Chapter Text
When the alarm on his phone sounds, Liam’s arm shoots out and he manages to turn it off in less than approximately three seconds. At least he hopes so, but time has an odd quality of going much slower when there’s a need to be fast. He exhales heavily – apparently holding one’s breath is a necessity when one needs to be superfast – and looks down at Louis to ensure he hasn’t woken up yet. He is, luckily, very much asleep, snoozing softly with his right hand curled around Liam’s dick loosely – but not so loose it can’t be felt through the fabric of Liam’s boxers.
Oh. While Louis’ fingers are completely relaxed, there is no doubt about it. They are right there. It is a bit bewildering waking up and realising things like this but not coming to the realisation immediately. As if it isn’t that mind-boggling as it, in fact, is to Liam right now.
Liam tries to wriggle free as smoothly as possible, but that just causes Louis to sigh a little and push his nose into Liam’s side. And Louis’ hand continues to be very warm through the cotton of Liam’s thin-washed boxers.
Liam stares down at Louis’ face, while his fingers are tapping in a hurried rhythm at the side of the bed.
Louis’ eyelashes flutter a little and the next second he opens his eyes.
Liam tries not to flinch or move at all.
“Why’re you staring at me like that?” Louis asks with a raspy voice. When Liam doesn’t answer (really, he seems to have lost his voice; he can only get out this really squeaky noise from far down in his throat – Louis’ voice isn’t raspy at all compared to his, to be fair), Louis adds, “And why’re you looking like a tomato in your face?”
A slight crinkle appears between Louis’ eyebrows, and then it is as though there is a moment of dawning for him when he looks down at his hand’s whereabouts. He doesn’t move it though, but his eyes travel back to Liam’s face, and then there’s a small moment where nothing happens, and Liam wonders if he should say something, but then Louis’ eyes grows smaller.
Even though they’re in the same time becoming larger, Liam reflects dazedly, because Louis leans closer to him slowly, so the already slight space between them becomes even narrower, and then they’re so close that Louis can lean his forehead against Liam’s, and in the exact same moment he gives Liam’s dick (which Liam honestly almost had forgotten about what with Louis’ lips approaching his like that) a quick squeeze.
“Lou,” Liam says, but Louis leans backward so Liam can’t reach those lips with his own.
“Good morning,” Louis answers, putting so much emphasis on “morning” that Liam begins to wonder if there is some consensus that “morning” very well can be the most sexual word in the whole word and that he’s just happened to have missed that public service announcement. Then Louis’ hand suddenly disappears from Liam’s crotch and Louis smiles so widely Liam kind of regrets that they didn’t do that sex-tape Louis tried to convince him to record last night. Because if they had, they’d probably not have shut the cameras off, too exhausted to bother get up from bed, and then the cameras had still been running right now and Liam would have caught that smile on film and could have re-watched it every day. However, Liam doesn’t know how making sex-tapes works – perhaps one doesn’t just put up cameras and leave them on like that?
He is just about to ask Louis when the blue-eyed guy repeats his “Good morning,” but much more softly, before he leans in and kisses Liam very lazily and a bit sloppily, to be honest. Not that Liam’s minding.
“Why twice?” Liam asks when he’s wrestled Louis around a bit so that he’s on top of him, straddling him. Louis is beaming from where he’s pushed into the pillows beneath him, so Liam bends down and covers his mouth with his own. Somehow, the way he’s holding Louis down doesn’t seem to mean Liam has regained any of the dignity he lost what with the blushing before, at least not in Louis’ eyes, since they’re still twinkling evilly. So obviously Liam has to do something.
“First,” Louis begins, and Liam moves to kiss his neck instead so he won’t interrupt (and a hickey might be a great way of getting back at Louis, because Louis can’t go to work like that, not anymore – his boss made that very clear a while ago, and Louis absolutely detests wearing turtlenecks).“I greeted your dick, and then I greeted you.”
“Oh,” Liam says, sliding down on Louis’ legs. He can continue working on the hickey later or something. “So I should do the same, huh?” He blinks up at Louis from where his face now is just above Louis’ belly.
“Seems to be the courteous thing to do, doesn’t it?” Louis asks lightly. “Maybe you can do it more thoroughly than me, though?” His speech is rushed already, but when Liam grabs Louis’ boxers and pulls them down, it turns into even more high-speed blabber. “Like, you didn’t say ‘good morning’ to me at all, but if your mouth says ‘good morning’ to my dick I think it’d be even because then you’ve sort of given me a package deal, right?”
“For once I think you’re right,” Liam responds, and then he has to shut up because his mouth has more important business to attend. Besides, Louis’ talking doesn’t cease in neither speed nor volume – it kind of does the opposite and Liam decides again that how he one day will research when exactly Louis’ most outdrawn moans occur because, quite frankly, he needs to know what it is he does to make Louis sound like that because it’s the best sound in the entire world, he’s pretty sure, and oh gosh Louis.
--
Next time Liam wakes up, it’s not because of his phone, as that alarm is set on, according to the information on the album Liam bought on iTunes maybe half a year ago, “peaceful and beautiful sounds from the nature that guarantees a brighter awakening” but because of Louis’ phone exclaiming “it’s going down, I’m yelling timber” repeatedly.
Apparently, Liam understands as he opens his eyes slowly, Louis’ phone is somewhere on the floor, because Louis is crawling about down there, throwing clothes around him and muttering things with a scowl on his face that probably could scare a tiny cow to death.
Liam grabs a pillow and puts it over his face, but just then Ke$ha (whom Liam otherwise adores – it’s just that that song is a bit too upbeat right now) stops singing and Louis growls into the phone, “The fuck, you better have a good reason for this, Malik.”
There’s a silence, and Liam decides he can just as well get up, so he sits up in the bed.
“Wait, what time’s it?” Louis’ voice has softened slightly; Liam, however, can’t seem to find his boxers. He wraps the duvet around himself and slips out of the bed.
“Are you– Okay, ‘kay.”
There’s a large pile of clothes in the far corner of the room, but Liam’s pretty sure none of his underwear is there. Could be, though, since he’s inhabited Louis’ room pretty frequently for quite a while now. But seriously, where are those he wore last night? They were actually one of his favourite pairs.
“Hey, you shouldn’t be talking! You and Harry are just the same, you hypocritical twat.”
On Louis’ bookshelf hangs a pair of Calvin Klein boxers that surely are not Liam’s, but they seem clean, so with a quick glance behind him to ensure that Louis still is engrossed in his phone conversation Liam drags them on.
“Yeah, sure. We’ll come – of course we haven’t forgotten! Mhm, yeah.”
Liam is pretty certain Louis won’t notice he’s borrowed the boxers, but just to be safe he dashes back into bed and crawls underneath the duvet.
“Oh and, say hi to Harry. Wait, have you told him no one’s gonna be upset if it’s take-away? Good. Okay, see you then. Bye.” Louis ends the phone call and looks up at Liam from where he’s sitting cross-legged on the floor. Liam doesn’t understand when Louis got half-dressed, but he has even managed to get a pair of trackies on.
“Zayn?” Liam asks, even though he’s already deciphered that.
“Yeah. Guess what time it is,” Louis says, scratching his hair while he turns his gaze down to his phone screen.
“Uh, don’t know.”
“Two in the afternoon.”
“What, wait, what?”
Louis grins. “You’re a very demanding little boy, Li. Making me all sleepy; old men like me needs their rest.”
“But I do, too,” Liam protests, even though he’s not sure why he’s feeling that urge to object. “But sure. Are you still up for going for a run, or…” He trails off, not sure if Louis will take that – again – as an implication he’s not fit enough to join Liam during his morning rounds. It’s really not meant to be that, though.
Louis doesn’t even seem close to be on the same track as Liam since he immediately shines up. “Of course!” He practically bounces up from the floor and disappears out through the bedroom door, and Liam sinks back amongst the pillows.
It was three days ago Louis got the idea that he should join Liam to the park, and he explained to Harry when the three of them met up for lunch that it was so his and Liam’s shower sex would be even hotter, because now not only Liam would be the already sweaty and tousled one – Liam had looked around himself to see if someone was listening to them, because they were in fact in a crammed little breakfast club, and simultaneously tried to kick Louis under the table.
Louis hadn’t noticed; Harry had. “Why are you kicking me, Li?” he had asked with large eyes, and Liam had been confused of how he had managed to reach Harry’s shin, but then again, Liam had come to the understanding that Harry and Louis (and Zayn, when he was present) had a strange way of ending up tangled in each other wherever they were. So he had apologised best as he could, but secretly been happy because it had interrupted Harry’s response to Louis about what he and Zayn did in the shower, so that Liam had to deal with a wounded-Harry-expression was actually okay. It was probably going to be both the first and the last time he didn’t feel that bad about it.
And well, that day he and Louis hadn’t had time go out running because after lunch (brunch, Harry had kept insisting on calling it, poking them whenever one of them slipped and said “lunch”) Louis was off for work and Liam for uni and then next time they had met up it had been Friday night and Louis had been plastered already at nine o’clock, so their night out had turned into a watch-it-oh-did-you-hurt-yourse-hey-wait-louis-stay-here-no-not-my-belt-not-here-lou-c’mon-stand-up-you-can’t-sit-here type of night, which of course meant that Louis had had an incredibly hangover the entire Saturday and hadn’t even picked up his phone.
However, at six in the evening Louis actually had stood outside Liam’s door, sporting a very sheepish look, and then he had blushed a whole lot when showing what was in the Sainsbury’s bag he was hiding behind his back after Liam had had to physically drag him inside. For the record, it was two tubes of Häagen-Dazs and some indie-film with a glaring ‘REDUCED’ label on, and when Louis explained it was so he could apologise for being so annoying last night, Liam became very surprised plus that he felt like something melted inside of him because Louis wouldn’t stop blushing and shuffling aroundand looking pretty much like someone who didn’t know he could sink this low but still did. Yeah. Exactly so. (Liam had told him he was adorable a little later, but that had led to Louis throwing a pillow at him and saying that if Liam ever said that again, Louis would never ever suck him off again.)
Anyway, there in the hallway, Liam had just kissed Louis to shut him up, because Louis wouldn’t stop blabbering, which had only caused Louis’ cheeks to become even redder.
And of course they hadn’t gone out running then, even though Liam had actually planned it, so when he went to the loo in the middle of Iron Man 2 (because after a while Louis had looked up at Liam and said, “Do you get it?” and Liam had hesitated, but then Louis had said, “I sure as hell don’t. I’ll just give this film to Harry instead or summat,” and changed DVD to Iron Man 2 instead even though they’d seen it three times together already) he quickly stuffed away his training garments that he had took out before and said nothing about it.
And really, when Liam had returned to the sofa Louis had paused the DVD and was actually asleep, so Liam had just sat down really carefully and nuzzled into Louis’ side, and when Louis’ arms came to wind themselves around him, Liam didn’t mind at all. And well, after that powernap – “powercuddle,” Louis had renamed it when they woke up all warm and flushed and declared that they should have one every day – which lasted about an hour, Louis had gained a lot of energy and made them Eton Mess and after finishing the film when Louis was just about to put the left-over (though Liam had doubted it was left over, Louis must have made extra, Liam would bet his right hand on it, not that he minded, no, not at all, it was a great decision of Louis, honestly) whipped cream on Liam’s chest, with a devious smile on his lips, the door had rattled and in stepped Niall, with a simple please in their direction before disappearing into his room.
So, they had ended up going home to Louis’ instead, and while it wasn’t that far (it used to take Liam ten minutes to walk there quickly), it took them thirty, because Louis invented a game called “green car” which meant that as soon as they saw a green car they got to kiss each other. That by itself wouldn’t have taken so long time, but they had upgraded it to green-blue-silver-red car after maybe ten metres.
Now, though, Louis seems very much up to taking that jogging tour. The door is swung open again and Louis dashes through the room and drags the duvet off Liam. “Come on, get up!”
Liam scrubs at his eyes with one hand and uses the other to push him up in a sitting position. (Somehow, he must have sunk back into lying position without really noticing it.) “Why’re you so… what’s the word again…”
“What?” Louis asks while he tugs at Liam’s hand.
“…you know, energy-y?” Liam says, covering his mouth with his free hand so as not to yawn Louis straight in his face.
Louis’ mouth quirks upwards, and then he swivels around and opens his wardrobe. Liam has literally no idea how Louis can find things in there, but there’s got to be something because in perhaps two seconds Louis has turned back around again and thrown a t-shirt at Liam. “Energetic it’s called, yeah?” he says, then crossing his arms. “Put it on, now.” He turns again and leaves the bedroom, yelling, “I’m this energetic because I want to go running finally but you’re being super slow!”
Liam crawls into the t-shirt, notes that it fits, maybe not perfectly but that it’ll more than do, still. Then he proceeds to leave the bedroom and ask for a pair of shorts or something, but when he arrives at the kitchen and says “You’ve got any spare trackies lying around?” Louis doesn’t answer.
Louis is standing with his foot up on a chair, tying his shoe, but he seems to have forgotten how to actually produce a proper knot as he’s blinking heavily and staring straight at Liam’s chest.
“What?” Liam asks, shuffling around a little. Maybe he shouldn’t just have walked into the kitchen half-dressed like this; maybe Louis has some strange rule that nudity is banned in a room where food is prepared. But, no, Liam thinks and remembers how they actually did shag on the table last week even though Louis protested with an outraged look on his face that they “absolutely not would do such a thing!” to Harry when the bloke said he would never cook for Louis again if they ever took bedroom matters outside the bedroom. (Louis had, for the record, protested that Zayn and Harry always took bedroom matters outside the bedroom, but Harry had said it was different, and then he had turned to Liam with a grave look on his face and said that this rule was imposed because Louis was finally getting laid – that was why Louis was so surprised, like, the rule had always existed but Harry had never been bothered taking it up since there before hadn’t been a threat to it being abused. Louis had hushed Harry by whacking him over the head and then Zayn had told him that Louis weren’t allowed to abuse people either, not only rules, and especially not abuse his boyfriend.)
“You,” Louis begins, his fingers frozen mid-air holding his shoelaces. “You look very good in that shirt,” he says, his voice sounding a little bit as though he’s got something stuffed down his throat. Eh.
Liam looks down at himself and the stretch of the grey soft cotton across his chest. “I do? But it’s a bit small over –“
“Not small,” Louis interrupts. He licks his lips, but doesn’t even seem to notice he is doing so as he continues staring at Liam. Usually, Louis would lick his lips and lock Liam’s eyes with his own, so that Liam would, if they were in public, grow very warm and have to look in another direction, or, if they were by themselves, look straight back and then pounce on Louis.
“It’s small, Lou,” Liam protests. “Look,” he says, lifting his arms over his head. “It’s way too small. But it’s fine,” he adds quickly. “Thanks for letting me borrow it.”
When Liam lets his arms fall to his side, Louis seems to wake up in a way. He quickly changes his gaze back to his shoes again and continues tying them – but his fingers shake a little so there is something not quite right. “Don’t worry ‘bout it. Like it on you.”
Liam scratches his hair. “’Okay. Did you have a pair of trackies?”
“Oh, yeah.” Louis rises and blinks a few times with his gaze caught on Liam as he walks into the bathroom. Liam crosses his arms over his chest and follows Louis. “Here,” Louis says and hands Liam a pair of black training trousers in that swishy material, before he bends his neck and pushes past Liam and back into the kitchen.
Liam unfolds them and pulls them on hurriedly and dashes back into the kitchen. “Socks?” He feels really stupid, having to ask Louis about all these things, but well, he didn’t really had time packing a staying-over bag last night, and least of all plan ahead so much he’d bring his training gear. No, he and Louis had far more important things on their mind when they left Liam’s, like, Louis remembering just when they were by the door step that he had discovered earlier the same day that there were no condoms left in his drawer and that he had forgotten to buy a new package, so they needed to bring Liam’s, because the shops were all closed at that time, but where the hell were Liam’s condoms?
“Socks,” Louis repeats. “Socks, yeah, sure,” he says, opening his wardrobe door after hauling up his shorts a little higher on his hips. They still reach his knees though. When Liam has received a pair of really shabby white tennis socks and put them on as well, Louis mouth turns into a faint smile. He still looks as though air has been punched out of him, and Liam still wonders if he should make a thing out of it, or just silently enjoy it. Like, he’s not quite following what’s going on, but it makes Louis act quite lovely, and Liam is definitely up for that.
“Ready to go?” he asks instead as he’s tying his jogging shoes. That’s one thing that actually ended up well – last night he didn’t put on kicks or anything like that when leaving his and Niall’s flat, but his proper Nike air-cushioned running shoes.
Louis takes a step over him where he’s sitting on the floor finishing the left shoe. “Ready to sprint the shit out of you, Payne,” Louis responds, and even though Louis doesn’t look at him, Liam supposes Louis at least has started to recuperate. From whatever it was that hit him.
“Sure,” Liam says sarcastically and pushes his shoulder into Louis’ when they rattle down the stairs.
“You just wait and see,” Louis says. They leave the tenant building and walk a few metres down the street towards the park. Just when Liam’s about to ask if they’re going to begin, Louis says super-quickly, “Ready-set-go,” and dashes off.
Liam can’t stop himself from smiling a little as he, too, begins to run. He lets Louis rush off, however, and when they enter the park, Louis is yards and yards ahead of him, just a bright purple dot looming in the distance.
It’s a sunny day, warm – but not yet of that heat in which it becomes annoying to run, and Liam quickly falls into a rhythm where he feels comfortable. There are lots of people out and about in the park, and he runs past dads with strollers, old women doing yoga, roller-skating teenagers and footballing kids.
When maybe ten minutes has passed, the purple dot that has been within his sight the entire time starts to grow, and after perhaps five more minutes it’s no longer a dot, but definitely part of a human being.
Liam increases his speed a little, and then, when he’s so close Louis must be able to hear the gravel crunching with Liam’s every step, Liam takes two long strides and throws himself onto Louis’ back.
Louis sways, squeaks out a “Oof, wha –“ but manages to stay on his feet and then grabs Liam’s legs so that Liam is secured on Louis’ back.
“How’s it going?” Liam asks, blowing down some air into Louis’ sweaty hair. He bends forward a little and tries to get a peek on Louis’ face – really, Liam doesn’t know if he’s ever seen Louis this flushed, then again, he might have? Like, that one time during which Louis kept shouting about angelic sashaying gladiators from the pitch of hell. That time both of them had been a bit sweaty, in fact.
“Oh,” Louis puffs out. “Do that again.”
“Do what again?” Liam asks, and lets out some more air so that the strands of Louis’ hair moves about in a funny fashion, plastered as they were against his head before. “This?”
“Yes, please,” Louis says. He has slowed down so that he now just walks – not even that, he drags himself forwards with shaky steps.
“Okay, sorry, I’ll go down now,” Liam says and tries to wriggle a bit so Louis will let go off his thighs.
Louis doesn’t let go off his thighs.
“Hey, Lou?” Liam asks.
Louis simply trudges on.
“Where are we going?”
Louis says nothing, so Liam keeps his mouth shut as well. When Louis turns and leaves the path, so that they arrive at the shore of the large lake, Liam is let down at last. Louis collapses to the ground in a heap, looking very sad and very tiny, and groans, “I can’t move a single inch from now,” into the lawn, apparently not even having the power to turn his head.
Liam sits down next to him and pats his shoulder a little. It feels a bit pathetic and very unhelpful as he does so, though, so he slowly withdraws his hand. “Well, but why would you carry me all the way like that, then? And why did you run so quickly in the beginning?”
Louis groans again. “No reprimanding! I want praise, Li,” he says, still not moving the slightest.
Liam laughs, despite himself, and leans over to Louis and pecks his temple – which is the only part of Louis’ face that’s not buried in the grass. “All right. You did really well; you are apparently in very good shape, and I am extremely impressed.”
“Make it sound natural,” Louis whines, then scrunching up his face and shaking it, spitting out some grass.
“Er –“ Liam hesitates. “You have a good running style?”
Louis sits up, wiping at his face and putting his knuckles against his cheeks as though he wants to cool them down. They’re very red, so Liam kind of understands him. He also looks very cute with his hair all tousled and hanging all over the place, and with some grass stains on his cheek. Plus that redness on his face again. “Cut it, Payne, I know I sucked.”
“You didn’t!” Liam immediately protests, but Louis just shakes his head and crawls up so he’s first standing on all four; however, then he seems to be stuck there, so Liam scrambles to a standing position and hauls Louis up after offering him his hand.
“I did,” Louis said. “But it still was pretty fun.”
“You thought so?”
“Well, it was at least fun carrying you to the lake. I had planned on dumping you in it, but then I realised I couldn’t move any longer; it was physically impossible.” Louis looks at Liam from the side before he bends his neck and pulls up his shirt and wipes his face with it. In that way where he reveals a strip of his tummy.
“You wouldn’t have dumped me in there, though,” Liam says and looks out at the lake instead of at Louis’ slightly tanned skin. “You’re not allowed to go swimming in that lake.”
“Sure would have,” Louis protests, but it is very weakly, so when Liam turns to him and winds his arms around his waist – that way where he also bends his knees a little so he becomes shorter and can snuggle his nose into the softest part of Louis’ neck – Louis’ presses himself into the embrace very forcefully and whispers, “Or maybe not, because if you went to jail it’d be so empty in my life.”
It is quite possible going to be a runner-up on the Best Hugs I’ve Ever Had-list that Liam keeps. Or well, should be keeping, if this is going to continue.
--
Liam is not quite sure if the looks Louis throws Zayn across the table are meant to be so menacing, or if the running made something go wrong with the function in Louis’ brain that constructs facial expressions. He is not certain how Zayn can be able to resist them, because the black-haired guy simply ignores them and blabbers loudly about Anna Karenina that he saw the other day and how the theatre-setting was the cleverest thing he had ever seen in a movie, but how a friend of him had told him she had become so peeved about it she had actually left the cinema, leading to Zayn having very low expectations when he downloaded it the other night. It is a compelling subject, but Liam is completely caught up on the fact that Zayn, still, doesn’t seem to notice how Louis is murdering him with his eyes. Like, if Louis had looked at Liam like that? He’d be dead and buried so deeply not even a truffle hog with a nose especially developed to find Liam-corpses would have found him.
Then Nick asks if he can have a third helping (and excuses himself with that “someone had forgotten to brew coffee today, so I was, like, sure, I’ll do it, but then the fucking machine broke down and I was like coffeeeeeee and began trying to fix it desperately, but then before I knew it my break was over and I hadn’t even nibbled on my sandwich!”) and Harry pushes the mashed potatoes towards Nick with a beam on his face that almost makes the dark rings beneath his eyes unnoticeable. Louis opens his mouth, his head snapping back to face Zayn, and Liam puts a hand on Louis’ thighs and squeezes.
“I can also have some more,” Liam says. “Honestly, not even my grandma makes this good mash.”
Louis closes his mouth and looks down at his plate, while Niall pipes up, “You should have tasted my gran’s mashed tatties. They’re made from one of those mixes, and I mean, nothing bad about that, can be tasty as fuck. But thing is, she doesn’t read the instructions so I’m not kidding when I say you can lift your plate and use it as a Frisbee without a single click of it falling off.”
“Have you really tried that?” Nick asks, tapping his cheek with his index finger.
“Are you doubting me, mate?”
“A little,” Nick responds and hides behind Harry when Niall starts to hit his shoulder with his left hand curled into a fist. “Help me, there’s a crazy leprechaun assaulting me.”
Meanwhile, Louis is still looking down at his plate without saying a word, lips forcefully pressed together. Liam’s hand continues to rest on Louis’ leg, but he has no clue of what else he could do.
When they, a little later and after Niall and Nick has run around the flat for a while until Zayn told them to “fucking leave it – it’s not you who’s gonna dust here tomorrow,” and Harry has giggled about “who’s the housewife now?”, are clearing the table and sort of gravitating towards the sofa, Liam realises that Louis and Zayn are nowhere to be seen.
It’s odd he hasn’t noticed, when they’re only six people in Harry’s and Zayn’s quite tiny flat, but then again, he’s been having Niall’s feet up in his face ever since he sat down on the sofa because Niall dropped his phone behind it – in some inexplicable fashion, including the need to instagram the wallpaper just up in the corner where the wall becomes ceiling because Niall wanted “more hipster pictures on my feed, lately it’s just been beer and beer and more beer” – and had to rescue it from there so now he’s jack-knifed over the back of the sofa with his (one black and one red) socks moving about slightly just in front of Liam’s eyes.
When Niall exclaims, “Got it!” Liam looks over at Harry who sits in an armchair with his legs drawn up beneath him, looking like he’s too much limbs and seeming very vacant. Liam suspects that he is not the only one who’s noticed Zayn’s and Louis’ absence.
He hasn’t time to think more about it, though, because Niall kicks him straight in his nose when crawling up into a more normal posture, and so Liam’s nose starts to bleed and Niall immediately yells out never ceasing apologies that include a larger number of profanities than Liam thought was possible in such a context.
They all pile into the bathroom, Harry first, mumbling something that sounds like “please say I remembered to buy toilet paper,” then Niall who’s pulling at Liam’s hand, while yelling, “I’m really fucking sorry; I’m such a dick, oh my fucking god, this is the first time I’ve hurt someone so they fucking bled, oh fuck, oh fuck,” and after them Nick, who just yawns and leans against the doorpost when Liam is pushed down on the toilet seat and told to put his head backwards, and press his fingers together over the bridge of his nose.
“Here,” Harry says when he’s, what it seems like, dug out every possible thing from their bathroom drawer, and hands Liam an entirely new roll of toilet paper. “You want some cold water?”
Liam, who still has his neck bent backwards and is struggling to make some kind of wad of the paper which he can put in his nostril to stop the damn bleeding, breathes out, “’m fa’,” which Nick suggests could mean that Liam is about to become anorectic, and that it could be the full-body mirror that’s hanging on the inside of the bathroom door that is the reason for this change in mind, but no one really listens to him since there’s suddenly a loud crash from the room next to them.
Harry looks at Liam immediately, eyes larger than usual and mouth slightly open. Liam rises from the toilet lid and says, “Lebbe jus’…” and pushes past Nick and goes into Zayn’s and Harry’s bedroom, one hand still holding onto his nose.
Louis is standing in the middle of the room, his cheeks very red, and while he does acknowledge Liam’s entrance by looking over to him quickly, he then continues glaring at Zayn, who is half-lying on the bed with paler skin than usual and facial expressions so firmly set Liam suspects it will hurt when trying to soften them, as though they’ve been stuck in that position for too long.
Liam clears his throat a little. Nothing happens at first, but then Louis turns around and storms past Zayn and – apparently, since the front door merely seconds later clashes loudly – into the hallway.
Zayn looks up at Liam, and perhaps Liam was wrong about the never-to-expire state of Zayn’s set-in-stone face, because it has already softened. “You go after him.”
“I don’ –” Liam begins, but stops when Zayn rises from the bed and pulls a shivering hand through his hair.
“You won’t be picking a side. We both know Lou – you better go or he might be doing something stupid right now.”
“Bu’ –”
This time it is Zayn who interrupts him, by pointing at his face. “You’ve got some blood there, mate.”
Liam wipes a hand under his nose, and nods. “Hmm. Okay, I’ll text you tonight, right?”
“Yeah, that’d be great,” Zayn says, and then, for a moment, it’s as though his façade breaks completely as he pulls a hand over his face and suddenly looks a hundred years old in his eyes.
Liam nods once more, wonders if he should do something else or something more, anything at all, but Zayn stands perfectly still, so he just adds one final nod and then leaves the bedroom. The others have piled into the kitchen, and Liam peeps in, says, “I’m gonna find Lou and make sure he’s not taking out his anger on any defenceless football hooligans or anything. It was great, Harry.” He nods towards the curly-haired lad who’s sitting with his arms folded around his knees and chews at his lower lip. “Ni, I’ll text you later. Nick, it was great seeing you, too.”
They all wave him off, and as Liam ties his shoes in the hallway he wonders whether he’s the right person, really, to go after Louis. What will he say? But still, he couldn’t not follow him, so.
--
He finds Louis on a bench in front of the tenant house in which Louis’ flat is located, almost as though Louis knew Liam would come so he waited there, outside. Or maybe as though he hoped Liam would come.
Liam sits down slowly; suddenly very happy he did follow Louis he pats the bench a little before sitting down to be sure it’s not wet. The sunny day turned namely into a rainy evening, and now, after midnight, the skies are once again clearing up so that the moon can be seen between the lower houses down the street, but there’s still some humid clinging to the air.
It has made Louis’ hair a little wet, Liam notes.
“What was that about?” Liam asks after a few more seconds in silence.
Louis has yet to bestow Liam with one look, but he responds without hesitation. “Zayn being a fucking prick. You saw Harry, right? I mean, you haven’t known him as long as me, but even you’ve got to’ve noticed how Harry looks like he’s about to have a breakdown any day now.”
“What’s that got to do with Zayn?” Liam asks as carefully as he can.
“That Zayn doesn’t do anything about it. Just this day Harry worked eleven hours at the restaurant – I checked his calendar when I was at the loo earlier. And then he comes home and stands in the kitchen for another three hours making a fucking dinner to us and Zayn doesn’t give a fuck about it; he just sits there.”
“Maybe,” Liam begins, but then he pauses and licks his lips. “Maybe, Zayn doesn’t want to decide what Harry’s doing with his life. Like, he doesn’t want to dictate it for him.”
“Yeah, sure. I mean, of course. But what about offering to help Harry with something? What about not dragging his sorry arse around a park chain-smoking to ‘gather ideas for new paintings’? What about actually doing something, like staying home and helping out? He treats Harry like he’s his fucking maid or something.” The words come out angrily, every other punctuated by heavy sarcasm and Louis’ left foot kicking at the gravel beneath the bench.
Liam doesn’t know what to answer, so he says nothing.
“Seriously, I mean, if Harry doesn’t do something about it soon, he’s gonna break down. For real, like. And still, Zayn keeps going on those bloody exhibitions and when I ask him about it he just avoids the fucking subject.” Louis leans forward, his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands.
Liam puts a hand on Louis’ shoulder. “Hey, don’t you think it’ll be…” he begins, but then Louis’ shoulders trembles and Louis’ right hand leaves his face and lands on top of the hand Liam has placed on said shoulder.
Liam turns his hand around and grabs a tight hold of Louis’ hand, letting their hands, intertwined, slide down into his lap, where he grabs Louis’ hand with both his hands instead. Louis looks up and Liam quickly bends forward so that their foreheads touch. Louis’ eyelids flutter a little, and then his forehead wrinkles. “Are you having a nosebleed?”
Liam’s hand flies up to his nose, and yes, the tissue is still in his nose. “Oh, yes.”
“Are you fine?” Louis asks quietly and the hand that’s not in Liam’s lands in the crook of Liam’s neck, and his fingers rub there a little.
“Yeah, sure. Just, Niall happened to kick me earlier.”
There’s the faintest of glints in Louis’ eyes when he says, “I thought maybe you were excited to see me.”
“What?” Liam asks. Really, what? Sure, Louis usually strays away from any subject faster than anyone else Liam knows, but now Liam really is taken by surprise.
“You know, those manga albums Harry’s so fond of – or should I say, used to be fond of? He doesn’t quite have the time to read anything at the moment… Anyway, in those as soon as someone gets, like, aroused they get a nosebleed.” Now there’s definitely a glint in Louis’ eyes, but Liam’s still not sure he understands exactly what’s going on. However, this happens on a daily basis with Louis, Liam has figured out, so he’s not surprised. Like, a couple of days ago when they lay in bed and Louis kept talking for fifteen minutes straight about a book he’d just finished – which in itself shouldn’t be perplexing but somehow Louis made it utterly confusing by the way he referred to the characters since he wanted to do it in a “spoiler-free way” in case Liam was going to read the book. (Which he, for the record, had to, or Louis would never ever talk to Liam again. Liam had wanted to say “But you would still let me fuck you, huh? Just not tell me to do it harder,” but since Louis had seemed so fascinated by the book he hadn’t wanted to destroy the moment so he had just said he promised he would read it after he was done with his next big exam, and Louis had smiled at him with super-squinty eyes so Liam had been very content with his decision in the end.)
“How can they get a nosebleed from being aroused?” Liam asks.
“You know,” Louis says, poking a finger into Liam’s side. “Blood rushing through your body to all places.”
Liam can’t stop himself from letting out a short giggle, and then Louis stands up from the bench, looking at Liam with his lips curled together.
“I know you have lectures tomorrow, but…eh…” Louis says, which makes Liam wonder how on earth Louis can know that. Then again, some of the numerous copies of his schedule he owns (since he continues printing out new ones all the time) seem to end up in Louis’ flat periodically, so. “Would you mind sleeping at mine tonight?” As soon as Louis is done posing the question he looks down at the ground, which Liam finds hopelessly adorable so without really thinking he grabs Louis around his legs, or thighs rather, from where Liam still is seated on the bench, and hugs that part of Louis as tightly as is possible.
Louis seems to understand it’s an affirmative, since he hugs Liam back and whispers thank you just so low it might have been that he didn’t whisper it at all, and Liam’s definitely okay with that because there doesn’t seem to be a reason for Louis to be thankful, honestly.
--
Sent 04:36 to Nialler
Sleeping at Lous night xxxx
Received 07:32
Figured! Meeting up for lunch?? Also when I came home I rememberd something ! youve got a letter from uni idk what it is but it looked important so you should probably look atit as soon as possible ok! Xo
Sent 10:46
Up early WHYYYYY. Yes lunc sounds greattttt where ? youve lunch same time as me? Oh really???? Now im nervous thanks :(
Received 10:58
Because morning lecture DUH. Yum yum perhaps ? i finish 30min before you but I’ll wait there and read another fucking short story by fucking poe…….. WHAT?? But what can it be why are you nervous what is this now hmmmmMM
Sent 11:04
Morning lectures start at 10:10 that is no legit reason misterrrrr !!! yumyum fine ill be there have fun with poeeeeeeee. I don’t knooowwwww :(((((
Received 11:05
Our professor is so called flexible and some dick wanted to start early and he agreed don’t ask me!!!!! Having so much fun with poe weyyyyheeyyy.
Received 11:41
Are you on your way yet????
Sent 11:48
I’m hereeee were do you sit???
--
Liam’s hand shakes slightly when he puts the key in the door to the flat. Even though he said to Niall during their lunch that he had no idea what the letter could be about, he has a slight inkling.
Kind of annoying it’s got to happen now, what with the Louis and Harry and Zayn mess. Liam goes into the flat, drops his backpack at the floor and yells, “I’m home, Katharina!”
When he enters the kitchen and sees the envelope on the table, he becomes a little bit more than nervous because it has to be what he thinks it is.
Honestly, thanks to Louis and all that he had sort of forgotten about it. He hasn’t even worried properly, and he sure as hell hasn’t thought about the practical issues if there’s going to be a need for it.
He suddenly wishes Louis was there and called him a pussy who just stood there instead of opening the envelope, like get on with it, Payne, or we’ll both grow old before you grow a pair…get it?, so he quickly rips the letter open and drags out the paper.
Dear Mr. Payne,
We are happy to inform you that your application for an exchange year at the University of Michigan has been accepted.
The competition this year was tough with more than one hundred applicants for only sixteen exchanges, which makes your successful application prestigious in itself and we wish to congratulate you on the behalf of the University Board as well as the Geology Faculty.
We will be in touch with you via email regarding technicalities and practicalities, and if you have any immediate questions you are very welcome to contact Miss Peterson (see contact details below).
Best regards,
Sonya Frintles
Administrator at the Geology Faculty
Liam blinks a few times and sits down straight on the floor.
He has his phone up in a matter of seconds and just when he’s about to press call to the tommo<3<3<3<3<3 (which Louis himself has named him in Liam’s contact list – but to be fair, Liam hasn’t wanted to change it even once), he changes his mind and calls Niall instead.
“I’m home in two seconds,” is what Niall responds, ending the call even before Liam has had time to say a word.
It’s not exactly two seconds until Niall bursts through the door – no, it’s more like twenty-six, at least if Liam’s heart rate is one beat per second. Niall’s grin is bright when he peaks at him from underneath his snapback and Liam stops counting.
Niall’s smile falters. “What?” He sits down next to Liam and wriggles the sheets from Liam, takes one quick look at them and turns to Liam with a frown.
“I—,” Liam begins.
Niall quickly winds his arms around Liam, in that way of his where his nose becomes crooked into Liam’s collarbone. “You don’t wanna leave, huh? But still it’s an opportunity you can’t miss so you don’t know what to do, what with Louis here.”
Liam begins to protest there, wanting to say not only Louis, you, too, but Niall doesn’t let him.
“You know I won’t disappear, but Louis is a bit more flighty. And it’s so soon.” Liam has no idea how Niall just knows, but then again, hasn’t he always? “What are you gonna do, Li?” Niall asks softly.
Liam bites his lip. “I’m going there. I won’t get this chance again.” He says it steadily, trying not to pay any attention to where his thoughts are going after uttering those words, nor to how something in his stomach is heavy as the rain that suddenly is beating down outside, smattering on the glass panes.
Niall nods. “M’kay. Better tell Louis as soon’s possible, right?”
Liam nods violently against the wet fabric of Niall’s hoodie; it doesn’t really matter that much that it’s going to leave him soaking, as well. Makes it feel more like the two of them are connected; like Liam is grounded.
--
It’s been nine weeks, and Louis still doesn’t know anything of the fact that Liam is about to leave the country. To leave the continent even. Liam just doesn’t know how to bring it up. If Liam is being honest with himself, things have been a bit different between him and Louis lately, but since he knows it’s his own fault – since he’s not being completely honest with Louis – he tries not to acknowledge it. And sure, Louis might not even have noticed anything, because it’s been a strange spring overall. At the moment Liam is buried in revision; his first exam is tomorrow, so he’s pretty much lived in the library lately. It’s the only place where he can focus: at his and Niall’s, he’ll just spot something somewhere and think “Oh, I need to bring that to Michigan,” and then everything comes crashing down on him.
Niall’s not been nagging him about it at all, actually. Possibly because he’s trying to finish up his exam portfolio for his writing course, and hardly ever leaves his room, but still, Niall’s not even mentioned the fact that Louis doesn’t have a clue Liam will be gone in less than a month. (Since the term dates are different in the States, Liam had the option of going in the middle of June or in the middle of October. He chose the previous, mostly because he figured he wouldn’t have to lie to Louis for as long. Or, maybe not lie, but avoid sharing the entire truth.)
Either way, Louis doesn’t seem to have noticed anything’s been off between him and Liam or, else, he’s very good at hiding it. To be fair, he has, just as Liam, been quite preoccupied. He missed a deadline at work two weeks ago, and his boss made it clear to him that if he did it again he would have to start looking for a new job. And on top of that, it’s still not really fine between him and Zayn, and while Louis acts as though it isn’t bothering him, Liam can see it does. Plus, Harry hasn’t exactly cut down his workload, but also made it clear to Louis that it’s his own decision, so it’s slightly tense between the two of them, as well. Either way, in between Louis working his arse off, trying to get into his boss’ good graces again, and Liam’s daily ten-hour sessions in the library, they’re perhaps only seeing each other three times a week, and then it’s just one of them heating a pizza or something which they then eat in front of the TV, before falling asleep after, at most, a lazy making-out session.
Sure, Liam really enjoys that, how natural and simple – almost domesticated – it has become between the two of them. But when he wakes up with Louis’ hair tickling his nose, he remembers that soon this will not be a normal occurrence. And that Louis doesn’t know. And now it’s been so long, and he still hasn’t told Louis, and Louis will wonder when Liam found out he got accepted, and Liam will have to tell him a date that was months ago. And Liam is pretty sure he can’t do that.
He rises from his desk in the library, perhaps a little abruptly, because the guy to the left of him gives him a sideway glance, and so does the girl to the left of him. Liam gives them, what he hopes is, an apologetic smile, and hurries off to the bathroom. There, he casts a glance in the mirror, sees the dark circles under his eyes, his messed-up hair (from dragging his hands through it too many times) and two flaring red blotches on his cheeks. He had expected looking wrecked, but not like this. He splashes some water on his face, remembers that there aren’t any paper towels provided, only an electric hand dryer, and goes into a stall to get some toilet paper so he can dry off his face. Just then, his phone vibrates shortly in his pocket.
He pulls it out to see the screen lit and the snapchat ghost in the top left corner. Happy he’s in the bathroom, he quickly unlocks. Two days ago he opened a snap from Louis at his desk, and withdrew his finger from the screen so quickly he dropped the phone on the floor. Louis did promise he wouldn’t send nudes again, when Liam told him about it later that same night, but Louis had also giggled awfully much, and said “But you did enjoy getting dickpics a little bit, don’t tell me you didn’t!” so Liam has promised himself never to open Louis’ snaps in public again.
This one is not even PG-rated though. It consists of a completely black screen, with the text “so when were you going to tell me” and nothing else. Louis has never sent Liam a snap, even the ones with the most mundane message such as “pls can you buy two bottles of milk,” without a picture of his face.
Liam feels a little bit like he’s going to faint. When was the last time he ate? He had breakfast before going to the library, at 7.30, some yoghurt. And then at ten he had an apple. Now it’s half one, though.
But alright, that’s not why he feels like he’s fainting. He puts his phone back in his pocket, looks once more in the mirror (the red blotches are gone; he looks pale like a ghost), and returns to his desk. He quickly logs onto Facebook, ignores that the guy next to him looks at him again, and then pauses.
He’s already opened the message box to Louis. Louis is not online though. He writes “u at work??” but doesn’t press enter. Instead, he goes onto Louis’ wall. While Louis is not using his Facebook a lot, Liam can still see his own face in several places there. He especially can’t stop looking at Louis’ profile picture. Harry took it, one drunken night, and on it Louis squints towards the camera, his eyes happily scrunched up, two black lines on his cheeks (it was a costume party and Louis went as a soldier, but only after a couple of hours he’d ditched most of his costume because he was “so hot I’m suffocating, Liam. If I faint you need to give me mouth-to-mouth, m’kay,”), and a sleeveless arm around Liam’s neck, who, with his eyes closed pressed a kiss to Louis’ left cheek. And then, a bit underneath in the ‘about’ section, it says “In a relationship with Liam Payne.” Just like that.
Liam clicks in the message box again, deletes the “u at work??” and writes “sorry.” Hits enter. Adds “i didnt know how to,” and sends it. Louis’ name gets a green circle behind it, then. But he writes nothing. Liam writes “can i call you.” No answer. “Louis :( please.” Then, finally, an ellipsis shows up on Louis’ side. “Yeh you can call.”
Liam rises again from his desk, almost stumbles, the guy next to him looks up at him again, but Liam is in a rush; he needs to hurry, needs to get out of the library to somewhere he’s allowed to speak. In the stairwell he finds Louis’ number as the first in his favourites, in less than two seconds, no matter that his fingers are shaking. Two tones go through before Louis picks up.
“Yeah,” he says, flatly.
Liam doesn’t know what to say. The silence on Louis’ side is… not exactly unbearable. But different. Completely different. He’d liked it more if Louis had burst out yelling at him; then, he’d been able to defend himself in response to whatever Louis started with.
“You wanted to call me,” Louis says quietly. Liam’s stomach makes a loop. “So you do the talking.”
“I –” Liam begins. “How did you find out?”
“Is that really relevant, Li?” It’s a small victory, but it’s something, that Louis says “Li” rather than his full name. “Why wouldn’t you tell me?”
Liam swallows. “I really – I didn’t know how – I wanted to ignore it, I suppose.”
Louis laughs on the other side of the line. Not affectionately; not at all as though Liam’s said something “unbearably cute,” which reflects how he’s “studied for far too long; come over to mine now and I’ll blow you and you’ll feel refreshed.” Nope, not at all like that. More like sharply and harshly and Liam can bet his right arm on that Louis’ eyes aren’t scrunched up the slightest right now. “What a great relationship this is, huh? First of all one of the parts doesn’t share a pretty fucking major event in his life. And secondly, said part will leave for a fucking year, to another fucking country, and hasn’t even bothered asking what –” Louis’ voice breaks off abruptly, and then for a second or so, it sounds as though Louis’ is holding the phone away from his head.
When he returns, his voice is thicker. “Fucking brilliant, Liam.” After a moment, he adds, “Could you at least try and say something in defence?”
Liam breathes in deeply. “I don’t – Um, Lou, I didn’t want to –”
He pauses for a second, trying to gather his thoughts. Then Louis hangs up. Just like that. The tone echoes in Liam’s ear and he has not a clue what to make of it.
When he lowers his phone his hand is shaking. He sits down on the floor, just where he is.
Louis hung up on him. He’s never done that before. Not even on accident; not even when he’s been hammered to the point he’s been slurring in Liam’s ear about everything and nothing; even then he’s made sure to say “gonna hang up now, okay.” Not even when he’s been in a rush, running late to his bus for work, he still always has hold on to the phone and panted that he’ll “talk to you later, bye, love you.”
But this time, no. He just hung up. Liam doesn’t know why that is what stands out in his brain; why he’s freaking out over that rather than how hurt Louis sounded, or how he swore at him.
He bites at the inside of his cheek and phones Louis again. No answer after the first tone; then, it goes to Louis’ answerphone. Louis must have pressed ignore.
Liam looks up in the ceiling for a while, trying to catch his breath. Without looking, he shuts off his phone and puts it in his back pocket, and then he returns to his desk. He still has that exam tomorrow.
Facebook is still open in one of the tabs when he unlocks his computer, but he closes it without checking it. Instead, he opens the slides he was going through, and continues with his work, as methodically as he can. When two hours has passed – inexplicably quickly; Liam is surprised he managed to actually do work – he is finally finished. It’s half nine now, though, and he should definitely get home so he can get some sleep before tomorrow morning.
He packs his things together, stuffs it all down in his backpack, and then he starts his phone, putting it back in his pocket while going down the stairs.
It doesn’t take long until it starts vibrating. A lot.
He unlocks it, glances down, and then stops dead in his track.
From Haz Received 07:58
Hey. give me a call.
From Nialler Received 08:22
Wtf is goin on??? everyone is proper mad here
From Nialler Received 08:34
Mate you gotta respond!!! where you at?
From Nialler Received 08:45
Seriously li
From Nialler Received 08:45
!!!!
From Nialler Received 08:58
why is your phone turnt off??? this is crazy liam you have to respond I’m starting to wrry
From Zaynnnnnn Received 09:32
Ehm. didn’t think this of you, but I promise my fingers are crossed lou’s misunderstood u. honestly tho I cant see why he’d do that and I’m srsly this clos
From Zaynnnnnn Received 09:33
this close to lose my shit. as I said I didn’t think this of you
From Nialler Received 10:09
where are you???????????????
From the tommo<3<3<3<3<3Received 10:13
If you wanted to break up with me you could have said so instead of assuming running to another country would have eventually killed our relatipnship. just wanted to say that. you don’t need to come pick your things up, Nick’ll bring them to you and he’ll also gather up my stuff that’s at yours. No need to worry about anything. Bye
Liam swallows. Fuck.