Chapter Text
At around four in the morning, Zayn wakes up in a sweat, the nightmare from moments ago still all too real. Swiping at his phone to catch a glimpse of the time, he finds he has a voicemail.
Without even looking at it, he already knows who it’s from, can even guess what he’s said.
But he ignores the gnawing of his stomach, setting his phone on his bedside table so he can try to go back to sleep.
Tossing and turning for the next few hours, he gives up, forcing himself to stand. He gives his phone a contemplative look before he decides against grabbing it. Allowing himself a couple of minutes to stretch and blink his way to a semi-coherency, he eventually chances a glance.
Louis’ texted since, asking if he’s okay.
He ignores him, too.
Still, he unlocks his phone with a sort of resigned flick of his finger, figuring that his anxiety will just worsen if he keeps waiting to listen to the message.
He’s right on the voicemail’s sender, can tell immediately by the sigh on the other end. Zayn had expected Liam to be angry, upset, yelling. Instead, he just sounds resigned and hurt.
Zayn wishes he would have just yelled.
“Do you even care, Zayn?” The words are biting, tapered in doubt and pain. There’s a momentary pause as it seems like Liam considers hanging up the phone. “And I’m not being funny at all. I really want to know.” He gulps down what Zayn figures are probably his tears before he gets out in a low voice, “What are we even fucking doing?” There’s one more moment of silence before he spits, “Because if you can’t tell me, then there’s. No purpose for this.”
The line clicks and it’s the silence that follows afterwards that hurts the most.
He knows he shouldn’t have avoided their meet-up, knows he did the wrong thing. Had known it even before Liam had called him twice the night before, eventually leaving a voicemail when he called for a third time, hours later.
It wasn’t his intention to skip out, to leave Liam hanging like he’d been finding himself doing in various ways over the past few weeks. At the same time, though, their talk on the football field was only going to help him out for so long. And he’d known that, but he’d tried his best, tried to put off the inevitable.
As his anxiety envelops him further, he can’t find it in himself to call him back, send him a message, or, do anything, really. He opens up the calling app more times than he can count, starts numerous messages that he just ends up erasing.
Flopping on the bed and curling up under his blankets, he listens to sad songs instead and wipes away the stubborn tears that refuse to stay bottled up inside.
The next day, at uni, he finds himself face-to-face with Liam. Immediately after he catches Zayn’s eye, and Zayn makes no move towards him, he flips on his heel to go the opposite way.
He could’ve seen that coming, of course, but it still makes him flinch, his stomach sinking even further than he knew possible.
It takes Liam most of the day, but he must eventually build up the courage--or the anger, maybe--to stalk up to Zayn’s building, waiting a few minutes for him to leave his class before he strikes.
Well, “striking” isn’t quite right. He’s calmer than Zayn expected, at this point seemingly looking more for an answer than a fight. “Are we done, then?” Is all he asks, not even looking him in the eye as Zayn steps down from the stairs onto the sidewalk. “Is that what you want?”
Zayn freezes, the words cutting into his now-pounding heart.
Slowly but surely, he turns his body to face Liam.
Liam gives him a glance, and it’s the first time that Zayn’s close enough to get a good look at him: the bags under his eyes, the unshaven prickle of his beard. The way his gaze seems to long for something that he knows he shouldn’t. The way his gaze longs for Zayn.
“I’m sorry,” Zayn replies after a moment, his voice coming out like sandpaper.
“Why didn’t you show up?” Liam changes his question, crossing his arms as his eyes keep flitting away, as if he knows that if he keeps them on Zayn for too long that he’ll break down.
“I meant to” Is the only thing Zayn can find it in himself to answer, but it sounds so weak, so full of bullshit, that even he winces at his own words. He takes one step closer, trying to find the right ones. “You have a right to be mad.”
Liam’s eyes flicker at these words, a sudden spark of anger bubbling up. “I don’t want to be mad, though, Zayn. I’ve already been mad, and I’ve been sad.” He bites his bottom lip so hard that it turns white.
Zayn pales at these words, unconsciously recoiling just a bit. “What do you want, then?” He whispers, almost afraid of the words.
Despite everything, Liam is the one to step closer, cocking his head to the side as he gives him a soft and fond look that Zayn knows he doesn’t deserve. Not right now, anyway. “I want to know what’s going on,” he says honestly, his voice laced with pain. “I guarantee we can not solve this if you don’t at least try.”
Zayn shrugs, his hands flailing slightly as he bores his eyes into the cracks in the cement, trying to think of what actually is going on. “This is really hard for me,” he says after a pause, and it’s cryptic enough that even he doesn’t know what he means.
He allows himself to glance at Liam, and what he finds doesn’t please him. Liam seems just as devastated as Zayn feels, only an instant from shattering completely. This look alone makes Zayn feel the need to at least attempt to explain himself. “I put on my shoes, my coat, grabbed my keys,” he gulps, eyes closing as he tries to halt the tears. “But when it came time to actually putting my hand on that doorknob and going to meet you, I…” Finally, a sob erupts from deep inside him, but he ignores it as he forces himself to finish, “I couldn’t do it.” He’s shaking his head fervently, as if that will somehow calm his frazzled nerves.
Liam’s Adam’s apple bobs a bit in his throat as he swallows, but he moves closer again, hands ghosting over Zayn’s arms as the other man continues in a whimper, “I listened to your voicemail, and I tried so hard to call back, to message back, anything.” Wiping at his nose to stop the inevitable, gross, snot bubble that he feels forming, he pauses when he feels Liam’s large hands close the distance to rub his arms soothingly.
That soft look is back for a flicker of an instant, and Zayn tears up again at the sight, Liam’s face quickly becoming blurry.
“I’m so sorry,” he bemoans, leaning into Liam’s touch as the tears keep falling down his cheeks.
Liam rubs his hands even faster, his voice quieting as he says, “It’s okay, love.” He moves one hand away quickly to wipe at Zayn’s tears as he pouts at him. He’s not quite sure what Zayn’s apologizing for, so he decides to tackle everything at once. “I’ve cried a lot, too.” He pauses to think. “And this has been really hard on me, also. But thank you for telling me,” he sighs, though he looks suddenly very, very tired. “But I won’t always fully get what’s going on in that beautiful brain of yours.” Offering a small smile, he lightly taps Zayn’s head. “So you have to tell me, okay? We need to continue being honest with each other. That’s why I wanted to meet, babe, yeah?” He looks at Zayn carefully. “I wasn’t planning on cursing you out, promise.”
Despite himself, Zayn’s lips upturn a bit, offering a small nod, not breaking eye contact with Liam. “I’m not perfect, either,” Liam adds knowingly, and Zayn’s smile doesn’t falter. “So it’s something I promise I’ll work on, too.”
He leans back just slightly to get a better look at Zayn. “So, to clarify, is this something you still want?” He points between the two of them, feeling a bit silly for doing so, but wanting to be as obvious as possible.
Zayn nods furiously, swallowing hard as the harrowing idea of the opposite infiltrates his brain. “I do,” he gets out in a croak, finally moving his arms to reach out for Liam, pulling him into a strong hug. “I do want this,” he repeats, voice a bit stronger now. “And I’ll try to explain myself more,” he adds as he realizes that that was the whole takeaway from this… well, whatever this was. Arms wrapping around Liam’s neck, he places one small thank-you kiss on the curve between his neck and his shoulder.
“Okay,” Liam replies firmly with a curt nod. He squeezes back against Zayn as he breathes out in a small voice, “We’ll go from there, then.”