Chapter Text
“I am no lover of disorder and doubt as such. Rather I fear to lose truth by the pretension to possess it already wholly.”
― William James, The Varieties of Religious Experience
“What’s so amazing that keeps us stargazing? What do we think we might see?”
— The Muppets, “Rainbow Connection”
A deer dashes out into the middle of the road and then stops, staring straight at Liam.
He's going to die. Offed by a deer. God knows where. All alone.
His life flashes before his eyes: his dad's frown when he'd explained failing chemistry as a junior in high school; the little line between his ex's eyes when she explained she’d met someone at college; Zayn’s fingernails digging into his tattooed bicep as he confessed he and his brother were closing the shop and moving across the country; his sisters’ wide, pitying stares over their casseroles and elaborately wrapped gifts at Christmas dinner.
Live a loser, die a loser.
Except he doesn't die— he swerves, off the road, into the snow.
And right over something that crunches and screeches under his front passenger tire.
He puts the truck in park and cuts the ignition.
“Damn it all to hell.”
He slams his fist against the steering wheel.
“Damn. Damn. Damn.”
He opens the door and a blast of cold air smacks him in the face. He closes the door again and digs out his Carhartt, beanie, and gloves, all of which he puts on in the relative warmth of the truck's cab.
Braving the chill and the zip of wind, he finds a mangled piece of metal, about the length and breadth of his arm. He tries to kick it out of the way, but it won't budge. Too damn heavy.
He pops back into the truck and puts it in reverse. When he steps out again, he's better able to gauge the damage.
His front end is mostly intact, just a couple scratches on the underside of his bumper, but the tire is already flat.
Liam’s got the spare and everything to change it, thank god.
He makes quick work of it, stopping only twice to blow a few warm breaths into his cramping fingers.
A car passes him— a beat-up white Subaru. It stops, backs up, and rolls down its window. US 2 spans four lanes here, and it’s not not busy.
Liam finishes tucking his tools into his toolbox.
“Hey, man. You alright?” The guy in the car squints at him. “Need a hand? A lift?”
Liam smiles. Sort of. “I’m good.”
The man pulls over anyway. And Liam really wishes he hadn’t. He’s fine. The spare should get him into town at least.
Liam’s putting his tools back into the truck when he’s hit with a waft of weed. He thinks of Zayn.
The man standing beside him now isn’t Zayn. He’s got a scraggly reddish beard, blue eyes, and light brown fringe plastered to his forehead below his brown beanie.
“What seems to be the trouble?”
The man’s not wearing a coat, just a thick sweatshirt, its hood pulled up over his hat. A blunt dangles from between his fingertips.
The guy follows Liam’s gaze and laughs. He holds out the blunt. “I can share.”
Liam shakes his head. “No, thanks. Just had to put on a spare.”
“Not going far on it in this.” He gestures to the snowflakes that have started to flutter around them.
Liam shrugs and nods down the road in the direction they’d both been heading. “It’s a town up there, right?”
“Gladstone, yeah. Then Esky. Escanaba. That’s where I’m headed; got a lunch date.”
Liam’s stomach grumbles. He hasn’t eaten since last night.
The guy laughs. “Come to Amy’s with me. Niall and I can help you figure out what to do about your truck.”
Liam frowns, scrambling for a reason to turn the guy down. He’s got nothing. Nowhere to be. Nothing else to do. No one else to see.
“Okay,” Liam says.
The guy beams and claps him on the arm. Then he shivers a full body shiver and darts back to his car, shouting over his shoulder, “Follow me.”
Liam follows.
The town surprises him. There’s a half dozen fast food restaurants and more cars on the road than there probably should be given that visibility’s shit in the snow.
The Subaru turns left just past the Walgreens and Liam finds himself in the midst of a certifiable downtown. Except most of the storefronts are closed or empty.
Then, suddenly, he's hit with the red glare of brakes as the Subaru screeches to a halt.
Again, Liam’s life flashes before his eyes: his mom's tears when he'd dropped out of orchestra in eighth grade; his guidance counselor’s lips twisting with doubt when he’d insisted he could make good money fixing cars; his older sister’s soft smile just last night when she assured him he’d figure his shit out— ‘you're a good guy.’
Apparently, she'd been wrong— Liam's destined to die in the frozen north, a world away from anyone who might care.
He does not die.
The Subaru twists into an empty parking spot, and not a second too soon.
Holy hell.
Don’t drive high, Liam’s seen it printed on billboards a half dozen times in the last six hours. Good advice. Easy way to ruin a perfectly good car.
He parks beside the Subaru, meaning to give its driver a piece of his mind.
But before he can, the guy’s striding toward him with a happy grin, as if nothing’s happened, “Looks like we’ll hit the tail end of the lunch rush, best time.”
The guy pushes open the nearest door, jangling its Christmas wreath.
Liam follows him inside.
"Louis, you're early." The man behind the bar comes out to greet Liam's new acquaintance. He's wearing a grease stained black apron over what looks like long underwear and jeans and his beard is neatly trimmed.
They exchange a traditional bro-y handshake-sidehug-shoulder-pat, the kind Liam himself has never mastered with anyone. Several heads in the small restaurant turn toward them.
Liam wouldn't describe the place as busy, but it's not empty either.
From the kitchen, a voice calls, "Niall, order's up."
The man in the apron nods at Liam, "Who's this?"
"This is my new friend," Louis, apparently, says. He glances back at Liam. "What's your name, new friend?"
"Liam."
"Hey, Liam. I'm Niall, nice to meet you." He nods sharply and smiles. To Louis, he says, "Got to go grab that order. Should be able to sit down in ten minutes or so."
Liam and Louis settle into a booth across from one another.
Louis tugs a menu out from underneath the stainless steel napkin holder. "Anything you order'll be good. Amy's a witch in the kitchen."
Liam studies the menu, not because he doesn't know what he wants— he does, a Reuben with sweet potato fries— but because he's not sure what to say.
It’s fine. Louis has all kinds of things to say.
"She's got Mountain Dew Code Red on tap here. Only place in town, actually. It was a whole ordeal, getting it, but she says it’s worth it for how much people drink."
Liam forces a smile. "Cool. Code Red. Love it."
Just then Niall appears with a couple of waters and a mug of coffee.
"Get this man a Code Red," Louis says, gesturing to Liam. "And I'll have the chicken tenders. What'll it be for you, Liam?"
Liam orders his Reuben, extra slaw and hold the pickle.
To which, Louis asks, "What is wrong with you? You like slaw and don't like pickles? Are you an alien?"
Liam flushes and shrugs. "Just not a pickle guy."
Niall laughs. "Let him alone, Louis. You literally just met him."
Louis throws up his hands in surrender, but he does not let Liam alone. "Been to Escanaba before?"
"No."
"Did you plan to stop here before the flat?"
"No."
"Where are you from?"
"Detroit area."
At this, Louis laughs. "A southern boy."
Liam opens his mouth, but before he can protest, Niall slides into the booth next to Louis with two Code Reds, one for himself and one he passes to Liam.
"How did Louis find you? Up here to ski?" Niall guesses.
"No," Liam says. "Is there skiing around here?"
"There's snow, isn't there?" Louis says before taking a large gulp of coffee.
Liam frowns. By 'skiing' he obviously meant a ski resort. He's starting to think that despite his offer to help a potentially stranded Liam, Louis is a bit of a dick.
"I got a flat tire about eight miles back. Louis pulled over to see if I needed any help."
"Louis can't change a flat tire. H had to drive out to some two track over by Hendricks and change one for him back in July. Louis decided to test out his Subaru’s off-roading ability and, suffice it to say, it did not go well."
"For the record, it was pitch black out and I couldn't find the damn tools. Harry didn't do shit except bring me the kit I needed and hold my phone up as a flashlight. A disgrace, on his part, seeing as he's the one who grew up in a garage."
"I didn't need Louis' help with the spare," Liam says. "But lunch sounded nice."
Niall turns to stare at Louis whose cheeks turn pink. After a long thirty second silence, Louis says, "He has a rainbow sticker on his truck. I thought we might have something in common. Us fags are few and far between, up here."
"Jesus Christ," Niall mutters.
Liam's whole body flares with heat. "My buddy stuck it on there after I tried to make out with him when we were drunk."
Louis' brows go up.
"Don't hurt him," Niall says to Liam, throwing an arm around Louis' shoulders. "He means well, ok?"
"My girlfriend thought it was a pretty good joke. The making out and the sticker."
"Ex-girlfriend, I hope," Louis says, taking another sip of coffee.
"Niall, order's up."
Niall pops out of the booth. "This is riveting," he says. "I'll be right back."
"We're not together anymore, no," Liam admits. He doesn't go into detail about the break-up, how she found herself a pre-med major with 'like, life plans.'
"And you left the sticker up," Louis says.
Liam nods. "I did."
"Your friend you kissed must be a pal, getting into the pride spirit and all," Louis comments.
At first Liam wants to protest, tell him he's misread the whole situation.
But, maybe he hasn't.
Niall comes back with three plates of food, and he slides back in beside Louis.
"So, do you need a new tire or just some fix-a-flat?" Louis picks up the ketchup and squirts a mountain of it onto his plate.
"New tire," Liam says, taking a bite of his sandwich. It's delicious, as promised.
Niall taps his fingers against the edge of his plate, which holds an omelet stuffed to bursting with spinach and feta. "Probably get in at Auto World. Does Tommy Nash still work there? I think he does."
"Probably. Not sure what else he'd be up to. Has Joe gone back downstate? He'd do it, for sure." Louis swims a chicken tender in ketchup, or drowns it, more like.
"No, he went back to do New Year's with his girlfriend."
"Traitor," Louis says, but there's no heat behind the comment.
"I could do it myself," Liam says, because he could and doesn't really want to spend the money on someone else's labor. "If I had a new tire, tools, and a lift."
Louis and Niall's eyes meet. Niall shrugs.
Louis twists back to look at Liam.
"Where you going, anyway?"
Liam swallows a bite of sandwich. "Thought I'd come up here and do a little camping. Clear my head."
"Winter camping?" Louis asks, a chicken tender paused in the air, halfway to his mouth, dripping ketchup onto the table.
"By yourself?" Niall adds.
They share a long look, as another drop of ketchup falls to the table.
Liam feels small, and stupid. This whole thing, camping alone in January, yeah, but also driving all the way up here on a whim, having lunch with strangers, telling them (or as good as) things he's never told anyone before— it's all so stupid, so stupid only dumbass Liam could have come up with it.
Niall and Louis are still looking at each other and at this point Liam can't do anything but admit it. "Yeah."
Niall shrugs and Louis nods and they turn back to look at Liam again.
"Okay, here's what you're going to do," Louis says. "Go to the Mobil station just south of town here. Ask for Joe. Tell him you want to put a new tire on your truck. You could pay him or trade him some labor, probably, to use his shop. He used to be the auto guy around here, but his back's fucked up and his son fucked off downstate to become 'a mechanical engineer' or some bullshit."
"It'll be after two by the time he gets there. Harry should be working," Niall says, cutting off a square of omelet.
"Never mind. Wait for Niall to get off so he can go with you. Then, do what I said."
Niall laughs, but it's not a happy laugh. "Saw him yesterday. He seemed fine."
"Fine, how?" Louis presses.
"You know, he seemed like normal Harry. Chill Harry."
Louis' eyes remain narrowed. "Day after Christmas he was talking some crazy shit."
Niall shrugs. "You know how he gets."
"Yeah, I do."
"Listen," Liam says. "I can just, like, go to Auto World, or whatever."
"No, man," Niall says, finishing his Code Red. (Liam's remains untouched.) "Don't listen to Louis. Harry's cool. Just ask him to talk to Joe, that's his uncle who owns the place, and he'll hook you up."
"Niall," a woman in a hairnet appears at their table, with her hands on her hips. "I've been calling you for the last five minutes."
"Hey, Amy," Louis says, with a smile.
Amy smiles back at him. "Hey, yourself. In here making trouble again, distracting my staff."
"Always," Louis says. "Will I see you at the shop tonight? I think we have a package with your name on it."
Amy shakes her head. "Sure thing, kid," she says, even though she can't be more than ten years his senior.
Finally, her gaze turns to Liam. "Grindr bring you here from Pine Mountain?"
Niall cackles. "That's what I said."
It's not.
"He's up here to camp," Louis says, not bothering to correct her assumption that Liam's here as his date.
"Sounds horrible," Amy says. And, then, "Come on, Niall. Back to work. Got a whole sink full of dishes for you."
As she walks away, Liam reaches for his wallet.
“I got it,” Louis says. “Yours, too, Nialler.”
Niall laughs and shakes his head. “Mine’s on the house, my shift meal.”
Louis shakes his head and throws a wad of cash on the table, “For your tip, then. I still feel bad about all that pizza.”
“H threw it on the ground. Not your fault.” But Niall pockets the money, anyway.
“You know I was winding him up.”
Not for the first time, Liam feels out of place, like he’s in someone else’s shower or something.
Niall turns toward Liam, "Just follow Louis back out to Lincoln, then he'll go right and you go left."
Liam nods. "Thanks," he says, and he finds he means it. Despite the awkwardness, he means it.
Louis claps him on the shoulder. "Let me give you my number. If you're freezing your ass off in the woods and want to figure another way to clear your head, give me a call, eh?"
Liam stares at him. "Are you asking me on a date?"
Louis puts out a hand. "Give me your phone."
Liam does, and then takes it back to unlock it.
Louis taps in his number and then sends himself a text. As he hands the phone back to Liam, he says, "Answer your mom’s texts. She's worried about you."
Liam pockets the phone. He's sent his mom several messages since pulling out of her driveway just before dawn.
He told her he needed a few days away, maybe a week, to clear his head. What he doesn't need is for her to send the damn cavalry over the Mackinac Bridge to find him and bring him home.
It's a quick drive, not five minutes, to the Mobil station just south of town.
The place is dingy— shitty little clapboard building, paint peeling on the door, pumps from 1990s, several junk cars parked off to the side. The garage looks legit, though, with two empty service bays.
There's only one car in the parking lot, a red 2008 Jeep Wrangler.
Never trust someone who drives a Jeep— that's one of Liam's rules. Fake trucks, is what they are, and without the class of an SUV.
He could turn around. Head to Auto World.
He gets out of his truck and checks on the little tire that could. He's already pushed his luck driving it this far.
He takes a deep, freezing breath and pushes into the store with a jangle of bells.
Liam blinks with surprise.
The place smells like lemon floor wax and freshly brewed coffee. Every surface gleams. Right beside the register, a chalkboard declares 'Today's Specials' in elaborate, looping letters.
In the back corner of the shop, a head pops up.
Green eyes and an easy smile. "Hello!"
Liam takes a deep, stuttering breath. "Hi."
"Just doing a little spot cleaning over here. Let me know if you need anything."
Liam walks back toward the guy who stands up again, abandoning his rag and bucket.
He's wearing the softest blue sweater Liam's ever seen and he's got his bangs pulled back by a little pink barrette.
"Are you Harry?" Liam asks.
The man frowns and narrows his eyes. "Who's asking?"
He looks Liam up and down, and Liam can't help it— he stands taller, puffs out his chest, juts his chin.
Liam opens his mouth. "Um, I am?"
And, god, he's such a dumbass. Louis said, go in and ask for Joe.
"And you are...?"
"Liam," Liam answers. Then his brain finally catches up to the situation. "Louis sent me over here."
"Oh, he did?" Harry's eyes run over Liam once more, and this time he looks genuinely curious. In fact, his gaze lingers on Liam's chest and shoulders, lighting a spark of arousal low in Liam's gut.
Finally, Harry puts his hands on his own narrow hips and shakes his head. "I'm not really interested in his sloppy seconds."
Liam flushes. "Are you gay, too, then?"
Harry wrinkles his nose. "Do you find labels like that helpful?"
Liam stares at him. "What do you mean?"
Harry shrugs. "'Gay' comes with all this baggage. Maybe I want to suck a dick, maybe not. Why does it have to be 'gay'?"
Again, Liam gapes. Louis and Niall had implied that Harry was off in the head, but this is not what Liam had expected.
"I've never really thought about it before," Liam admits.
"I can tell," Harry snorts and squats back down. "You up here to ice fish? We've got some bait and tackle over there." He nods to another corner of the shop.
Liam shakes his head, though the idea intrigues him a hell of a lot more than skiing. "Need to put a new tire on my truck. Louis said I should talk to Joe."
Harry scrubs at a stubborn spot of something sticky on the edge of the shelf. "He went back to school a few days ago, unfortunately."
"Um," Liam rubs at the back of his head and Harry looks up. "I think Louis meant his dad?"
Harry frowns again, a little line appearing between his brows. Liam's struck with the urge to reach out and smooth it away.
Jesus.
One ill-advised half-confession and he's opened the gay floodgates, apparently.
"The old man hasn't been in the garage in three years, at least. Louis knows that. Let me text him." Harry stands again.
"I'm a certified mechanic," Liam says, following Harry toward the front of the shop and the register. "I can do it myself. Just need the proper tools."
Harry turns, a graceful twirl of a movement. Or, at least, it starts that way. Then, he trips over god-only-knows and steadies himself on the coffee counter.
"You're a mechanic?"
Liam nods.
Harry gives him another long, appraising look. This time it lingers on his hands. "Your nails are clean."
The tips of Liam's fingers tingle. "Got laid off a month ago."
"Sorry to hear that." Harry smiles, soft and small. "I'll give the old man a call."
Liam wanders over to the small magazine display— everything’s hunting, fishing, and auto themed, with the single exception of The Journal of Cryptozoology. Weird.
He picks up the January issue of Field and Stream and watches Harry over the top of it.
Harry’s watching him right back.
Liam looks away and begins to flip through the glossy pages. He doesn’t pick much up, though. He’s listening to Harry’s conversation.
“Hey Uncle Joe… got a guy here, says he’s a mechanic, and he’s wondering if he can use your shop to change his tire…
“I don’t know… not from around here, Louis sent him over… just let him in? Just like that?
“… no, he’s been polite, could be a mechanic… a Ford pick-up… I’m not going to go out to look at his rims… not new, no… if you say so, but if he fucks your shit up, don’t blame me.
“… okay… I’ll be in late, going out with the boys after close… bye for now.”
Harry sets down his phone. He hasn’t taken his eyes off Liam, not for a second.
“He says to let you in so you can see if he’s got everything you need.”
“Cool,” Liam says. He sets the magazine back on the shelf.
Harry grabs a puffy winter jacket and a ring of keys from beside the register and walks to the door. “Come on, then.”
Liam follows him around the building, past glass doors of the two service bays, and through the side door and office and into the garage.
It’s nearly as cold as it had been outside.
Harry flicks on some overhead lights. “Joe’ll be in sometime in the next hour or so. Feel free to pop back into the shop when you lose feeling in your toes. Exposure kills.”
And with that, he’s gone, and Liam’s alone in the shop.
It doesn’t take him long to get his bearings. Everything looks well-oiled, well-organized, well-maintained.
There are a few work orders pinned to a bulletin board. They're all recent— written up and marked complete within the last month.
Liam’s trying to make out the notations on them when he hears the door creak and jangle open.
A tall, heavy-set man with a weathered face, gray hair, and kind eyes stands in the door. He extends a hand toward Liam.
“Joe,” he says, when Liam reaches him to return the shake.
“Liam. Nice shop you’ve got here.”
“Used to be the best in the county. Did all the Sheriff’s vehicles until my son left for school.”
Liam nods. “Sure is nice of you to let me use your equipment. Is there anything—”
“Yeah, there is,” Joe says with a smile and a wink. “Just picked up a car for my stepdaughter at an auction. Honda, but that’s what she wants. Needs some detailing on the backend. A couple new tires. A rotation and alignment.”
Liam frowns. He’d never trust a guy off the street to touch a car he owned. Hell, he’s not liable to bring a car to a shop that hasn’t come recommended by someone he trusts.
As if he can read Liam’s mind, he says, “Oh, I’ll watch you. Bring in my ergonomic chair and make sure you know your way around a service bay.”
It’s not exactly a one for one deal, but Liam misses being in the shop. And he doesn’t have anything better to do.
“Okay,” he says.
“Great. Let’s go get some tires.”
Liam blinks. “Um.”
“Your truck may not make it there and back, so you'd better come along with me.”
~
It’s nice having Joe in the shop with him. He mostly does god-knows-what on his phone and leaves Liam to it. But he turns on the heat and points Liam in the right direction whenever he scrambles to find a tool.
He even makes a few encouraging comments about Liam’s work.
Hours later, after the sun has set and the tire on his truck is replaced, Joe says, “Go ahead and grab yourself a couple slices of pizza from the shop before you head out.”
He’s leaning on the door, having just hung up the phone on his wife after a vehement argument over whether or not he was already late for dinner.
“Thanks,” Liam wipes his hands on the cloth he’s been using.
“Where are you staying tonight, son?”
Liam shrugs. He hasn’t really thought much about it, not since he’d run off the road.
“Came up to camp,” he says. “Is there a good place to pitch a tent around here?”
Joe laughs. “Why don’t you go grab that pizza, then head out with H to participate in whatever shenanigans the young people are getting up to these days and come home with him afterward. I’ll have Patty change Joey’s sheets, make sure the room’s clean enough for a guest.”
“Oh, no,” Liam says. “I couldn’t impose like that.”
“Exposure kills, kid. I’ll sleep better knowing you can hold up your end of the deal with Eva’s car tomorrow.”
“Okay,” Liam says, but he doesn’t have any real intention of following through— first off, he’s not inviting himself along on Harry’s evening excursions.
He does pop into the shop to grab a slice of pizza, though.
Harry looks up when the door jangles. He’s stooped over beside a display of candy bars near the register, two brown boxes open beside him.
He’s not alone in the store— a pair of teenagers hover in the back by the pop, door to the refrigerator unit wide open. Rude, Liam thinks in a voice that sounds a lot like his mom’s.
“Hi, Liam,” Harry says with a smile. “Finished for the day? Saw the old man head out.”
Liam nods. “Put the new tire on. Joe seems great.”
Harry shrugs. “He’s a good guy, yeah. Liked you, that’s for sure.”
Liam flushes. “He told me to grab a slice or two of pizza before I left for the night.”
Harry stands and kicks the boxes out of the way with a fur-lined boot. “Just took a fresh pie out of the oven.”
Liam moves to the counter. Harry slips on a pair of plastic gloves and reaches into the warming unit to put two slices of pepperoni into a box.
The kids move toward the register with a loud sputter of laughter.
Harry hands Liam his pizza, and walks over to ring the hooligans up.
Liam bites into the pizza. It’s hot and greasy and delicious.
The register dings. Change clinks in a flurry of hands. The bell on the door jangles and the kids are gone.
Liam’s first slice of pizza is also gone.
“Good?” Harry asks.
“Yeah, honestly never tried gas station pizza.”
Harry laughs. “I spent last year searching for the perfect slice. Convinced Joe to let me take the food safe training so I could make it myself. Some say it’s the best pizza in the county.”
“Yeah,” Liam says, starting into his second slice.
The door to the shop jangles open again.
“H. What are we doing tonight?” It’s Niall, with snow in his beard.
Harry leans on the counter, chin in hands. “What do you mean? I work till eleven and then I was planning to head home to bed.”
“Louis told me, that Patty told him, that Joe told her, that you told him, that you were hanging out with the boys tonight.”
“He did say that,” Liam confirms.
Harry twists to stare at him, eyes narrowed.
Liam flushes and puts up a hand. “Sorry, not my business.”
“You finished your pizza,” Harry notices. He walks over to the oven and slips on a new pair of gloves. “Have another slice.”
Liam stares at him.
“On the house,” he adds, holding up another two slices.
Liam holds out his box and Harry deposits them in with a, “There you go.”
“Never offered me free pizza,” Niall says.
Harry scowls as he peels off the gloves. “Joe wanted me to feed him.”
One or two slices, not half a pizza. Still, Liam’s not going to complain about another free meal. He hasn’t added a dime to his bank account in a month, unless he counts the Panera gift card his mom had stuck in his stocking.
"Sure," Niall says, wandering toward the back of the store and then disappearing into what Liam realizes is a walk-in beer fridge.
"You should come with us," Harry says to Liam.
"What?"
Harry shrugs. "I suppose we'll go to Louis'. He's got the XBox."
"You just said you were heading home after your shift."
Harry's lips twist into a smile. "I was hoping to do a little late night driving... plans change."
Niall comes out of the fridge with a case of Miller Light, which he hauls up and sets on the counter.
Harry rings him up.
Niall nods to Liam. "I'll take him to Louis'." Then, he smiles in Liam's direction. "You want to come, right?"
Liam wiggles his toes, which are still cold from the hours he'd spent in the garage. Finding a campsite and putting up a tent sounds physically painful.
Still, "I've got to figure out where I'm going to sleep tonight."
Niall laughs. "You're staying with H. Patty already got the room ready for you and trust me, you do not want to disappoint Patty."
~
The drive to Louis' takes longer than Liam expects. At first, they head up US 2, back in the direction Liam'd come earlier in the day. But, then, Niall steers his Tacoma through a series of turns Liam can't quite keep track of, not at the same time as he tries to keep pace with Niall's chattering, anyhow.
"After driving and working in the garage all day, you must be wiped," Niall says.
"Yeah." Liam nods. His body feels heavy and he knows it wouldn't be but a minute or two with his eyes closed before he'd be drifting off.
"H won't stay out long. Doesn't really have the patience or interest for video games, never has. Plus, he's obviously got some other plan for the evening. Which is where you come in."
"What?" Liam flexes his hands and looks at Niall. "What do you mean?"
See, he thought Niall had just implied he was going to get to go to bed soon.
"After he takes you to Joe's, make sure he doesn't go back out. Or, if he does, follow him."
"What?" Forty-five seconds ago, he'd been feeling grateful (maybe even a little hopeful?) about the easy friendship he's been offered. Now, "What the hell? Are you guys acting out some kind of weird horror movie?"
Niall cackles and reaches over and slaps Liam on the knee. "Not unless you're a crazy serial killer, no."
Then, he adds. "But seriously. Joe keeps the keys to his truck on the hook by the door. He'd be happy for you to take it for a spin, if that's what keeps Harry out of trouble."
"I don't understand why Harry can't be trusted to keep out of trouble. He seemed just fine to me. Is he..."
Liam thinks about Zayn during their last year of high school. Harry hadn't seemed particularly low to Liam, but he's always been horrible at reading people.
"... do you think he's going to try to kill himself?"
"Purposefully? No. Incidentally? Maybe."
"Yeah?"
Liam waits for Niall to explain, but all he says is, "Just keep an eye on him tonight, that's all."
Up ahead, Liam sees lights. They pull up in front of a small ranch home tucked into the woods with a big holiday wreath on the door and a snowman in the yard. A Ford Escape, last year's model, gleams white in the driveway. Just beyond it sits a Jayco camper.
"This is Louis' home? Does he have a kid?"
Niall laughs again. "This is his sister's home. She has two kids. Lets Louis park his trailer here in exchange for help with utilities and babysitting."
The trailer's unlocked, the heat's on and up, but Louis' still at work. Niall grabs a couple of bags of chips from Louis' cupboard, pops a can of beer for each of them, and then sets up the Xbox.
Liam clears the small couch of dirty socks and crusty dishes.
Louis shows up half an hour later with two 20 piece chicken nuggets, an entire sack of french fries, and a special joint he picked up at work, which he swears is going to change their lives.
He offers it to Liam. Liam shrugs and shakes his head. "Weed makes me paranoid."
"Not this stuff. This stuff would chill even Harry out, I swear."
Liam takes the tiniest of hits and passes it back.
Niall and Louis have finished the joint and most of the chicken nuggets by the time Harry arrives.
He doesn't come in right away. No, he scares the shit out of Liam, banging a fist against side of the trailer as he makes his way around it and then rapping on the door like he's the fucking police.
Louis hops off the couch and pulls Harry inside. "Chill out, man. You're going to wake the kids. Shelly about killed me last week when we got into it. Said she didn't want you coming round if we were gonna cause that kind of racket."
Harry folds in on himself a bit, dropping into the chair beside Louis at the tiny table and dipping the last chicken nugget into the open tub of ranch. "Sorry."
If the trailer felt small with Liam and Niall and Louis (and it had), with the addition of Harry, there's barely room to scratch an itch without bumping into someone or something.
Outside a gust of wind whips around the trailer, whistling through its cracks and rattling the awning.
Harry eyes Liam as he chews his nugget. "Wish you were camping?"
Liam shakes his head.
"Insane," Louis says. "The idea that anyone would want to be out in this. Insane."
He's looking pointedly at Harry, but Harry's still watching Liam. He licks his lips and Liam swallows.
"I don't know. Might be fun," Harry dips a finger into the ranch and then sucks it clean. "Don't you think, Liam?"
Liam's forgotten what they're talking about.
He's saved from answering by another, softer rap on the trailer door.
Louis opens it and a young woman with a messy bun and fluffy slippers steps inside.
"Sorry, Shelly," Harry says, immediately.
Shelly smiles at him. "Hey, H. It's okay, the kids slept through it, just keep it down."
"Anything for you," Harry agrees, dipping his finger into the ranch again.
She laughs. "Niall, Louis, hello." Her eyes land on Liam and stop. She gives him an open and appreciative once-over. "Hello, you."
Liam flushes. "Uh. Hi. I'm Liam."
"Liam," she says. "Cute." She's pretty— high cheekbones, big blue eyes, pink lips.
"What about me? I'm cute." Niall's eyes are on the screen, fingers jabbing at the controller.
Shelly walks over and ruffles Niall's hair.
"Sure," she says. "Still not interested in hooking up, but keep asking."
"Liam's gay," Louis says. "And stop perving on my friends. Don't you have better things to do, like, as a mom?"
"I'm not gay," Liam says. Because he's not.
Louis twists to frown at him. "You're not gay?"
"Well, I'm not not gay," Liam admits.
"Labels are only so useful." Harry's watching Liam again, eyes dark, and Liam's belly flutters. "Can imagine you'd have your pick of the crowd, boys, girls, or otherwise."
Shelly laughs. At what, Liam's not sure. "You from around here?"
Liam shakes his head. "Downstate, by Detroit."
Shelly sighs. "Too bad. Well, have fun, guys, but keep it down."
She gives Louis' shoulder a quick squeeze before disappearing back out the door with a blast of cold air.
"Don't fuck my sister," Louis tells Liam, as if there's a world in which that might happen. "That's one of the few rules I have for guests in my trailer."
"What about me?" Niall asks.
"You know what, Niall? If my sister agrees to fuck you, that's on her."
"Isn't she married?"
"Divorced," Harry says.
"To the only man in the county who actually pays child support," Niall adds.
"He's a dentist and I hate him." Louis says. "Always expects me to give him a deal at the shop. Like I'm in charge. I'm not in charge."
"You get me good deals," Niall says.
"You didn't cheat on my sister," Louis replies.
"Yet."
Niall leans over Louis to smack Harry on the chest.
Liam smiles and closes his eyes. Louis was right about the weed. He feels floaty in a good way, not at all unhinged.
"Ready to head out soon?" Harry asks.
Liam blinks his eyes open. Harry's eyes are on him yet again and he's pulling at his lips with long, ringed fingers.
"Must be pretty tired— can't even answer a question." Harry laughs, a warm chuckle of a laugh.
Liam shakes himself. "Yeah, sorry." Even though his (undeniable) exhaustion had been the farthest thing from his mind.
"You literally just got here, H," Niall says with a sigh. "You never hang out with us anymore."
"Ack, let him be. Man clearly thinks he’s getting laid," Louis says, bitterness tinging his tone.
"Do you have a girlfriend or a boyfriend?" Liam asks Harry.
Louis laughs and Harry reaches out to hit him. "You're very rude." Then, to Liam, he says, "He was implying you and I might sleep together. "
Liam's face has never been this hot in his life.
"For the record," Harry says, "I wasn't trying to seduce you."
"You never are, H, you never are." Niall shakes his head and grabs the controller out of Liam's lap.
Louis grabs another beer out of the case and throws it to Niall who somehow manages to catch it between his forearms without stopping play.
Harry stands and the trailer shrinks again. "Let's go, Liam."
Liam wants to make sure that everyone's clear he's not sleeping with Harry tonight, but he has no idea how to say so without sounding like a homophobe.
He tries, "Your uncle said I could stay in your cousin Joe's room."
Harry's smiles, wide and dimpled. "Liam, it's fine. I'm not trying to get you to sleep with me. Louis' the one thinking with his dick, not me."
Louis snorts.
"Which," Harry continues. "If he was serious about his game, he should have gone about this whole evening very differently. Most people aren't primed for a hook-up after chicken nuggets and video games."
Louis flips him off. "Liam's a baby gay. He needs to be protected, not seduced."
Liam opens his mouth to protest, but Harry beats him to it. "You're just saying that because you don't have the patience to teach someone how to give a good blow job."
Harry grabs Liam's sleeve and tugs him up. "Let's go."
Niall calls after them, "Liam, man. Remember what I told you."
But Liam can't think about that. He's playing the last two minutes on loop in his head. Were Harry and Louis arguing over who wanted to hook-up with him?
As they're walking out to the car, Liam says, "I think I could give a great blow job."
Soon as he's said it, he hopes it's lost to the wind whipping around him.
Harry turns to stare at him. His cheeks and nose glow pink in the moonlight. He licks at chapped, red lips.
Liam thinks, He's going to pin me to his Jeep and kiss me.
And then, I want him to pin me to his Jeep and kiss me.
Harry doesn't though. Instead, he looks up at the sky and then back to Liam. "You want to go on an adventure?"
Liam swallows and nods. Earlier, he'd been tired. Ready for bed. Not anymore.
It's not until after he's buckled in, cold air blasting in his face from the vents as the car heats, that he remembers his conversation with Niall.
"Wait." Liam twists to look at Harry. "Are you a serial killer?"
It's a crazy thing to say. And rude, too, probably. But suddenly all the brow raises and coded language around Harry click into place.
Harry smiles, which isn't a no.
Liam doesn't really know what to say after that. Either Harry thinks he's a paranoid freak, or he's genuinely about to off him.
But that doesn't actually make sense. Too many people have seen them together. And Harry obviously already has a reputation.
"I'm taking us out to the point— it's one of my favorite places. Especially with this sliver of a moon."
Liam looks out the window. High up in the sky, the crescent moon, indeed, is following them.
"Seems like a nice night to die," Liam tries to joke.
Harry hums. "It does, doesn't it?"
Liam stills and searches the car. There's an ice scraper that might work for a weapon if wielded just right...
"I'm not planning to kill you," Harry says. "But you never know, do you?"
Liam tries to relax. "I guess you don't."
They turn onto the highway.
"Niall says he saw a bigfoot when he was camping out on the point a few years back."
"Bigfoots are gentle. They just want to be left alone." Everyone knows that.
"Are you a bigfoot expert, Liam?"
Liam shrugs. "No, I just— I've listened to a few podcasts. That kind of thing is interesting, you know?"
Harry nods. "I think you're right about bigfoots. But try telling that to Niall who swears the beast was shaking their tent to terrorize them, just for the hell of it."
"You don't believe him?"
Harry shrugs. "Bigfoots aren't the only things out there."
"Sounds like something a bear would do, honestly," Liam agrees.
Harry smiles. "Maybe."
They're quiet for a few minutes and Liam replays the day in his head. He's got a dozen questions for Harry, mostly about why everyone's been so weird about him.
Instead, he asks, "Do you think Louis' sister really wants my number?"
"Of course," Harry says. "You're objectively hot. Need a shower before I'd sleep with you, but yeah."
"What?" Liam sputters. It's just not true. If it were, Liam would have an easier time getting dates. Also, "I would like a shower."
"Still thinking about proving me wrong about your blow job skills?"
Liam looks out the window. He tries not to wonder about the size of Harry's cock, whether he's cut or uncut.
"Shelly's sweet. And Louis' all bark, no bite. If you like her, I can give you her number."
Liam turns again to observe Harry's profile. "You'd give me her number?"
Harry smiles, shadows painting his face an unhappy gray. "I would. Only if you're planning to stick around for a while, though."
"I don't want her number," Liam says.
Harry tucks his chin. The hair at his temple curls and Liam wants to touch it and see if it's as springy as it looks.
"Getting right back on the road after you finish the project for Joe, then?"
Liam bites his lip, hard. He hasn't really thought past a couple days camping in the woods. Maybe he'll drive out to Portland, see what Zayn's up to. Maybe he'll take his brother-in-law up on the offer to go work with his friend at the Ford dealership just down the road from his parents' place.
He hasn't really considered sticking around. Why would he? He hadn't even meant to stop here in the first place.
Still, he shrugs.
Won't be going anywhere if Harry murders him.
"Not very many young people around here. Even fewer who are still single. Even fewer who look like you," Harry says.
"What do you mean, 'who look like me'?" He thinks Harry's implying that Liam's good-looking.
Harry chuckles. "You want me to go over it again?"
Liam does, but he doesn't say so.
"You look like you have a giant dick, honestly," Harry says.
Liam gapes at him.
And Harry laughs.
He slows to take a turn off the main highway.
"You're crazy," Liam says, with a laugh.
"So they say."
Liam's cheeks heat again. That's what Louis and Niall had been dancing around. That's why it really hadn't seemed like a stretch that Harry might be some sort of serial killer.
And yet Harry's out and out acknowledgement of it catches Liam completely off guard.
"I didn't mean..."
"It's okay. I know you didn't mean it that way." Harry twists to shoot him a shadowed smile. Even in the dark, Liam can see this one has dimples. "Just messing with you."
Liam stares out the window. It's forested on both sides, but enough of the trees are bare that Liam thinks he can see the lake beyond them.
"They're right, though," Harry says. Liam turns back to find his smile's gone. "I am crazy."
Liam drops his head back against the headrest, closes his eyes, and draws a breath.
They're quiet, and after a long couple of minutes, Harry reaches out and turns on the radio.
Crackly classic rock fills the car.
"Not really the vibe, tonight," Harry says, reaching to touch a preset.
The station changes to something classical, meeting the music mid-swell. Liam's taken back to eighth grade orchestra, cello resting between his legs. He hasn't listened to anything like this in years.
"This is better," Harry says, and, while he never would have chosen it, Liam has to agree.
There's something ominous and wintry about it. And it's not so loud as to drown out the wind howling through the trees and around the car.
They've been on the road for at least a half an hour when the pavement ends.
Dirt and gravel crunch along with the snow under the Jeep's tires, adding another meaningful line to the music.
"You swear you're not about to kill me?" Liam asks. As if Harry would say so.
Harry shakes his head. "If you're scared this easily, how were you ever going to survive solo winter camping? Much scarier shit than me out there."
Liam's not so sure.
Harry pulls over to the side of the road. "Let's park here. There's a little deer trail out to the bay, and then we can walk along the water."
"Won't it be cold?" Liam asks.
"Bring your hat and gloves." He digs a chartreuse beanie out of the back and tugs it on over his head. Then he throws a matching scarf at Liam. "And wear this. Not likely to be anyone out here hunting tonight, but you can't be too careful."
The wind lashes around Liam and he closes his eyes against it.
Harry pats his shoulder. "Buck up, buddy. It's about to get a lot worse."
His words disappear almost before he's said them, carried away by another blast of wind.
Liam takes a deep, bitter breath and opens his eyes again. "Lead on," he says.
Harry makes his way across the road. It hasn't been plowed and the snow is surprisingly deep— three or four inches, at least. Liam hadn't realized how much had fallen over the course of the day.
Now, the sky is clear but for a few stray gray wisps of cloud. Hasn't snowed in hours.
Harry leads them into the woods, which provide a little shelter from the gusts ripping down the road.
The snow in the woods is deep, a hell of a lot deeper than it was in the road, up to his knees at least. Harry's got them on this 'deer trail,' which is surprisingly well packed down. Still, Liam wishes for his snowshoes, tucked away in the back of his truck alongside his tent and subzero sleeping bag.
In the distance, an owl calls.
Harry stills and listens.
Liam keeps moving along the trail. Too cold not to.
Eventually, Harry jogs to catch up with him.
"Snowy owl," Harry says.
"Yeah," Liam says, though he's never been big on birds, couldn't tell one owl hoot from another.
Harry pushes past, back into the lead.
"Where are we going?" Liam asks after another couple of minutes. The inside of his mouth grows cold, just from opening it long enough to speak the question.
"You'll see," Harry calls, looking back at Liam over his shoulder. "Not far now."
They're walking fast, a trot, perhaps, nearly a jog, and that's good; it's the only way Liam can figure they'll stay warm.
Niall's worry makes sense, now. Wouldn't be hard to die out here, not on a night like this.
The owl hoots again, farther in the distance.
Harry's gait picks up. And then he is running in his heavy winter gear and boots. Liam follows.
Not a minute more and they're on the edge of a small rocky bluff.
Here, the wind tears about them and it's all Liam can do to pull into himself, keep his arms and legs close to his body.
Ten feet below, the icy ridges of the frozen bay cast craggy shadows against one another. Several fishing shanties stand out in the distance and, farther off, the lights of Escanaba glitter.
Beside him, Harry's staring upwards, smiling.
The night sky is bright, nearly blinding. Under it, Harry glows.
Liam follows his gaze and his breath catches.
The sky is alive with stars— so many that, in places, Liam can't see the black behind them.
"Do you ever wonder what else is out there? Who else?" Liam asks, and then feels stupid for saying the thought aloud.
Harry turns toward Liam, studying him closely. "I do."
A gust of wind blows off the lake, whipping snow up into the air around them. Liam shivers.
Harry's lips, still drawn wide, are chapped and Liam wants to kiss them. He truly does.
Behind them, the owl calls, sudden and close this time, and again Liam shivers. This shiver has little to do with the cold.
Harry's grin twists. "Creepy, right?"
Liam laughs and nods. He takes another burning breath. He can't feel his fingers or his toes.
Harry's looking up at the sky again.
"Do you know the constellations?" Liam asks. For some reason, he suspects the answer is yes.
Harry nods. "A few." He points. "That's the hunter. Like you."
“Me?” Liam does hunt, started when he was still a kid and has several sets of antlers to prove it. But Harry doesn’t know that. How could he?
“Aren’t you?” Harry raises his brows.
Liam shrugs and nods.
“Can you catch me?”
Liam laughs, feeling himself flush despite the cold.
And then Harry’s off, running into the woods. He’s moving fast, and not quite in the direction they’d come, either.
“What the hell?” Liam calls after him. “Where are you going?”
“Come find out.” The wind carries Harry’s words away.
Liam inhales, lungs filling with ice, and then tears after him.
The cold night air weighs heavy on his chest and Liam gasps for each burning breath.
Still, the movement brings a little warmth back into Liam’s limbs. He’s not even tempted to stop.
Harry’s fast. But Liam’s faster.
Before long, they’re jogging side by side.
Harry’s gaze remains on the forest ahead of them, but when he catches Liam in the periphery, his smile broadens.
After a few minutes, or maybe an hour, Harry says, “Almost there,” and picks up his pace.
Liam blinks at his retreating back.
With another icy breath, Liam digs out the little reserve left in the bottom of his well— thanks to the pizza, probably— and kicks up his own speed.
Except that, within seconds, Harry stops. Liam crashes into him from behind. Harry loses balance, turns to grab Liam’s arm, and together they collapse into a pile in the snow.
They’re both panting. Harry laughs, low and dark.
Liam’s up a second later, offering Harry a hand, gloved fingers completely without feeling. Harry takes it and Liam pulls him up.
He rises, close enough now that their cold breath mingles in the air. Liam’s eyes fall to Harry’s lips.
He could kiss Harry. Right now. Practically a stranger. One who’s led him on some wild goose chase in the deathly cold. Crazy.
But Liam wants it. And he thinks Harry wants it right back.
Liam steps back and looks around.
They’re in a circular clearing, twenty or so feet in diameter. It’s unremarkable, but for how clear and how perfectly circular it is.
“Where are we?” Liam asks.
Harry shrugs. Then he looks up. “Just another great place to look at the stars.”
Indeed, when Liam looks up, the stars seem to have, impossibly, multiplied.
“Amazing, isn’t it?” Harry asks.
“Why are they so much brighter here?” Liam asks. “Is it some kind of optical illusion?”
Harry shrugs, but there’s an odd glint in his eyes. Vindication, maybe, but over what, Liam doesn’t know.
They stand there a minute or two, before Liam’s wracked with a full body shiver.
Harry nods toward the far edge of the clearing. “Jeep’s not far. Let’s go.”
And then he’s running again, and Liam behind him.
It’s really not far at all. It only takes another few minutes before they’re inside it, out of the wind, cold air blasting through the vents as the engine heats up.
The radio’s playing something eerie— all creeping violins and subtle percussion. Liam almost reaches to change it. Almost.
Feeling returns, slowly to his fingers and toes, sharp and stinging.
"Don't know if I've ever been that cold before," Liam says, flexing his now aching hands.
Harry twists to look at him. Though his face is in shadow, Liam can see that he’s smiling. "Exhilarating, isn't it?"
Liam shakes his head. "You're crazy."
"Says the guy who planned to spend the night in a tent."
The music swells.
Liam doesn't even defend himself. "I wouldn't have lasted an hour."
"Big, tough guy like you? I think you could have made it at least two." Harry puts the car in drive and pulls away, ice and snow crunching under his tires.
"Have you ever stayed out all night in this?" Liam asks.
Harry seems to consider the question. He doesn't answer for a long time, so long Liam almost forgets he'd asked.
Then, Harry says, "I've stayed out most of the night more than once. Not when the wind's like it is tonight. Gotta bundle up. Gotta move."
"The running back there. That was on purpose," Liam realizes. "To stay warm."
Harry shrugs. "And ‘cause I wanted to see if you could keep up."
Liam flushes, chin jutting. "I did."
Harry nods. "You sure did."
Liam sighs and leans back in his seat. He can't see his breath anymore— the car's warm now.
He yawns, and damn, that’s right. He'd been ready for bed hours ago. His limbs feel heavy as rocks, and he can't think of one good reason not to close his eyes, just for a moment.
~
"Hey."
Liam blinks. His cheek is ice cold, pressed against hard glass, and he reaches up a hand to touch it.
Except he's got gloves on and—
He's— he's in Harry's Jeep. It's not moving and the engine's been cut off. The lights are on, too, and bright.
"Hey," Harry says again. "We're here."
Liam tries to take it in, the walk through the garage and mud room into the dimly lit kitchen and then up the stairs to the bedroom where he's meant to stay. But the house is warm and Liam's shoulders and back ache from too much time in the car, from working in the shop again after so long away, from that damn cold. All he can think about is crawling into bed and letting sleep overtake him once again.
Except Harry intercepts him and pushes him back out of the bedroom and into the bathroom beside it. He starts the shower and sets a fluffy gray towel on top of the toilet.
"You'll thank me tomorrow morning," he says. The door snicks shut behind him.
~
When Liam wakes up, his phone is dead. He has no idea what time it is, but the sun's up and he feels like he's slept, really slept, for the first time in weeks.
He manages to the find the bathroom again. As he's washing his hands, he sees a stack of clothes folded next to the sink. The pink sticky note atop them reads, Liam.
They're not his clothes— how could they be?— but they look his size. Well, the shirt fits fine and the pants are actually a size larger than he'd usually go in the waist, but, with his belt, they'll do.
He steps out of the bathroom feeling surprisingly good, considering he ran away from home with no plan and no place to go only a day ago.
When he gets to the bottom of the stairs, he hears someone call, "Liam?"
He follows the sound into the kitchen, where he finds Harry at the breakfast bar with a mug of coffee, scrolling on his phone.
The clock on the microwave above the stove reads 10:46.
"Morning," Harry says, looking up with a dimpled smile.
Liam smiles back and, for some reason, he finds himself blushing.
"There's enough for another cup in the pot," Harry lifts his mug. "And there's cereal in the cupboard by the fridge. Mostly sweet stuff, cause that's what the old man likes. I could do you up a bowl of oatmeal, if you'd prefer."
Liam usually eats two hard boiled eggs and a shake for breakfast. Or, he did, back when he worked in the shop. He'd boil a dozen eggs Sunday and throw the shake together on his way out the door each morning. He hasn't had a bowl of cereal in years.
It sounds pretty good.
He opens cupboards until he finds a glass for water and a bowl.
After he's eaten, Harry lets him borrow a charger.
As soon as his phone turns on, a dozen or so text notifs appear. Several from his mom. Several from Zayn telling him to call his mom. And several from Louis [peach emoji].
He texts Louis back first, assuring him that he and Harry had arrived home safely last night.
He hadn't done as Niall'd asked. He was supposed to keep an eye on Harry, make sure he didn't leave the house again after they'd gotten home. Only, he'd been too tired to think about anything except collapsing into bed.
He eyes Harry, still scrolling away on his own phone. He seems fine, perhaps a little less rested than Liam himself, but alive, in one piece, and in high enough spirits to send Liam a wink when he catches him staring. All's well that ends well.
He decides not to tell Louis about their little midnight excursion in the woods. Yes, they could have died of exposure, but Harry seemed to know what he was doing, where he was going.
And Liam's actually glad for it, especially in (warm, safe) retrospect. He doesn't think he'll ever forget the stars.
He texts Zayn to mind his own business. In the form of a Spiderman meme.
Finally, he says, "I'm going to go up to my room, make a call."
Harry nods. "I'll be heading into work at one-thirty. Joe's going to meet you there with Eva's car. Said from what he saw yesterday, he doesn't think it'll take but a few hours to finish up."
~
"Sweetheart."
The way she says it tugs at something in Liam's chest. Liam tries to squash the feeling.
"Mom, I'm fine."
"How can you say that? You just up and left yesterday morning. Before your dad even woke up. And without even leaving us a note."
Liam sits on the bed and closes his eyes. "I'm sorry, but I did text. I have my phone on me. I'm safe."
"Where are you? When are you coming home?"
"Escanaba. I told you. And I don't know when I'm coming home. Might drive out to see Zayn."
"Honey," his mom chides. "I'm sure you don't have enough money saved to make it there and back."
He does. And more. He doesn't say so.
"I'm just so worried about you," she says. "Your dad and I both. You seem so lost."
He sighs. "I know exactly where I am. Escanaba."
It's only partly true. He has no idea where Harry's family lives. Harry could have driven ten minutes or an hour, for how soundly Liam had been sleeping against that frozen window.
"That's not what I mean and you know it... I wish you would just drive home today. Right now. You could probably be home in time for dinner. Watch the bowl game with your dad. Go to bed. Apply for a job at Mike's friend's dealership."
He'd thought about it, too, while eating his Froot Loops. After last night, he's not stupid enough to consider actually sleeping in his tent. Not up here. Not by himself.
But the longer he talks to his mom, the more sure he is: he's not ready to go home.
"I'll let you know when I leave Escanaba," he says.
She sighs. "Liam. We just want you to be okay."
~
It's a fifteen minute drive from the house to the Mobil station.
Harry spends the whole of it pointing out landmarks.
The trailer where his childhood best friend had lived. The school Harry'd attended for all thirteen years of his education. The abandoned building that used to be a candy shop. A rival gas station that looks nice on the outside but doesn’t keep its bathrooms clean.
Liam lets himself spend the ride watching Harry. It’s only polite, to look at someone when they’re talking to you. And Harry’s talking, and talking and talking and talking.
He’s got a Packers beanie on his head and the start of a patchy beard. He looks bro-y, almost like one of Liam's brothers-in-law’s fratty friends.
That is, aside from the dimples in his cheeks and the bright pink of his nose and cheeks.
Liam doesn’t have any interest in interrupting his rambling monologue, even as he struggles to follow along. There’s something soothing, easy-does-it, about the rough, hitching cadence.
By the time they arrive at the station, the lingering fizzle-jitters from his conversation with his mom have completely disappeared.
Harry pulls into a spot off to the side of the lot. "Coming in to grab a coffee?"
"No, thanks." Instead, Liam heads straight for the shop where Joe and a tan Honda already await him.
Joe's not wrong. Liam makes short work of the exterior repairs. He doesn't have quite Zayn's knack for detailing, but he gets the job done alright.
Joe putters in the office for the first hour or so, and then comes out when Liam starts in on the tires.
"Gonna run to the store. Let me or Harry know if you need anything, yeah?”
"Sure," Liam calls back.
It's not until a few minutes later that it dawns on him. Joe's left him alone in the garage— which, if he's like any of the other old school mechanics Liam's worked with, that's a huge vote of confidence. Liam’s not sure he deserves it.
He's almost finished, just a couple more bolts to tighten, when he hears the side door jangle open again.
"Liam?" It's Harry.
"Yeah?" Liam calls out.
"Brought you a Mountain Dew."
Liam turns. Harry's a few feet away, halfway between the office door and Liam. He's holding the largest styrofoam cup Liam has ever seen.
Liam sets down his wrench, pushes up his safety glasses, and walks over to accept the cup. With both hands.
Harry sticks his own hands in the back pocket of his jeans. He's wearing a different sweater today, scratchy wool in bright teal. A thin, hot pink elastic headband keeps his bangs out of his eyes.
Dutifully, Liam takes a sip of the Mountain Dew.
As sweet and horrible as ever.
Harry laughs. "That bad?"
Liam sets the cup down. "Not really my thing."
Harry tilts his head. "What is your thing, then?"
He looks Liam up and down and Liam remembers, yesterday— how he'd accidentally propositioned Harry as they were leaving Louis'. And Harry had all but accepted.
Then, the almost-kisses outside Louis’ trailer, by the bay, in the woods.
"I'm a juice guy," Liam says, beginning to put his tools away.
"A juice guy, eh?" Harry replies.
And Liam needs to know: is it just in his mind or is Harry really able to turn an innocent phrase into something straight out of a porn film?
His eyes skid over Harry's neck and shoulders, down his sides, over his hips. Too much sweater. Liam can easily imagine pulling it off, over Harry's head.
Probably just his mind, then.
"Got a ninja for Christmas a couple of years back. Use it every day."
Harry dimples. "And what do you do with your ninja? I know what I'd use mine for..."
Again, Liam wants to know how something so innocent can come off so filthy. There has to be something wrong with him.
"Juicing," Liam says. "Obviously."
Harry smiles.
"Well, Juice Man"—and that's a stupid name, should send a flush of shame to cheeks instead of a rush of pleasure to his groin—"when you're finished up in here, come into the shop and we'll see what we can do for you."
Liam finishes quickly, and, sure enough, when he enters the shop, Harry's lined up six different juices on the counter.
Liam points to plain, old apple juice. "That one."
Harry lifts a brow and Liam expects him to make fun, but he says, "Classic. I like it."
Liam follows him back to the fridges to replace the other juices.
Behind them, the door to the shop jangles open. Liam fights the urge to jump and cover himself.
"Hello?" It's Joe.
Liam realizes how awkward it is— Liam's empty handed (but for the apple juice) and neither he nor Harry have spoken again. He's just standing there, dumb and quiet, while Harry works.
"Back here," Harry calls.
Joe makes his way over to them. Liam fumbles to open his juice. Then, he wonders— is he supposed to pay for it? Niall paid for his beer the night before.
"Harry messaged that you'd finished up on the Honda.”
Liam nods. "Haven't taken it out for a drive, but I think it's good to go."
Joe wraps an arm around his shoulders. "Let's go see."
"Bye, then," Harry calls after them. And, for some reason, this, too, makes Liam flush. Like, he feels as though he's left Harry standing there with his pants down and dick hard. Or something.
Shit.
~
The Honda drives just fine, especially with the snow tires Liam's put on it.
Joe, who's in the driver's seat, is pleased with it, at least.
"Going to bring it home tonight. Eva won't know what to do."
"I hope she likes it," Liam says.
"You'll see, won't you?" Joe says, as they hop out into the cold gray evening. Liam realizes that it's a question, and one he's been avoiding all day.
Will he spend another night here?
He doesn't want to be rude. But he has no idea if it would be more rude to stay another night and impose upon their generosity or to reject their offer of hospitality and try to rough it.
He considers asking Harry, but, honestly, Harry's answer would likely raise more questions than it would answers.
And, maybe, the boner kind of questions.
At that exact moment a car comes squealing into the parking lot in a flurry of slush. Liam recognizes the dented rear bumper of the white Subaru even before Louis emerges from the driver's side.
"Hey," Louis calls. "Good. You're still here." He's looking at Liam.
"Why?" Liam asks.
Louis laughs and rubs his bare hands together. Again, he's not wearing a coat, just a heavy, brown and gray flannel pullover, hood up over a black beanie.
"Need an oil change."
From behind Liam, Joe says, "You are a disgrace, Louis Tomlinson. I must've taught you how to change your own oil at least three times over the years."
"Hey now, Joe. Don't be so hard on yourself— you're a great teacher. I know how. It's just too damn cold to be worth fucking around with." He gestures. "I'll bet Liam can do it in half the time."
Joe huffs. "Oh, alright kid, pull your car into the bay and I'll change your oil."
"I just said, I wanted Liam to do it."
"Liam's about to head out. He's paid his keep." Joe jangles the keys, finds the one to the bay door, unlocks it, and bends over to push it up, covering a wince.
"I'll do it," Liam says. "I don't mind. It's nice, working in the shop again."
"Sweet," Louis says. "I'll bring Shelly's in tomorrow."
"I don't—" Liam looks at Joe, who's looking back at him.
"I'd hire you, if you like. Probably get the business back up in a matter of weeks. Joey never has a shortage of work when he's in town. Month of probation— see how we’re doing at the beginning of February?"
"I mean…" Liam wants to stay. Wildly. Stupidly. Twenty-four hours here and he feels more alive than he has in weeks, months, maybe even years. "I can't really live in my tent. And I can't exactly afford a hotel, not for a month."
"I'd rent you Joe's room. $150 a month and you help with groceries and cooking. That's how we do Harry."
Liam gapes. It's a better deal than he's got with his own parents.
“Oh, that’s a sweet offer. Maybe I should sell my trailer and—“
“You’re not allowed in my shop after the air compressor fiasco and Harry doesn’t want you working in the store. So, for you, rent would be $500, and I’d need some kind of security deposit, yeah? And no smoking in the house—”
“Alright, I get it,” Louis says, opening the door to his car. “The trailer’s working out great for me, actually.”
Joe nods. To Liam, he says, “I pay Joey based on the work that comes in. He takes 80% of the labor fee, the other 20% goes back into upkeep of the shop. That work for you?”
Liam nods.
“Louis buys his own oil. Make sure he does not leave without handing over twenty bucks for the service. Kid’s not got a great track record at paying for his shit and you don’t work for free.”
~
Liam meets Eva and Patty that night at dinner. They're both blond with big eyes and broad faces, and they snip at each other about the cut of Eva's shirt as they set the table.
Joe enters from the kitchen with a heaping pan of veggies and meat in one hand and a steaming pot of rice in the other.
"Stir fry!" Liam says. "Love stir fry."
Joe grunts. Obviously, he disagrees.
As they settle into their seats, Eva says, "It is really good. And no matter what Joe says, he likes it, too."
Patty offers Liam the first serving, and he takes a little less than he would at home, not wanting to seem rude.
Once everyone's plates fill up and forks start clicking against the dishes, Liam takes a bite.
"Oh wow." It's sweet and tangy— the sauce thicker and richer than it looks. "This is really, really good."
"It's a Harry night," Patty says. "He chops the veggies and makes the sauce before he heads into work. All Joe has to do is throw it on the stove."
"He's a really good cook," Eva confirms.
Joe grunts.
"Honestly, Joe," Patty says. "You give the kid such a hard time, but I don't know what we'd do without him."
"Not a kid anymore," Joe says. But he smiles at Liam. "Nice having a full house, though. Can't complain too much about that."
Then, to Eva, he says, "Don't like it when my kids take off and leave me."
"Boston's nice. You'll like visiting me," Eva tells him.
"Ann Arbor's 'bout far as I'm letting you go, sweetheart. Chicago or Madison, maybe, if you get a scholarship."
She smiles, and it's all teeth. "I'm done. Got to get back to work on my essay."
Sure enough, her plate's already empty.
"Alright," Joe allows. As he watches her leave, he says, "Girl does more homework than Harry or Joey did, combined. And they both were on the honor roll most of the time. Can't figure it out."
"Maybe she's actually just playing video games on her phone with her friends." That's what Liam would have been doing.
Patty laughs. "I wish she was."
Then, to Liam, she says, "I'll show you how we clean the kitchen.”
~
Friday night, after he's finished the dishes, Liam wanders into the family room. There's a basketball game already on and Liam plops into a chair to watch.
Eva's curled up in the corner of the couch with her phone and a white and gray fleece blanket. She shoots him a quick smile before returning to whatever the heck she's doing.
Above them the floorboards creak as Patty and Joe move about their room and ensuite, preparing to go out with friends for drinks.
Liam's got an unanswered, what you doin, text from Louis. They haven't spoken since the oil change and Liam's stomach does a little flip as he contemplates how to answer.
Like, if he sends back an honest, not much, will he get a dick pic in return?
"Does Harry work every night?" Liam asks. He doesn't know where the question comes from— not his brain, surely. He hadn't even been thinking of Harry.
After a moment, Eva looks up from her phone. "No, he usually gets at least one night off a week. Sunday and Monday, most weeks. Tim and Jess, the couple that work overnights on the weekends and stay in the house next store, they've been out of the town for the holidays, so we've all been picking up extra shifts. They'll be back Monday."
"Seems like mostly Harry's been picking up the slack," Liam says.
Eva laughs. "True. He offers, though. I think— I think he feels bad, wants to pull his weight. Joe's taken care of him since he was seven, I think. Was his legal guardian through school and all that."
"Really?"
A dozen questions hit him at once: why? what about Harry's parents? are they drug addicts? in prison? dead? did Harry go to college? why didn't he move out and get a place of his own after he turned eighteen? does he like living here? or is he just making the best of the rough economy and low wage work, like Liam has been?
"My mom and Joe talk nice about Harry, but I'm pretty sure they wish he wasn't their problem."
"He doesn't really seem like a problem to me."
Niall and Louis'd implied something similar. Honestly, Harry seems like the most normal one of the bunch, midnight runs through the forest aside.
"Don't get me wrong— I love him like a brother— but he's like a ticking time bomb or something."
"Does he get violent?" Liam can't picture it.
"No," Eva sighs. "I guess—" She sits up straighter and tucks her hands under her thighs. "It's hard to explain. He probably needs help, but, like." She laughs. "Community mental health is a bit of a joke— and they didn't do shit to help his mom, so."
Liam stares at her. He feels like she's dumped out a Lego kit and she expects him to assemble it, without a picture or instructions. Liam’s intrigued. He’s always liked Legos.
"You'll see," she says. "Stick around a few months and you'll see."
Hours later, when he's crawling into bed, another series of texts comes through from Louis.
is harry there?
have you seen him?
Liam!
mayday
sos please reply this is an EMERGENCY IS HARRY AT THE HOUSE?!!?!?!?!
fuck!
LIAM!
The texts come in quick succession, Liam barely has time to read them, let alone reply.
Finally, Liam types back, I don't think he's here why
Louis sends another flurry in response, shit
he should have been at my place forty minutes ago
isn't answering his damn phone
fuck
Liam frowns. Doesn't seem like that big of a deal. Maybe he got off later than expected. Maybe he decided to grab something to eat. Maybe he has, god forbid, other friends.
ill check his room
Because maybe he did sneak in already. Liam hasn't been listening for him, not exactly.
Liam knocks on the closed door.
No answer.
He looks at his phone again, meaning to text Louis, no luck, but he sees.
fuck. pls check!!
He pushes the door open.
It's neat, of course. Bed made. Nothing on the floor. Laptop on his desk, closed.
Two of the four walls are lined with bookshelves. Another is blocked by a dresser and closet. The last one, well, there's really no other way to say it: it looks like it belongs on some sort of detective TV show.
Maps, newspaper clippings, photographs, all overlapping, covered in string and highlighter markings.
Liam approaches the wall.
In the very middle of it all is the front page story in Daily Press from February 14, 2001. The headline reads, Local Woman Disappears Under Mysterious Circumstances. Above the faded clipping, looking out from a glossy photo, a dark-haired woman with green eyes and a baby on her hip smiles at him.
Liam hears feet on the stairs and starts to head back to his own room. But it's too late. As he exits, Harry's already halfway down the hall coat, boots still on, panting.
"I'm here," he gasps as he shoulders past Liam. "Tell Louis to stop fucking texting me. I'm fine."
~