Archive of Our Own ^beta

There is a line between loving the sea and living for the sea, a line as fine and clear as the horizon, and Louis must have crossed it a long time ago.

Once, someone asked him why he loves the sea more than anything else in his life. Louis couldn't find the right words to explain that no one will ever be able to be as loving and scary, caring and terrifying beautiful, majestic and humble, loyal and present as the sea. No one will ever catch his eye as the sun on the waves, no one will ever sound as sweet as the undertow to his ears, no one will ever touch him as gently as the salty water, no one will ever listen to him as carefully as the sea. No one will ever take his breath away, make his heart beat faster, open his eyes, and silence his brain as the sea.

He doesn't have words to explain what is like to wake up in the middle of a storm and be terrified and mesmerized at the same time, waves brushing the lighthouse as if they wanted to get in and greet the light. He doesn't have words to tell the difference between the sounds of a gentle wave, a happy wave, and a loving wave. He doesn't have words to replicate the things the sea tells him; the stories, the reminders, the kind pushes saying take care of yourself, I can't do everything for you.

He doesn't have words, and maybe he doesn't want to have them.

Words don't really suit the sea, not in the way they suit people, anyway. People are defined, closed, clear in a way that makes them feel safe using something as confined as the human language, but the sea isn't. The sea is made of millions of different sounds that, sometimes, not even Louis can tell apart. The sea is made of colors, of lights, of movements and dances, of music and breaths, of life and death, and it doesn't want to be caged with something as common as words.

Sometimes, when the nights are longer and colder, when life seems harsher and meaner, Louis gets angry at the sea. Sometimes he screams at it, begging it to be clearer, be easier to understand, be kinder, be softer. Sometimes he just pushes too far from the shore, going deeper and deeper, silently asking to be taken away, to be taking care of, to be taken down. Sometimes he turns his back to it, closes his eyes and put headphones in, refusing to acknowledge it, like a stubborn child throwing a fit.

The sea never cares, and always cares too much. The sea waits him out, brings him to shore, screams back. The sea is always there and Louis is too, in the little house under the lighthouse, living with the sea, and for the sea.

~~~~~

Zayn doesn't like the water.

He doesn't like the beach much either, because what's the point of going to the beach if it's too cold to sunbathe, and the stones are too hard to sleep on them comfortably? But the beach is okay sometimes. It's quiet and it's lonely and it's beautiful, and Zayn needs all those things to write.

But the water…the water is terrifying.

The water is unpredictable and cold, harsh and loud, cutting and cruel. He's wary of it, always stays far away from the waves when he goes down to the beach, never sets foot in it.

He doesn't see the point of risking getting wet when he doesn't need the sea at all. Only needs the wind and the quiet to bring the words out of his head and down on his laptop -or on his paper, if he's feeling romantic.

He loves words.

Words are the perfect bricks to build the world. Words are the shapes he can fit his life into, the drawers he can organize his brain with, the flowers he can plant in a paper garden and grow, the steps he needs to climb higher towards the sky, the stars to form his galaxies.

There are words for everything and everyone, and that helps him keep everything in order without limiting his mind. That doesn't mean that he can always find the one he's looking for, or the one he needs -especially when he's talking to other people, because people are confusing and messy where words aren't- but he knows the right words exists even when he doesn't know them, and he finds comfort in them.

That's another reason why it's easier to write down at the beach: there aren't many people there, blowing his carefully organized words away with their noises and lives, and even when there are it's not hard to find silent places.

Sometimes, when the words hide from him or they come too fast and his brain gets confused, he gets distracted by the sea and his constant, terrifying, life.

Once, someone asked him why he doesn't like the sea, why he doesn't like the consistency of it, the perpetual motions of the waves, and the only thing he could come up with was a lame: I can't swim.

Which is true, but how can someone think they can swim in something like the sea? Something that is so clearly alive and ready to pull you under, take you away and push you around, fill your lungs with salt and death, tie your limbs and weigh you down until you're nothing but the sea yourself? How can someone willingly throw themselves at that? How can someone look at the charcoal waves and think they're beautiful? They're terrifying.

So he walks down at the beach, writes, and ignores the sea.

~~~~~

The first time Louis notices Zayn, he's going to the lighthouse to check if everything is working properly.

The sea is in a playful mood that afternoon, waves rushing one after the other and playing with the shoreline and the rocks, sunlight glistening like glass shards, and Louis whistles at it as if it is a dog, and laughs at the waves' indignation.

That's when he notices the boy sitting on a blanket twenty feet from the water's edge, tapping on a laptop and throwing annoyed glances at the waves whenever they get a couple inches closer. It makes Louis frown, knowing the guy could be annoyed at the sea when he clearly has no right to, but people are strange and mean and he's not going to dwell on that.

The first time Zayn notices Louis he's deleting a whole paragraph, the worthless work of the last hour, angrily pressing the backspace button and glaring at the sea, as if it's its fault for the words not fitting right.

The sea seems to glare back, waves more green and brown than gray today, high and mean, splashing way too much for Zayn's comfort, who sat even further away than usual.

That's when he notices the boy coming out of the freezing water, only a pair of red swim shorts on, apparently laughing and shivering at the same time.

Zayn gapes, wondering if the guy is insane, but he seems okay, only shakes his head when he's out of the waves completely, turns around to look at the sea one more time and then starts to jog towards the little house under the lighthouse. Zayn stares until he gets into the house, scared that he's going to drop dead in a moment, or maybe disappear in thin air like a vision, but he doesn't. Zayn’s laptop is almost out of charge and he isn't going to write anything decent today, so he gets up and forgets about it.

The problem is that he actually doesn't.

He starts going down at the beach almost every day, losing focus on his writing every time there is some movements around him, studying the sea to look for the boy in the water, and the house to check if there are any signs of him. Zayn doesn't actually know why he's worried about the stranger, but every time that he doesn't see him, the knot in his throat gets a little tighter and his heart heavier.

Maybe it's the fear of what someone so who's reckless enough to throw himself in that kind of sea could do, or maybe it's the loneliness of the house -tiny and hidden near the lighthouse- or maybe it's the way he seems to be talking to sea.

It took Zayn a good ten days to understand that the stranger wasn't talking on the phone or at someone else, he was really talking to the stormy water. When he did he didn't know how to process the information. Zayn hears him calling the sea every kind of name, from “old man” to “darling”, from “you cryptic bastard” to “love”. It's weird and unsettling and kind of sad, and Zayn doesn't know what to do with that.

So he keeps going down at the beach, sitting far away from the water and trying to write while he looks out for the boy. Needless to say, he doesn't write much.

What he doesn't know is that Louis has been studying him, too.

A guy with a laptop always sitting on the beach far away from the water and the other people obviously catches his eye. Plus, the water seems to be wary of him, not as if it is scared, but more like it is watching something unknown and unusual. Softer a couple of days Louis just adds him to his list of duties. He checks the lighthouse, keeps the house as tidy as he can, checks in with the sea, and keeps an eye out for the strange guy who always jumps when the water gets too close to him.

It's kind of fascinating to watch, his long fingers flying on the keyboard and then stop for long, long moments, his eyes flickering up to glare at the sea and then look down again, his teeth worrying his bottom lip, and then more glares. One look around, another glare, another pause, maybe more writing, another glare.

He does do a lot of glaring. t first Louis is annoyed, because who did he think he is, glaring at the sea so much when the sea was doing nothing to him? But then annoyance turns to endearment and he starts getting closer during his walks, starts getting out of the house when the stranger appears at the beach, starts talking about him to the sea.

The sea doesn't know what to do with the guy, which confuses Louis even more. Since when does the sea not know something? But the boy doesn't like the water, and the water stopped trying to be playful and started getting careful and sometimes a bit angry, trying to splash him just to be petty. Louis started scolding the sea, telling it to leave the guy alone.

It's a stupid thing to do, because the water never listens to him, or to anyone, but the guy scoots further away from the waves, and Louis finds himself being scared he might leave once and for all.

He hasn't felt like that in a long long time.

But even with all his new found curiosity, he doesn't really want to talk to the guy. He doesn't want to have anything else to do with people, nothing more than the bare necessity, thank you very much, and that isn't going to change just because someone is interesting.

Until that changes.

~~~~~

Grocery shopping is easily the worst part of Louis' week. He doesn't know why he can't get deliveries at the lighthouse, but he's been trying to avoid the supermarket for months and he still hasn't managed to do it. He has to walk to the city, get food for a week, and then feel like a mule trying to carry everything back home, but as far as he knows, he still needs to eat, so he does it and hates every single second of it.

That week when he comes back, sweating and swearing under the two bags of groceries, the sky is gray and the sea is jittery, batting against the rocks with nervous fingers of water, and Louis' stranger is sitting closer to the water than usual.

At first Louis doesn't pay attention to it -only notices it and goes on his way, carrying his bags to the house and putting everything away neatly- but when he looks out of the window the water is just ten or twelve feet away from the boy, splashes nearly getting to him, and he's not moving, keeps tapping away at the keyboard, his bottom lip trapped between his lips.

He seems so focused, so lost in his work, not even glancing up from the screen as he usually does, and maybe he doesn't notice the tide raising or the water getting hungrier, but if he doesn't move soon he's going to get wet and Louis doesn't know what to do.

He doesn't want to go talk to him, he doesn't want to interact with any more people today, he's had more than enough, but if there is one thing that Louis understood about the guy is that he's scared of the sea and he doesn't want the water to scare him even more. And the laptop seems very important to him, and Louis wouldn't want it to get wet either.

So he waits, gives him two more feet to look up, gives himself a bit more time to take a decision, but if he has to be honest the decision had been made as soon as he noticed what was happening.

A wave even bigger than the others almost splashes Louis' stranger, and Louis gets out of the house and down to the beach again.

He doesn't give himself time to think more about it, just jogs down until he's a couple feet away and then slows down, hoping that the guy is going to notice him. When he doesn't Louis doesn't hesitate any longer and crosses the space still between them.

“Hey ma...” He doesn't even get to finish the sentence, because Louis' stranger startles so badly he swears and almost drops the laptop on the ground, one hand flying to his chest, and Louis is left gaping at him, at loss.

“Shit, do you want to kill me?” It doesn't really sound like something Louis should answer, so he just shrugs and motions to the water.

“You're going to get wet if you don't move,” he says, looking at the stranger's eyes following his movement, widening at the sight of how close the water is.

It's a bit funny, watching him scramble to his feet, grabbing his things to take a few steps back.

“Fuck, I got distracted.,” he mutters, and...is he blushing? He's still breathing hard from the scare Louis accidentally gave him, so Louis can't be sure, but he seems embarrassed by his own distraction, and it is kinda cute. Just kinda.

“It's fine, wouldn't have touched you for at least another half an hour, and I'm sure you would have noticed the splashes first.” He doesn't know why he's still talking to his stranger, but he's curious okay? The sea can stop sneering at his back and…

“Just shut up.” He doesn't think about it, just turns around and grumbles it at the water, frowning. He just… he doesn't think. But as soon as he does it he freezes, muscles tensing.

The thing is, talking with the sea as he does isn't exactly normal and he knows it. People have told him before, have laughed at him for that before, but he can't always help it. It's a habit and it's been a stressful two hours, and he doesn't think.

But the laugh doesn't come.

No laugh, no confused questions, no teasing, no “you're batshit crazy I'm gonna run now” looks. Even when he dares to look up and meet his stranger's eyes, he doesn't find any of that in them. He just looks a bit spooked and a lot like he was glaring at the sea, too.

Which he does a lot.

“I'm....sorry...I'm going to leave you to your work. The tide should rise for another six feet or so, but I wouldn't advise hanging around for that, because it's going to rain in an half an hour so… I'm going to leave.” Louis really really doesn't like words, especially when he rambles them out and makes a even bigger fool of himself in front of a cute, maybe interesting guy who hasn't run from him yet. He needs to stick to the sea.

“Okay.”

Louis stays there for one more beat, waiting for the guy to add anything else, but he doesn't seem to intend to, so he mentally slaps himself one more time before turning around.

“Uh… Thanks. For the… advice. And warning. Thanks.”

At least Louis' stranger seems as awkward and embarrassed as Louis feels right now, so he throws a smile over his shoulder and walks away with his hands in his pocket, feigning a nonchalance that he doesn't actually feel.

When he looks out of the kitchen window of his house the guy is gone, and Louis finds himself hoping he will come back.

~~~~~

Zayn does come back.

He comes back two days later, trusted blanket under his arm, laptop, and the firm decision of saying hi to the lonely guy if he sees him again.

He considers sitting a little closer to the water than usual, so maybe he will come to Zayn’s rescue once again, but he doesn't want to seem that obvious and distracted and if he doesn't come, Zayn’s laptop could get wet and he doesn't want to risk that. So, he sits at his usual place and starts to write.

Or well, he tries to.

It's kind of hard to focus when you don't know where your story is going, and you're looking up at every movement because you're weirdly curious of a boy that talked to you once.

God, this is pathetic.

Zayn closes the document he's working on and shuts his computer, taking out paper and pencils from his messenger bag, hoping to have more luck with those.

He doesn't. And the guy doesn't appear.

He goes home two hours later, having done nothing, and with a hard weight on his chest.

Hiding at the top of the lighthouse, Louis watches the black spot he thinks is his stranger leave the beach without looking back.

“It's your fault,” he tells the sea, who is dancing far down, far enough it can pretend to not hear him. “Okay, fine it isn't. I am an idiot.”

He sighs, leaving the big window to walk down the stairs that lead back home.

The problem is that he doesn't want to be interested, he doesn't want to be curious, he doesn't want to feel bad for hiding away and not going to talk to his stranger. He doesn't want to have the burden of other humans again. He doesn't want to remember how to talk to people and not only to the sea, doesn't want to give someone else the chance to be in his life again. He has had enough of that, thank you very much, and he doesn't want anything more.

But even if he doesn't want to, he does feel bad. He feels bad and stupid, and there is regret sitting somewhere on his lungs. The sea is mocking him for being such a coward, and he really wants to know his stranger's name.

He still doesn't know why he's so curious about him, but he is and it's awful.

He goes for a swim in the ice cold water until the sea forces him to get out before he freezes to death. It scolds him for being reckless and for whining so much about such a little thing. But it's easy for the sea, isn't it? Everything is small for the sea, everything is futile and short lived and forgettable, so how could it understand? The sea doesn't know what it feels like, to be stuck in a dreadful limbo of not knowing, of wishing and not wanting enough, of wondering and hating yourself for wondering. The sea doesn't care.

But Louis still listens to it, gets out of the water and runs home to warm himself up, and make tea and find something edible for dinner.

That night the sea is calm, whispering secrets to the boats, and telling Louis tomorrow tomorrow tomorrow tomorrow.

~~~~~

“Hey.”

Louis looks up from the floater he's freeing from seaweed to find his stranger hovering over him, a tentative smile on his lips. For a second, he doesn't know if he should act really surprised, maybe startle a bit, but to be honest Louis was looking at him out of the corner of his eye and saw him coming, so he lets the second pass and smiles, straightening up.

The sea laughs at him and tries to nudge at him, but Louis is too far away from the water, so he ignores it and keeps his eyes on his stranger.

“Hey.”

He's almost too gorgeous, all hazel eyes warm like a hug, eyelashes longer than a dream, and cheekbones sharper than the sea. Louis desperately tries to tell himself that no, he isn't attracted to that beautiful stranger. He doesn't fool himself, and he definitely doesn't fool the sea, who laughs again and splashes him.

“I, uhm… I wanted to thank you again for the other day. And like… I must have looked like a total moron, but you startled me and...”

Louis' smile grows bigger at his stranger's babbling. It, weirdly enough, doesn't make him annoying. If possible, it makes him cuter. Louis doesn't like that.

“That's fine, mate. My fault,” Louis shrugs, hiding his hands in his pockets for a lack of anything else to do; wracking his brain in search of things to say in a normal conversation that actually involves two people, and not one person and the sea. He comes up short, but luckily his stranger saves him, extending his hand with a shy look in his eyes.

“I'm… uhm… I'm Zayn,” he offers.

Louis takes a breath, wishes he could turn around and ask the sea what the hell he's supposed to do with what seems like an offer of friendship, but he can't. And the sea would only laugh at him even more, so he takes the hand.

“Louis.”

A handshake seems way too little of a thing for something that feels like the biggest step forward in Louis' life in a very long time.

So.

Louis' stranger has now a name, a cute laugh, and a nice voice. He talks about the weirdest things, uses big words, and gets suddenly shy and quiet. He's terribly interesting, awfully gorgeous, and surprisingly easy to spend time with.

Louis hates him.

That night he runs to the top of the lighthouse after hours of turning and tossing in his bed, and screams until his lungs feel like they're going to burst. He slides down to sit at the top of the stairs, and listens to the sea screaming back at him.

“I don't want to have a person, you asshole. People aren't good for me and I am not good for people, and he is too good. He's good and he's scared of you, and I don't want a person.”

Try try try try try.

“Shut up, you don't know what it's like. I've got this, now. I've got the lighthouse, my tiny house, my job and you, and I am not going to screw myself over because a guy is cute and funny and interesting and doesn't drain me out.”

Try try try try try.

“Can't you say something else? Like, I don't know, 'hey Louis you're gonna be fine without him'? Or 'he's a bastard for being scared of the water you should stay away from him'? I don't want to try.”

Try try try try try.

“You're becoming monotonous. And annoying. I'm gonna go to bed and never talk to him ever again.”

Try try try try try. Idiot.

“Shut up.”

~~~~~

He talks to Zayn the day after and the day after that and then the day after that and then it's been a whole week and it's become a habit, just like watching him had become a habit before. He does what he has to do at the lighthouse and at the beach, he swims, he talks to the sea, and sits with Zayn over the worn blanket.

They don't really talk much. Zayn’s busy writing or doing whatever he's doing when he messes around on his laptop, and Louis just lies there -sometimes saying something to the waves, sometimes fixing this or that- but it's good and it's relaxing, and Louis is terrified.

He came to the lighthouse for a reason: stay away from people.

People are confusing and angry and selfish, people love you and leave you, people die. The sea never dies, never leaves, never changes, and Louis wants that in his life. He's tired of having to fix his heart and pick up the pieces of his life. He wants to love the sea, live for the sea, die with the sea.

That's it.

But Zayn… Zayn is made of everything Louis falls for, and he is afraid that is what is going to happen. And still, he can't leave.

Every day he tells himself: hide home, don't go, forget, leave, but he can't.

Every day he lets his stupid heart drag him to Zayn as soon as Zayn is sat down, and Louis can't help but love every moment spent with him.

Maybe he's been alone for too long, or maybe Zayn is just right for him, but Louis can't help it and he is afraid.

The sea keeps making fun of him, but it hugs him underwater, tells him everything is going to be okay, and Louis tries terribly hard to believe it.

~~~~~

“It's not going to hurt you, you know?”

Zayn makes a questioning noise, not raising his eyes from the keyboard. He knows what this is about, and he doesn't want to talk about it, but he knows enough about Louis by now to not be surprised when he doesn't drop it.

“The sea. It's not going to hurt you.”

Zayn sighs, straightening his back and meeting Louis' blue eyes. For a second he thinks about telling him to fuck off; for another, about telling him all the reasons why the sea fucking terrifies him; but in the end, he just shrugs.

“It is.”

“It's not.”

“It doesn't want to.”

“It doesn't matter.”

“Why?”

“We can't all be married to salted water, Louis.”

That's not an answer and Zayn knows Louis knows it, can see the retort building in his brain, but then Louis' eyes grow colder and he nods.

“Fine,” he shrugs, throwing a rock in the water and glaring.

Zayn should probably say something, set what looks like some sort of fight straight, but he doesn't want to talk about it and he won't.

So, he goes back to staring at Louis' hands and pretend to be doing work.

“What's wrong with you today?”

Louis peels his eyes away from the angry water, from the big pewter gray waves slapping the shore, to throw a confused glance at Zayn. He can't keep his fingers still on his legs, or his legs either, to be fair.

“You're all… tense” Zayn places a hand on Louis' one to keep his fingers still. “... and jittery.”

Louis jumps a little at Zayn's touch, but he doesn't move his hand, just stares at them, as if they are something he has never seen before.

It feels weird, to have someone touch him again. It's been so long Louis doesn't remember what he's supposed to do, so he does nothing.

“The sea is angry. It's preparing something big, maybe a gale, I don't know, but it's more than that. It's.... I don't know…It doesn't want to talk to me.”

It's out of his mouth before he can think about him and he immediately tenses even more, his eyes snapping up to meet Zayn's ones. Usually people don't like it when he says stuff like that, they think that he's insane or delusional, or that he's taking the piss. They usually make fun of him or get angry, but Zayn's eyes aren't cold or mean, they're just worried.

“Is it weird?” he asks, taking his eyes away from Louis for a second to look at the water again. He seems tense too now, and Louis shuffles a little closer out of pure instinct, but doesn't dare to touch him more than they already are.

“A bit. Usually even when it doesn't want to talk it gives me some sort of… sign.” Louis cringes at his own words, wishes he could have a better way of saying that, but Zayn doesn't bat an eye..

“Are you going to be okay tonight, being so close to this angry water, then?”

Zayn is worried about him.

Louis opens his mouth, but he doesn't know what to say.Zayn isn't making fun of him, isn't getting weirded out, he's worried about Louis.

“I'm... yeah. The sea likes to pretend it's the strongest force in the world, but there's not much it can do to a house that it's entirely out of its reach.”

“I wasn't saying that.” Maybe Zayn is blushing a little, but Louis can't tell.

He just smiles and dares to cross the space still between them to knock his shoulder against Zayn's, leaving it there.

“I know. I'll be okay.”

Zayn smiles back at him, slow and shy and still a little concerned, and there is warmth spreading in Louis chests. He wishes Zayn could be telepathic enough to know that this would be the right moment to hug him.

~~~~~

“What are you writing about?”

Zayn looks down at where Louis is lying on the blanket next to him, pretending that the sun is warm enough for it to be comfortable, and stomps on the fondness growing in his chest.

“A bit of this and a bit of that.”

He hides a smile when Louis opens one eye to glare at him, just like Zayn knew he was going to.

“I write for the local paper sometimes, and from some online stuff. I help a bit with editing stuff too, or with students in need, if they pay well enough.”

“Okay, but what do you write? What is your...thing?”

It takes a moment for Zayn to understand, fingers brushing the buttons on his laptop without really pressing anything, Louis not even opening his eyes.

“I write poetry sometimes, but I'm not really good at that. It's more like...songs and stuff, you know?”

“Do you sing?”

“I can try.”

“Will you sing with me someday?”

It takes Zayn aback a little, the fact that Louis asked 'with me' and not 'for him'. He doesn't really know if it's Louis using words in his own way or Louis asking for a new thing to do together, but he nods anyway. He would say yes to anything.

“I'm writing a book,” Zayn adds after a moment, when the silence stretches out and Louis doesn't seem intentioned on breaking it, when he feels like the words are too heavy to let them sit on his tongue.

“What is it about?”

His book is his baby and he hasn't actually talked about it with anyone before, and he's not sure he is going to be able to do it now, not even if it's Louis, but he can try, especially now that Louis is looking at him and not at the sky.

“Friendship. And loss. And a lot of regrets and getting high.” The words are sour in his mouth, seems like a betrayal to describe his baby like that, but he can't find the right words to use right now, doesn't even want to. Not yet.

“Sounds like my uni life story.” Louis laughs and Zayn sees the escape route his words are purposefully creating and laughs with him.

“You went to uni? Would never have guessed.”

Louis hits him in the thigh and sticks his tongue out at him. Zayn's heart stutters a little.

“I did go to uni! For a whole five months!” Louis argues, pouting like a child for a second, before breaking into a laugh again, self deprecating and lovely as usual.

“What happened then?”

It's the wrong thing to ask, apparently, because Louis' smile stiffens and his eyes go suddenly dark before he closes them.

“Things. Life. I decided studying wasn't for me and moved back home for a while. Worked all sorts of jobs before grabbing this.”

Zayn touches his shoulder and smiles at him when Louis opens his eyes again. He hopes Louis can see the you're okay message he's trying to send him.

“Did you fall in love with the sea before or after moving here?” he asks, instead of saying it out loud.

Louis' eyes grow softer and he glances at the waves, then rolls his eyes like they said something to him. To be fair, they probably did.

“The sea always owned my heart. My one and only, this one is. But we got married after I moved here.”

“Oh, was it a June wedding?”

Louis hits his leg again, but he's smiling and the clouds are gone from his face, so Zayn doesn't even bother hitting back.

“September wedding, actually. It was really private and sweet and we haven't been apart since.”

“Such a lovely story.”

“Oh, shut up.”

This time Zayn hits him back and if his hand lingers more than it should, no one is there to see it.

~~~~~

“It's going to rain tomorrow.”

Zayn looks up at the clouds, flying fast in the sky, then down again at Louis, who's playing with a piece of wood he found on the rocks.

“Yeah?”

“And for the rest of the week, too,” Louis adds, and Zayn is at loss. Are they talking about the weather or about something else?

“Okay. Thanks for telling me?”

Louis huffs, and even if he can't see it, Zayn is sure he's rolling his eyes, but it isn't Zayn's fault if Louis doesn't know how to be clearer, so Zayn waits for him to put his thoughts in order and explain himself.

“You're not coming down if it rains,” Louis mutters after a few seconds, ears red and fingers twitching on the wood.

For a moment, Zayn doesn't know what else to do if not stay there and let the warmth expand in his chest, fondness so loud he just wants to hug Louis and never let go.

“I can, if I want to.”

“Do you want to?”

“Of course I do.”

“It's stupid, you'll get wet.”

“Do you want me to?”

Louis' ears become even redder at that, if possible, and he sighs, before nodding. “You could come to my house if you want to. It's quiet and you can still hear the sea, if that's what you like to have when you write.”

“Louis?” Zayn waits until Louis is looking at him before going on. “I'm going to hug you now, okay?”

Louis lets out a surprised laugh, but he nods, a bit shy and unsure, and Zayn hugs him.

It's a bit awkward because of the way they're sitting next to each other, Zayn's laptop resting on his legs, but Louis hides his face in Zayn's shoulder and Zayn holds him tighter. It lasts way longer that it should because neither wants to let go.

He should have done it sooner.

“I would love to come,” he says when they finally let go of each other and put some distance between them.

Louis' cheeks and ears are still red, but he's smiling and his eyes are shining, happy and somehow surprised at the same time, and he nods, so Zayn goes back to editing a really boring article.

He pretends he doesn't see Louis take one deep breath before letting his head fall on Zayn's shoulder.

~~~~~

“What do you even do here?”

They're lying on the Louis' worn out sofa, Zayn slumped down in the middle with his laptop opened on his legs but not writing, Louis curled up in a corner with a cup of tea in his hands. The rain is soft outside, just a background noise to their afternoon.

“Mainly check on the lighthouse, see if everything is working, keeping the windows clean, check the lenses, stuff like that.”

“I have read that since most lighthouses have been automatized, it's not necessary to have lighthouse keepers anymore.”

Louis tears his eyes away from the window to look at Zayn, who is looking down at his hands in his lap, hair falling in his eyes.

“You looked up my job?” He doesn't know what he's feeling yet, but it feels wrong, as if Zayn thought he was lying or something.

“I was curious! No one has lived in the lighthouse for a long time. The last keeper was a old man who lived two streets down from me and just came here once or twice a week.”

Something sour fills Louis' mouth, slowing his answer down.

“I'm not lying about my job, Zayn.”

Zayn's head snaps up, his eyes almost comically wide.

“I wasn't saying that! I am just curious, I swear.”

Louis frowns, his hand closing on the tea a little tighter.

“Okay.” he says in the end, and watches Zayn relax, hide his face again. “I was looking for a job and I found this offer. It said it was just for a couple of days a week, but I needed a place to stay, so I asked and they offered me to stay at this house, which was empty anyway. They lowered the pay a bit, but it's enough to get by and to send home something, so it's fine. I don't really have to check on the lighthouse every day, but I do it anyway because I like it.”

Zayn nods, still not meeting Louis' eyes, worrying his bottom lip as Louis has seen him do too many times already. It's kind of unfair, to be honest.

“Okay. I'm sorry I made it look like I didn't trust you,” he mutters. He looks a bit like a child who has been scolded, with his too big sweater and his hair falling in his eyes and Louis has to smile. He puts down the tea and moves over to Zayn, wrapping his arms around him and hiding his face in his shoulder.

“It's okay.”

~~~~~

“What does the sea say?”

It's the third day of rain and they are in Louis' living room again, both sitting on the floor. Zayn has a stack of papers in front of him, old articles about the development of the city that he needs to read for something he's in the newspaper. Louis is reading an old comic book Zayn lent him, the always present cup of tea right next to his knee.

Louis looks up at Zayn's question, a confused look on his face.

“Like in general, or right now?” he asks, looking out of the window seemingly out of habit.

“I don't know. Both.”

Louis is silent for a moment and Zayn is content with just looking at him, focused on the soft sounds of the rain, and the mumbling and grumbling of the waves outside.

“It's just...It's not really talking right now. It's busy with the rain, but it's.... it's sleepy.” Louis blushes and Zayn raises an eyebrow.

“Sleepy?” It's hard to imagine how that word could describe something always moving and alive as the sea, but somehow Louis makes it sound believable.

“Yeah, like...The rain makes it softer and it isn't as playful as it is in the sunshine, or as agitated as a gale makes it. It's like, it's listening to what the rain is telling it. It's like... the rain is part of the sea that made it big, you know?”

Zayn chuckles at the description and Louis smiles back, his cheeks still red as they get every time he talks about the sea. Zayn hasn't found a way to make Louis understand that he will never have to be embarrassed of himself with him.

“Yeah?” Zayn prompts him, relaxing against the couch and not looking away.

Louis shrugs, rolls his eyes, but then he gives up and talks again.

“Yeah. Because like, the rain left the sea and went around the world, seeing all sorts of things from the clouds. It came back down to tell the sea all the things it can't see. The river does it too, but it's like when your neighbour tells you good morning every day and when a friend you haven't seen for a long time calls you, you know? A different kind of feeling.”

“You are fascinating.” It's out of his mouth before Zayn can stop himself. He immediately blushes, looking down at his lap only to look up again to catch Louis' reaction. He is staring at Zayn, eyes wide and confused, cheeks red.

“What?”

That's not the time to take it back, so Zayn shrugs and explains.

“The way your brain works, how you see the world, with everything communicating, while staying sort of out of it yourself? It's fascinating.”

“Shut up.” Louis leaves the book and crosses the space between them to press his face in Zayn's shoulder, and Zayn wraps his arms around him, smiling in his hair.

“You are,” he repeats, laughing at the light punch Louis throws in his stomach.

“You wanna know what the sea is saying now? It's telling you to shut up.”

Even without knowing how to speak salted water Zayn knows that's not true.

“It's not. It's listening to the drops of rain telling him about a cow giving birth,” he jokes, not letting go of Louis even when he puts some distance between them.

“I don't know what the rain is saying, but the sea is content and you should shut up.”

Zayn just laughs again, going back to his papers while Louis grabs his comic book and settles against his side.

Watching Louis reading, curled up against him, Zayn wishes the rain could last forever.

~~~~~

“Can I ask you something?”

Louis is sitting on the counter of the tiny kitchen, watching Zayn look into his cabinets for something to cook for dinner.

“Can you tell me when you're going to fill these with something edible first?” Zayn answers without looking at him.

“Grocery shopping is on Thursday, which means in two days, and beans are plenty edible.”

Zayn looks up at that, eyebrows raised and a can of baked beans in his hand.“Are you living off of baked beans and eggs, Louis?”

Louis just shrugs, hopping down the counter and opening the fridge.“Milk and cereals too. And tea. And ramen, but I finished that yesterday. I might have something frozen somewhere, though.”

“Louis.”

Louis turns around, hand on his hips and fire in his eyes.

“Listen up, smart boy, I can survive well enough on my own, okay? I don't need you to come here and judge my non existent cooking skills and I don't need you to come and criticize my diet either. I haven't died yet and won't die anytime soon, so do you want beans or do you want to be fancy and have chicken?”

Zayn takes a breath, then another, then a step forward until he can close the fridge and look Louis in the eyes.

“I wasn't judging, Louis. I know you can take care of yourself, but...”

“I could afford other food, if that's what you're thinking.”

“I know you can.”

“And I don't care that I don't know how to cook it, I'm fine like this.”

“Can you shut up? I'm trying to ask you if you want me to cook something for you.”

Louis' eyes snap wide, but then he furrows his brows again, doubtful and wary.

“Are you...”

“I'm not trying to do anything that isn't doing something nice for you, okay? You made me tea and I make you dinner, fair trade.” Zayn smiles a little when he sees Louis finally starting to relax again, but he doesn't break eye contact until Louis does.

“It's not fair trade,” Louis mumbles, dropping his eyes to the ground, nervous fingers worrying the bottom of his sweater. “And there's nothing to cook.”

“I'll think of something.” Zayn replies gently, brushing a hand over Louis' shoulder before turning away and going back to rummaging through the cupboards. “You said you have chicken?”

Louis doesn't answer, but a moment later a package of frozen chicken breast appears under Zayn's eyes. He takes it without a word and keeps hunting for some spices.

“What did you want to ask?” he says after a while, chopping a lonely onion he found in the fridge on a seemingly new chopping board.

Louis takes a while to answer, and Zayn looks up to find him staring outside of the window to the sea, apparently lost in thought.

“Lou?”

Louis jumps a little at the nickname and turns around slowly, blinking a couple of times.

It's incredibly adorable.

“Sorry, the sea....”

“Something wrong?”

“No, it just...It likes to tell me when I'm being an idiot.” Louis turns a little to roll his eyes at the sea and Zayn smiles, feeling like every inch of him is filled with fondness.

“Are you? Being an idiot?” he asks, going back to the onion.

“A bit. Can I help?”

“Find me some oil, will you?”

It feels like something bigger than it actually is, cooking with Louis. Moving around the unknown kitchen, opening the wrong drawers looking for a knife and having Louis handing one to him without having to ask, discovering that everything is upside down and sideways, mugs everywhere,pans nowhere to be found until Louis makes them appear from a top cabinet he can hardly reach. Pushing Louis away from the stove before the onion burns, laughing at his offended face when Zayn tells him to just sit down and not get in the way; fighting with the desire to fit between his legs from where he's sitting on the counter and just hug him.

It feels like they have done this forever and they will never stop.

~~~~~

“What are you thinking about?” Louis asks him a while later, both of them sitting on the floor against the couch with their plates on their knees because it sounded more comfortable than the small kitchen table.

“What you were going to ask me earlier,” Zayn lies, hiding the list of things he could cook for Louis if he had more food in the house deep down in his brain. He might like watching Louis eating with delight a little too much, that's not his fault.

“You don't have to answer, but... shouldn't you be studying? Like in uni or whatever?”

Zayn looks up from his plate surprised, but Louis isn't looking at him, still focused on the last pieces of chicken on his.

“I took a gap year. Well, two gap years, now.” Zayn says, studying Louis' reaction carefully, but unable to identify any emotion on his still half hidden face.

“Why?”

Zayn could lie, tell him he didn't know what to do, didn't want to study anymore, but he doesn't really want to, doesn't have a real reason to, so he just shrugs.

“My first year in uni I... I tried to do too many things and I wasn't really happy with where I was and who I was, and I stressed myself out until I had a breakdown and couldn't do it anymore.”

Louis is looking at him now, something careful and soft in his eyes, food forgotten in his lap.

“I'm sorry.” he says, scooting along the floor until he is pressed against Zayn shoulder, brushing his hand against Zayn's.

Warmth spreads from the contact and Zayn smiles, taking his fork again and eating the last piece of chicken.

“It's okay. I think uni wasn't really for me, you know? I like to write for all these different things and to focus on my own stuff, so it's okay. Plus, my family doesn't have to pay for something I am not enjoying, and I can help out a little at home with what I earn.”

Louis nods and goes back to eating too, but doesn't move away.

“Do you think you will ever go back?” he asks after a while, and Zayn doesn't know if the question is really for him or a bit for Louis himself, but he answers anyway.

“I don't know. It would be cool to have a degree, would make finding a serious job easier maybe, but I am not sure I would enjoy it as much as I enjoy doing my own thing.”

Louis nods again and they finish eating in silence, while the sea whispers secrets to the clouds outside.

~~~~~

“Why do you only come down at the beach in the afternoon?”

The sea is messy today, filled with seaweed and sand after the bad weather of the last days. It makes the water mopey and whiny, keeps telling Louis to shut up even when he's not saying anything. And he's not talking much today, because Zayn seems really absorbed in his work and he doesn't want to break his train of thought, but he's stopped typing now, so maybe Louis is safe enough.

“Mm?”

Okay, maybe not.

“Doesn't matter, go back to your head.”

Louis drags his knees a little closer to his chest, a shiver running down his spine, and breathes, looking up at the gray sky. He wishes it was already summer, or maybe late spring, when the world smells like sunshine and the rocks aren't always cold and wet, when the sea is excited and the seagulls happy. Instead it's February and it's raining all the time.

Zayn doesn't say anything, just goes back to typing, his bottom lip trapped in his teeth, a deep frown on his face.

Sometimes Louis wishes he had something else to do, something more than just lying there waiting for Zayn to pay attention to him, or for the sea to stop being a whiny baby, or for the world to become interesting again, but he doesn't.

Or well, he could.

Zayn is so busy writing, and he hasn't been swimming for days, he could....

“I'll be right back.”

He doesn't know why he bothered speaking at all, since Zayn barely nods at him, glaring at the screen and hitting the backspace button too many times to be a good sign.

Two minutes later he's back, dropping a big towel on the blanket next to Zayn and stripping to his swim shorts, shivering in the cold.

“What are you doing?”

Louis looks up, surprised to find Zayn looking at him, confusion and worry all over his face.

“I'm going for a swim.”

“It's freezing and the sea is awful.”

The sea grumbles and Louis waves a hand at it, not even looking.

“Swimming will warm me up, and it's not awful. The worst of the seaweed is near the shore, as soon as I'll be a little more far away the water will be fine.”

“Louis...”

Louis rolls his eyes, something angry in his chest that shouldn't be there, but still makes him want to throw something at Zayn and scream at him.

“I'll be fine. Write.”

He doesn't wait for Zayn's answer before running away in the sea, wincing at the ice cold water biting at his skin, at the slimy seaweed wrapping itself around his legs, at the iron waves hitting him with way too much force.

“Stop being a little bastard and make me stop thinking.”

Shut up. Idiot.

He doesn't bother answering, just takes a breath and goes down under.

He lets the waves push him back to the shore only when his whole body starts to go numb, barely being able to keep his head out of the water to breathe, brain pleasingly empty.

He can barely walk when he steps out of the water, his whole body shaking so hard he keeps slipping on the rocks, the waves chanting bad idea bad idea bad idea told you told you told you behind him, Zayn staring in front of him. Zayn doesn't get up to help him.

He falls down on Zayn's blanket wrapping the towel so tight around himself that he can almost feel his fingers hurt. Good thing he can't feel them at all.

Zayn is still looking at him without saying a single word.

“What?” Louis snaps, or tries to snap, but it comes out shaky, his lips too cold to properly form words, full body shivers still running through him.

“What was that about? A death wish I didn't know about?” Zayn's voice is almost as cold as the sea and Louis winces, pulling at the towel until it covers his head and he can pretend to be a little warmer.

“What are you talking about? It was just a swim.” His voice sounds defensive to his own ears and he hates it.

Idiot. Idiot. Idiot. Idiot. Idiot.

“And you can shut the fuck up.” he adds, snapping at the sea who just snaps right back at him, like the right lost cause it is.

“Just a swim? You're fucking half frozen to death! You kept going under the water for too long and struggled to keep afloat! I am not fucking blind, Louis.”

Apparently Zayn is really good at snapping too, and Louis' brain is way too cold to come up with an excuse right away.

“The sea wouldn't let me drown.” he says instead, suddenly feeling small, his big towel wrapped around him like an armour.

“The sea doesn't fucking care about anyone or anything. It's just water! If you're drowning, you'll drown.”

It's like being slapped in the face, every word a punch, every letter a knife.

That's what Zayn thinks: that the sea is just water and that Louis is insane for treating it as anything else that that.

Like everyone else.

“I'm going home.”

It takes two tries to finally get up, his legs cold and unsteady.

“You can't just leave! You...” Zayn tries to grab at him, but Louis is quicker, stepping back with a snarl, holding his clothes with one hand and the towel with the other.

“Don't you dare.”

The rocks are harsh and slippery under Louis' feet, the cold air making his towel fly and making him stumble.

Zayn calls for him, but he doesn't follow Louis. When Louis, wearing warm clothes and holding a cup of tea, looks out of the window, he's gone.

~~~~~

That night the wind screams outside, making the doors and windows of the little house rattle, and Louis can't sleep.

It's just water!

He wishes he could go up to the top of the lighthouse and scream until he can't bear it anymore, but the world is cold and his bed is warm and his body is heavier than his will to run, so he stays under the covers and desperately tries to sleep.

It's just water!

It's three am when he finally gives up, and wraps his blanket around his shoulders, and drags himself to the kitchen for a cup of tea.

“Can you please shut up?” he begs to the sea, who's howling with the wind, wild and careless.

He feels a bit sick, hands shaking around the mug, head pounding.

It's just water!

It's Zayn's fault.

“I told you I didn't want a person. I am not made for people and people aren't made for me and we just don't work, okay? Stop telling me I didn't even try.”

But the sea is not telling him that, the sea is not talking to him at all, too busy with its games and power and Louis goes back to hiding under the covers of his bed, trying to shut his brain up.

It's just water

It doesn't shut up at all. It keeps playing Zayn's words on repeat until Louis screams, pressing his face in the pillow, until he feels like he's suffocating, until he finally passes out, exhausted.

~~~~~

The next day is grocery shopping day, and he barely even gets out of bed.

His head is still hurting, his body is heavy, and he doesn't even feel like checking on the lighthouse.

It's just water!

The sea seems sorry, talking and calling for him, but Louis doesn't get out of bed.

He's out of milk and bread, but that's not going to kill him as much as seeing people might do, so he drinks his tea without milk and eats beans without the toast, and curls up on the sofa and ignores the world.

It's late afternoon when he finally gives up and goes to the window.

“I am mad at you,” he says, trying to decide if being closer to the water is worth putting up with the cold.“You didn't trust him, but you made me trust him and it was all wrong. He doesn't like you, he thinks I'm a freak, and he made me dinner.”

It's just water!

He doesn't bother with shoes, just opens the door and walks down to the water until it touches his feet.

“Why did you gave him to me if he was just going to think I'm a fool for talking to you? Why would you tell me to try if you knew it was a lost cause?”

He takes a step in and then another and then another, until the waves hit his waist and his clothes are wet and cold and he's shivering, teeth clenching and vision swimming.

It's just water!

“Please make it stop,” he's begging now, feeling too close to breaking into tears, like his skin is paper thin, like his bones are shaking leaves. “Just make him stop saying it in my head.”

The waves are trying to send him back to the shore, murmuring worried and a bit confused, but Louis doesn't move.

“You're not just water, are you? Tell me what to do.”

Go back go back go back go back go back.

“Okay.”

Try again. Try try try try.

“I'm tired.” It's easier to walk out of the water, but not so easy to drag himself up toward the house again.

Try try try try try.

“He doesn't like you.”

I do. I do. I do. I do.

Louis stops, turns around.

“You do? But...”

I do. I do. I do. I do.

And easy like that, Louis is sure he will try again.

It's not just water.

~~~~~

He gives himself the rest of the day to mope around and the night to get back on his feet, then sits down on his bed and tries to come up with a plan of action.

“You could help me, you know?” he grumbles at the sea, who seems more interested in the rocks than in being a good human. To be fair, it isn't its place to worry about that.

“Fine, whatever, keep playing. I need to go buy food, check on the lighthouse and find a way to tell Zayn that he's an idiot.”

You're an idiot. Idiot. Idiot. Idiot.

“If you aren't going to make yourself useful, you can just shut up. How do I do that if he doesn't come down to the beach? I don't know where he lives and I don't want to go running after him anyway. Any ideas?”

He'll come. He'll come. He'll come. He'll come.

“How do you know? Just because he's been coming down almost every day for weeks it doesn't mean he'll come down again. Maybe he doesn't like the beach anymore. Maybe he doesn't like me anymore and he doesn't want to see me.”

He'll come. He'll come. He'll come. He'll come.

Louis sighs and passes a hand in his hair, still mussed up with sleep.

“What if he doesn't?”

He'll come. He'll come. He'll come. He'll come.

“Stop saying that, you can't be sure. I don't want to wait for him forever. I won't wait for him forever.”

He'll come. He'll come. He'll come. He'll come.

“Fine. Then I'll be here.”

~~~~~

Louis is cursing against people, food, supermarkets, roads and apparently the whole universe when Zayn sees him.

He's carrying two big bags of groceries, struggling under the weight and out of breath, but he doesn't stop cursing, and it's something so incredibly Louis to do that Zayn can't help but smile.

He's still cross, but Louis is there and he's absurd and irritating and adorable, and Zayn misses him when he isn't there, so he walks up to Louis and hides his smile.

“Gimme one of those.”

Louis freezes, mouth still half open, muscles trembling with the effort of keeping everything off the ground. Zayn rolls his eyes and just takes one of the bags out of his hand.

It's enough to snap Louis out of his stupor, because he makes a sound that is half a snarl and half a gasp, and tries to take it back. It's so easy to sidestep him and walk toward the little house that Zayn wants to laugh a little.

“I don't need your help,” Louis growls, trailing behind him, still sounding a bit winded.

“I'm giving you help anyway, and you're going to take it.”

“You're the most fucking awful person I know.”

“You only know me.”

“That's not true.”

“Sure it is.”

“It's not. Get out of the way, idiot, you don't have keys.”

Zayn complies, but still pushes into the house first with a smirk, going to drop the heavy bag on the little kitchen table.

He doesn't really know why he's trying to rile Louis up even more, but he has a feeling that it might be the only way to get Louis to actually talk to him, instead of hiding everything under the rug and pretend he's okay.

Plus, he's angry.

Louis doesn't look at Zayn as he starts to put things away, but no one is better than Zayn at the waiting game. He just stands by the door with his arms crossed, staring at Louis while Louis moves around the tiny kitchen, putting everything in the most improbable places. He doesn't seem to have a real system or order, he just puts what goes in the fridge in the fridge and everything else in one cabinet or the other, wherever he finds to be a fitting spot.

It's annoying and endearing at the same time. Zayn has to step on his desire to help him and fix everything for him until the wish dies. Or well, until he can pretend the wish is dead and he's fine with just watching.

It takes a longer time than expected for Louis to put everything away and Zayn has a subtle feeling that he might be doing it on purpose, but he isn't intentioned on giving up and talking first. So Zayn waits and busies himself with remembering why he's angry and why they need to talk, instead of screaming at each other or hugging it out.

When Louis is done with the grocery, he sighs and puts the kettle on, pushing past Zayn to get into the bedroom. Zayn doesn't follow him, just keeps an eye on the kettle and turns it off when it starts screaming, starting the hunt for tea in the mess that is Louis' kitchen. Before he can open the second cabinet though, Louis' hands appear from nowhere and open the first drawer next to the stove and take out the tea.

He's changed, now wearing a soft hoodie, a bit too big on him, and sweatpants. He looks incredibly cozy and a bit lost, and Zayn feels some of his anger disappear in thin air just for that.

It's really unfair.

When the tea is ready, Louis grabs his cup and goes to curl up in his favourite corner of the sofa, while Zayn follows him and drops himself down on the other side.

They're still not talking and not looking at each other.

Louis keeps looking out of the window, hands restless and fingers playing with the cup and the hem of his hoodie, and even if it looks like he's having a silent conversation with the sea, he doesn't say a word.

It takes him another ten minutes to break, but Zayn just waits, thinking about the last paragraph of the article he still needs to write.

“Okay, fine, I lose! What do you want?”

Zayn hides his smile, feeling like that would be the last thing Louis needs to see right now, but he takes another slow sip of his tea, just to be a little shit for a bit longer.

“I want you to tell me what the fuck happened the other day. And where you were yesterday?” He is pretty pleased with how calm his voice sounds, but he doesn't dare to look at Louis, afraid everything would come out, even if he doesn't know if that everything would be apologies or anger.

“I was here. So you're not going to apologise?”

“Apologise for what?”

“For...” For a second Louis seems at loss, looking for the words he needs, or maybe trying to escape the ones he doesn't want to use. Zayn takes advantage of that, pressing in. He doesn't want to waste what seems like a window to make Louis talk.

“Are you going to tell me why you went for a suicide swim and then got mad at me?”

“It wasn't a suicide swim. I know what I'm doing.” Louis looks so lovely there, fire in his eyes and stubbornness on his lips, that for a moment Zayn forgets he should be mad, forgets they should be talking.

It doesn't last long and he finally explodes.

“You were half frozen to death! You know what happens when you're in too cold water?” Louis starts to speak, but Zayn doesn't let him. “You could have lost the ability to swim, and no one would have been there to save you! You could have gone into cold shock and stopped breathing! You could have had an heart attack! And there would have been no one to rescue you, do you see that?”

“You were right there. Are you saying you wouldn't have saved me?” Louis' voice is sarcastic and cutting, but Zayn can't let him go away with a joke.

“I can't swim, you reckless idiot!” Zayn is breathing harder now, and Louis' eyes are wide and a bit lost.

“You can't swim? That's why you're scared of the sea?”

Zayn sighs and scrubs a hand over his face.

“That's what you got out of that?”

“Answer me.”

“Yes and no. That's a reason, but that's not the only one. Why would you do something like that, Louis?”

“You just need to train yourself. I've been swimming in these waters for months and I know how to deal with it, I know when it is too dangerous to get in. I know when it's time to get out. And the sea...” Louis stops himself abruptly and Zayn snaps his head up to look at him, confused.

“The sea what?”

“Nothing.” Louis shakes his head and sighs, but then he looks up and there is a destructive light in

his eyes that Zayn definitely doesn't like. “It's just water, right?”

Oh.

That's it, he found it, found the reason for it all.

“You think that I think that it's just water?” he asks, putting his tea down on the floor without looking.

“You said it.” Louis' voice wavers, but his gaze doesn't and his hands neither, he just keeps staring at Zayn, angry and defensive and beautiful, and all Zayn can do is sigh.

“You really are an idiot,” Zayn says.

“Wow, thanks.”

“Shut up. You know that I didn't mean it, right? I know it's not just water for you and...” and that's the wrong thing to say.

“But it is for you? That's what you're trying to say? That I'm insane, but that's okay because you know it?”

The heartbreaking thing here, Zayn thinks, is that Louis believes it. Louis believes that Zayn would think that about him, because so many people before him did. And maybe Louis, deep deep down, believes that he's a bit insane himself, believes that he's a freak, that what he does is something to hide.

“I'm not saying that. Everything is more than what it is, and the sea is no exception. Only because it doesn't talk to me, it doesn't mean it can't talk to you.”

Louis' cheeks are a bit red and he's staring down at his lap, his soft fringe falling into his eyes. “It does talk to you, you just don't listen.” he murmurs after a moment, sounding like all the anger inside him went away with his defensiveness.

Zayn smiles a little and scoots over, until his thigh is pressed against Louis' knee and he can touch his hand.

“So, what is it saying?” he asks, finally soft and gentle.

“I don't know. It doesn't say the same things to me and to you. “

“And what is it saying to you?”

“That it told me so.” Louis flushes again and Zayn presses a little closer.

“It probably did.”

“Yeah.”

Silence falls again on them, not interrupted by the sea muttering and splashing outside, but Zayn feels like Louis has something else to say, so he waits. He's really good at waiting.

“You don't have to worry about me,” Louis says in the end, after taking a deep breath “The sea's got me.”

“I know, but that doesn't mean I won't.”

“Can we hug now?”

Zayn doesn't make him ask twice.

~~~~~

“You still haven't apologised, you know?” Louis says a while later, while they're laying on the couch, Zayn reading and petting Louis' hair, who is pretending np in his lap.

“I'm sorry I made you feel like you couldn't trust me. I'm sorry you thought that I think you're insane, and I'm sorry I didn't understand that.”

Louis burrows his face in Zayn's stomach and nods.

“It's okay.”

“You still haven't told me why you went for that swim.”

Louis breathes out heavily and nods again, but doesn't answer straight away. Zayn keeps reading and waits.

“Sometimes...Sometimes my brain gets noisy and I get restless. The sea takes care of that.”

“Can you find a way to do that without putting yourself in danger?”

“I'm not sure. Maybe you should always keep an eye on me, just in case, to be ready to call for help.”

It's obvious that Louis meant it as a joke, but it doesn't sound like a joke when he says it and it definitely doesn't sound like a joke in Zayn's head.

“Don't tempt me.”

“Are you staying for dinner?” Louis suddenly asks, and Zayn laughs a little, glad for not having to think about having to call help for Louis, having to watch from the shore as he disappears under the icy water.

“Sweet change of subject.”

“Shut up. Are you?”

Zayn smiles and stops the urge to hug him and never let him go. “Yeah, I'm staying for dinner.” he says, even if what he means is I'm staying forever.

~~~~~

“Why are you sad?”

Zayn raises his head from the notebook in his lap, eyebrows raised, but Louis doesn't meet his eyes. He just keeps staring at the blanket draped over his lap, fingers playing with a corner.

“I'm not sad,” Zayn answers after a second, carefully putting down his pen and notebook but not moving from his place on the floor.

“The sea says you're sad.”

“Why would it say that to you?”

Louis flushes and drops his head even more. “I asked it.”

“You.... asked the sea if I was sad?” Something twists in Zayn's heart, but he is still too confused to pay attention to the feeling, focusing everything on Louis.

“No. No, I asked it why it feels like you are hiding like I am.”

“Hiding?”

“Yeah. From the rest of the world.”

Zayn sighs, pushing down from the couch and dropping on the floor next to Louis, who is still fiddling with the blanket.

For a long minute he considers not saying anything, just telling Louis that he is okay, that he isn't hiding, that the world doesn't scare him, but...It's Louis. It's Louis, and he can't help but want to tell him everything, to trust him until Louis trusts him too.

“Maybe I am. Hiding, I mean. The world isn't always nice and it's easier to be here.”

“It's the sea, you know? It's the best and worst thing about it: it makes you feel like everything is forever.”

In that moment, it takes everything in Zayn to not kiss Louis.

He's been thinking about it for a while, wasn't even surprised when he thought about it for the first time, but right now...Right now Louis looks soft and tiny and beautiful, and Zayn wants to cup Louis' face with his hands and kiss him until it's the only thing both of them can think about.

Instead, he sneaks his hand under the blanket and wraps it around Louis knee, stopping him from jiggling it, and breathes.

“I feel like I don't belong in my own house anymore, and like I don't belong anywhere else either. The sea makes me feel like it's okay to not belong somewhere.” He has never said those words out loud, has barely thought them at all before, but they sounds too right to be comfortable, and he shifts, letting Louis' knee go. He can't move away though, because Louis immediately grabs his wrist, hand warm and a little rough dragging over his skin.

“Everything that doesn't belong anywhere belongs to the sea, or to the moon. It's the rule. All the lost things end up either here or there.”

“Are you saying you're a lost thing too?”

Louis is holding his hand now and Zayn finds it harder to breathe.

“I am. But the sea has got me, so I don't drift away.”

“You're wonderful.” It's barely an exhale of breath that Zayn didn't know he was holding, but they're too close for Louis to not hear it and he blushes again, tighten his hold on Zayn's hand, hides his face in Zayn's shoulder.

“Shut up. Are you sad?”

Zayn doesn't even have to think about it.

“Right now, no, I'm not.”

~~~~~

“I have no idea of what you're doing right now, but you need to stop.”

Louis is laying on the floor, watching Zayn repeatedly cross out something he wrote, angry slashes of pen on the page.

“I am gonna throw this,” Zayn growls, fingers white on the notebook.

“Throw it then. Just don't hit anything breakable.” Louis shrugs as best as he can from his position, and nods encouragingly at Zayn when he sees him hesitate.

“You sure?”

“It will be good. You can even throw the pillows if you want to.”

“I'm not...”

“Throw that damn thing, Zayn.”

Louis is right, it does feel good, even if not good enough to take the frustration away.

“Come on, throw those pillows and then come here.”

Zayn does as he's told, throwing the pillows as hard as he can against the wall, growling when one hits the door and goes flying on the kitchen floor, then takes a deep breath and flops down on the floor next to Louis, who grabs at him and makes Zayn put his hand on his chest.

“So, are you going to talk the anger out or do you want to ignore it?”

“I'm not angry,” Zayn grumbles, closing his eyes and relaxing a little under Louis' fingers in his hair.

“Frustrated. Annoyed. Whatever. Breathe.”

Louis touch is soft and his body is warm, even if the floor is hard and uncomfortable, and Zayn forces himself to breathe out evenly and breathe in deeply.

“It's nothing. Just the words running from me.”

Breathe in, breathe out.

“Running?”

Breathe in, breathe out.

“Yeah. The ones that I want don't want to come to my brain.”

Breathe in, breathe out.

“Maybe you need different ones, then. What are you writing?”

Breathe in, breathe out.

Zayn can physically feel his annoyance seeping out of his body, muscles relaxing.

“I had an idea for like...a short story, or whatever. But it's not coming together as I wanted.”

“Well, did you ask your story if the way you want it is the same way that it is?”

It makes Zayn smile, how simply Louis asks the question, how it seems like the most logical thing in the world in his mouth, and he turns on his side, not taking his head out from under Louis' hand.

“How should I do that?”

“I don't know. I talk to salt water, not to stories.”

“The sea is its own story, though.”

Louis pulls at Zayn's hair a little and Zayn does his best not to shiver, biting his lip and pressing his cheek even closer to Louis' chest.

“Don't be smart with me, asshole. The sea is its own story, but it likes to tell it itself, it doesn't need me to write it down.”

“Many people wrote the sea's stories down before, you know.”

“They tried, you mean.”

“Snob.”

Louis pulls his hair again and Zayn bites lightly at him, making Louis swat at his head.

“I was trying to help you and you insult me? Wow.”

“Are you saying it's not the same thing? Because insulting you is helping me very much.”

“I'm going to pull at your hair until it comes off.” Louis sounds so serene with his threat and Zayn hides his laugh in his sweater, which is a bit of a useless thing, because Louis can obviously feel him laughing against his chest anyway, but it's nice, so he does it anyway.

“Maybe you should tell me about your idea. Maybe it will help you understand what the story really wants.”

Louis sweater is soft and his voice is serious and lovely, so Zayn does.

They lay there, Zayn first talking to Louis' chest and then to the ceiling, moving his hands around until Louis laughs and keeps them still with his own, until the right words come to him and he goes back to writing again.

~~~~~

Somehow not kissing Louis becomes the hardest part of his day.

It starts quietly, just a passing thought when Louis is being particularly adorable or lovely, but day after day it becomes a litany in the back of his mind, a constant stream of kiss him kiss him kiss him kiss him.

It happens when Louis is laughing and the waves are laughing with him, carefree and happy, brighter than the sunlight shining on the water.

It happens when Louis cuddles close to him, seeking warmth and contact, when he buries his face in Zayn's shoulder, when he lays his head on Zayn's lap, when he hugs him and kisses his cheek and does anything he can to prove that he has no idea of what personal space is when he doesn't want to have it.

It happens when he spends long minutes just staring at the sea, eyes wide and lost, nothing in his ears but the sound of the undertow, nothing in his head but the words the water is speaking, nothing in his heart but the love for the eternal motion of the waves.

It happens when Louis is talking and when he's listening, both to Zayn and the sea. It happens when he's playing and when he's teasing, when he's stubborn and when he's sweet, when he's everything that makes him the most interesting and amazing person in Zayn's life.

He doesn't know how to stop wanting to kiss Louis, and it's becoming a bigger and bigger problem every day. Not because he doesn't want to want to kiss Louis, Louis is extremely kissable and gorgeous and awesome, but because he's one hundred percent sure that Louis has never even thought about kissing him back. He's not even sure Louis cares about kissing people at all.

Maybe the sea really is his one and only, maybe he'll never be anything more than Zayn's best friend, and Zayn will have to keep stomping on his kissing thoughts for the rest of his days.

And that's okay.

He doesn't need to kiss Louis to keep him around. He doesn't need to know if Louis will ever like someone else to be sure he'll forever want Louis in his life, he doesn't need anything that isn't Louis, in any way Zayn can have him.

Still, that doesn't mean Zayn wouldn't like very much to kiss him until neither of them can breathe anymore, until their lips hurt and their hearts stutters, until everything they can think about is kissing more.

~~~~~

“Can I ask you something again?”

Zayn stops trying to figure out if the article he is editing has been written by a five years old, or he's being pranked, and looks up, confused.

“Again?” He wasn't that lost in his thoughts, was he? He wouldn't have missed it if Louis had asked him a question, right?

“Yeah. I asked it a while again, though. Maybe a couple of weeks?”

Zayn doesn't mean to laugh, but it's just so ridiculously Louis, to bring something up two weeks after asking it for the first time and act like he had asked it only a moment before, that he has to, laughing even harder when Louis sticks his tongue out at him.

“Oh, shut up.”

“Do I have to shut up or answer your question?”

“You don't even know the question yet!”

“Ask it, then.”

Louis snorts and crosses his arms, and Zayn can almost see the conflict in his head between the curiosity for his answer and the need to act proud and offended. In the end the interest wins and Louis sighs.

“Why do you only come to the beach in the afternoon?” he asks, hiding his face from Zayn like he's embarrassed for some weird reason Zayn doesn't understand.

Zayn should be the embarrassed one, really, having to say that he actually doesn't wake up much earlier than when he shows up.

“I....uhm... I kind of sleep in the morning?”

“You sleep until two pm?”

“Midday usually....Don't look at me like that!”

Louis is looking at him with huge eyes, both incredulous and disapproving, and Zayn punches him in the leg, rolling his eyes.

“Don't act as if it's the first time you hear of sleeping in.”

“I just... didn't take you as a guy who throws away his mornings, that's it.”

“I work better at night, so I stay up really late and sleep in the morning. That okay with you?”

Louis knocks his shoulder into Zayn's one and rolls his eyes.

“I don't care what you do with your morning, Malik. Do you see the dawn?”

“Sometimes.”

“Then we're good.”

“You're so fucking weird.”

Zayn laughs as Louis hits him and then hits him back, until they're rolling on the blanket play fighting, and Zayn has to focus really hard on not kissing the gorgeous boy laughing over him.

~~~~~

“Zayn? Zaynie? Hey, Z? You there?”

Louis crawls across the floor to the sofa, where Zayn is lying with his book opened on his chest, almost asleep.

“Zayn. You need to go home,” he tries to shake him a little, but Zayn only grumbles and swats at him. Or at least he tries: all he does is flop his hand a little and let it fall again.

It's so cute Louis might be thinking about taking pictures.

“Zayn, you can't sleep on my sofa.”

Zayn grumbles again, but he opens his eyes, squinting against the light, grumpy as a kitten.

“'an't?” he asks, hiding his face with an arm and letting Louis take his book off his chest, close it and put it on the ground.

“Don't you want to go home?” Louis asks, keeping his voice down but not enough to let him fall asleep again.

“Cold.”

“But....”

Louis stops, unsure of what to say. It's not that he wants to send Zayn away. He's more than happy to have Zayn around all the time. Zayn's obviously tired and sleepy and he might get lost on the way home, who knows, but the house doesn't have a spare room.

Zayn would have to either sleep on the sofa, which isn't that uncomfortable, but is still a sofa, or well... in bed with Louis. And it's not like Louis cares, the bed is big enough for both of them, but it's not something people normally do, right? Sleep in random beds?

Even if it's not that random, because maybe they're friends now, but it's still a strange bed and Zayn might agree to it now that he's sleepy, but regret it tomorrow. It could get weird, or uncomfortable, or make things tense between them.

“Do you want me to leave?”

Louis diverts his eyes from Zayn's hand and brings them back to Zayn's face, finding him a little more alert, eyes open, even if still filled with sleep.

“No, it's just... I don't have a spare room.”

It's the simplest way to put it, but Zayn seems to get everything else hidden behind that too, because he nods and sighs, apparently trying to gather his strength to get up from the sofa.

It's windy outside, even if not windy enough to cause trouble. The sea is chatty, waves dancing and crashing and running and doing all the things that waves like to do when they're happy.

Sometimes Louis likes to think that if the sea could, it would definitely roll its eyes a lot, and right now he's pretty sure that it would.

Idiot idiot idiot idiot idiot.

Louis hates the sea a lot.

“Come on, come to bed,” he says it as casually as he can, standing up with a groan, offering Zayn a hand, offering Zayn the chance to say no and go home, or to take it and go to bed.

“Bed?”

“Yeah, I'm not letting you go out in the wind, you would get lost and drown, or something. Come on, my bed is big enough.”

It takes another few long moments before Zayn's sleepy brain decides what to do, but in the end he takes Louis' hand and Louis lets out a deep breath.

What's done is done, he can't take it back now.

He lets Zayn go to the bathroom first, while he makes a tour of the house to make sure everything is closed and secured, stopping by the kitchen windows to look out at the black nothing that should be the sea.

“Am I doing something really stupid?”

Shut up shut up shut up shut up.

“You're not exactly helping, you know? You should be the one to shut up.”

This time the sea only laughs at him and Louis rolls his eyes, making his way back to the bedroom.

Zayn is awkwardly standing next to the bed, eyes drooping and cheeks red.

“I...” he starts, immediately stopping himself, unsure.

Louis smiles, pretending that he isn't as embarrassed as Zayn seems, and crosses the room to throw a pair of pajama bottoms at him and an old t-shirt.

“Get to bed, sleeping beauty.”

When he comes back from the bathroom, Zayn is under the covers, mostly asleep already.

“Do you need to warn someone that you won't go home tonight?” Louis asks, remembering a bit too late that Zayn might have someone to wait for him at home.

“Done,” Zayn mumbles, burrowing even more under the blankets and doing something with his hand that maybe was meant to point to his phone on the bedside table.

Louis shakes his head and goes to find a charger to plug the phone into, turning off the lights and slipping into bed.

It's awkward for more or less four seconds, until Zayn turns on his back and Louis curls up on his side, bodies barely touching, but still touching just enough.

Louis has never fallen asleep faster.

~~~~~

As soon as Zayn wakes up he realises three things: he isn't in his bed, the sunlight is hitting his face from the wrong side and there is someone next to him.

It takes him about three seconds to remember the night before --how he had cooked for Louis and then lounged around until he had fallen asleep on the sofa -- but it's enough for his brain to go into full panic mode and tell him that he's been abducted and he's going to die.

Which makes no sense at all, but his brain is not the best when he's just woken up, so he can't really be blamed.

Even if he hasn't been abducted, though, he's still in bed with Louis, who seems to be very much awake from the sound of his breathing and the soft rustling of pages being turned, and he has no idea on what to do about that.

It shouldn't be awkward, they're just friends who shared a bed. A bed big enough that they aren't even touching. And Zayn doesn't even have morning wood, which is most definitely a huge plus of the situation.

So why does it feel like it's going to be awkward? Why does it feel like it's safer for him to keep his eyes closed and pretend to be asleep until Louis gets up to do something and he can collect himself properly? And why does it feel like he could just open his eyes, turn around and kiss Louis good morning as if he has any right to do so?

“I know you're awake.”

Zayn almost jumps out of his skin at Louis' voice and the whole idea of pretending to be asleep for a while longer gets thrown out of the window.

“Maybe I want to sleep more,” he mumbles, voice gruff with sleep.

“Or maybe you should know that it's almost midday and you missed the sunrise. And breakfast.”

Zayn sighs, rolling on his stomach and hiding his face into the pillow. “You had breakfast?” he asks, voice muffled.

“Of course I had breakfast. I also went up to the lighthouse, and the sea says that you're awful.”

“It doesn't.” Zayn finds the strength to pull a hand out from under the pillow and punch Louis in whatever part he can reach, a leg apparently, finding soft cotton under his fingers.

“You went out and came back to bed?” Zayn sounds way too pleased saying it, but he can't take it back once it's out of his mouth. The most he can do is hope that it will get lost in the pillow. He's not sure it quite does.

“You looked comfortable and I was jealous, so I came back. Are you ever going to get up?”

“No.”

“Lazy.”

“Asshole.”

Louis laughs and then there is a hand in Zayn's hair. At first just a brush, as if Louis was thinking about messing it up but realised he couldn't have possibly done worse, but then, after a long second of hesitation, the hand comes back, light and slow. Zayn melts under the touch, limbs relaxing again. He feels like he could easily go back to sleep just like that, or maybe start purring.

“Are you still awake?” Louis asks an eternity later, dragging Zayn out of the blissful doze he had fallen into.

He grunts an answer, not even bothering to open his eyes, and Louis' hand doesn't stop.

“If you get up we can have lunch.”

Another grunt, not a move.

“You can't possibly be this sleepy still, you're just being lazy.”

It takes everything in Zayn to move, but he opens his eyes and rolls on his side, until he can see Louis, staring down at him, book forgotten in his lap. Zayn tries his best to smile, steals the book and drops it on the bedside table, then, ignoring Louis' offended protests, he drags Louis down until they're curled around each other under the covers, warm, soft and cozy.

“Cuddle. Then lunch,” he says, pressing his face into Louis' chest and ignoring his brain screaming that he's being too bold and he's going to screw up.

Louis struggles for a second, trying to escape, or maybe just to find a better position, but then he relaxes, sighing into Zayn's hair and wrapping an arm around his waist, dragging him closer.

“Cuddle then lunch, okay.”

~~~~~

It's two pm when they get out of bed and head to the kitchen, Zayn still wearing Louis' clothes and Louis acting grumpy. The kitchen seems bigger in the sunlight and Zayn perches himself on the table while Louis hunts for food in the fridge.

“What are we having, chef?” Zayn asks, yawning and smiling as Louis pulls the middle finger at him without even looking. “That's rude.”

“You could come and cook, you know. It's better for both of us.”

“Are you saying I'm a better cook than you are?”

This time Louis does turn around, putting his hands on his hips and frowning at him.“Anyone could be a better cook than me, it doesn't mean you have to be so smug about it. Now come here and make me lunch.”

“You're so bossy. It's not even my kitchen,” Zayn complains, but hops down from the table, hip-checking Louis out of the way in front of the fridge.

“Exactly, you have to earn your stay.”

“I thought I was a guest?”

“Paying guest. And you're paying with making me lunch.”

“You're an awful host. Pasta?”

“Sure.”

Zayn is chopping yellow and red peppers when he realises that Louis hasn't talked for quite a long time and stops, turning around to check on him. He is just laying against the window, back to the sea, looking at him.

“You're being weird.” Zayn says, turning around again and wishing he could go back to ignoring the eyes on his back.

“You were singing.”

“So?” Zayn tries really hard not to blush, but it's a bit hard to avoid. Was he singing really off key? Did Louis not like his voice? Was he making a complete fool out of himself? Is Louis going to make fun of him? Is he going to cut off his fingers because he was worrying too much about that?

“I was enjoying it, nothing else. You're good.”

It's sounds so natural, such an easy compliment to make, that Zayn has to turn around again just to make sure Louis is not making fun of him.

It's not that he doesn't know that his voice is nice, because he's quite aware of it, but it's the way Louis says it, like he had expected nothing else, that throws Zayn off balance. It's the way Louis doesn't seem surprised at all --the way he smiles, soft and easy, as if they could just be there forever, cooking in the tiny kitchen and singing together.

It makes Zayn's heart ache.

“Thanks.” It's belated and awkward, but Zayn doesn't give himself time to think about it, just goes back to chopping peppers, a mess of feelings in his head.

~~~~~

Three days later, when he gets down to the beach, Zayn finds Louis sitting on the shore, eyes lost in the sea and knees drawn to his chest.

“Lou?” he tries to keep his voice as soft as possible, approaching him slowly like a scared animal, but Louis still jumps when he calls his name, gasping and whipping his head around to meet Zayn's eyes.

“Fuck, Zayn,” he breathes, chest heaving and eyes wide.

“Sorry.” Zayn lets himself fall next to Louis, barely sparing a wary glance towards the waves, way too close for his liking, almost touching them, like they're trying to reach for Louis.

He gives Louis time to catch his breath again, just looks at Louis while he regains colour on his cheeks, while his hands stop trembling that much.

“What's wrong?”

Louis looks so fragile in that moment, lost in a too big sweater, all delicate bones and thin skin, wide eyes and feather hair, and Zayn wishes he could do something about it, make everything that is troubling him go away.

He also wishes he could kiss the sad curve of Louis' lips away, kiss the frown on his forehead until it disappears, kiss Louis' cheeks until he laughs, and Louis' neck until he shakes.

“I don't want to talk about it.”

“Lou...”

“It's... I can't.”

Louis curls up tight again, dropping his chin on his knees and staring out at the water. He's so beautiful. Zayn wishes he could take a picture, or paint him, or be good enough with words to be able to put him onto a page and never let him disappear.

“Can I do something to help?”

“Just...just be here, yeah?”

Zayn nods, even though Louis isn't even looking at him, and drags himself closer, until he can wrap his arm around Louis' shoulders and knock their legs together.

It takes a second for Louis to relax, but then he sags against Zayn, letting Zayn bring him even closer, until he's almost in Zayn's lap, face hidden in his chest.

“I'm not going anywhere.”

They stay like that until they both start to shiver in the cold, the humidity of the beach seeping through their clothes, the waves coming closer and closer, splashing them, the wind ruffling their hair and making them freeze.

It's Zayn who untangles them first, helping Louis to his feet without a word and guiding him back to the house, pushing him on the sofa and making tea for both of them before joining him under a fluffy blanket.

“Are we going to ignore this or do you want to talk about it? I'm good with both options.” He tries to keep his tone light, but Louis doesn't seem to notice, starts shaking his head even before he finished the question.

“I don't want to talk about it, but....”

“You can tell me, babe. It's okay.”

Louis doesn't answer, just shuffles closer until they're pressed together, hand finding Zayn's free one under the blanket.

“I messed up, before coming here. Big time.”

Zayn nods, but doesn't say a word, pressing a kiss into Louis' hair.

“With my family.” The word comes out broken, as if Louis hasn't used it in a long time, and Zayn's heart aches so much he feels like it's breaking for the boy shivering in his arms.

“Everything can be fixed, babe. Maybe not now, maybe not easily, but it can be fixed.”

Louis shakes his head, but doesn't try to argue, just sighs and takes a sip of his tea.

“It's my sisters' birthday today and I haven't talked to them in seven months.” he whispers after a while, eyes closed and body tense.

Zayn doesn't know what to say, just hugs him closer and promises everything will be okay.

~~~~~

“How can you live near the sea and not be able to swim?”

Louis watches Zayn type a few more words before stopping and turning to look at him.

“What?”

“You live near the sea. I can't believe you've never learned how to swim,” Louis repeats, going back to neatly divide the rocks on the beach by colour.

“I know how to swim.” Zayn replies, eyes scanning the notebook page with the notes for his article. He says it casually, like it's not a big deal, but Louis' snaps his head up, letting a little rain of rocks fall on the ground.

“You what? You told me you didn't know!”

Zayn looks at him this time, probably because of his offended tone, but he doesn't look bothered, just confused.

“I know how to swim in a pool, that doesn't mean I know how to swim in the sea or that I trust it at all.”

The sea grumbles and Louis waves a hand at it, shushing it.

“That makes no sense at all! If you know how to swim, then you know how to swim!”

“The sea isn't normal water, Lou.”

“I know that, but...”

Zayn sighs and moves his laptop from his lap to turn around and look at Louis properly.

“Listen, I don't know how you people do it, but I am not mad enough to throw myself into waters that have their own will, yet. The sea will drown you in ways a pool won't, will take you away and make you disappear. At least if you die in a pool, people will find you soon enough.”

It's weird how Zayn's words make sense and at the same time make no sense at all. It's like... Louis can see it. Can see why the sea could look scary at first, how the waves can sound hungry instead of happy, but how can someone still think it can't be trusted after spending so much time near it? Can't Zayn feel how the sea wants to do nothing, but its own thing? How it doesn't want to hurt anyone, drag anyone away? How can he not feel the upset whisper of the sea, telling him that it doesn't do that, never does that if it can help it, that it's not its fault it's stronger than it needs to be?

“Don't you feel like you're missing something? Being this close to the water and being too scared to get in?” he asks instead, eyes wandering from Zayn to the waves, splashing and dancing like happy children.

“Not really. I'm fine here, and the water is always too cold anyway.”

Louis shakes his head, still trying to wrap his mind about it, trying to imagine what it must be like to not want to get closer to the sea, ever.

That's so weird.

“I'm going to teach you how to let the sea take care of you. This summer, when the water is warmer.”

It makes him smile, his own words, the idea that they'll still be there in the summer, sitting on the beach and trusting the sea together.

It doesn't make Zayn smile, though.

“I don't want to let it take care of me, I can take care of myself.”

“But it likes you.”

“I don't trust it, Lou. Never will.”

Louis shakes his head and smiles, throwing a rock to the waves like a bone to a dog.

“You trust me, don't you?”

“Sure I do.”

“Then you'll trust the sea.”

This time Zayn does laugh, disbelieving but fond, and Louis throws another rock to hide the blush spreading on his face.

It's useless, because Zayn moves closer and presses his smile on his cheek.

“We'll see.”

Louis almost turns around to have that smile pressed on his lips.

~~~~~

“I'm going to ask you something and we're not going to be weird about it, okay?”

Zayn cocks his head, looking at Louis, who's furiously blushing and tormenting the hem of his sweater.

“Okay?” Zayn waits, watching Louis take a deep breath.

Then another.

Then another.

“Babe?”

“I just don't know how to ask it.”

“Just tell me. Swear I won't be weird about it.”

“I... Uhm....Do you like....Have you...You....”

Zayn sighs, moving from his spot next to the counter where he was watching the soup cook to where Louis is standing next to the table.

“What is it, Lou? Just ask,” he says, freeing Louis' jumper from his nervous fingers and holding them in place.

“Do you like girls?”

Uh.

That's absolutely not what Zayn was expecting.

He hesitates for a moment, caught off guard, but it's enough for Louis to take his hands off his hold and hide his face in them.

“God, fuck, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked, ignore me.”

“Hey hey, wait. It's okay. I do like girls.” He waits a beat for Louis' reaction. It doesn't come. “And boys.”

This time there is a reaction, Louis looking up from his hands, cheeks still red and eyes wide.

“Both?” He asks, shy as Zayn has never seen him before.

“Both,” he confirms, not taking his eyes off of Louis' face. He keeps showing no other emotion beside surprise, and confusion maybe. A part of his brain is trying to remind him of the soup, but he ignores it.

He doesn't understand why Louis is asking this now, doesn't know if he wants to hope that it's because Louis is interested, or if he wants to believe that it's pure curiosity. He doesn't know if Louis will be weird about it, if he'll be awkward, if he'll be horrible. Or well, he knows Louis won't be horrible, because Louis is never horrible, but maybe this is where he draws the line and becomes a terrible person? Maybe this is where Zayn should have drawn the line and kept it secret?

“Okay,” Louis says after a second, nodding and smiling a tiny bit, cheeks slowly returning to their normal colour.

'Okay'? What does 'okay' mean? Does it mean Louis is happy with Zayn's answer? Or just that he's fine with Zayn being bisexual? Or that he doesn't know if he's okay with it yet and needs time to think about it before becoming awful? And why is he smiling? Is that a happy smile? A 'I don't know how to react' smile?

Zayn is really really confused.

“I like neither, by the way.”

Well, that's definitely a way to catch Zayn's attention again.

“What?”

“I like neither. Or well, I like both, but I like neither.” Louis shakes his head at himself, and tries to explain again, which is a good thing since Zayn feels like his brain is suddenly echoing and he can't understand a single word of what Louis is saying.

“I like both boys and girls, but I am attracted to neither in like... an asexual way of things.”

Oh.

“Uh. Okay.”

Zayn isn't sure about what his own okay means either. Why did Louis bring this up? Why is he telling him now? Does it mean Zayn will never be able to kiss him?

“The soup is going to stick.”

Zayn shakes himself out of his thoughts and goes to stir the soup, brain full of questions.

It takes around two seconds before there are arms wrapped around his waist and a face pressed against his neck.

“I think you can keep being my best friend forever,” Louis mutters against his skin, and Zayn shivers, biting his lip.

“I think I'd like to be,” he answers, as soon as he finds his voice again.

All he gets for that is a wet kiss on the back of his neck and a lot of feelings he doesn't know how to keep under control.

~~~~~

“Do you want to come down to the city with me and a couple of my cousins tonight?”

Louis is sitting on the counter, with his phone in one hand reading the news and a cup of tea on the other, looking like the only reason why Zayn would be awake before eleven. And it's not because of this that Zayn has accidentally started to sleep in Louis' bed more nights than not, it's just that they have started to have dinner together more often and then they do stuff and he gets sleepy. It just happens.

“Mmm?”

“Tonight, city, club, friends. You in?” Zayn repeats, taking a sip of his own tea, wishing Louis had a coffee machine.

When he looks up, after long moments of Louis not answering, it's to find him staring out at the sea, a conflicted expression on his face.

“You don't have to,” Zayn hastily adds, not daring to speak the 'but I wish you did'.

“It's not that I don't want to, but... it's been so long.”

“Then it's time to get back on it, yeah?”

Louis sighs, then shrugs, probably still fighting with himself.

“Listen, you don't have to come, but it won't be a big club. It's Thursday, there won't even be that big of a crowd, probably. And we can leave whenever you want, promise. I just think it would be good for you to see other people, you know? Have some fun.”

“I have plenty of fun here.”

Zayn rolls his eyes, but Louis isn't even looking at him, too busy frowning at the water outside, so for this time he's safe.

“I am not saying that. Just like... something different.”

Louis is nodding absentmindedly at him, but Zayn isn't sure if that's confirmation that he will come or if it's just a sign that he's still thinking. Or maybe he's nodding at something the sea is saying, Zayn never knows.

“Okay. Yeah, okay, I think it will be good. I used to be really good with parties.”

Zayn smiles, feeling his chest go lighter and constrict at the same time, excitement and something anxious mixing in his stomach.

“Oh yeah?” he asks, getting up to put his cup in the sink and poke at Louis' belly.

“Fuck off, you can't even imagine.” Louis laughs, trying to kick him but missing by a long shot.

Louis, dancing in the shadows, coloured lights dancing on his sweaty skin? Louis surrounded by people, shining brighter than all of them? Louis throwing his head back to laugh, cheeks red because of the alcohol and the too warm bodies pressing around him, drink in hand?

Zayn's next breath is a little hurried, ears warm and tight knots in his stomach.

“Believe me, I can.”

~~~~~

It's inebriating and absolutely terrifying to be out in the middle of the crowd again.

It's been so long since the last time Louis went into a club that he had almost forgotten how the walls close in on you, how the lights make the ceiling look too far away, how the people move together and not at all, bumping into each other and brushing away, how everything is clear and blurry, how the music is too deafening to talk, too low to lose yourself.

It's been so long since the last time he had so many drinks passed to him, even if Zayn is paying enough attention to what he's having to not let Louis get completely hammered. It's been so long that they burn too much going down, settle too heavily in his stomach, making his head go light and lighter, his whole body too warm, the air too thick.

“Are you okay?” Zayn screams at him after an hour, or maybe ten minutes, or maybe forever. Louis doesn't know.

Louis nods, feeling a bit sick and a bit like he's suffocating, wanting nothing more than the sound of the sea in his ears, but Zayn wanted him there. Zayn who looks like a vision –all sharp angles and dark shadows, lean and lovely in his dark t-shirt and his ripped jeans– thin layer of sweat making him shine. Zayn who looks at Louis like he doesn't want to lose him, who doesn't dance but stands too close to Louis, who drinks as much as Louis but looks as sober as he walked in.

He can't ask to go home, not if it looks like Zayn is having the most fun he's had all week, not if it means Louis won't see him for too many hours, until the next afternoon.

So he drinks, draws in too short breaths, dances with a girl with curly hair that gets into his eyes, and laughs with all the friends he didn't know Zayn had. And he thinks about the sea.

Thinks of the people like the waves, closing on you because they want to know you, not drown you. Thinks of the music like the sound of a storm, of the lights like the bottom of the sea.

It feels like falling apart.

“I'm going for a smoke, do you want to come?” Zayn's voice comes like a blessing, and Louis nods, pretending that his chest isn't burning because he can't breathe in enough air to satisfy his lungs, that his head isn't pounding, that his feet aren't hurting.

They head outside to a poorly lit corner of the building, partially hidden from the street, and Louis breathes, watching Zayn fish a cigarette from his pockets and then a lighter.

“You want one?” Zayn asks, offering the packet to Louis, holding his own between his teeth.

It's a hard debate, between the effort of keeping himself out of an habit he struggled so much to lose, and the comfort of the nicotine, but his chest is still tight and his breath is still short, so he nods and accepts one.

Zayn lights them up for both of them and the first drag is the sweetest poison, flooding his lungs again like a welcome and a punch.

They smoke in silence, shivering in the light wind, biting cold after the damp warmness of the club.

“We could go home, you know.”

Louis takes his eyes off the moon and brings them back on Zayn, raising a eyebrow but not daring to open his mouth.

He takes another drag to keep himself busy, and waits for Zayn to make fun of him.

“You aren't having fun, and that's not what I wanted.”

“I am having fun!” Louis argues, ready to lie with his last breath if it means that he'll be with Zayn for longer, that he'll won't be made fun of.

“You're not. There are too many people, it's too warm,and you are way too anxious in there to even breathe right.”

“I...”

“I am the same.”

Louis stops, his argument ready on the tip of his tongue, looking at Zayn.

“Then why are we here?” he asks instead, forgotten cigarette dangling from his fingers.

Zayn shrugs and finishes his off, flicking it on the ground and stubbing it out with his shoe. Louis frowns at him, but doesn't say anything.

“Because I like to be with my friends, and they like to be here. And it's fun sometimes. I guess tonight just isn't the right night.”

Louis ignores the part of his brain telling him that Zayn has not been enjoying himself because he was too busy worrying about the reasons why Louis isn't having fun, and looks for a place to put his cigarette, finding none.

“Are we going, then?” he asks, giving up and stubbing the cigarette out on the ground like Zayn had done. “Or, are you going to dance with me first?”

It makes Zayn laugh and shake his head. it's the most beautiful sight of the night, Zayn shining under the streetlights and the moon, hair slightly floppier than it was earlier, prettier than every person in the whole club.

“I don't dance, babe.”

“Sure you do. Come on.”

Louis doesn't really know where the confidence is coming from –maybe from the cigarette, or maybe from the alcohol, or maybe from the way Zayn is looking at him– but it's there, and he grabs Zayn's hand and brings him back inside, into the suffocating warmth of the crowd of bodies moving together.

It's true that Zayn can't dance, but neither can Louis, and they giggle more than they move, but they try and they hold on each other and they look way drunker than they are.

Louis still can't breathe.

There is a moment, when the lights change from pink to blue to golden, and Zayn looks like a fantasy emerging from the darkness, when they are so close they are basically pressed against each other, when everything Louis can see and taste and breathe is Zayn Zayn ZaynZaynZaynzaynzaynzayn, that he thinks about pressing his lips to Zayn's and kissing him until he's not scared anymore. But the light changes again, and the moment passes, and he cowers again in the safety of uncertainty.

It's almost two am when they finally, finally, get out of the club, sweaty, drunk, and tired, and Louis doesn't even think about Zayn telling his sober cousin to drop him off at Louis'. He doesn't even think when they have a shower in turn, because Zayn refuses to let him go to bed like that, doesn't even think when Zayn makes him drink a glass of water or when they tuck into bed together, curling around each other, smelling like Louis' shower gel and alcohol. Desn't even think when he kisses Zayn's collarbone and then falls right to sleep.

~~~~~

Louis' brain hates him.

He's pretty sure his brain is screaming, or maybe trying to dig a hole in his head and escape and never come back. Or, maybe the light that is streaming in through the window is digging the hole in his face and his brain is just excited to get out as soon as possible, so it keeps hitting the insides of his head trying to help the sunlight.

Anyway it is, his head hurts and he wants to hide under the covers and never drink again.

He moans a little, turning on his side to escape the light, meeting Zayn's shoulder and burying his face there.

Zayn smells a bit sweaty, and a bit like Louis, and a lot like himself, and Louis falls back to sleep.

~~~~~

“If you get up and make breakfast I'll tell you where the aspirins are.”

Zayn hides his smile in Louis' hair and doesn't move.

They have both been awake for quite a while, both needing some time to properly wake up, but Louis has been trying to convince him to get out of bed and get some food for about ten minutes and Zayn is having too much fun to just say yes. Plus, he's lazy and comfortable, and Louis is drawing patterns on his chest and his hair smells nice, and Zayn doesn't want to move.

“I know where they are.”

“You do not!”

It's so unfair how someone can be so annoying and so unbearably cute at the same time. Zayn would be a little bit offended if it wasn't for the fact that he is too fond of this boy to be mad.

“They're in the cabinet in the kitchen, under the sink. Which is a silly place to put them, by the way.”

“Oh yeah? And why would it be silly?”

“People usually put medicines in the bathroom, Lou.”

“So? I can do what I want.”

Louis is pouting a little, all frowns and glares, and Zayn wishes he could turn his head up a bit and kiss him.

“Sure you can. You can also go and find something for breakfast.”

He kind of expects the punch that hits him in the stomach, but he still gasps more dramatically than necessary and tries to move away without putting much effort in it.

“You go make breakfast!”

It takes another twenty minutes before they both manage to get out of bed, pushing each other, grumbling, stumbling and giggling. In the end they settle for tea and eggs on toast, which Louis declares is both a breakfast and a lunch.

Zayn doesn't dare suggesting the word brunch, but he does steal a kiss on Louis' cheek and the blush that is born with it.

~~~~~

“What are you thinking about?”

They're lying on the bed again, Zayn sitting up against the headboard and Louis with his head in Zayn's lap, Zayn's fingers carding through his hair.

Zayn's not sure what time is it, but the sun doesn't come in from the window anymore and his phone has vibrated at least ten times on the bedside table, so it must be late. He hasn't answered and doesn't mean to move until Louis moves first.

“I don't know.” Louis sounds a bit sleepy, words slightly slurred, and Zayn never wants to get up.

“How can you not know what you're thinking about?”

“I don't know. I was thinking about something, but then you talked and I forgot.”

Zayn smiles and Louis pinches him in the leg.

“What is the sea saying?” he asks, taking Louis' hand in his free one and keeping it still while the other one keeps petting Louis' hair.

“That I'm wasting the day and it misses me.”

“Is it?”

“No, not really,” Louis answers after a couple of seconds, yawning and turning until he's on his back, looking at Zayn.

“What is it saying, then?” Zayn asks, bringing one arm up to wrap it over Louis' stomach and dragging him a little closer.

“It's not that simple, you know? You think that the sea always uses words, but that's only us. The sea uses words, yeah, but also feelings and sounds and colours and motions and a lot of things that I can't always understand.”

“I get that, babe.”

“No, you don't. Because you think in words and you think that everything can be put into words and that the world can all be described with words, and that's okay, but it's also bullshit.”

Louis is frowning and Zayn doesn't know if he wants to smile, because he's incredibly cute, or start arguing with him, because he's incredibly wrong.

His mouth decides for him.

“You know what's bullshit? Thinking that just because I write I would put everything into words.” He tries really hard to not be offended by Louis rolling his eyes, but it's kind of hard.

“You do, though! I'm not saying it's a bad thing, but it's like you have everything written down, or maybe like you're always picking words to cage things into, and the sea doesn't like it. You can't say that the sea is only salt water and you can't try to describe the smell of it, the sound, the voice, because it will never be like the real thing.”

“That's the limit of communication, Louis, and it's a thing that has always been there, but people have learned to live around it. When I say cat, in your head appears a different cat that the one in my head, but it's still a cat. It doesn't matter, as long as we understand each other. And I will never be able to describe the smell of the sea, sure, but people will still be able to smell it if I tell them to.”

Louis is sitting up now, arms crossed and frown deeper. Zayn is not sure why they're both getting worked up about this, but they are and he's not going to be the first one to give up.

“But you take away the real thing if you do that!”

“You don't! And how would you communicate if not with words? We're not the sea, we can't talk through feelings and...and lights and...whatever!”

“Then you don't.”

Zayn snorts, crossing his arms too.

“Oh yeah, the best solution, not talking to each other ever again.”

“Yep, that's the best.” Louis seems so satisfied with this turn out that Zayn can't even be annoyed at him, which is really annoying.

“The thing is,” Zayn starts slowly, “even if I work with words every day, I don't always have the right one to use. Sometimes they run or hide or pretend they don't exist, but we still need them and you can say whatever you want, but you can't do it without words. You can't argue with figures.”

For a second, it looks like Louis will try to argue, but then he shrugs, grabs a pillow, and smacks it right on Zayn's face.

“That enough of an argument for you?” he asks, when Zayn reemerges, gasping and trying not to laugh.

“That was a low blow!”

“No, darling, that was pillow talk.”

Zayn stops trying to grab another pillow and turns around slowly, mouth slightly open. Louis is incredibly smug.

“I can't believe you said that.”

“I can't believe you're not laughing.”

With the next pillow, Zayn almost sends him toppling over the bed.

They don't last long, too little pillows on the bed to find enough weapons and too much laziness in their bones, but they still manage to laugh so much it hurts, send Zayn's phone flying on the floor, and almost break a lamp.

When they settle, breathing still faster than normal and smiles on their faces, Louis' head is on Zayn's lap again, while he tries to bite at Zayn's stomach. He's so beautiful and silly and weird and amazing and absolutely the best thing in Zayn's life and he just....

“I really want to kiss you.”

Everything stops.

Louis, Zayn, Zayn's heart.

He can't believe he said that.

He can't believe those words that he tried to keep inside for so long are out there, all because of a stupid pillow fight. There must still be some alcohol in his bloodstream that he can blame, something off that he ate, something in the air, something in his head. Maybe he can still joke about it, maybe he can laugh and pretend he was kidding, maybe they can pretend he never said that.

Louis is still unmoving, mouth pressed closed and eyes wide, and Zayn can't breath.

He fucked it up.

He went and fucked it up. He couldn't keep his mouth shut and his stupid feelings to himself, and now Louis won't want to have him around anymore, the sea will hate him and will try to drown him, and he will have to avoid the beach and go back to feel out of place. Fuck.

Then Louis breathes.

He breathes, nods once to himself, closes his eyes, opens them again.

“What are you waiting for, then?”

This must be a mistake.

Or a joke. Or a mistake taken as a joke?

Did Louis just say that? Does that mean that Zayn can kiss him? Is this the worst thing that he's ever going to do? Is he...

“I know we have all day, but if you're going to kiss me can you do it now?”

Zayn tells his brain to shut up and kisses him.

It's a nice kiss.

The position is a bit awkward, Louis pushing himself up and Zayn meeting him halfway down, and they're still breathing hard. There aren't fireworks or puzzle pieces sliding into place. Louis seems a bit too tentative, and Zayn is too scared to even try and kiss him deeper, and it's tragically tense and short.

It's the best first kiss of Zayn's life.

He wishes he could have a thousands first kisses with Louis just to be able to feel this again. Feel that they're there, and they're together, and that's all that matters.

~~~~~

“We need to talk,” Louis says against Zayn's lips, and it's the worst thing anyone has ever done to him.

Zayn sighs and tries to be fine with Louis putting some space between them. He is not.

“What do we have to talk about?” he asks after a long moment, realising Louis won't let him kiss again anytime soon, and sighing again while sitting up on the bed. He lays against the headboard, while Louis sits crossed legged in front of him, fingers fiddling with his sweater.

“Uhm...about this...thing,” he says, motioning to the space between them.

“Okay. What about it?”

It doesn't seem like Louis is enjoying this conversation much eiher, but he also looks stubbornly set on having it, if the fact that he doesn't let Zayn drag him closer is anything to go by.

“Stop, we really need to talk.” He takes a deep breath, ears red. “I kind of like you?”

Zayn smiles. If that's what the conversation is about he's good with it.

“That's okay, because I kind of like you too. Like, kind of a lot.”

Louis doesn't smile though, just shakes his head and keeps fiddling.

“I am not good with people.”

“You're good with me, babe.” He tries to reach forward to grab Louis' hands again, but Louis keeps shaking his head, so Zayn stops and doesn't touch him. He still doesn't understand what is going on.

“I am not good with people, but that doesn't mean that I don't want to try. But I am not sure you want to.”

It takes a minute for the words to reach his brain, because they make absolutely no sense. Zayn doesn't want to try?

“What the fuck are you talking about?” It comes harsher than Zayn wanted it to, and both he and Louis wince, but he is jus....What the fuck? He doesn't want to?

“I'm... I'm not an easy person, Z. And I'm...I'm ace. I'm okay with cuddles and sometimes with kisses, but...”

A part of Zayn's brain distractedly wonders if Louis' ears can get redder than they are.

“You think I would want to give this up because you don't want to have sex with me?”

Louis winces again and Zayn almost reaches out for him, but he also nods and Zayn doesn't know if he wants to throw something at the wall.

“It's happened before,” is all Louis says, and now Zayn is sure that what he wants is to hit someone. Possibly the same person Louis is talking about.

“Okay, listen, I want to be honest with you, okay?” He waits for Louis to nod before going on. “I have wanted to kiss you since like the second day we talked, and maybe that's creepy or weird, I don't know, but I have okay? And I am not going to lie, having sex with you would definitely not kill me.”

“Zayn...” Louis tries to interrupt him, but Zayn shakes his head and presses on. This is important.

“But that's not what matters, okay? If you will ever want to have sex, that's good. If you never want to, that's good too. I just want to kiss you when you're being cute, and cuddle when you're being soft and see you every day for as long as you'll bear with me. That good enough for you?” Zayn is blushing too now. Sometime in the middle of his little speech Louis has raised his head to look at him and now his eyes are shining. There is a little smile tugging at his lips, and Zayn really really wants to kiss him again.

“You're a sap and I hate you.” Louis sniffles a little and reaches out for Zayn's hand again.

“That's a lie, you kinda like me,” he says, tugging at Louis until he slides on his knees and forward until he's almost in Zayn's lap.

“That was a lie.” Louis smiles against his lips, and Zayn doesn't even waste time laughing before kissing him again.

~~~~~

The sky is pink and blue when Louis tells Zayn about his family.

They're on the beach, sweet waves brushing the shore and sun setting on the water, Zayn's blanket under them and another one on their shoulders.

Zayn stopped writing a long time ago, when it got too dark to type properly and his eyes started to hurt from the brightness of the screen. When the sunset got too beautiful and Louis got too close, tucked in his side, hands playing with Zayn's jacket. It had sent a wave of arousal inside of him, but it had been easy to forget it and just kiss Louis' head, smile and be happy with what he had.

It's sudden, Louis just started talking about what had happened, eyes fixed on the sea glowing and sparkling, growing pink and deep blue, looking as beautiful as a painting.

It's almost a whisper, as if Louis doesn't really want to talk about it, but the words are coming out anyway. He talks about his disastrous year at uni, about spending money he didn't actually have, about making up excuses to avoid going back home because he was ashamed of who he was. He talks about dropping out and not telling anyone, about losing one job after the other, about finally going home to find everyone disappointed and passive aggressive, even the babies wary of him and his constantly shaking hands.

He talks about running away to the only place that had felt safe, talks about the sea pulling him in and keeping him safe and promising he would never feel that lost ever again. He talks about that as the only lie the sea has ever told him.

And Zayn listens. He listens and breathes and keeps Louis close and closer and presses little kisses to his hair, heart breaking.

Louis doesn't cry, but Zayn almost does, sadness deep in his chest, the powerful need to keep Louis safe and happy making his lungs ache.

When Louis stops talking, the sky is a dark painting of glowing freckles and the sea melts with it, waves so soft that Zayn can almost hear them telling Louis that everything is okay, everything will be okay, they got him, they got him, they got him.

Zayn doesn't know what to add to that, so, just for once, he speaks for the sea and tells him just that.

He tells him that losing the path is okay, that tumbling out of the road doesn't mean he will never get back on it, that maybe what he needed was the little road in the field. Maybe Louis needed to find something else, something better for him. He tells Louis that he can screw up, but his family loves him and surely misses him, and just because he's got the sea, it doesn't mean he can hide out forever. He tells Louis that he will fix everything, that he will get everyone back, that he will find a way. He tells him that he will be there for Louis always.

Louis just whispers okay and they stay there until not even the blankets and their body heat can keep them warm. When they get back into the house, Zayn hunts down milk and cereals for dinner, turns on his laptop again, and patiently waits for Louis' painfully slow wifi to let him load a movie.

They're halfway through itwhen the tears come, and all Zayn can do is hold Louis close and tell him that it's okay to miss them, it's okay to want to fix things, it's okay to feel lost sometimes, because he isn't. He's got Zayn, he's got the sea, he's got everything he needs, and will have everything he wants.

That night, for the fourth time in a row, Zayn sleeps in Louis' bed.

~~~~~

The first day of spring Louis brings Zayn up to the lighthouse.

He has wanted to do it for a while, because maybe Zayn doesn't really appreciate the sea when he's close to it, but he might like it more if he could see it from above; all endless blue and shining blades, right?

So he wakes up Zayn at the crack of dawn, ignores every single insult Zayn throws his way, puts a cup of tea in his hands, and drags him up to the top of the lighthouse in time to see the first rays of sunshine coming up to greet the waves.

He doesn't know what is it about sunsets and sunrises that make them so beautiful. It's not only the pretty colours, the pink and yellows and oranges, that make the clouds look like candy and the sea like dreams, it's the feeling of it. It's the light fog rising on the beach, the taste of the crisp air begging the night not to go away just yet, the sounds of the waves saying finally finally finally finally, because even if they like the night, they feel prettier in the sun.

And it's also watching Zayn, still soft and sleep rough, watching in awe as the sea pretends to wake up, yawning and singing good morning, even if it was up all night talking with the moon. It's taking a sip of Zayn's tea without him even noticing, too busy taking everything in, whispering it's so beautiful, small smile tugging the corners of his mouth upwards, eyes wide.

It's kissing the night from his lips, pressing his chest to Zayn's back, wrapping himself around Zayn, just to feel him closer, warm and solid and there. It's saying I told you so and laughing softly at Zayn's scowl.

It's knowing that even if everything breaks, they have had that sunrise.

~~~~~

“Are you going to keep this job forever?”

Zayn asks it almost as a joke, something to make Louis glare at him while he puts away his groceries, but Louis doesn't glare at him. Louis doesn't even turn around, just stops what he's doing and goes tense, shoulders rigid and breath sharp.

“Lou?” Zayn hops down from the table and turns him around, worried eyes flying over his blank expression.

“What does that mean?” Louis asks after a beat, voice too neutral to be real.

“I don't...Nothing. I was just wondering. Isn't there anything else you want to do?” Louis still isn't looking him in the eyes, but Zayn doesn't let him go.

“Not really. I like this job, I like being paid to do barely anything but look at the sea, and I like this house. Why would I want to leave?”

“I don't know. I don't think you should leave if you don't want to. I was just wondering.”

“So, you're not saying that you're tired and want me to leave?”

Jesus.

Louis' expression is still blank, but Zayn flinches back, eyes widening.

“What? No! I never want you to leave!”

It takes one hard look on Zayn's face for Louis to relax, but then he does, sagging against Zayn's chest before punching him lightly.

“Don't do that to me,” he mutters against Zayn's sweater, hands clutched to his back, Zayn holding him equally close.

“I'm sorry. I didn't mean it to sound it that way.”

“I know.”

They stand still for a while, just hugging and making sure they're breathing in sync, before Zayn remembers something he needs to say.

“I mean it, you know. I never want you to leave.”

He waits for Louis to take one breath, then another, then another.

The Louis raises his head and kisses him, sweet and hard, comforting and possessive.

“I don't know what I want to do, but I know I want to be here,” he says, after they separate, eyes as sincere and clear as a blue sky.

“That's okay. I want to be here too,” Zayn says, doesn't even try to fight the smile tugging at his lips.

For now, that's everything they need to know.

~~~~~

“Hey Zayn?”

Zayn opens an eye behind his sunglasses, looking up at Louis, standing over him, mischievous smile and messy hair making him look younger, happier.

“I have a thing for you,” Louis adds, offering him a little blue box with a golden bow tied to it.

“Is it my birthday?” Zayn asks, sitting up and carefully taking the box.

“I don't know, is it?”

“Nope.”

“Good.”

Louis is still smiling and Zayn tries to remember if there is any other reason why Louis should be giving him a gift. If there is no birthday or anniversary, what is it?

“It's not our anniversary, right?” he gently shakes the box, and whatever there is inside rattles lightly.

“Anniversary of what?” Louis seems genuinely surprised, so maybe Zayn can cross that out too.

“Nothing. Then why this?” he shakes the box again, but then Louis glares at him and he stops, picking at the bow until he manages to untie it.

“It's the first warm day of the year, it felt right.” Louis shrugs, and Zayn is too focused on his present to notice him shift a couple inches back.

He doesn't really know what he was expecting, but he definitely wasn't expecting to find a super tiny water gun, already filled with water. He doesn't have time to ask any questions before a spray of cold water hits him straight in the face. Louis laughs loudly and skitters away, stumbling over his own feet. It would be adorable if Zayn wasn't this fucking wet.

“Are you fucking kidding me.”

Louis is still laughing, considerably bigger water gun held with both hands, so proud of his game. Zayn is almost tempted to not kill him.

Almost.

“It's summer, Zaynie!” Louis screams, twirling and spraying a rainbow of water all around himself. The sea seems to laugh and Zayn hates them both.

“It's barely spring!” he argues, getting up slowly, wiping his face with his sleeve.

He's going to drown Louis.

“It's been spring for a month! It's summer's time now!”

“You're insane!”

That makes Louis laugh again, and then he's darting forward, hitting Zayn on the arm with more water and dashing away, tiny stones rolling away from under his feet.

Oh, that's definitely a challenge Zayn can't let go.

There's something weird about this, about running around on a empty corner of the beach with water guns, slipping and stumbling and getting increasingly wetter and out of breath. Feeling like the sunshine is in their blood, like their bodies are lighter, like the happiness is keeping them two feet off the ground. There's something weird and incredibly beautiful, something that makes the sky bluer, the sun warmer, and the sea softer.

Louis screams at the waves sometimes, tells them they can't play with them, tells them that it's okay, tells them thank you for the refill, tells them you're beautiful, tells them to leave Zayn alone while he fills up his water gun again. And Zayn doesn't think about being afraid, doesn't think about the terrifying, endless wildness that is the sea, just thinks of getting Louis as wet as he can manage, thinks of being happy, thinks of being there.

When they fall back on the blanket, both soaked through, shivering even despite the warm sun shining down on them, Zayn kisses the laughter off Louis' mouth; tastes the salted water and the sunshine, the happiness bubbling just underneath the skin, the feeling of being so alive their lungs are bursting with it.

“You look like a drowned cat,” he says, kissing a drop of water off of Louis' neck, blocking Louis' punch without even looking, but doesn't try to stop him from pinching him with the other hand.

“You look like a model and that's unfair,” Louis retorts, pulling at a strand of hair falling into Zayn's eyes, frowning with so little conviction that not even the sun would believe him.

“Can I say that I love you?” Zayn almost doesn't dare to look up at Louis' eyes when he asks it, but he can't avoid it, wants to see everything, wants to see if it's too much, if it's too little, if it's as okay as it feels for him.

Louis' eyes widen for a second, but then they grow softer, smile becoming a little smaller, a little fonder, a little more beautiful, if that's even possible.

“Only if I can say it back.”

~~~~~

It takes some time, but Louis realises that loving Zayn is like loving the sea.

There are ups and downs, big waves and calm waters, tides rising and falling, gales, and so much beauty it almost hurts his eyes.

Up.

Kissing Zayn before they fall asleep, tangled up in each other, darkness and blankets pooling around them like a promise of safety, sea whispering like a promise of forever.

Down.

Zayn screaming at him because he got too carried away in one of his swims and struggled to get back to the shore, cold to the bone and shaking so hard he couldn't even talk, not even to scream back, to tell him that the waves always had him, that the sea would never let him down.

Up.

Going out some nights, pretending to be able to dance, drinking, kissing and laughing so hard they can barely stand. Touching the shadows on Zayn's face, chasing the lights dancing on his skin with his lips, learning how to breathe in the crowd again. Falling back to bed together and waking up the next day still smelling like sweat and alcohol, disgusting, tired and so happy they don't even know what to say.

Down.

Missing his family so much it hurts, screaming about it in the middle of the night on the top of the lighthouse. Never telling Zayn, never saying why he's so tired, why he wasn't in bed, why he's so sad, why why why.

Up.

Calling his family up up up in the lighthouse, Zayn holding his hand and keeping him close.

Down.

His family missing him and being hurt and worried and begging him to come home, please, come home, and having to say no, I can't, I don't, I will.

Up.

Jumping on Zayn's back as soon as he's back, loving him so much he can't even talk, being so happy everything is going back to place that he can't even breathe, being so tired he can only cry and let Zayn hug him on their little corner of their little beach.

Down.

Being afraid of everything. Of loving so much, of trusting so much, of believing so much in something he can't really control, in someone he can never really have. Of the present, of the future, of the mistakes of his past, of Zayn's thoughts, of Zayn's dreams, of Zayn's everything.

Up.

Zayn. Zayn's thoughts, Zayn's dreams, Zayn's talent, Zayn's words, Zayn's everything. Zayn being patient and loving and understanding and never ever forcing him to do anything. Never making him feel guilty for not wanting to have sex, never making him feel like it's something they're missing, like they're not good as they are.

Down.

Up.

And higher.

So loving Zayn becomes as easy as loving the sea, almost without Louis realising it. Talking with him is as simple as talking to the waves, understanding his every move as natural as reading the colours of the water and the sky, and it's beautiful and terrifying, and Louis has never been happier.

~~~~~

Zayn doesn't know when he moves in with Louis.

It's not exactly a conscious decision, just like meeting him wasn't, or falling for him, it just kind of happens. He starts sleeping there more times than in his tiny bedroom at home, first with the excuse of cooking dinner for Louis and getting tired, then to kiss him goodnight, then just because he wants to. His clothes starts to appear in Louis' closet. He has a favourite mug, a toothbrush on the sink, and the permission to move things around in the kitchen until he's satisfied with it. He has a side of the bed, a corner of the library, a space on the desk.

And then, one day, he has a set of keys in his hand and Louis shuffling his feet in front of him, blushing and stuttering, and Zayn realises he hasn't slept in his own bed for more than two weeks.

“Are we living together?” he blurts out, interrupting Louis and clutching the keys like they might disappear.

“I don't know. Are we?” Louis seems as surprised as Zayn feels and it makes Zayn want to laugh, how terrible they both are at this, but still somehow make it work.

“I don't know. Do you want to?”

“I already live here, Z,” Louis says rolling his eyes, but Zayn can see the doubt in his eyes, the fear of being told this is not good enough. He can't wait for the moment that fear will be gone forever.

“I want to pay for half the groceries and the bills,” he says, in lieu of an answer.

“You can even go to buy the groceries, if you want.” Louis rolls his eyes again, but he's smiling too big to look anything except incredibly happy. Zayn takes a step forward, putting his hands on Louis' hips, even the one still clutching the keys.

“Are you asking me to move in, babe?” he asks, making his voice as sweet as possible and batting his eyelashes.

“I'm asking you to be my maid,” Louis says, sharp and quick, hands on Zayn's arms bringing him even closer.

“Ask me to move in.” Zayn whispers, lips so close to Louis' ones they barely brush when he talks.

“I...are you sure?” Zayn pulls back a little, just to make sure Louis can look him in the eyes and see his face.

“I am so so sure. Please, Lou?”

Louis takes one deep breath, then another, a little nod, a smile growing bigger.

“Move in with me?”

Zayn's yes gets lost in a kiss, but neither of them really cares.

~~~~~

“What are you thinking about?”

They're sitting on the shore, waves barely a feet away softly touching the pebbles, rolling them like a melody, sun setting over the sea and painting it pink and orange, as if to give it a little more warmth before the night. There are crickets singing in the bushes towards the road and a group of friends laughing and drinking further down the beach, but in their corner there is nothing but the sea.

“The sea,” Louis answers, not taking his eyes off the horizon, not taking his head off Zayn's shoulder.

Zayn smiles and turns a little, arm sneaking around Louis' waist, mouth finding his cheek. He can feel Louis smile too before turning away from the water and kissing him lightly, nothing more than their smiles pressed together.

“Is the sea happy?” Zayn asks, a breath away from Louis' lips, feeling so in love that his heart could break with it, so alive his skin could glow, so satisfied he couldn't find anything to wish for if he wanted to, if not for this moment to last longer.

Louis shrugs, as much as he can while they are still so close together, kisses Zayn again before pulling back smiling, the most beautiful thing Zayn has ever had the right to touch.

“I don't care.” Louis says, after so long that Zayn has almost forgotten the question, lost in everything Louis. “I am.”