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Liam is distractedly running a cloth over the bar, cleaning up spills from the rowdy bachelorette party that just left when Zayn pokes him in the shoulder.
“A newbie,” Zayn nods over to the small stage that occupies the other end of the pub. “What d’you think?”
Liam glances over, accidentally catching the eye of the guy who’s setting up to play. He immediately grins at Liam, and Liam feels himself pink just a bit. The guy is dressed in an outfit that should look completely ridiculous but somehow doesn’t - lavender flare corduroys, a lime green jumper with an embroidered kitten on the front, collared shirt underneath, and a large string of pearls draped from his neck. He’s got chocolatey brown curls and is unfairly...well, pretty. Liam isn’t in the habit of calling men pretty, but there’s really no other word to describe this guy. He’s ridiculously pretty.
He breaks eye contact and turns to Zayn, lifting a shoulder in a shrug. “Dunno, mate. Definitely different, I can give him that.”
Zayn snorts. “That’s an understatement.”
“He’s kinda pulling it off though,” Liam feels the need to defend the stranger for some reason. “I sort of like it.”
Zayn opens his mouth, shuts it, and raises a single eyebrow instead.
“What?” Liam crosses his arms and glares at Zayn, who just gives him one of those long, pensive looks of his.
“Nothing,” Zayn shrugs, and saunters off to take orders from the couple who have just walked up to the bar.
As he works, taking orders and mixing drinks, Liam keeps an eye on the mystery musician. They always get a decent turnout at the bar on their weekly Friday music nights where local musicians have an opportunity to perform. It’s usually the same mix of mediocre pop covers and over dramatic love songs, but Liam is curious about this man in his multicolored outfit. He can tell the customers are interested too, he notices quite a few heads turning as the man sets up his instruments (just a guitar and a keyboard) and his speakers.
He’s just asking a customer if they want their whiskey neat or on ice when the singing starts, and he completely loses his train of thought.
What do you mean? I'm sorry by the way
Never coming back down, can't you see?
His voice is absolutely transfixing. It’s deeper than Liam expected, smooth and carrying. There’s a sadness there too, and Liam looks over to see he has his eyes closed as he strums his guitar and sings into the mic, clearly lost in the song.
Step into the light
So bright sometimes
I’m not ever going back
It’s like the stage was made for him. For a minute Liam forgets they’re in a dodgy pub on the outskirts of London. This guy is talented - should be playing in a stadium kind of talented.
His reverie is only broken when the customer in front of him clears his throat impatiently. Liam gives himself a mental shake and drags his eyes away from the stage.
“Sorry. Neat, you said?”
As Liam gets a glass and starts pouring the drink, Zayn appears next to him in that silent way he always manages.
“He’s proper talented, don’t you think?” Zayn pulls down a glass and cocktail shaker, starts juicing a lime. “Still think the pearls are a bit much, though.”
Liam hums, distracted by the change in the music, which has now switched to a more upbeat, boppy tune about sunflowers.
“Leemo.” Zayn flicks his shoulder and frowns when Liam startles. “Where’s your head at, bro? You’re so out of it tonight.”
“Sorry,” Liam shakes himself and focuses on Zayn. “Up too late playing Fifa, probably.”
Zayn gives him another long look, clearly unconvinced, but thankfully the waiting customers save Liam from any further scrutiny.
Usually when they have a musician playing, customers only half listen, mostly enjoying the background music as they drink and talk. Tonight though, the pub is only filled with a low hum of occasional conversations despite being packed. Most people are sipping their beers and cocktails while looking at the stage, listening. Apparently Liam isn’t the only captivated by the music.
Each song flows perfectly into the next. Some are upbeat, some are slow, but they’re all beautiful. The man sings them all with passion, nothing contrived in his voice. Even Liam, who usually prefers music more along the lines of Fifty Cent or Kayne, can feel himself being swept along in the rise of each of his falsettos. He can almost imagine how amazing this guy would be if he had a proper band backing him and quality equipment.
There’s a roar of applause when he finishes his last song and he takes a deep bow, smiling hugely with pink, flushed cheeks. Liam finds himself clapping heartily with the crowd.
“Thanks for listening, I’m Harry Styles,” he says, and his voice is deep and slow, with a vaguely posh accent. “I’ll be back next week.”
He bows again to another swell of applause, and despite having never talked to this guy, Liam somehow feels proud.
As the crowd disperses and heads to the bar for drinks, Liam’s kept busy. He loses track of time as he fixes drink after drink, and it’s a while before he has a moment to breathe again.
When there’s finally a lull in customers, he sighs gratefully and leans back against the sink, downing some water. Out of the corner of his eye he notices someone take a seat at one of the bar stools and he groans inwardly. Thank god his shift ends in a few hours.
When he heads over to the customer, however, he sees it’s not just anyone, it’s Harry from the stage. He’s a little sweaty and flushed, damp curls sticking to his temples, but he’s positively glowing .
He grins toothily at Liam when he comes over, and Liam immediately notes two deep dimples in his cheeks. The effect is utterly charming.
“Great show, mate,” Liam nods to him, ignoring the way his heart flutters when he notices Harry has green eyes. “Think that’s the most enthusiastic crowd we’ve had in months.”
“Thanks,” Harry flashes that disarming smile at him again and holds out a hand to shake. “I’m Harry.”
His fingers are loaded with thick gold rings and he has pink and blue polish on his nails. It’s different, but again Liam finds himself liking it.
“Liam,” he shakes his hand, grabbing a glass and placing it on the bar. “Tips are definitely up because of you, so you get a drink on the house. What’ll it be?”
“Hmm,” Harry runs a hand through his curls, ruffling the top in a clearly habitual way. He ponders the question for a minute. “Will you laugh at me if I ask for apple martini?”
“Only a little,” Liam chuckles and Harry laughs too. “Something tells me you don’t mind being different though.”
“What gave it away?” Harry raises his eyebrows in mock surprise and pulls at his jumper, frowning down at it. “Maybe the cat is too much?”
“Nah you’re perfect,” Liam assures automatically, then goes red. “Er, I mean, it’s, uh...it works.” He stammers, busying himself with the martini so he can avoid Harry’s eyes.
“Thanks,” Harry dimples when Liam pushes the drink over to him, and Liam’s not sure whether he’s talking about the martini or the compliment. Harry sips the drink and Liam tries not to stare at his pink, full lips. He might even be wearing lip gloss - Liam definitely wouldn’t rule it out. “So what’s your story then, Liam?” Harry rests his chin on a palm, looking at him with those clear, green eyes.
Liam’s feels the tips of his ears go hot. “My, er...story?” It’s a bit like he’s missed a step going down stairs.
“Tell me about, like, you.” Harry waves a ring clad hand, and looks at Liam as though he has nothing to do all night than listen to every detail of his life.
It’s right then that Zayn appears at Liam’s elbow out of nowhere again and Liam says a small prayer of relief. “Harry, this is Zayn. Zayn, Harry.”
“That was sick, bro,” Zayn says to Harry and Liam almost does a double take, because Zayn hates talking to customers.
Harry smiles widely at him and an irrational tiny surge of jealousy flares in Liam’s gut. “Cheers, mate. ‘S only because you guys have a great crowd,” he defers.
“Nah you’re really good,” Zayn shakes his head. “D’you have an album yet?”
“Working on it.”
“I know some guys who have like, a bit of a studio. I can give you their number, if you want?” Zayn offers and Harry positively beams.
“Oh my god, that would be so amazing,” Harry runs a hand through his hair again. “I owe you like, a million.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Zayn waves a hand. “Lemme go grab my phone.” He disappears to the back office, leaving Harry looking like he’s just won the lotto.
“That’s big,” Liam informs Harry. “He never does that. Must like you.”
As Harry dimples again, eyes sparkling, Liam has a feeling this isn’t the first time Harry’s charmed the usually un-charmable.
“I’ll have to find a way to pay him back,” Harry muses. “Haven’t like, got any money, but I can bake. Does Zayn like cookies?”
Liam snorts. “Zayn will eat anything sweet. I’m sure he’ll love you for it.”
Harry looks pleased as he sips at his martini, no doubt planning cookie recipes. Zayn returns with his phone and shares the contact info with Harry. He hangs around chatting with him after and Liam does too, as the crowd thins and it nears closing time.
It’s gone one am by the time Harry yawns hugely and rubs his eyes, looking a bit like a disgruntled kitten. “Think I’d better go,” he droops against the bar. “Post-show crash and all that.”
Liam flips the dishrag he’d been using to dry glasses over his shoulder and eyes Harry. “You good to get home?” He looks distinctly sleepy and worn out.
Harry’s mouth quirks at the corner. “Yeah, ‘m fine. My car’s here and I only had the one drink.”
“Oh, right,” Liam curses himself mentally for being way too invested in someone he’d just met
Harry yawns again, stretching his arms overhead, and Liam glimpses of some sort of leaf-like tattoo across his hips. He suddenly itches to know if Harry has any more tattoos, and where.
“Well, I’ll see you next week?” Harry asks hopefully. “I’m playing again next Friday.”
“I’ll be here,” Liam assures, and that earns him a pleased smile from Harry.
“See you then, Liam,” Harry drains the rest of the water he’d been sipping. “Can’t wait.” He winks, straps on his guitar and heads out the door.
Zayn ambles over. “So did you get his number?”
“What?” Liam blushes. “Why?”
“Oh c’mon, there were, like, proper sparks between you two. You were basically glued to his hip all night.”
Liam ducks his head. “He’s nice to talk to.”
“And look at,” Zayn raises an eyebrow. “I may not be bi but I’m not blind.”
“Well, I didn’t get it. He’ll be back next week, though.”
“Guess you’ll have to wait till next week to see your popstar then, babe.” Zayn smirks.
Liam looks at the door after Harry. Suddenly, next Friday couldn’t come fast enough.