Chapter Text
“Mate, you are a fucking state.” Zayn’s accent means those words don’t rhyme. Mehhhtt, stet. Liam’s sat on the floor of the bathroom, shuddering, defeated, yet somehow deeply amused by this revelation.
“I didn’t even drink that much.”
“Clearly, you’re a lightweight. Unsurprising really.”
“I worked in a bar.”
“You’ll be good at cleaning this up then.”
“At least I won’t have to shampoo the carpet.”
“Oh my god, who knew that there was special shampoo for carpets?! I was hungover, man.” They dissolve into laughter and Liam coughs a few times. “You done?
“Yeah I think so. This is weird.”
“What?”
“You, looking after me. The shoe is on the other table,”
“…what?”
“The table… shoes.”
“Right, bedtime for you.” Zayn squats down and hoists Liam up gently, guiding him the few steps across to his bed, where he belly flops atop the sheets the way he’s seen Zayn do a hundred times.
“Night, Zayn.”
“Wait, Li. Before you puked, you were saying…”
Liam’s already asleep.
-
* * *
“I feel rough as fuck.” Zayn elongates the swear. Foooook. His voice is rough. Liam looks up from his cocoon of blankets to where Zayn’s sat.
“Did you sleep at all?” Liam’s voice sounds even worse, vocal chords showing their damage from the retching last night.
“Not really,”
“I’m sorry I commandeered the bed.”
“It’s your bed.”
“You’re the guest.” They stammer through the pleasantries. The kitchen door slams loudly.
“Lads! Going on a Maccies run, want anything?” Matty’s banging on the door.
“Hash browns… and my dignity.” Liam calls, his voice raggedy.
“You decent?” Matty pops his head round the door before they can respond and a look of disgust passes his features. “Smells like we’re in Pete Doherty’s stomach in here, open a window. Anyone got a fiver?”
“Me,” Liam feebly points at the pile of change accumulating on his bookshelf.
“Sweet. What the fuck happened to you two last night?” Matty laughs. Liam groans and rolls over. “Wait, did the fuck happen to you last night?”
“Mate.” Zayn says. Matty puts up his hands and grabs a few pound coins.
“I will be back… with potato products.”
Liam just grunts in response. The door shuts with a slam and he winces.
“Drink some water,” Zayn suggests, tossing a half-empty bottle from Liam’s desk. It’s been there around three days but as Liam gulps it down it tastes like the best thing he’s ever drank.
“Ugh. Better. You alright? Sorry about last night.”
“It’s okay.”
“Did we, uh…” Liam’s so confused about what happened. He vaguely remembers confessing his feelings, but he dreamt about the night and now his memories are tinged with this weird thing, like fantasy and reality colliding.
“We just talked.” Zayn says.
“Oh, good.” Liam replies quickly. Zayn’s eyebrows shoot up.
“Good?”
“I mean, good, that we talked. Talking is… good.”
“Yeah.”
Liam buries his head under his pillow, limp from a night of tossing and turning.
“Wanna get some fresh air?” Zayn says.
“Let me brush my teeth.” Liam runs his tongue across his molars and shivers. “And maybe, shower.”
In half an hour, they’re up, dressed and walking across campus, gratefully munching their Egg McMuffins, sharing a large milkshake that is surprisingly having a positive effect on their hangovers. Zayn’s arms swing awkwardly by his sides. Liam’s never seen him so uncomfortable in his own skin. Liam finds himself leading Zayn to the lakes near the business school. It’s quiet there – the students who sunned themselves there during Freshers in September forsaking tanning for the library.
“Wanna sit?”
“The grass is kind of wet.” Zayn points out. “Look, Li, about last night.”
“I am so embarrassed.” Liam says.
“Don’t be. I. Erm. Wait a second. Just, let me…” He leans in.
They kiss. It’s a little awkward and Liam’s conscious he’s still hungover and he probably tastes slightly eggy and Zayn’s lips taste like sweet, artificial strawberries and his stubble is tickling his face.
Liam’s hands find themselves reaching for Zayn, but he’s already pulling back, long lashes fluttering open to gauge Liam’s reaction.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.” Liam leans this time and their lips crash together awkwardly, but it’s funny, and they’re laughing, fingers twining, birds chirping in the trees around them.
Sometimes, the story doesn’t end in an epic way. It ends with a hangover on a weekday and two people who finally ended up on the same page and maybe even a fried breakfast.