrugged. “Messed around with a couple other guys and dated a bit during freshman year, but nothing serious.”
Liam had always known Zayn had more romantic experience than he did (as did most ten-year-olds, honestly), but actually knowing his boyfriend’s romantic history struck a slightly painful chord in him. Liam huffed and tried not to let his stupid insecurity get in the way here, but, “And y-you seriously d-don’t mind me--”
“Liam.” Zayn took his face in both hands now and forced Liam to look him in the eye. “None of those guys made me feel the way I feel about you. I love you. Okay? I’m in this just as much as you are. I love you, I love you, I love you,” Zayn repeated as he leaned in, punctuating the point with a kiss on Liam’s nose. Liam wrinkled his nose and succumbed to a smile.
“You really love m-me,” Liam said.
“I really, really do,” Zayn assured, lifting Liam’s hand from his chest to kiss it gently. Liam tilted forward to plant a kiss right over Zayn’s heart and Zayn’s smile was like fucking sunshine.
***
The following day was Harry’s last day of work for the season. It was also the first day Liam didn’t leave the filter room even once, unwilling to give up his last moments of the summer with his friend. Liam would have glued himself to Harry’s hip, were that position not already assumed by Louis.
“You’re g-going with him t-to move in tom-m-morrow,” Liam grouched with no real bite while Louis clung to Harry, arms wrapped around his neck like a koala bear.
“And you’re visiting next weekend, Lou,” Harry reminded him. Looking over Louis head, he addressed Liam with an eye roll, “And Niall thinks I’m bad at goodbyes.”
“You are,” Niall said through a mouthful of hotdog. “I didn’t say Lou wasn’t just as bad.”
Awful, really, Harry mouthed to Liam, who smiled feebly. Harry looked sympathetic. “You can come up with Lou if you want to visit,” he offered. “He’s driving up Friday afternoon.”
Liam shook his head. Riding in Louis’s car was taking your life in your hands on a good day, let alone when he was anxious to see his boyfriend, so a forty-five minute car ride with him was probably not the best for Liam’s generally frayed nerves. Also, Liam had no illusions about what was going to go on between Harry and Lou for a significant part of their visits, now that Harry didn’t practically live in Louis’s apartment. Thanks, but no thanks.
“I h-have work Frid-day,” Liam said, because this was true, and to list his other reasons seemed rude.
“You got your schedule already?” Harry asked.
Liam nodded. Mr. Tombaugh was, as Zayn said, a very nice man. Quiet, just like his shop and most of the customers in it. Perfect for Liam, who would be working there five days a week. He would have done seven, if Niall and Mr. Horan hadn’t absolutely insisted he only work weekdays. Mr. Horan had told Liam, not in so many words, that it would probably be beneficial to his mental health not to be working all the time. “Live a little” had been Niall’s advice. Liam figured they amounted to about the same thing.
Niall’s dad was telling the truth when he said he’d be in touch. Liam felt like a day didn’t go by when he wasn’t updated on what the Horans were up to, how Greg was, and the Horans' plans for Liam (both via Niall and texts on Liam’s new phone--courtesy of the Horans, of course, who claimed it was downright dangerous for him not to have access to mobile communication, though given recent events Liam wasn’t even sure he could argue).
Niall’s dad was also telling the truth when he said they would be more involved in Liam’s life, now that they understood why he was a more permanent fixture in Niall’s life. Niall’s room in the apartment really couldn’t fit another twin bed, so after Niall’s lease was up in September, they would be moving to another apartment within walking distance of Liam’s new place of employment and campus (which was great for Niall, getting to classes, and great for Liam, getting to Zayn’s dorm). Moreover, Niall had apparently mentioned to his parents that Liam was considering seeking professional help, and the Horans were immediately on board. Mr. Horan said he’d be pleased to do some research on local practices when he got a spare moment, but Liam insisted he at least do this for himself. He was already wildly uncomfortable with all the Horans were doing for him. Liam simply didn’t know how he could ever repay them. (“You don’t need to,” had been Niall’s entirely unhelpful solution.)
But when Liam brought up the small matter of paying for therapy (which really was small, compared to the tuition the Horan’s resolutely maintained they were ready to fork over whenever Liam was up to the task of getting himself through school) Mr. Horan had a suggestion: If Liam really felt like he needed to pay something (he did, staunchly) then he could contribute five dollars for each session. Maybe they could increase the value in increments as Liam saved some more money. Could Liam agree to that?
After much protesting, Liam resigned to the fact that this was the best he was going to get.
So he was on the hunt for a therapist.
But only very briefly.
“Guess what?” Zayn asked Liam when he arrived in the filter room later that afternoon. “Found you a therapist.”
“What?” Liam said, because really, was Zayn magical or something?
“I mean, if you want to meet with this person,” Zayn amended. “Of course, it’s your choice.”
“Who?”
Zayn scratched his jaw. “I called the lady I used to go to in high school, since she’s local. She’s super nice, I think you’d like her. But there’s another woman in her practice who specializes in helping kids with...you know. Troubled backgrounds.”
Liam wasn’t sure he liked the phrasing, but at least Zayn had tried to be delicate. And it was a woman. That made Liam feel minutely better about the whole thing.
“You don’t have to commit right now, obviously. We can set up an appointment, if you want, and just go talk to her,” Zayn said. Then frowned. “I mean, you can. Go talk to her. Sorry, didn’t mean to assume--”
“W-would you g-go with me?” Liam asked, because now that this thing was actually on the verge of being set up, the tendrils of anxiety were starting to creep into his stomach. “Th-the first time?”
Zayn’s expression softened. “Yeah, yeah of course. Whatever you’re comfortable with.”
Liam nodded once, curtly. “Thanks.”
Zayn wrapped a hand around Liam’s forearm and swiped his thumb across the inside of his wrist, right over his pulse, and Liam was reminded of another time Zayn had sat in this position, offering comfort, talking Liam down from panic.
“I think it’s really brave, you doing this,” Zayn said, and Liam snorted because there were many things he felt, but brave was certainly not one of them. “I’m serious,” Zayn urged. “I know you don’t think so, but just so you know, I do.”
Liam decided that he could probably live with that, for now.
Before they went to clock out later that afternoon, Liam wrapped himself in Harry’s arms for a tight, sustained hug.
“I’ll miss you,” Liam mumbled into his shoulder, blinking away tears.
“You too, buddy,” Harry said. “But I’m just an hour away. I know you’re off on weekends, so you and Nialler will have to come up and see me, yeah? I’ll be down to visit all the time. Call me, okay?”
“‘kay,” Liam agreed.
“You’re still welcome to come visit next weekend,” Harry reminded him.
“Don’t steal him, Liam’s already promised to help me move in next Saturday,” Zayn protested.
“You living on campus, then?” said Lou, who had somehow managed to slip his arms around Harry’s waist from behind even though he and Liam were still mid-hug.
“Yup. Need some healthy separation from my parents.” Zayn said this with a grin, though, so Liam knew there was no malice behind the words.
“All right boys, this is the last time we’re all gonna be in this room for another year,” Niall said bracingly, whisking a Sharpie marker out of his pocket. “Assuming, of course, none of us get internships or take summer classes or grownup bullshit like that. So.” He looked around at each of them seriously. “New things to add to the list?”
Liam glanced over at the gruffly scrawled Rules of Being a Janitor.
“Zayn, you’re an honorary janitor, I’d say, so feel free to offer your input,” Niall said.
“Always cheat against Lou in card games,” Zayn suggested.
“Never trust the landscaping employees,” Harry tacked on, winking at Liam, who blushed.
“No heated make-out sessions on the lunch table,” Niall said with a pointed look at Harry and Louis.
“Never interrupt two people who are in the middle of making out on a lunch table,” Louis shot back.
“Liam, you have one?” Zayn cut in before Niall could make a snide retort.
Liam considered. “Always l-let the hot b-b-boy from v-vending help you c-c-carry your w-water bottle,” he said sagely.
“Amen,” Zayn agreed, drawing Liam in by the waist and slotting his lips over Liam’s.
“Aww, you guys!” Niall cooed, before enveloping them both in his arms, a hug that Harry and Louis soon joined.
Liam--pressed between these four people, his forehead resting against Zayn’s, their hands linked together--was pleased to say the he felt no sense of encroaching anxiety. No wild urge to flee. Rather, he felt like he could stay here like this, with his family, for just about forever and be totally, utterly content.