Archive of Our Own ^beta

Liam collected the tip on the table and shoved it into his pocket before wiping down the table. Glancing at his watch as he stretched out his arm to cover every inch of the table, he realized he only had five minutes left in his shift before he would have to race back to the campus for football practice. Normally, he didn't work day shifts at the diner, but he’d needed the night off. He’d gotten his friend Niall to pick up his shift in exchange for working the first half of Niall’s day shift so he could sleep off a bender for his mate’s birthday the night before. In consequence, what was normally a fairly easy day had become a nightmare of activity. His chemistry class had started at seven in the morning, followed by a few minutes to eat before he’d started work at nine. He was scheduled until two and then had to be at the footie pitch for practice at three. He’d planned to grab something from the diner to eat on the bus as he travelled, but he’d forgotten to tell the kitchen to have something ready, so he hoped he still had an energy bar tucked in his equipment bag.

After practice, he would normally have headed into work, but that night he was heading to the art gallery on campus to support one of his regular customers, an attractive lad named Zayn who spent many an all-nighter sitting in a booth in the diner while Liam worked. That was also the reason he’d switched shifts with Niall because when Zayn had looked up at him with sleepy eyes over coffee at the end of Liam’s shift a few mornings previously, Liam had said yes without hesitation. Although Zayn had explained it was just a class exhibition and nothing special, he could tell that Zayn was excited. Liam had watched him spend many nights sitting in the diner drinking coffee and whatever finger foods Liam put within reach, sketching and shading, alternately cursing under his breath and chewing absently on his tongue. Liam knew how much work Zayn had put into his class and, by extension, the show, so he couldn’t imagine missing out on the opportunity to see the finished pieces that had been just ideas and rough sketches for so long.

Thankfully, Liam didn’t have much homework that had to be done that night so he wouldn’t be risking a grade, but even if he had been, he’d still go support Zayn because the smile Zayn had given him when he’d agreed to go had been the single most beautiful thing that he’d seen in his life. Not that he’d ever tell Zayn that; he’d seen the blonde that had come in on occasion while he was there; the way she’d snuggle up to him and laugh in his ear. Liam may have the world’s biggest crush on the lad, but he’d never attempt to break up a relationship, no matter how much he wished it was him sitting with Zayn in the booth.

“Liam!” his boss, Paddy, shouted from the kitchen breaking him out of his daydreams. “Can you drop this order off at table twelve for Sandy, he’s on an emergency call from his missus.” Liam nodded and grabbed the two plates waiting in the window.

“Baby time?” Liam asked as he double checked the plates against the order slip.

“He hasn’t gone running from the diner yet, so I’m going to say, ‘Not yet.’”

“Any day now,” Liam commented turning away from the window.

“Yep! Can’t believe that idiot’s gonna be a pop.” They rolled their eyes in unison at shared memories of the waiter’s antics. “When you’re done with twelve, can you do a round of refills before you head out? Niall called, he’s running a couple of minutes late, but don’t worry about sticking around; Sandy and I can handle it for a few minutes.” Liam was so grateful to Niall for taking his night shift that he couldn’t even find it in himself to complain.

Liam nodded again, balancing the plates carefully as he made his way toward table twelve. Smiling at the two girls, he delivered their meals before asking if there was anything else he could get them; being in a hurry was no reason to give poor customer service.

“No thank you,” the girl with the bright red hair said, squinting at his name tag. “Liam.” She said, winking at the girl across from her who started giggling.

“Hi there, Liam,” her companion, a petite pale blonde said, emphasizing his name and laughing as Liam gave her a confused smile. When she didn’t say anything else, Liam made his goodbyes and stepped away from the table.

He was only a few steps away, mind twisting over the girls’ odd behaviour; sometimes customers flirted with him, but that wasn’t what that had felt like. He grabbed the water pitcher off the sidebar and filled a water glass for an elderly gentleman that he recognized from the antique store on the corner, focusing on him instead of the strange duo he could hear whispering indistinctly behind him.

The girls were completely forgotten as he moved on to fill water glasses for a young couple who had just arrived. He hoped that Niall got there soon or Liam would feel too guilty leaving Sandy and Paddy on their own with a filled dining room. He would definitely miss his bus to practice, but his guilt over leaving them would outweigh his chagrin from Coach’s disappointment. He’d just started pouring the guy’s water when he heard one of the girl’s voices raised argumentatively. “I’m telling you! That’s him!”

“No. Zayn’s guy works nights,” the other girl hissed back.

“His name is Liam and he’s fit as fuck, just like Zayn told us!” The first girl let out a huff and Liam was listening intently, his hand still holding the pitcher and pouring. “That’s Liam. Zayn’s Liam! The one he fancies the pants off of, or at least he’d like to!”

Liam’s concentration was ruined when the guy in front of him shouted and cursed at Liam. Attention refocused on the table, he stared in horror at the water overflowing the glass and spilling over the edge of the table into the customer’s lap. “You wanker!” the guy snapped as Liam jumped and dropped the pitcher. It tipped over, spilling onto the young woman at the table who screeched, but then started laughing and grabbing napkins, assuring Liam everything was alright in a tone that was in direct contradiction to her boyfriend who was screaming that he be fired on the spot.

Niall raced up to the table with a rag in his hand and shoved Liam out of the way, muttering apologies and distracting the irate guy from Liam. The momentum from the push was the only thing that got Liam moving because words lost all meaning as his world tilted on its axis and he struggled to breathe.

Paddy pulled him through the door, asking if he was alright. His hand was patting him on the back in a way that was probably meant to be soothing but actually jarred Liam and made breathing even more difficult than it already had been. “That’s unlike you, son. Are you sure you’re alright? Do I need to call someone?” Paddy kept fussing before abruptly cutting off when Liam pulled away.

He might have responded, he hoped he had, but he wasn’t sure as he focused on the exit. He grabbed his stuff from his locker, slamming it shut before bursting through the back door. His feet pounded against the concrete and he’d almost convinced himself he was running to catch the bus, not escaping the mess he’d created. He would have believed it if he wasn’t able to practically feel the girls’ conversation etched into his brain like he’d served a neverending detention with Dolores Umbridge. He reached the corner after a few moments that felt like hours,  just as the bus pulled away. He threw his bag on the ground and kicked it, letting out a curse when his toe connected with his aluminium water bottle.

He continued to mutter and curse until he realized a young mother was giving him the evil eye. He gave a sheepish grin to her before turning his attention to the wide-eyed little girl holding her hand. He apologized to them both and wasn’t even a little surprised when it didn’t make a difference and the woman herded the child away like Liam was a paedophile trying to snatch her away. Pulling the bus schedule up on his phone, he calculated and knew that even if he ran to practice, he’d be as late as if he waited for the next bus, so he sat on the bench, his head down, tugging his hands through his hair.

Bits and pieces of the girls’ conversation raced through his head. “Zayn’s guy...Zayn’s Liam...Zayn’s….” His traitorous heart thrilled with the memory of the words, but the bit of his brain that actually worked told him there had to be some kind of mistake.

Zayn’s visage came to the front of his mind with little to no effort, as it did whenever Liam was alone. Black hair, hanging in soft waves across his forehead for the brief moments he left it free before grabbing it back into a messy topknot, leaving the shaved underside on display. Sometimes, there were spots of paint smeared through it, like he’d been too busy creating to wash it off entirely. Liam liked when he was messy, liked how relaxed he appeared in those moments. He smiled more on those days. His hazel eyes would sparkle with mischief as he shared stories of antics shared with his mate Louis. Liam’s face grew warmer with every thought he allowed to form wholly in his mind.

By the time the bus arrived, Liam’s mood was dark and suffocating and only one thought stood out above all else: there was no way his favourite customer, the beautiful and talented Zayn would be interested in a pathetic donut like Liam who struggled to get semi-decent grades and couldn’t even manage to be a starter on the university football team.

At the woosh of the doors opening, Liam’s body switched to autopilot, climbing the stairs and paying his fee. He stumbled down the aisle toward an apparently empty seat, catching himself just before he sat on a tiny old woman who smiled up at him and moved next to the window, allowing him to take the aisle seat. Liam smiled and thanked her which she took as an invitation to start talking.

He spent the fifteen-minute ride trying to follow her rambling stories about her sixteen grandchildren, grateful for the attempted distraction even if it hadn’t completely taken his mind off everything. His head was spinning by the time they reached campus, an ache starting behind his eyes. He thanked her for the company as he got off the bus, feeling slightly better until he spotted the wall outside the locker room. Posted in the middle was a flyer for the art show that night, Zayn’s name featured in the centre. Everything that had calmed him disappeared in a flash and panic came crashing back into his chest. The harder he tried to pull in a breath, the quicker and shallower his breathing became. He slid down the wall, one hand on his chest, the other tugging on his hair.

The coach found him about five minutes later, the yelling on his lips dying quickly as he dropped beside Liam and put a hand on his shoulder. “Payne? Payne, can you hear me? C’mon, son, snap out of it.” Keeping one hand on his shoulder, he snapped the fingers of his other hand in front of Liam’s face a couple of times before pressing the hand to Liam’s chest. “Breathe with me. In. Out. In. Out.”

Liam blinked at the coach, watching his mouth moving while nothing reached his ears, but as he watched the coach’s shoulders rising and falling in a rhythm, he found himself breathing in and out along with him. Finally, the world came back into sharp focus and he let his head fall back against the brick wall.  After a couple more moments, when he thought he could look at something other than the backs of his eyelids, he lifted his head up and blinked at the coach who was watching him with concern.

“Wanna tell me what that was about?” Coach asked softly, settling back on the ground in front of Liam, but keeping a hand on his arm. It wasn’t the first panic attack the coach had helped him through, but it had been a long time. Liam just shook his head, ashamed of the trigger. “Alright, but I want you to skip practice. Get a shower and something sweet. Then try to get some rest because I’ll expect you early for extra laps day after tomorrow.”

Liam nodded and let the coach help him to his feet before he pulled him into a hug. “Be sure to call your mum about this before she hears about it from someone else; you know how much she worries.”

Liam promised knowing he would have to or coach would and then his mum would never let him hear the end of it. The only reason she’d felt comfortable letting him leave home for Uni was that she knew that Paddy and Coach, old friends of his parents, were there to help keep an eye on him. He debated heading back to his flat to call her right then and shower but was afraid if he did that, if he got into the safety of his flat, he wouldn’t leave again to go to the art show or possibly anywhere ever again. Logically, he knew he was being dramatic, but he always had a tendency to be after a bad panic attack. Pushing into the locker room, he dropped his bag on the bench in front of his locker and pulled out his toiletries before heading into the showers.

The water washed over him as he consciously worked on pushing all thoughts of the girls at the diner out of his mind. Unfortunately, as he focused on not thinking about them, thoughts of Zayn snuck in, something that always seemed to happen when his mind wandered. Zayn’s smile and the memory of his laugh filled his head, bringing a smile to his own face. He dropped his forehead against the tile, thinking back over Zayn’s invite to the art show analyzing every word and facial tic, trying to figure out if there was more to it than just a friendly invite or desire to fill the gallery with people. He knew he wanted it to mean more and after what the girls had said earlier- he bumped his forehead against the wall before he could let his mind go back to that conversation.

When he was done showering, he stood in front of the sinks and cleaned up his beard, wondering if he should shave it off altogether, but deciding he liked the way the facial hair gave his jawline a bit of an edge instead of the rounded babyface his sisters loved to take the piss out of him about. Tugging at his hair, trying to straighten out the curls that were beginning to show more with the length, he glanced at the hair clippers in his bag and debated shaving his head. He’d done it a few years back when his first serious girlfriend had broken up with him and put up with months of teasing, so he just grabbed some hair wax, zipped the bag shut and worked with what he had.

He’d gotten into his jeans and was buttoning up a black and white plaid shirt over a white henley when the locker room door opened behind him and the noise level grew to a cacophony of young adult testosterone. Shaking his head, Liam checked himself out in the mirror, thankful he spotted his teammate Louis trying to sneak up on him in time to duck the attack and avoid getting all of his hard work getting ready ruined by a sweaty, troublemaking male.

Louis cursed when he collided with the sink instead of Liam, but his blue eyes were clouded with concern. “Coach told me about earlier. You alright?” He kept his voice low so no one else could overhear, a consideration Liam appreciated.

Liam nodded, moving to sit on a bench to pull his boots on, stopping when Louis grabbed him by his plaid shirt and undid the first three buttons on it. Then he moved to roll up the sleeves until just the cuffs of the henley showed beneath before shoving Liam. Liam grabbed him by the shirt and the two of them went down laughing, Liam landing on the bench and Louis continuing until he hit the floor.

“You’re lucky I’ve got some extra cushion, wanker,” Louis said, still laughing, as he stood rubbing over the swell of his bum. He punched him in the shoulder when Liam laughed louder and smacked him on the bum.

“I’m good,” Liam said once Louis was no longer focused on him, his attention on grabbing the neck of his shirt to pull it off. “Just...I overheard something at the diner,” Liam whispered, bending over to tie his boots to avoid looking at Louis when his head snapped up.

Louis only froze for a moment before he continued to strip out of his practice uniform; Liam appreciated it because if the other lad had kept looking at him, he wasn’t sure he could keep talking. “Two girls were there-”

“Were they fit?” Louis asked, tossing his shirt on the floor in front of his locker.

“Not the point,” Liam told him, sighing. “They made comments that sounded like Zayn…” Liam mumbled the end of the sentence into his knee as he finished tying his boot and fiddled with the hem of his jeans to distract himself.

“Like Zayn…” Louis prompted as he dropped his shorts and pants, grabbing his towel to wrap around his waist.

Liam sighed and pushed himself to stand, brushing off the seat of his jeans and tugging his shirt into place. “Like Zayn might be interested in me.”

Louis laughed out loud but cut off quickly when he realized he was the only one finding humour in the situation. “What? You didn’t know?”

“Know what?” Liam asked, packing up his bag and shoving it into his locker because he didn’t want to be carrying it around all night.

“That Zayn fancies you,” Louis stated, as he walked towards the showers.

“How would you even know?” Liam asked, his throat tightening at the surety of Louis’ tone.

Louis fussed with his sweaty fringe as his eyes darted around the locker room. “I mean, I know you fancy him, but with the way you talked about him and everything I thought it was obvious the feelings were mutual.”

Liam stared after his friend, throwing a hand over his eyes when Louis dropped the towel before getting in the shower, showing off his bare bum. He stood with his hands over his eyes for a ten count before dropping it, just to sputter because Louis had turned around giving him the full monty with a snicker before rounding the corner into the showers. “Don’t believe me, just ask him!” Louis shouted and Liam ducked his head to avoid the curious glances of his other teammates.

Checking his watch, he noted he had a half an hour to kill before the showing started and although he didn’t want to get there terribly late, he didn’t want to be the first through the doors either. The gallery was on the other side of campus and the weather was mild so he double checked that he had his phone and wallet before starting off on foot. As an added bonus, the exercise and cool evening air would hopefully help clear his mind otherwise he was bound to make a complete arse of himself when he saw Zayn. As he made his way between the buildings and the main campus, he said hello to people without really acknowledging them and forgetting he’d seen them before he’d taken another step.

His mind kept going back to Louis’ words and trying to figure out how he’d given his mate the impression that Zayn had any interest in him whatsoever. He remembered the first time Zayn had shown up at the diner, looking exhausted and stressed, hair standing up all over his head, dark circles under his eyes and his arms full of papers. The diner had been empty and Liam had rushed over to him from where he’d been writing lyrics next to the register to grab some of the papers just as they’d slipped out of Zayn’s grasp.

“Thanks, mate,” Zayn had said, reaching to take the papers back, but Liam had used them to gesture to an empty table. Nodding, Zayn followed Liam to a booth and dropped what was left in his arms on top of the table before sliding onto one of the benches with an exhausted sigh. Liam handed the papers he was holding over, freezing as his eyes took in the drawing on top of the stack.

“This is sick,” Liam had told him, grinning when Zayn’s smile grew and he seemed to be much more awake as he chewed on his lower lip.

“Thanks…” He had glanced at Liam’s name tag. “Thanks, Liam. ‘M Zayn.”

They’d chatted while Zayn nursed a bottomless cup of coffee, apologizing and offering to leave when he said he couldn’t afford anything else because what little money he earned working at the art building went towards art supplies. Liam didn’t want Zayn to leave and it wasn’t like people were fighting for tables at the time of night, so Liam had just shrugged and refilled the mug again, bringing over a pastry and setting it at Zayn’s elbow while he’d worked on his drawings. When he’d tried to argue, Liam had assured him it was on the house.

After that first night, Zayn had started coming in once or twice a week, usually when he knew Liam was working. At some point, he had started coming in every single time that Liam worked, staying until the end of his shift and the two of them walking to the bus stop together. Zayn would wait until Liam boarded the bus and Zayn would wave until the bus turned the corner; Liam had no idea if Zayn walked somewhere or caught another bus and he always forgot to question him when he saw him next.

He’d asked Paddy if Zayn ever came in when he wasn’t working and he’d been told the lad stopped by most nights, but never stayed for more than a single cup of coffee before leaving. He’d asked Zayn about it when he’d shown up, but he’d just shrugged and gone back to his drawing, falling quiet for the rest of the night, but making sure to smile up at Liam anytime he’d gotten close to the table.

Over the year since they’d met, their entire relationship only took place in the diner during Liam’s shifts and the stretch of sidewalk between the diner and the bus stop. He’d never admit it to anyone else, but he’d gone to the art building a few times, sitting underneath one of the trees outside to study in hopes of seeing Zayn, but he’d never spotted the boy and had only managed to make friends with a squirrel that lived in the tree and liked to steal granola bars from Liam’s bag. After all that time, the gallery show would be the first time they’d actually see each other outside of the little piece of the world they’d shared thus far and it was because Zayn had invited him, not because Liam had stalked him. Liam wondered if that meant something or if Zayn had extended the invitation to everyone he’d come in contact with in order to fill the gallery.

As he rolled it over in his mind, convincing himself that Zayn didn’t honestly care if Liam were going to be there or not, the girls’ words crept back in and he could feel his chest tightening return. He tried to forget about the conversation again, but then he pictured the other blonde girl, the one he was pretty sure was Zayn’s girlfriend. He wondered if she was going to be there that night despite having not seen her come into the diner in several weeks; Liam had wanted to ask Zayn about her, but he’d been afraid of coming across as too nosey and give his feelings away. There was always a chance they had broken up, but Zayn had never seemed distraught when he was in the diner, just focused on his work or smiling up at Liam, nothing to indicate he’d gone through a breakup.

He was so lost in his own mind that when he turned the corner, he managed to trip over a loose bit of pavement and landed face down on the ground, scraping his forearm enough to draw a little blood as he landed.

Cursing, he pushed himself to his knees, glaring down at his arm, jumping when a hand appeared in front of his face. Glancing up, his breath caught as he recognized the blonde from the diner. “Hey, Liam,” she said, wiggling her fingers at him until he took her hand and she helped him to his feet, cooing when she spotted the blood on his arm. “C’mon, I know where there’s a first aid kit.”

Numbly, Liam let her tug him by the hand into the building that housed the gallery. Once they were through the doors, he spotted a large crowd of people milling around, sipping drinks and snacking on appetizers. The girl pulled him away from the crowd and toward a door that stated, “Employees Only”.

“Er…” Liam started, pulling to a stop and pointing at the door.

“No worries, love. I work here part-time,” she explained, pulling him through the door, pushing him down in a chair just inside the small office they’d entered. Once he was settled, but before he could catch his breath and open his mouth to argue, she’d grabbed a white box from a storage cabinet and dropped it on the table next to him with a thud. “My name’s Perrie. I’m one of Zayn’s housemates,” she explained as she popped open the box and began digging through it.

“You were at the diner earlier,” Liam said, at a loss for words. “With the girl with the red hair.”

“Jesy,” she responded. “My girlfriend and Zayn’s other housemate.” She ripped open a disinfectant swab and took Liam’s hand gently, turning his arm so she could get to the scrape. Moving swiftly and carefully, she swabbed the blood away, apologizing when Liam hissed in pain. “Zayn’s been telling us about your diner for months, but today was the first time we’d been there.”

She continued talking as she extracted a tube of ointment from the box and popped the cap, but Liam wasn’t paying attention, the echo of her earlier words bouncing around in his head. He wanted to ask her why she’d said what she’d said, but he was terrified of the answer. He opened his mouth as she smoothed the tackey ointment over the scrape before grabbing a package of gauze and some tape to cover the wound. “It should be fine without the covering but I doubt you’d want to risk getting the ointment all over everything.” She looked him up and down. “You look too good to get sticky...at least from first aid goo,” she teased as she handed the tube to Liam, patting his burning cheek gently with her clean hand. “Keep this and apply some more tonight before you go to bed.”

“Thanks,” Liam said, his head still spinning a bit, not even sure he’d even had a completely coherent thought since hitting the ground. He ran a hand over the back of his head, wondering if he’d hit it when he’d landed and was actually lying concussed and all of this was some kind of crazy dream.

“Anytime,” Perrie responded, standing and reaching out a hand to pull Liam to his feet. When Liam just stood there, she shook her head, a soft and fond smile on her face, before taking the ointment tube and slipping it into the breast pocket of his plaid shirt. “C’mon, let’s get out there and see if we can find Zayn. He’s been driving us all batty with worry that you weren’t going to show.”

“W...w-hat?” Liam asked. Shaking her head again, Perrie shoved him towards the door. He stumbled and nearly fell through it, but Perrie looped her arm through his and led him through the lobby and into an anteroom where several paintings were displayed on the walls, images bright with colour. Squinting his eyes to take in the details of the art, a smile grew across his face as familiarity filled him. These were Zayn’s and although he’d never seen any of the completed works, he recognized the style from the many sketches he’d watched the young man work on while he served him.

He didn’t even notice Perrie leaving him alone as he gaped at a painting of the diner. He didn’t recognize the actual design and the strokes were broad and impressionistic, the colours brighter and softer at the same time as reality, but it was definitely the diner. He could make out Paddy’s shoulders through the opening into the kitchen and there was Liam himself leaning a hip against the back of one of the booths and writing in his order tablet. Even without solid lines, he could tell it was him, or maybe he just hoped it was; the idea of Zayn drawing him, including him in this event made his heart pound so hard he was surprised people weren’t staring at him.

“You came,” a voice said from behind him and he whirled around to discover Zayn looking up at him through his lashes, a shy smile on his lips.

Every word that Liam had planned to say, that he’d practised in the mirror since Zayn had asked him to come to the art show, flew out of his brain into the ether when he took in the man’s appearance. The shock of fiery fuschia hair he’d shown up at the diner with a few weeks earlier had faded to a cotton candy pink as the dark roots had grown in and it was styled up into a look that would have been ridiculous on anyone else but flowed like a gentle ocean wave on him. His white button-up was open to mid-abdomen revealing artwork tattooed across his chest while the rolled up sleeves displayed the tattoos that covered both forearms, tattoos that Liam knew wound all the way up and over his shoulders.

His eyes moved down Zayn’s body flitting across the white satin waistband with black accents on the fitted black trousers, yanking his gaze away to find Zayn’s eyes jerking upward at the same time, his lower lip pulled between his teeth as they caught each other's’ gaze. “H...h-hi,” Liam finally managed.

Zayn’s smile grew and he reached a hand out to grab Liam’s before pulling him behind himself. “Did you get to see everything yet?” he asked, leading him to a painting filled with a riot of colours that was layered on the canvas to stand up in a three-dimensional landscape in several places and had jagged tears through it in others. Reds and browns that should’ve reminded him of blood or negative things made warmth spill through him while flashes of yellow brightened the darkness created by dripping midnight black paint. Glancing at the placard, he tilted his head slightly to the left until his head brushed Zayn’s shoulder startling him to straighten up. “Pining?” Liam asked.

Zayn shrugged a shoulder before dragging him off to another piece. It went on like that for several moments, Zayn pulling Liam around while Liam struggled to form words and feeling stupider by the moment as every comment he made was met with silence or a shrug of the shoulders. Eventually, they made it back to the picture Liam had been looking at when Zayn had found him. Zayn looked at him expectantly and Liam rubbed a hand over the back of his neck as he tried to find words. They were stood far enough back from the wall that Liam had to squint and lean forward to read the placard, but when he did, he lost his balance pulling himself and Zayn down onto the ground into a heap.

As Liam struggled to get to his feet, his arm swung out and hit a stanchion knocking it over, the velvet rope between it and another stanchion falling to the ground and taking out a potted plant. The plant fell into the wall, scattering peat moss over the floor causing a woman dressed in open-toed heels to jump back into her date who stumbled backwards into a wall and knocked down Pining . The painting hit the floor, falling face down with an echoing slap in the deafening silence of the room.

Liam managed to sit up, drawing his knees to his chest, wrapping his arms around his legs and hiding his face. Tears filled his eyes as he squeezed them shut to keep them from falling. He heard the laughter start around him and he prayed for the floor to open up and swallow him completely. He heard Zayn’s familiar chuckle and that was the sound that got Liam moving. He pushed himself to his feet and scrambled for the doors, ignoring the voices and laughter behind him. As he burst out into the cooler night air, he started running, picking up speed with every stride. His boots made his usual stride uneven, but he was an ex-Olympic hopeful so he pulled on every ounce of his training and kept going.

He made it back to the locker room before he even realized where he had been headed. Digging into his pocket, he thanked the heavens that Coach had given him a key back when he’d been working out in the middle of the night because he was having trouble sleeping with his crazy work schedule. He pulled open his locker, grabbing his bag before locking up behind himself and hoofing it to the bus stop.

He kept his mind focused on hopping the bus back to his flat and locking himself into his room until he could figure out how to completely change his life so he would never have to face the humiliation of seeing Zayn again. His plans changed when he spotted Zayn pacing around near the bench. Turning on his heel, he started the slightly shorter walk to the diner instead of back to his flat.

The memory of Zayn’s throaty chuckle when Liam had single-handedly destroyed the gallery tightened his chest and stung his eyes, the echo of the laugh he’d come to know and love burned him from the inside outward until he expected to see his skin pink and bubble with it. Despite his humiliation, he hoped that his idiocy hadn’t cost Zayn anything because his artwork was incredible and deserved the attention and a decent grade. He brushed the tears from his eyes before pushing open the door to the diner.

“Liam?” Niall said in surprise from where he was perched on a stool at the counter, a textbook open in front of him. “What are you doing here? I thought you had that gallery thing?”

Liam nodded as he moved to drop into a booth. Niall settled across from him, sliding a mug of coffee over. “I went. I destroyed the place,” Liam told him, holding the cup, afraid to pick it up with the luck he’d been having so far that night.

“I’m sure it wasn’t that bad,” Niall assured him and Liam gave him a blank stare. “Or, maybe it was.”

The aroma of the coffee made his mouth water, so he lifted the mug carefully in two hands and took a sip. He moved to place the mug back on the table, but set it on the tines of a fork and flipped the utensil until it landed upright in the mug splashing coffee all over the white sleeves of his henley. “And that’s how my night went,” Liam told Niall as he grabbed some napkins and began wiping up the table.

Niall started to respond, but his words were lost in a jaw-cracking yawn that drew a fond laugh out of Liam. “Since I’m here anyway, why don’t you go on home and I’ll finish the shift.”

“You sure?” Niall asked, but he was already pulling his apron off, grabbing his textbooks off the counter, and heading towards the swinging door separating the main area from the back of the diner.

“Just go,” Liam said to his back, digging into his bag and pulling out his uniform shirt and following Niall. Changing quickly in the tiny employee locker room slash broom closet, he shoved his bag into his locker and grabbed his apron off the hook, waving as Niall took off running through the back door, his energy magically renewed. Liam tied the apron around his waist and stuck his head into the kitchen to say hello to Harry, the night cook that was dancing to a song only he could hear as he scraped the grill.

The bell over the door rang and Liam grabbed a blank order pad from the counter and a pen out of his pocket, sliding it behind his ear as he backed out of the kitchen and into the main area of the diner, thankful he’d managed that series of actions without hurting himself or anyone else. “Welcome to Paddy’s,” he called out turning to grab a pitcher of ice water. “Take a seat anywhere.”

He reached for some empty cups and glanced up to see how many he was going to need, dropping the water pitcher when he saw who was standing in front of the door, one hand dug in his pocket and the thumb of the other rubbing at his upper lip. “Zayn!” he squeaked as water soaked into his boots and Harry laughed behind him. “What are you doing here?” Liam asked after he’d managed to get control of his breathing. He grabbed a towel from under the counter and dropped to his knees to wipe up the mess, figuring Zayn would either leave or make his way to a table.

Once the mess was cleaned up, Liam’s shoulders relaxed slightly because the bell never sounded so Zayn hadn’t left, hadn’t run away from Liam; maybe he had a chance to make up for the disaster at the gallery. He picked up a mug from below the counter as he stood, dropping it to shatter on the floor when he found Zayn standing on the other side of the counter right in front of him. “Shit.” With a sigh that ended on a groan, ignoring Harry’s increasingly hysterical laughter, Liam fell to his knees again, fighting tears as he started to clean up the shards; he’d lost count of how many times he’d nearly cried that night.

The first piece he picked up sliced into his palm and the sight of the blood dripping was the last straw; Liam fell onto his bum, back against the counter, banging his head against the door and allowed the tears to fall. He heard a noise and saw Zayn standing behind the counter and looking down at him as Harry came through the door with a broom and dustpan in one hand and a first aid kit in the other.

“What’s your poison?” Harry asked, holding the items up to Zayn.

“Better give me the broom,” Zayn said. “I have a feeling Liam doesn’t want me near him.” Harry looked between the two of them before shrugging and handing over the cleaning supplies and turning his attention on Liam.

“Lemme see it,” Harry said to Liam, frowning when Liam closed his fist and shook his head, blood beginning to drip onto his pants. “You might need stitches.” Liam shook his head again. “At least let me stop the bleeding before you bleed to death.” Liam shrugged and Harry’s frown deepened. “Fine,” he snapped, pushing to his feet and dropping the first aid kit in Liam’s lap, flinching when it made contact with Liam’s softer bits and he oofed out a pained sound.

Liam used the hand that wasn’t bleeding to knock the kit off his lap and then kicked it so it slid across the floor with a clatter, hitting the other counter and popping open, contents spilling onto the freshly swept floor. Ignoring yet another mess he’d caused, Liam opened his bleeding hand and watched the blood flow from the slice in the meat of the palm near his thumb. He began to feel a bit light headed when a tanned hand laid stark white gauze over the wound, applying pressure. Glancing up, Liam saw Zayn’s concerned face through his lashes.

“After you get this taken care of, you owe your friend an apology,” Zayn mock scolded, a tight smile on his lips. Liam didn’t respond, adding Harry’s hurt feelings to the growing list of things he’d screwed up that night which was just a small footnote in the immense list that was his life.  He was tempted to pull his hand away, but when it twitched, Zayn used his other hand to grasp his wrist tightly.

Liam resigned himself to being patched up against his will. He let his head fall back against the cabinet again and closed his eyes, refusing to look at Zayn. He knew if he looked at the man, he would open his mouth and he didn’t want to risk making a greater fool of himself by trying to speak. He had no idea why Zayn was even there considering he should’ve been at the gallery being admired for his talent, even if Liam did manage to destroy his art before it could be properly displayed and appreciated. The silence between them stretched on and when Liam thought the bleeding had to have stopped, he lifted his head and opened his eyes, only to see Zayn staring intently at his face.

“There you are,” Zayn said, smiling. “Gonna talk to me, yet?” Liam opened his mouth, but no sound came out so he snapped it shut. “Okay, then.” Zayn busied himself, lifting the gauze and pressing gently along the muscle of Liam’s hand. “Don’t think you need stitches, but I’m gonna give you a couple of butterfly plasters.”

“We have those?” Liam asked before he could stop himself.

Zayn’s lips quirked in a grin. “Nope, but I can make them.” He reached for Liam’s other hand and used it to press into the gauze he’d laid back over the wound. “Keep this in place.”

Liam nodded and watched as Zayn took a pair of scissors out of the first aid kit and used a lighter from his pocket to sterilize the blades before using them to cut notches out of a couple of folded plasters still in their packages. Working quickly, he removed the gauze and disinfected the wound, covering it with first aid ointment that matched the tube now stowed away in his duffle bag. Zayn carefully opened the cut plaster packages and placed two of them evenly spaced on the injury. Looking up at Liam, he lifted his hand and pressed a kiss to the centre of his palm and smiled. “And according to my mum, kisses make everything better.”

Liam’s face burned as he tried to pull his hand away. “I have to get back to work,” he whined.

Zayn looked around the empty diner and then back at Liam. “You shouldn’t work until this heals enough not to need a plaster.”

“You some kind of doctor or something?” Liam snapped, feeling guilt flow through him as Zayn’s smile drooped.

“Not yet, but in a few years if all goes well,” Zayn told him. Liam stared at him, mind trying to follow his words, but lost on the shape of his lips as he spoke. “I’m studying to be a doctor,” he explained.

“But, you’re art,” Liam interjected.

“Art is just my minor. Ideally, I’d like to incorporate art into healing, but…” He trailed off with a shrug.

Liam couldn’t believe he hadn’t known that Zayn was studying medicine, that he’d never mentioned it before and he felt like a twat for having assumed art was his major and never asking about it, about anything in Zayn’s life instead of making assumptions. In his own defence, he’d only ever seen Zayn bent over drawings, not medical texts, so there was no reason to suspect Zayn studied anything other than art. To cover up his embarrassment, he became defensive and short. “Well, thanks for everything, but I have to work.”

“Even though I haven’t studied health regulations in the food industry, there has got to be some kind of rule against open wounds and food,” Zayn responded, voice firm and frown staunchly in place.

“I already sent Niall home, so there’s no one else to cover,” Liam whined, his stomach churning at his own childishness. “I’ll put a plastic glove over it or summat.”

“Look, Liam, I know how dead this place can be at night and Dylan and Tyler should be here before the bar crowd comes in, so I’ll handle the tables until then,” Zayn offered as he pushed himself to stand. Zayn’s knowledge of the ins and outs of the diner surprised Liam, but since he spent nearly as much time there as Liam did, he shouldn’t have been.  

Liam took the hand Zayn offered, allowing himself to be pulled to his feet as he argued, “You can’t do that. You don’t work here. Just go back to the gallery. You don’t need to waste your time doing my job just because I’m hopeless.”

Zayn shook his head. “It’s never been a waste of time to hang out here with you and it certainly won’t start being a waste when you need my help.” He reached to tug at the strings of Liam’s apron. “Give me this.” Liam put up a fight, the two of them tugging the apron back and forth between them until the sound of threads snapping caused Liam to drop his end and Zayn stumbled backwards into the counter with a groan. He tsked Liam when he shook his hand in pain, checking to be sure he hadn’t reopened the wound. Apparently satisfied that Liam would be alright, he tied the apron around his own waist and struck a pose, grinning broadly when the corners of Liam’s mouth quirked upward. Still smiling, he placed a hand on the small of Liam’s back and guided him to a booth, forcing him to sit.

Liam watched as Zayn made his way to the window and shouted to Harry for a plate of chips. He then poured a couple of sodas and brought them to the table and set one in front of Liam and the other across from him. Then he went back to the window and grabbed the chips and set them in the centre of the table before sitting down and grabbing one and popping it in his mouth, panting around the first bite. “H...h-hot!” he yelped.

“Careful, those are fresh!” Harry shouted from the kitchen, cackling loudly, seemingly unbothered if not entirely amused by the situation in the dining room.

Liam giggled at the sight Zayn made before nudging his glass toward him, shouting as it started to tip over. Thankfully, Zayn’s reflexes worked better than Liam’s and he managed to grab it before it spilt everywhere. Smirking at Liam, he lifted it and sipped from the straw. He winked as Liam scowled at him. Liam moved his hands underneath his legs, staring down at the tabletop, afraid to move lest he completely destroyed the diner with a misplaced finger. It only took a couple of seconds before his hand began to hurt and he had to pull it out, banging it on the underside the table. Dropping his head to the tabletop, he didn’t even bother to hold back the tears; he’d cried once in front of Zayn already, how much worse could doing it again really make the night?

The creak of the vinyl next to him was his only warning before a warm hand rested in the middle of his back, moving up and down soothingly. “Really hasn’t been your night, has it?” Zayn asked, voice light but not mirthful; teasing but not in a way that made Liam feel worse.

“No,” he admitted, voice vibrating off the table as his breath condensated on the formica. The silence stretched between them, Liam kept his forehead pressed against the table, listening to Zayn pick up his glass and put it back down and sliding the plate of chips closer to them. Through it all, Zayn’s hand never stopped moving and Liam focused on it, closing out the rest of the world, nerves relaxing. He was ready to start talking when the warmth was gone. Liam jerked his head up and saw Zayn heading towards a table where a couple of guys were sitting. Liam couldn’t even begin to wonder how he’d missed the commotion the obviously drunk boys were making, let alone the sound of the bell over the door.

He watched as Zayn took their orders and joked around with them. His movements were so natural, Liam would never have guessed it was his first time waiting tables. Zayn had shared many stories about delivering pizzas, but that had been his only job before Uni. He was pretty sure the only thing he’d done since starting school was his few hours a week at the art building, there was definitely no waiting experience on his theoretical resume. Once he’d dropped off their food, he came back over to Liam, smiling when he saw Liam watching him. “May I sit?” he asked.

“If you want to risk it. I’m hazardous to the environment around me, apparently,” Liam muttered, smiling when Zayn chuckled, feeling for the first time that night that the laughter wasn’t directed at him.

“Only to yourself from what I’ve seen,” Zayn responded as he slid into the booth and pulled out his order pad and pen and began sketching.

“And your artwork,” Liam muttered, but Zayn just quirked an eyebrow without looking up from what he was doing.

Liam played with the silverware in front of him, smiling when Zayn looked over and his eyes widened. He plucked the butter knife out of Liam’s fingers and set it aside, just out of reach, grinning at Liam’s affronted noise that dissolved into a giggle. “I can tell something’s bothering you, Liam,” Zayn said, his expression turning serious as he returned to his sketching. “I thought we’d gotten pretty close this past year; you listened to me complain for hours about my classes, but if you don’t want to talk to me…”

He looked up as Zayn trailed off, watching his tongue clamped between his teeth, focused on the movements of his pen. Liam knew that look, knew that Zayn was focused on his art, but also knew that somehow, he was still paying attention to him. “Why did you invite me tonight?” Liam blurted out after several moments of silence.

“I wanted you there,” Zayn answered simply, looking up briefly without missing a beat in the movement of his pen.

“Why, though? Did you have to have so many people attend or summat?” Liam picked at the edges of the plasters waiting nervously for an answer, stopping when Zayn rapped his knuckles with the pen before standing and walking away. Liam gaped for a second before he realized he was refilling glasses and clearing plates and dropping off menus and water glasses at another table for people who had appeared out of nowhere. Liam glared at the bell above the door for not working, knowing he should get up on the stepladder and check it out. The thought of getting on the ladder brought to mind falling and pain, so he decided that the day shift could take care of the problem.

“My family couldn’t afford to come to the showing and besides that, my dad had to work. My housemates were there, but that’s because Perrie works there and where she goes Jesy goes, not because they wanted to support me.” He tilted his head to the side for a moment, gaze going soft. “Although, I suspect they would’ve shown up anyway if Perrie hadn’t been working just because they wanted to see if you’d show up.” He waved off Liam’s attempt to argue before tilting his gaze back down to the order pad. “You though, I wanted you there,” Zayn said as he slid back into the booth. “I’m sorry if I overstepped a boundary or summat, but I thought we were mates.” Zayn rubbed at his upper lip with his thumb before picking up the pen and pad again. “Maybe I was wrong.”

“No!” Liam shouted, ducking his head when everyone in the diner turned to look at him. “N...n-no,” he whispered after the others had lost interest in him and turned back around to focus on their food and friends. “We are mates...or at least, I’d like to think we are. I spend more time with you than I do anyone else besides my teammates.” He raised his uninjured hand to rub at the back of his neck. “Although, saying that out loud makes me seem pretty pathetic.”

Zayn smiled at Liam, waving distractedly as the first couple left the diner before jumping to his feet when Harry rang the bell on the window to announce the other group’s orders were ready. Delivering the food quickly, Zayn returned to the table. “You’re not pathetic. If it helps, I was really glad you came tonight. Did you like the art?”

Liam nodded, his smile growing as he remembered Zayn’s paintings, the colours and textures and the way they made him feel. Memories of the room crashing around him drained all the beautiful and admired colours from his brain. He felt the excitement and happiness plummet and tried to force a smile, not wanting Zayn to remember what had happened; he wouldn’t be able to handle Zayn laughing at him again.

Zayn’s eyes met his, the brows narrowed in concern or confusion or confused concern, possibly concerned confusion and Liam felt himself falling into a mindset that he just couldn’t handle, so he shook it off as best as he could and tried to continue the conversation without appearing to have completely gone around the bend. “I didn’t realize you used so many colours; I’ve only seen the sketches,” he choked out, rubbing at his eyes; weren’t his tears going to dry up at some point or did he have an endless supply?

“Can’t really break out the paints here,” Zayn explained as he continued sketching for a moment before tapping the side of Liam’s glass. “Refill?”

“I can get it,” Liam said but Zayn stopped him with a hand on his arm. “I’m not completely invalid,” he argued, holding his hand out. “See, it’s healing already.” A tiny drop of blood welled up on his palm as they stared at it and Zayn handed him a napkin. “Traitor,” Liam hissed at his hand and laughter exploded from Zayn.

“You’ve been taking care of me four nights a week for almost a year. Let me take care of you for once.” Zayn’s eyes were soft as he picked up the glass, smiling.

Liam felt his face heat up and clapped a hand over it to hide, hissing when he smacked the cut on his palm against his cheek. “I was just doing my job,” he muttered.

Zayn made a soft sound before Liam heard the pen and the pad hit the Formica before silence fell over the room. Peeking between his fingers for a moment, he dropped his hand to his lap when he found the other side of the booth empty. Glancing quickly around the room, he spotted Zayn standing behind the counter, wiping down the top with a rag, looking ridiculous in his fancy clothes and Liam’s teal apron wrapped around his waist.

He started to call him back to the table, to ask why he’d suddenly become so distant, but the bell over the door chose that moment to work and grabbed both Liam and Zayn’s attention. A middle-aged woman dressed as if she’d just left the club hesitated in the doorway before Zayn called for her to sit anywhere and he’d be right with her.

Liam recognized her; she came in a few times a week always dressed scantily and looking like she’d had a rough night. She would sit at the counter and flirt with Liam, or whichever server was on duty, in ways that made them all uncomfortable. It wasn’t just about her age, although that was definitely a contributing factor, but also about the large rock she wore on her ring finger and the man who came to collect her some nights when she decided she was just too far gone to drive herself safely home. They’d all thought about barring her from the diner at one point or another, but they all agreed that they were all too human to do that when she hadn’t actually ever gone too far with any of them.

The woman approached the counter and sat on one of the stools right in front of Zayn, leaning across the counter in a way Liam recognized and he was impressed when Zayn’s eyes didn’t venture down to the cleavage that was on display for him. Instead, he grabbed a new order book from beneath the counter and a pen from the cup by the register and looked at her expectantly. When she was done talking, Liam saw her shoulders slump at Zayn’s blatant lack of interest but perked up when Zayn gave her a bright smile before turning his back on her.

Zayn hung the order slip from the ticket holder before spinning it so that Harry could reach it from inside the kitchen. Liam waited for Zayn to come back to the table, but he busied himself wiping down other tables and even started rolling silverware, something he’d helped Liam with several times in the past. After several minutes, Zayn came by the table with a pitcher of soda and refilled Liam’s glass in silence, eyes locked on the rising soda level.

“Thanks,” Liam whispered, unsure what had brought about the sudden chill he was getting from the normally warm man.

“Just doing your job,” Zayn snarked back, the force of hurt in his voice pushing Liam to sit up straight.

“Woah,” Liam said, reaching out and grabbing Zayn’s wrist with his uninjured hand. “That’s not what I meant.”

“Yet, it’s what you said,” Zayn responded, tugging on his wrist, but Liam held on tight enough that Zayn yanked him out of the booth and into him, throwing the both of them off balance until they were sprawled on the floor.

Liam rolled off Zayn and let his head fall back onto the floor. “I give up,” he groaned. “Please let something massive fall from the sky and put me out of my misery.” He jumped when something smacked him in the face, sitting up in a panic to find an order pad in his lap and Zayn standing over him with a smirk on his face.

“Are you out of your misery, now?” Zayn asked, reaching out a hand and pulling him to his feet.

Liam brushed himself off one-handed and Zayn hurried to the window to grab the woman’s order and deliver it before returning to Liam and grabbing the order pad that had fallen out of his lap and onto the ground. “You think you’re so cute, don’t you?” Liam asked when Zayn handed over the pad open to a drawing of Liam sitting hunched over, surrounded by a pile of art. His cheeks warmed again at the amount of detail Zayn had managed in the short amount of time he’d been sketching.

Zayn shrugged. “No, but I think you are.” He chuckled, clearly pleased with his own cleverness.

Liam’s mouth gaped open and Zayn gently pushed it shut with one finger under his chin, still laughing softly. “R...r-really?”

“Really, Leeyum,” Zayn assured, moving to sit in the booth again. “I’ve thought that since the first time I laid eyes on you. I doubt you remember me dropping my papers all over the floor, but it was your fault.” Liam gaped but Zayn hurried to continue before he could interrupt. “You were so fit, I kind of lost feeling in my fingers.” He bit his lower lip and ran his fingers over the tabletop as Liam dropped into the booth, humming The Weeknd under his breath for a moment, smiling a little bit. “I’m actually surprised you couldn’t tell, I thought I was pretty damn obvious.”

“I’ve been told I can be pretty oblivious, so…” Liam told him, a twisted smile on his lips as he couldn’t come up with an ending to the sentence.

“Things were bad enough when you were just the fit waiter, but then you ended up being a genuinely nice guy that treats everyone like they’re a VIP.” He chuckled to himself. “It took me awhile to realise I might be special, that you didn’t give everyone free food while they hogged a table all night and could barely afford coffee. And I definitely never tipped what you deserved.”

“You paid what you could,” Liam said, remembering the night just after the holidays when Zayn had come back from being home and smiling widely as he’d not only insisted on getting a bill for everything he’d eaten that night but had left Liam a nearly two hundred percent tip. Liam had tried to return it, but Zayn had raced out of the diner calling out a laughter-filled ‘good night’ before Liam could even try to force the money on him.

“Yeah, but even that wasn’t enough to cover everything you’ve given me for free that I’m sure actually came out of your cheque,” Zayn said. Liam averted his eyes at the truth of his words that he refused to admit because he didn’t want Zayn feeling guilty. He liked making sure Zayn had enough to eat or drink; it made him feel like a necessary part of his life. “You’re supposed to be saving for that trip to Disney World this summer, not feeding me.”

“There will be other trips,” Liam said, smiling as Zayn jumped to his feet to refill the drink of the woman at the counter and spinning around when the bell rang again and a group of seven came inside, chatting loudly as they made their way to the large round booth in the back corner.

Zayn gave Liam a giant smile as he grabbed menus and went over to the table with them, talking loudly over the people at the table. He was just finished passing out the menus when the bell sounded again, several groups of people walking in, including Perrie and Jesy who spotted Liam and slid into the booth with him.

“Hey, Liam,” Perrie said, eyeing the plasters on his hand before spotting Zayn hurrying across the diner with more menus and a slightly manic look on his face.

“Are we in Bizzaro world?” Jesy asked.

“I got hurt-”

“That’s not what I patched up at the gallery,” Perrie interrupted. “What did you do?”

“It hasn’t been his night,” Zayn said, as he came to the table and dropped off menus for the girls and an apron and plastic glove for Liam. “Help me,” he pleaded as the bell went off again. “I will literally get down on my knees and beg at this point.”

Liam shook away the image of Zayn on his knees and pushed to his feet, pulling on the glove before tying the apron around his waist. He hurried to slide some menus under his arm as he filled some glasses with water and grabbed them in one hand. He made his way over to the newest group of people who’d come into the diner, filling the booths. “I’ll deal with orders and drinks, you deliver the food,” Liam declared; having a sense of purpose calmed him for the first time since he’d overheard Perrie and Jesy.

The rush lasted just over an hour, Zayn and Liam handling all of the tables together but unable to speak more than the occasional, “Behind you”. After the bell rang over the door announcing Perrie and Jesy’s departure leaving just Zayn, Liam and Harry in the diner, Liam dropped down onto one of the stools and draped himself over the counter.

“I quit,” Zayn muttered as he dropped down next to him, leaning back on his elbows on the counter.

“You don’t even work here!” Harry hollered from the kitchen, his laughter echoing.

“Hand hurts,” Liam muttered, trying and failing to remove the plastic glove without picking himself up from atop the counter.

“Let me help,” Zayn said and Liam turned his head to the side to watch Zayn carefully peel off the glove and tutting when one of the butterfly plasters came with it. “Well, it’s not bleeding, so I was right that you don’t need stitches, but I want to clean it again.”

Liam sat still, holding back a flinch as he was poked and prodded again, watching Zayn’s face as he worked. “You’re going to make a great doctor.”

Zayn’s smile grew. “Thanks.” He picked through the first aid kit and brought out a bottle of paracetamol, shaking out two tablets and passing them to Liam.

The bell rang again and they shared a quiet groan as Liam pushed to his feet, freezing when he saw Zayn’s girlfriend standing in the doorway, blonde hair pulled back into a messy ponytail and the uniform from the upscale bistro down the street on her slight frame. Scrambling backwards, he tripped over the stool he’d been sitting on and fell to the ground with a thud, a shock running up his back from his tailbone connecting with the tile floor. “Shit,” he muttered. “I give up.”

Zayn squatted down in front of him, reaching a hand out to tilt Liam’s chin up. “Alright?”

Liam glanced over his shoulder and saw Zayn’s girlfriend watching them with a smirk that curdled the contents of his stomach. “Yeah, it’s all good. Feel free to head out with your girl.”

Zayn’s eyes narrowed and he looked between Liam and his girlfriend. “My girl?” he snorted. “Yeah, no. Been friends since, like, we were kids, but she’s not really my type.”

Liam felt his face flush and he kept trying to get to his feet, finally taking Zayn’s hand and letting him help him up. Harry tapped the bell in the window and Liam grabbed the bag, wondering when Harry had managed to take a carryout order, but he held the bag up to the girl with a curious gaze. “That's what I came for,” she said, smiling. “Now, I’ll leave you to continue your date. I’m sorry that I missed the gallery earlier, Zee, I had to work late.” She was out the door and gone, money on the counter and bell jangling.

“Date?” Liam asked, his mind having frozen on that one word. He looked to Zayn who was putting the money into the till and taking out the change and throwing it into the empty pickle jar they’d been amassing their tips in that night. “Zayn,” he said, watching him freeze for a moment before looking up at Liam, teeth dug into his lower lip. “What date?”

Zayn opened his mouth to answer when the bell sounded again. “For fuck’s sake,” Liam muttered, but a smile split his face when he saw Tyler and Dylan walking in, joking and laughing. “Brilliant,” he cheered, taking off the apron he was wearing and holding a hand out for Zayn’s. Once he’d thrown them in the hamper in the back room knowing Paddy would wash them in the morning, he went back out front and grabbed the tip jar and walked over to the booth he’d been sharing with Zayn earlier.

“C’mon, mate, let’s get our tips sorted.” He upended the jar, unsurprised when the loose coins rolled off the table and across the floor in different directions. Unlike the rest of the disasters that he’d caused throughout the night, this one just brought resigned laughter; he was just too damn tired to worry anymore.

“Won’t take long. The money’s all yours,” Zayn established as he picked up the wayward change and sat down.

“No way. Honestly, they should be all yours since you were doing my job for me and I’ll still get a paycheck.” He thought for a minute. “I’m going to talk to Paddy and tell him what happened and have him pay you instead. I’m sure he won’t mind and if he does, I’ll give you my check since you did most-”

“Liam!” Zayn snapped, giving the impression he’d called his name several times and Liam began to worry about his selective hearing that night. Maybe he’d hit his head earlier and the entire day was just a concussed illusion. “Liam,” Zayn repeated, softer this time while laying a gentle hand over his. “I don’t want your money.”

“But you-”

Pulling his hand away, Liam missing the warmth and comfort it’d provided, Zayn pushed the money towards Liam, cutting off any further argument, or at least attempting to do so. “No. I did this as your friend, not to get paid.”

Liam nodded, sorting the money together by denomination, amazed at how well they had done. He usually did alright with tips, his politeness was a hit with the older customers and he wasn’t insecure enough to not know when his looks helped with some of the younger crowd, but this was a huge bump and he attributed it to Zayn and his beautiful smile, not the soft one he was giving Liam now but the bright one he used for people he didn’t know.

He tried to slyly slide some of the cash across the table, but Zayn kept shaking his head and pushing it back towards him; he wanted to argue but any logic escaped him when Zayn finally grabbed the money he passed over and shoved it down the neck of his shirt. Sputtering he pulled out the money and shoved half in the front pocket of  his jeans and the other half in a back pocket. He was planning to keep the money in his locker in the break room and use it to cover Zayn’s tabs until it ran out because he didn’t feel right keeping the money he hadn’t earned.

Enjoying the playful atmosphere that had developed between them, Liam hesitated to bring up the subject of the date comment. He considered just letting it go, but it was nagging at the edges of his mind refusing to leave him in peace. He tapped his fingers on the table as he attempted to appear unconcerned with the answer. “Why did your girlfriend-”

“Not my girlfriend,” Zayn interrupted. “Just a really good friend, more like a sister that I would sometimes like to strangle.”

Liam nodded and twisted his fingers together. “Alright, why did your good friend slash sister tell you to go back to your date?” He studied Zayn’s face, his hazel eyes were wide and set on Liam’s. He raised his eyebrows and gave Liam a slight nod. Taking in Zayn’s strange attempt at silent communication, a thought occurred to him and he facepalmed, thankfully with his uninjured hand this time. “You left your date at the gallery! I am such an idiot.”  He jumped out of the booth and started pulling on Zayn’s arm. “You need to go back. They’re probably so upset with you right now if they’re even still there!” He glanced down at his watch. “Shit, the gallery’s closed! You need to call and apologize!” He stomped a foot and began to berate himself. “Just another thing I’ve managed to ruin tonight with my own clumsiness and stupidity. C’mon!” He kept tugging on Zayn’s arm, but the boy just doubled over, pressing his face into the table, shoulders shaking and quiet snorts escaping. “Why are you laughing at me?”

It took a few moments for Zayn to gather himself, during which time Liam grew frustrated at his inability to get Zayn moving. “I didn’t leave my date behind, Leeyum,” Zayn explained as he sat back up, giving Liam that same silent communication look. The way he’d drug his name out made Liam’s insides warm and gooey. “My date left me behind. Ran out like the devil himself was after him.” He tilted his head at Liam, studying his face, a look of realization growing in his eyes. “Although, I’m starting to think my date had, like, no idea he was my date.”

His face fell slack as Zayn’s words fit together into a thought that while pleasing to Liam, still didn’t make any logical sense because he was Liam and Zayn was way too good for him. “M...m-me?” he asked, pointing to himself.

“You,” Zayn assured. Taking advantage of his shock, he tugged Liam to sit back down. “At the risk of making a fool of myself for admitting this, I’ve wanted to ask you out since that first night I came in here. I was overwhelmed because I’d failed a statistics exam and I had a deadline for one of my art classes coming up and zero inspiration or concentration. I was walking the streets hoping for something to spark my muse when the neon lights of this place caught my eye. I hurried inside and saw you for the first time. You were leaning on the counter, writing something, your brows drawn together in concentration.” Zayn smiled a bit, lost in his own mind for a moment, Liam in awe at the detail of his memory. “I know this will make me sound like a superficial wanker, but you were so beautiful and I know that’s not, like, a word to describe a man, but it was the only one that fit you at that moment.” He focused on Liam again. “And it still does.”

“Stop,” Liam said, his face burning in embarrassment at the praise, a small part of him not believing Zayn, but he didn’t know what he had to gain from fooling Liam.

“Liam, if it had been just your looks I would’ve been able to get over it. I didn’t get over it though because not only are you ridiculously good looking-” Liam scoffed, interrupting him because those words could be used to describe Zayn, but not himself.

“You are ,” Zayn affirmed. “But it wasn’t just that because you are also so fucking nice. I probably became slightly fixated on you and started planning on how to ask you out, but I chickened out every single time and my flatmates took the piss outta me constantly for it. When the gallery show came up, I knew I wanted you there, so I just had to figured out how to ask you. I’ve known it was coming up for most of the term, but it took me until the last minute to work up the courage to actually ask you. I honestly couldn’t believe it when you said yes. Now, I find out you didn’t even realize what I was asking.” Zayn’s laugh was self-deprecating, but his twisted smile was warm.

Liam glanced around the diner when he heard another chuckle, flipping off Dylan whose shoulders were shaking while Tyler had a hand clamped over his mouth, eyes twinkling. “I thought you’d asked everyone,” Liam admitted, dragging his gaze back to Zayn’s.

“Hey, Tyler, did I ask you to my gallery showing?” Zayn called over his shoulder while still keeping his eyes on Liam’s.

“Nope,” Tyler responded, popping the ‘p’ and tightening his hold on Dylan’s mouth as the boy tried to say something, ripping his hand away quickly, a look of horror crossing his face before he wiped his hand on Dylan’s shirt front. “Little shit,” he said under his breath, smiling fondly when Dylan just threw his head back and laughed with his whole body.

Shaking his head at his coworkers’ antics, refusing to acknowledge the pang of jealousy at their relationship, Liam turned his attention to Zayn’s hands. His long fingers fiddled with a coin that had rolled his way; he spun it on its edge and watched as it moved around the table, catching it before it went off the edge and spinning it again. “I’m sorry I didn’t know.”

“Would you have said yes if you had known?” Zayn asked without looking up, voice sounding tight and uncertain.

Liam knew that he would have, but he wasn’t sure saying the words would be enough to convince Zayn. He knew that for him, words didn’t always hold as much power as actions, small acts; even if there were times he was too dense to realize what those small acts meant. Wracking his brain, Liam tried to come up with something, anything, to prove to Zayn that his feelings weren’t unrequited. An idea occurred to him, so he climbed out of the booth and headed into the kitchen, knowing there was something in the refrigerator that would help. He grabbed the item before reentering the main room of the diner to find Zayn halfway to the door and Tyler standing in front of it with his arms crossed, looking threatening to anyone who missed the twinkle in his green eyes. Dylan had a hand twisted in the back of Zayn’s shirt.

“Are you leaving?” Liam asked, his shoulders drooping and he nearly fumbled the pie he was carrying but corrected his stance just in time to keep it from tumbling to the floor.

“You left,” he responded, looking unsure and a bit frightened of Tyler who was grinning like a fool, bright white teeth on display. “Again.”

The last word was barely a whisper but it screamed through Liam’s brain and he flinched. “I didn’t leave, though. I mean, I left the room, but I just went into the kitchen. I went to get this.” He held aloft the lemon meringue pie that Harry had made earlier for the next day’s menu. He was pretty sure Paddy would understand what Liam was doing and forgive the empty space in the display case the next day. Zayn looked between Tyler and the pie and then up at Liam before his shoulders visibly relaxed. He moved toward the table, stumbling out of Dylan’s drip and sending a glare at the smirking boy before brushing himself off and returning to the booth. “And I didn’t mean to leave you at the gallery; I was embarrassed because I’d managed to destroy the place and thought it would be safer for everyone if I left..”

“You didn’t,” Zayn disagreed and Liam choked at the absurdity of the argument. “Nothing was destroyed. We got everything put to rights in a few minutes, so there’s nothing to be embarrassed about.” He gave Liam one of his soft smiles, one that he was beginning to wonder was just for him. “It was kind of endearing, actually.”

Liam ducked his head to hide the heat flaring across his cheeks as he set the pie in the middle of the table and handed a clean fork to Zayn while twirling one of his own around in his fingers, trying to form a response. “Dig in,” was all that he came up with and the heat worsened.

“No plates?”

“You think we aren’t going to finish it?” Liam asked, smiling as he stuck his fork near the edge and smiled waiting for Zayn to do the same. Once Zayn dug his fork in and lifted the bite to his mouth, Liam followed suit, grinning as Zayn’s lips closed over the fork and his eyes shut, a quiet moan of pleasure leaving his lips. “Should I leave you two alone?” Liam teased, earning a kick under the table from Zayn who still hadn’t opened his eyes and was licking his lips.

Liam took another bite, not wanting to be caught staring when Zayn came back from his food-induced nirvana. When his hazel eyes blinked open, Liam put his fork down, resting his elbows on the table and his chin in his hands. “I would’ve said yes,” he confessed, smiling when Zayn’s confused expression at the seemingly random statement flashed into a stunned expression before quickly melting into a wide smile. “I wish I’d known the invitation was a date, I might’ve saved your display,” he admitted, his lips twisting into a rueful smile.

“Yeah, about that...In all the times I’ve come into the diner and seen you on the field-”

“You’ve seen me play?” Liam asked, stunned. Zayn had never mentioned coming to his games. He was always so focused on the games, he’d never even thought to scan the stands to see if anyone he knew was there, unless it was his family.

“Course I have,” Zayn responded, shaking his head before rolling his eyes. “And in all this time, I’ve never seen you even fumble a plate or a ball,” Zayn observed. “Tonight, I barely saw you do one thing without it ending badly.” Liam’s face grew warm and he tapped his feet against the floor, reading to bolt. “Except the pie. So far, the pie has been perfect.”

“Well, all credit for the pie goes to Harry; I can’t bake to save my life. I did manage to get it from the refrigerator to the table without dropping it,” Liam said, smiling.

“With that tricky swinging door and everything all ready to trip you up,” Zayn teased.

“Tell me about it, I held my breath and crossed my fingers when I pushed through it.” They shared a quiet laugh. “Hey...can I ask you something?” Liam was ready to move away from the topic of everything that had gone disastrously wrong that day, but he was more than ready to get to the truth of the event that had started the downhill tumble.

“Of course, I’m an open book,” Zayn told him, taking another bite of pie, his reaction not as dramatic as the first bite, but he still closed his eyes and sighed happily. “Lemon meringue is my favourite.”

“I know. We used to only carry it on Sundays, but I convinced Harry to start making it so we had it every day,” Liam told him. “Although, this is tomorrow’s, so don’t be expecting any if you come in then.” Zayn stared at Liam, another forkful frozen in the air between the pie and his mouth. Liam shrugged, not wanting to make a big deal of the situation. “What did you tell Perrie and Jesy about me?” he blurted out before he could change his mind and bring up something else inane.

“What?” Genuine confusion crossed Zayn’s face. “When?”

“I don’t know when, but they were here earlier when I was working this morning so I could have tonight off,” Liam explained. “They were talking, but I overheard them, you know how voices carry in this place.” He fidgeted, uncomfortable under Zayn’s intense scrutiny.

“I wasn’t aware, but now I do,” Zayn commented, chewing his lower lip. “What did those two say?”

“They had made a big deal out of my name tag, which was weird, but then when I walked away to check on other tables, they started arguing about whether I was, well, your Liam or not.”

Zayn swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he licked his lips. “ My Liam?”

Liam nodded. “That’s what they said, well, actually they said, ‘Zayn’s Liam,’ but you know that’s the same thing.” He took another bite of pie, focusing on the confection as he waited for Zayn to say something, anything. At this point, he’d be happy with a ‘Shut up, Liam!’

Zayn set his fork down on a napkin next to the pie tin. “Did they, like, say anything else?”

Liam coughed, setting his fork down next to Zayn’s and looking up at him through his lashes. “They said you fancied me,” Liam said before shrugging one shoulder. “They also might have said something about you wanting to get my pants off.” He closed his eyes as he said the last sentence, the heat in his face intense enough he was sure Harry could cook breakfast on it.

Zayn choked on the sip of soda he had started to take. Setting the glass down, he continued coughing until Liam got up to slide into the booth next to him and pound on his back. “I have to go,” Zayn said, pushing against Liam until he got out of the booth, allowing Zayn to stand and start fumbling in his pockets.

“Go?” Liam asked, shocked when Zayn shoved a handful of bills at him. “W...w-why?”

“I have to kill my flatmates,” Zayn answered throwing his head back with a groan when Liam swallowed hard and nodded, taking a step back to get out of the way, fingers fumbling the money in his hands.

“R...r-right,” Liam said. “I get it.” He should’ve known it was all a joke, something cooked up by the two girls to be mean to the dumb waiter at the diner. It wasn’t the first time pretty girls had tried to convince him that someone had a crush on him just to set him up for a laugh. He turned towards the kitchen door, the tears he’d sincerely hoped had dried up fighting to make a reappearance.

He jerked back when a hand fisted into the back of his shirt and tugged. “You don’t get it, Leeyum,” Zayn said, pressing his forehead between Liam’s shoulder blades. “I’m not exactly sure what you’re thinking, but if it’s making you look that horrified, I’m sincerely hoping it’s not that what the girls said is untrue or that they were trying to play a prank on you.” Liam squinted his eyes in confusion trying to piece together the words in a way that made sense, but all he kept thinking was that Zayn was angry with the girls. “The truth is that I did tell them that I like you, but I didn’t want you to find out from them. I wanted you to find out from me. Tonight, when you saw my art, I hoped you would figure it out.” He cursed under his breath when Liam didn’t respond except to try and tug his shirt out of Zayn’s grip and turn to face him. “Fuck. This is why I told them not to come to the diner, but I only said at night, I never expected you to work days. You never work days.”

“I had to so I could go to the gallery,” Liam explained, his voice still pained, suspicious, but he’d stopped trying to run away.

“I know. I know and you don’t know how much it means to me that you were there,” Zayn told him, keeping one hand on his arm and raising the other up to cup Liam’s face.

Liam rubbed his cheek against Zayn’s hand, smiling shyly as he did. “You don’t know how much it meant to me that you invited me. Even when I thought you were just inviting everyone, I was still so chuffed that you invited me .” He bit his lower lip and Zayn mirrored the action. “Even though I didn’t know what you meant by it, I knew it meant I was more than a random person in your life, more than just the guy who feeds you four nights a week.” Zayn chuckled at that. “And then when I saw the painting you did of the diner and I was in it…” He let his eyes fall shut, the memory of the swirls of colours painted onto the backs of his eyelids and he breathed out slowly.

“You’re done with work now, yeah?” Zayn asked and Liam opened his eyes to stare as he nodded. Zayn grabbed Liam’s arm and turned it so he could look at his watch. “It’s now Saturday. Do you have any plans?” Liam shook his head. “Do you have all your stuff?” He shook his head again. “Have you forgotten how to speak?”

Liam laughed. “No. I have my bag in my locker.” He jerked a thumb over his shoulder towards the back of the diner.

Zayn let go of his arm and gave him a gentle shove towards the kitchen door. “Go get it.”

“Okay,” Liam said, walking towards the door, but keeping is eyes on Zayn until he bumped into Dylan who was trying to hold the swinging door out of Liam’s way. “Sorry.”

“No worries,” Dylan responded. “I wouldn’t take my eyes off of him either.” He winked at Liam when Tyler let out an affronted shout.

Liam stashed Zayn’s half of the tip money in a small wooden box a customer had given him that he kept at work before grabbing his bag and slamming the locker shut. He hurried back to the front, a small part of his brain convinced that Zayn had run out of the diner as soon as Liam took his eyes off him. He let out a breath when he pushed through the swinging door and found Zayn right where he’d left him, chatting with Tyler.

“Ready!” he shouted, a bit louder than he’d planned and blushing when everyone laughed at him.

“A bit eager, are we?” Zayn asked, holding out his hand, his smile growing as Liam twined their fingers together. “Let’s go.”

Liam let Zayn lead him out of the diner, the two of them walking a couple of blocks in the direction of the campus in companionable silence. They passed the bus stop where Liam usually caught the bus; he turned his head to watch it as they passed. “Uh, where are we going?”

“Do you trust me?” Zayn asked, eyes sparkling in the street lights, the hazel glowing gold in the beams of the passing cars. The sounds of drunk people provided a backdrop to their quiet conversation. Liam finally nodded and Zayn squeezed his hand. “Good.” They kept walking, Liam shaking his head at Zayn’s evasiveness.

They turned into a neighbourhood on the edge of campus, the opposite side from where Liam’s flat was and passed a row of older houses. Liam pointed out a few flowers that were blooming large and white in front of a dark house, the starkness against the night was shocking and made Liam smile. “Moonflowers,” Zayn explained. “That’s Mrs. Shea’s house; her entire garden is made up of night-blooming flowers because she’s got terrible insomnia that only allows her to sleep during the day and she hated missing the morning glories.”

Liam leaned slightly to the left to inhale the fragrance of a flower over the short fence, noticing a bunch of flowers that were purple on the underside of their petals and white on the top. “Beautiful,” he murmured.

“Those are Night Phlox,” Zayn told him. “My favourite because the white colour is a secret during the day.” He pointed to a few more flowers, identifying them.

“Do you know Mrs. Shea well?” Liam asked as he tried to remember the flowers’ names to tell his mum later.

“Not at all,” Zayn responded.

“Then how do you know about her insomnia?” Liam asked. “And the flowers?”

“I don’t. And the internet.” Zayn pointed to a house across the street with overgrown plants on the porch. “That’s Mr. Herbert. He won a cruise around the world and left so quickly, he forgot to arrange for someone to look after his house.”

Liam squinted at Zayn, taking in his grin and the sparkle of his eye when they passed under a streetlight. “A thruple lives there,” he said, pointing to a smaller house that had three bikes locked up out front.

“You’re taking the piss outta me!” Liam finally said, laughing when Zayn winked at him.

“Making up stories helps the walk home go quicker,” Zayn explained. “I try not to do the same house two nights in a row and I try really hard not to repeat ideas.” Liam nodded, admiring his cleverness. “You give it a go.”

Liam shook his head. “I...I couldn’t. I wouldn’t even know where to begin.”

“Just pick a house and start spinning a tale,” Zayn told him, gesturing widely.

“I’ll get it wrong,” Liam mumbled.

“There’s no wrong! It’s make believe! Use your imagination! Like looking at clouds and figuring out what they look like,” Zayn explained, his voice soft yet energetic as he rubbed a thumb over the back of Liam’s hand.

“I was never good at that either; my sisters always teased me,” Liam said, rubbing at his eyes.

“Just try. I won’t laugh. I promise. Pick a house and come up with one sentence. Just one,” Zayn told him as he pulled him to a stop and wrapped an arm around Liam’s shoulders, swinging his other arm out like he was offering Liam the world.

Liam pointed to a slightly rundown two-story a couple of houses down, watching Zayn’s face as he pressed his lips together, the corners of his mouth twitching. “You’re laughing at me!”

“No. No. I’m really not laughing. I just want to hear what you have to say about that house, Leeyum.” Smiling shyly, Liam was beginning to really like the way Zayn said his name when he was being soft and sweet.

Liam studied the house, noticing the potted plants on the steps, the green of each plant told him they weren’t flowers, maybe herbs. Taking a few steps closer, he sniffed the air and smiled. “A cook lives there. He grows his own herbs.”

Zayn’s smile was impressed, even a bit proud when Liam turned back around. “You’re not wrong.”

“You said there were no wrong answers!” Liam argued, but pride bubbled up in his chest.

“There aren’t,” Zayn told him as he grabbed for his hands again and dragged him towards the house. “I’m just impressed with how close you are.”

Liam tried to dig his heels in as Zayn stepped on the first step, running the fingers of his free hand over what Liam could identify as chives. “A chef-in-training lives here, but it’s a her not a he. There are also two med students, one who happens to dabble in art,” he explained, before turning back to Liam, allowing himself to laugh at the confused look on his face. “I live here. With Jesy and Perrie.”

“Oh,” Liam said, blushing furiously. “I didn’t know.”

“No, you didn’t, but you guessed and were really close,” Zayn told him, tickling at his side as Liam joined him on the step. “So, who’s to say I’m not right about the other houses?” He suddenly looked shy. “Wanna come in?”

“Isn’t this where you were leading me all along?” Liam asked, wanting to say yes but not wanting to make Zayn uncomfortable if he really just wanted company on the walk home.

“Yeah, but, like, I realized I should’ve asked if you wanted to before I dragged you all the way here.” He rubbed his thumb across his upper lip. “I can walk you back to the bus stop, but I was hoping to, like, show you my studio.”

Liam’s eyes lit up as he smiled and nodded eagerly. “I’d love to see it. I just hope I don’t ruin anything.”

“It’s been hours since anything’s gone wrong,” Zayn said, pulling Liam up the steps and toward the door.

“Don’t tempt the fates!” Liam scolded mockingly, lifting his foot to take the next step but missing and stumbling when he was distracted by Zayn’s laugh.

He fell forward arms out to stop himself, managing to knock Zayn to the porch and landing on top of him. He dropped his head until it rested on Zayn’s chest, cheeks burning and those pesky tears trying to make a reappearance. “See,” he muttered as he pushed his palms against the ground and tried to stand.

Zayn wrapped his arms around Liam’s chest, pressing a kiss to the top of Liam’s head, surprising the breath he’d barely managed to catch out of him. “If this is what tempting the fates gets me, I’m going to keep it up.”

Liam lifted his head to stare at Zayn in surprise and almost missed his smirk as he leaned in and pressed their lips together. Liam giggled as the kiss broke, burying his face in Zayn’s chest again.

They started trying to stand up, their limbs tangled together and making the task difficult. Laughter echoed and they both tried to silence the other without success until the door of the house slammed open revealing a smiling Perrie, robe clutched closed.  

“Really?” she asked, her voice firm, but a smile crossing her face belying her irritation. “You couldn’t even make it inside?”

“Sorry,” Zayn said as he finally managed to get to his feet, reaching down to help Liam up.

“No you’re not,” she teased and went back into the house, leaving the door open behind her.

“Still want to come in?” Zayn asked.

“Yes,” Liam said quickly. Zayn opened his mouth to speak again, but Liam dragged him through the front door before he could make a sound.

Perrie was heading up the stairs as Zayn shut the door behind him. “Night, Per,” he called, laughing when she flipped him off over her shoulder. “Yeah, yeah, love you, too.”

Liam looked around the foyer of the house. “Nice place,” he said when Zayn turned his attention back to him.

“Jesy’s parents own it and let us stay here for pretty cheap which is great because I can work on my art here instead of trying to get in during studio hours on campus,” Zayn explained as he pulled Liam towards a door under the stairs.

Liam smelled the paint before he’d even cracked open the door. He smiled, imagining what they were going to find on the other side. Zayn reached through the doorway to pull the chain hanging from the bulb revealing another staircase. As Liam followed him down, Zayn continued talking. “When Jesy’s parents found out I was going to use the cellar for a studio, they had the windows done so they would open and provide ventilation; they’re really supportive of the arts, especially mine.”

The stairway gave way to a cellar with whitewashed walls and more of the bare bulbs hanging from the ceiling which Zayn made his way around turning on one by one with audible clicks of the chains. Liam gaped as canvas after canvas was revealed, each in a different stage of creation. He barely noticed Zayn moving around the room, reaching up to open the windows near the low-hanging ceiling before leaning back against the wall, arms crossed over his chest, allowing Liam to make his way around the room as his own pace. He stepped carefully over the tarps covering the floor and between the paint cans and various art-related paraphernalia; constantly conscious of how any misstep could lead to a repeat of the evening's earlier events.

He stopped in front of one canvas that was half a basic sketch and half a whirl of colours. Taped to the wall next to the canvas was a sketch that Liam recognized, a tiger surrounded by letters; Zayn had been working on it one night at the diner a few weeks earlier. He’d been so focused on what he was doing that he’d let three cups of coffee grow cold and a slice of lemon meringue pie grow warm. Liam reached a hand out to hover over the canvas where the oranges, yellows and blacks of the tiger melted into blues, blacks, whites and silvers of a starlit sky.

“You can touch it. The paint’s dry,” Zayn spoke, startling Liam out of his intense concentration.

“I thought the sketch was cool, but the colours bring it to life. I never realized it was a space tiger.”

“I love space and I think my mind is more a vast expanse of space than a tropical jungle,” Zayn explained, ducking his head when Liam looked over at him.

Liam continued his exploration, running a finger along the line of the tail. “It looks like an L.” Zayn chuckled and when Liam looked back again, he was running a hand over his face, chewing into his lower lip. “What?”

“It is an L,” Zayn explained. “You can’t really see the other letters on the canvas yet, but if you give me some time…” He picked up a paintbrush and waved it in the air.

Liam looked around the room, spotting a mattress in one corner of the space. “Do you sleep down here?” he asked as he moved to sit down, leaning back against the wall.

Zayn opened a few cans of paint, pouring small bits into a plastic pallet and picking up a wide brush as he kept talking. “Only sometimes. Most days I’m actually at the house and not at the diner, I make it up to my bed, but sometimes I will take a quick kip down here.”

He moved the brush over the canvas, humming under his breath as Liam watched feeling warmth fill him as he pushed his shoes off next to the mattress and pulled the blanket over his legs. He yawned as he watched letters begin to appear around the tail and he remembered asking Zayn about them when he was sketching. “It says ‘mind of mine,’ but scattered because that’s how my mind works,” he’d explained, making Liam laugh in understanding.

Liam watched as Zayn worked, moving from humming to singing, his voice melodic and beautiful as he sang in a language Liam didn’t understand. He remembered Zayn telling him once that he was somewhat fluent in Urdu because his father spoke it and he opened his mouth to ask if that was what he was singing but his words were cut off by a yawn. Shifting around on the bed to get more comfortable, his eyelids grew heavy and he figured it wouldn’t hurt to let them close for just a minute.

Liam dreamt of colours, flying through reds and oranges, spinning around yellows and greens, floating between clouds of blues and purples. His chest felt light and happy and when his eyes fluttered open, he felt more rested than he had in months. He stretched with a groan and looked around himself, trying to orientate himself, the night before coming back to himself. Sitting up, he looked around the studio for Zayn and found him sitting against a far wall, sketchpad in his lap, head tilted back against the wall, small snores escaping his mouth.

Smiling, Liam shuffled off the mattress and made his way over to Zayn, kneeling in front of him. He took a moment to study the fan of his eyelashes over his cheeks and the easy way that he breathed, the relaxation he’d never seen before on his face, before reaching out and stroking the backs of his knuckles gently over his cheek. When there was no response, Liam whispered, “Zayn. C’mon, Zee. The mattress will be more comfortable.”

Zayn whimpered in his sleep and turned his head away. Liam barked out a laugh and then bit his lip, but Zayn snoozed on. Manoeuvring carefully, he put one arm under Zayn’s shoulders and the other under his legs before pushing to his feet and moving him in a bridal carry to the mattress and laying him down, cursing when the sketchpad fell from Zayn’s lap, hitting the ground with a thwap. Ignoring it for the moment, he knelt down and untied Zayn’s boots, pulling them off his feet before covering him with the blanket.

Looking around for something to write on, his eyes fell on the sketchpad and he picked it up before looking around for a pencil. He spotted one on the floor by where he’d picked up Zayn. Moving over he grabbed it and flipped open the sketchpad, planning to find a blank page to write a quick note and his phone number.

He froze as his eyes fell on the first page, a sketch of himself at the diner leaning on the counter by the cash register, pen in hand. Knowing himself the way he did, he was probably attempting to write lyrics, something he did to help pass the time; he used to try and study but the constant interruptions made it difficult to focus. Flipping the page, he found another sketch of the diner, this time he was leaning an elbow on the ledge of the window into the kitchen. His head was thrown back and he was laughing at something Harry, whose face could be seen in the shadow of the opening, had said.

Each page showed another sketch from the diner, another image of Liam. The sketchbook was nearly full, but Liam never remembered seeing Zayn working in this one so they must have been done from memory. He was amazed at the detail, one page was just Liam from the shoulders up and the shape of the birthmark on his neck was nearly perfect. He was so busy flipping pages and staring, he almost missed Zayn calling his name.

“Leeyum, what time is it?” he asked when he finally got Liam’s attention.

Liam glanced down at his watch. “Almost nine-thirty,” he answered around a yawn.

“No game today,” Zayn offered, stretching and looking down at his boots next to the mattress in surprise. “Did you take my boots off?”

“Yeah...how’d you know I didn’t have a game?” Liam asked walking over to settle cross-legged on the floor next to the mattress, settling the sketchpad on his lap, arms resting lightly atop it’s closed cover.

Zayn gestured towards the wall above the head of the mattress where one of the plastic coated season schedules the school distributed to students was hung, a mark of paint next to each of the home games. “Really?” he asked and Zayn shrugged before his eyes fell on the sketchpad.

“Uh...did you, like, look inside?” he asked, reaching over and tugging on the pad. Liam thought about hanging onto it, but he didn't want to upset Zayn anymore than the fact he had it at all already was.

“I was going to leave you my phone number. I’m sorry,” Liam said, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck. “I’ll just go.” He started to stand, but Zayn stopped him with a swat of the pad against his arm.

“Do you need to leave?” he asked, his voice small, a smile growing when Liam shook his head. “Stay, please?” Instead of answering, he settled down again and reached a hand toward Zayn, palm up, grinning when Zayn laid one of his own overtop.

“I’m not psycho or obsessed or anything like that,” Zayn whispered, opening the pad.

“You’ve got a great memory,” Liam said, smiling and using his free hand to lift Zayn’s chin to look into his eyes. “And a lot of talent. I’m flattered. Don’t think I look that good.”

“No,” Zayn said, hurrying to continue talking when Liam’s smile faded. “You look so much better. And my memory isn’t that great; my stealth photography skills are.” He arched his back to reach into his pocket and pulled out his phone, fiddling with it before turning the cracked screen toward Liam and showing a photo album full of pictures that matched those in the sketchbook.

“Not really helping convince me you’re not psycho or obsessed,” Liam teased, thankful when Zayn laughed.

“Yeah, I know.”

They sat smiling at each other for a minute before Liam yawned again. “Coffee,” he muttered.

“Definitely,” Zayn agreed and rose to his feet. “Did you want to change? You can borrow something of mine? Or we can go round yours?”

Liam pointed at his bag. “I’ve got a clean shirt in there.” Standing, he walked over to it and bent to open it, stopping when his eyes landed on the painting Zayn had been working on the night before. The entire canvas was covered in paint now, the night sky filled with silver streaks that glimmered in and around the letters. Although he knew it was supposed to say, ‘mind of mine,’ he was having a hard time finding the letters.

“Is it dry?” Liam asked, moving closer, his hand already reaching out.

Zayn shrugged. “Should be.”

Slowly, he realized the pattern and held a finger over the first ‘m’ and moving his way clockwise around the head and shoulders of the tiger over the rest of ‘mind.’ He saw an ‘f,’ but it took him a second to find the ‘o’ which was painted to look a bit like a planet and on the other side of the tiger. Finally, he found most of the letters in ‘mine,’ struggling to find the ‘e.’ “Hey, Zayn?” Zayn came to stand behind him, Liam could feel his warmth against his back. “It’s ‘Mind of Mine,’ right? With an ‘e’ in ‘mine’?”

Zayn reached around Liam and held a finger above what Liam had thought was a random letter, an upside-down ‘a’ that had no place in the painting. Studying it, he finally realized it was actually supposed to be an ‘e,’ but it didn’t sit right with him. He wanted to speak up but was afraid Zayn would take it as an insult to his art which it wasn’t. “I’m feeling stupid,” he finally started with, “but that looks like an ‘a’.” He glanced over his shoulder to see Zayn’s reaction, surprised to see his teeth digging so hard into his lower lip that it was turning white. “What?”

“I promise I’m not obsessed, remember?” Zayn said. Liam narrowed his eyes, but nodded, a fond chuckle slipping past his lips. Using one hand, Zayn turned his attention back to the painting before reaching his hand out and tapping the tiger’s tail.

“The tail,” Liam said when Zayn didn’t do anything further.

“That looks like…”

“A capital L,” Liam said, nodding as he remembered. Zayn moved his finger to tap the ‘i,’ waiting until Liam acknowledged it before moving to tap the oddly shaped letter. “E.”

“That looks like?” Zayn asked his voice low, breath blowing past Liam’s ear and making him shiver.

“An ‘a,’” Liam responded, his voice choking off as Zayn finally tapped the ‘m’. “Liam. You have my name hidden in your painting.”

“Not so hidden,” Zayn muttered, the warmth behind Liam disappearing as he leaned closer to the painting, noticing the thin white outlines around each of the things making up his name, barely noticeable but they made them stand out a bit from the rest of the painting. “I said it was a look inside my mind,” he said as if that explained everything.

Liam heard the creak of stairs and saw Zayn disappearing up them. Sighing, he grabbed his bag from where he’d dropped it the night before changing into a Batman shirt before heading up the stairs and following Zayn’s voice into the kitchen. He was standing with his back to Liam, talking to Jesy as she stood at the stove, a pan in front of her and a delicious aroma filling the room.

“Perrie mentioned we might have a guest. Good morning, Liam,” she said, a leer in her voice and a flirty wink over her shoulder.

“Behave,” Zayn said, reaching over her shoulder to open a cupboard and pull out two coffee cups while pressing a kiss to her cheek.

“Morning,” Liam said, watching Zayn, wanting to talk about the painting, but not wanting to call Zayn out in front of his housemate. Then he remembered the conversation the girls had had the day before, figuring Zayn didn’t have any secrets from them, at least when it came to his feelings about Liam. “Are you saying I’m in your mind?” he blurted out.

Zayn froze as a laugh exploded out of Jesy. “Oh boy, I think a conversation walked up and put me in the middle.” She turned off the gas and emptied some of the contents of the pan onto two plates before disappearing out of the room with the plates and two forks. “I’ll leave you to talk. Enjoy breakfast. Nice seeing you, Liam.” Then she was gone, the stairs to the upper level creaking almost as badly as the cellar ones.

Zayn busied himself with the pan and a couple of plates while Liam fidgeted behind him, waiting for an answer; the longer the silence went on, the less he expected one. He followed Zayn as he moved to a small table in a nook lined with windows looking out over the street in front of the house. Settling in a seat, he glanced out the window and spotted an elderly man on the porch down the street shaking a cane at the dying plants and burst out laughing.

“I think Mr. Herbert’s back from his cruise,” Liam said in response to the confusion spread across Zayn’s face. He pointed out the window and Zayn followed his gaze.

“Looks that way. Hope he had a good time,” Zayn said, picking up his fork and stabbing at the eggs on his plate.

Liam continued watching the man as he knocked over one of the pots with his cane and then sat down on the steps and tried grabbing for it but it was just out of his reach. Pushing back his chair, Liam excused himself and headed out of the house calling out a quick, “I’ll be right back!” to Zayn.

Liam headed out the door and to ‘Mr. Herbert’s’ house, a chuckle breaking through him as he realized he’d left his shoes at Zayn’s house. Quickly, he pulled his socks off and balled them up, shoving them in his pocket before reaching the gate. “Sir!” he called out when he arrived, raising his voice in case the elderly man was hard of hearing.

“I got a bum leg and a black thumb, I ain’t deaf, lad!” the man groused at him.

“I’m sorry,” Liam said. “Can I help you with that runaway pot?”

The man glared for a minute but then sighed and nodded. Liam approached and bent down to pick up the pot. “Do you have a broom? I can sweep up the dirt?” Liam jumped when Zayn spoke up behind him, also standing barefoot and smiling up at the man.

“It’s just inside the door.” He struggled to stand before giving up. “Go on inside.”

Zayn nodded and headed upstairs while Liam held out the pot. “Where do you want this?”

“The rubbish bin,” the man grumbled. “My daughter thought it would be a great idea for me to have flowers in my yard, but you can see how well that worked.” He gestured around. “Shame, too, they were pretty.”

“You know,” Zayn said as he reappeared with the broom. “If you wanted, we could replant them and I can come by and water them for you.” He handed a dustpan to Liam while he swept up the dirt. “I live just down the street.”

“You live with the two pretty girls,” the old man said, winking when Zayn looked up in surprise. “I spend a lot of time looking out my window.” He turned his attention to Liam who was pulling the dead plants out of the pots. “I don’t think I’ve seen you on the street before though.”

Standing, Liam dusted his hands off on his jeans and held one out. “I’m Liam Payne, sir.”

“Stop with that ‘sir’ rubbish. I’m Sam. Sam Grey,” the man responded, shaking Liam’s hand before turning to shake Zayn’s.

“I’m Zayn,” he responded, nudging the dustpan Liam had set down with the broom. Taking the hint, Liam squatted down and held the pan in place while Zayn swept the dirt into it. “Liam is a friend of mine. He works at Paddy’s Diner.”

“I go there for breakfast a few times a week,” the man said suspiciously.

“I normally work evenings,” Liam explained. “Have to keep my days open for school, practice and games.”

“Games?” The man snapped his fingers. “You play for the university team, don’t you?” He nodded to himself. “I knew I’d heard of you. An old mate of mine’s grandson plays with you. Tomlinson is his name.”

“Louis? He’s probably my best mate on the team,” Liam said, surprise on his face; he glanced over when Zayn chuckled. “Do you come to games?”

The man shrugged. “I used to, but after my fall, it’s harder for me to get around.” He pouted for a minute before shrugging again. “I listen on the radio. It’s one of the perks of still living close enough to campus, their station comes in clear. You’re quite good, son. Next season I expect you’ll be starting.”

“Thank you, sir,” Liam said, jumping out of the way when Sam swung his cane at him. “Sam! I mean, thank you, Sam!”

Zayn barked out a laugh as he finished sweeping up. “Well, we can head out to pick up flowers for you now, if you like. Are there any, in particular, you’d like?”

Sam looked thoughtful, both hands resting on the crook of his cane and bumping his thumbs gently against his chin. “My wife loved the colour pink. Do you think you could get me some pink flowers?”

“We can definitely do that,” Liam said, reaching out to take the hand Zayn offered him. “We’ll be back in a couple of hours. Do you need anything else while we’re out and about?”

“I’m fine. Take your time.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet, opening it and sighing. “I’ll have to pay you back.”

“No worries,” Zayn said. “We’ve got this.” He gave Liam a look that he could read easily. “Consider it a gift celebrating a new friendship,” he added when Sam opened his mouth to argue. He squeezed Liam’s hand as Sam smiled widely and waved a hand at them before pushing himself carefully to his feet and heading back inside the house.

They waited until he’d closed the door behind him before they started walking. “Last night’s tips?” Liam asked.

“Last night’s tips,” Zayn agreed.

They walked a bit further, headed toward the diner to pick up the box with Zayn’s share of the tips when Zayn finally broke the comfortable silence between them. “Liam, we need to go back.”

Liam glanced at him, confused until Zayn pressed his foot gently atop his, reminding him that they’d both left their shoes back at Zayn’s house. Laughing, they hurried back to the house, waving at Sam who was sitting by his front window, shaking his head, a fond smile on his face.

Once they’d gotten their shoes, they hurried to the diner and grabbed the money and made their way to the bus stop, talking quietly about what they would be able to buy with the money they had using the website for the nursery that Liam pulled up on his phone. They settled onto the bench at the bus stop to wait, falling into a comfortable silence once they’d had a tentative list created.

“Yes, you’re in my mind, Liam. I didn’t think after you saw the secret sketchbook and secret photo album on my phone that I would even have to tell you that,” Zayn whispered, breaking the silence and startling Liam a bit.

Liam glanced at him out of the corner of his eye, unsurprised to see him chewing on his lower lip and staring straight ahead. “I can be a bit thick sometimes,” he explained. “I try not to get my hopes up because I tend to build things up inside my head into an ideal picture and then it crumbles around me when I try to grasp it in my hands.”

“Tell me about the picture of us you have in your head,” Zayn responded, hand tightening on Liam’s when he tried tugging it away in embarrassment. “C’mon. I won’t laugh. I promise.”

“I don’t know,” Liam answered, rubbing at his eyes as they arrived at the bus stop and settled on the bench to wait. “I just know that every time you smiled at me, it made me want to smile in return. Your laugh became my favourite sound and, I guess, I hoped that something about me was the same for you.”

“You’ve seen my art, right?” Zayn asked.

“Yeah. You had the painting of the diner and I was in it…”

“And ‘Mind of Mine,’” Zayn reminded. “Plus ‘Pining’ and just about every painting was inspired in part by you. My muse was practically dead until I saw you.” Liam laughed. “Hey, now, no laughing!”

“You promised, not me,” Liam told him, his laugh growing louder as Zayn joined in, throwing his head back as his eyes squinted shut and he pressed his tongue against his teeth. Liam got a little lost studying his face, his laughter fading into a soft smile. “You’re really gorgeous.”

Zayn stopped laughing and stared at Liam, face growing slack. “Um…”

“Shit,” Liam muttered, his mind racing to find a way to take the words back. “I mean-”

Zayn laid a hand over Liam’s mouth, his eyes smiling. “That’s the most forward thing you’ve said to me, Leeyum. Give me a second to catch up.” Liam nodded and Zayn dropped his hand. “I’ve spent hours drawing you and entire nights sitting up in a diner just to spend time with you, so there is something about you that appeals to me.”

Liam bit his lip and looked up at Zayn through his lashes, feeling heat spread across his face. “So, you’re great at art, are studying to become a doctor and great with words. Is there anything you can’t do?”

“I’m pretty shit at footie,” Zayn told him. “Unlike you. I can’t believe you aren’t a starter! That last game you were amazing. You even outplayed Tomlinson!”

Liam snorted. “If you ever meet him, don’t tell him that; his ego won’t be able to take it.”

Zayn tilted his head, eyes narrowed. “Louis’ my best mate,” he said, voice lilted in confusion.

“What?” Liam asked.

“Yeah. The Louis I’m always talking about? I thought you knew!” Zayn shook his head and dug into his pocket to pull out his phone and unlocked it, turning it to show Liam the home screen and through the spiderweb of cracks that mirrored Liam’s he saw a picture of Louis and Zayn dressed as Samurais. “Halloween party last year.”

“I was there!” Liam said, laughing.

“No, you weren’t!” Zayn argued, putting his phone back into his pocket.

Liam nodded. “I was! I was a Lucha Libre wrestler!”

“Wait! Payne Train!” Zayn knocked himself in the head, laughing so hard he almost fell off the bench. “How did I not know?”

“Did you even know my last name?” Liam asked. “I wore my mask the whole night because I had a massive zit on my nose.”

“I can read, you know,” Zayn teased. Liam gave him a strange look. “The back of your jersey, even from the student seats I can see it pretty clearly. I’ve come to every home game since Louis started on the team, so, technically, I started watching you as soon as you started playing.”

“Did you know who I was when you first came into the diner?” Liam asked, thinking back to that first night and Zayn's’ reaction when he saw him; despite Zayn’s explanation for dropping everything.

“Not at first. It took until I drew the first picture of you,” he explained. He reached into his pocket to pull his phone out again just as the bus they needed pulled up. They paid their fares and made their way to a couple of empty seats near the middle, Liam guiding Zayn into the window seat with a hand on his back.

Once Liam sat down, he took Zayn’s phone. It was open to a picture of a rough sketch, Liam behind the counter at the diner, eyes shut as he rested his chin on his elbows. He couldn’t remember when this moment was, he’d dozed off at the counter more times than he could count, but he noticed the most defined part of the drawing was the four chevrons tattooed into his forearm. “The tattoo?”

Zayn nodded. “I finally realized I recognized your face as well from some pics Louis had shown me, but it was the arrows. They were so bold and I kept imagining what they could possibly mean. I asked Louis if he knew and he told me, ‘Sometimes a tattoo is just a tattoo.’” Zayn’s impression of Louis was so spot on that Liam had to laugh.

Running his fingers over the chevrons, he shared a secret smile with Zayn. “It’s kind of embarrassing really.”

“I won’t laugh. I promise,” Zayn said.

Liam smiled at the now familiar phrase. He tapped each of the arrows, starting with the one closest to his wrist and moving downward with each name. “Geoff, my dad. Karen, my mum. Nic and Roo, my sisters.”

“That’s really sweet,” Zayn said, his voice sincere as he reached out and copied Liam’s taps against his skin. He touched the upper right side of his chest. “I’ve got my mum’s dad’s name, Walter, tattooed in Arabic right here.” He moved his hand to his left shoulder. “An ‘M’ for Malik, my last name, here.” Turning his head, he pointed to a tattoo behind his ear. “‘Yaser’ is my father.”

“How many tattoos do you have?” Liam asked, having admired a great many of his ink in the past, but wondered how much more was hidden beneath his shirt; maybe one day he’d see them all.

“I lost count a long time ago,” Zayn responded, laughing. “Art is such a big part of my life, having it on my skin just seems natural. I know a lot of med schools are going to frown on it, but if they don’t want me just because of my appearance, they aren’t right for me. I know I’m not for everyone, but…” He trailed off, ending the phrase with a shrug and a smirk.

“Well, I like your appearance,” Liam told him, smiling. His smile grew even bigger when Zayn leaned in and pressed a kiss to his lips.

“The feeling’s mutual,” Zayn whispered, breaking into a laugh when Liam kissed him again.

One Year Later

Liam checked his watch as he wiped down his last table, pocketing the tip before heading to his locker. “Getting ready to head out!” he shouted to Paddy.

His boss stuck his head around the corner as Liam pulled open the back door. “Have a good time! Don’t come back up the spout!” he said, his serious tone outdone by the wide smile on his face.

Liam shot him a two-finger salute over his shoulder as he pushed out the door, letting it slam shut on Paddy’s laughter. He made his way quickly past the bus stop, the cooling night air causing the two people sitting on the bench to cuddle together, possibly for warmth, but maybe something more. Liam gave them a fond smile before checking his watch again and picking up his pace until he was speed walking down Zayn’s street. He raised his hand to wave at Sam when the man shouted out a greeting from the porch swing Liam had installed a few months earlier. Scout, his service dog, let out a bark of greeting from where she was exploring the front yard and Liam paused long enough to give her a pat on the head and ask if Sam needed anything.

“Stop worrying about me or you’re gonna be late!” Sam shouted, shaking his cane at him and urging him on his way.

Liam shook his head, laughing as he hurried the last few houses and up the steps to Zayn’s front door. He raised his hand to knock, but Perrie yanked open the door while Jesy grabbed his wrist and pulled him through the door. “C’mon! The showing starts in two hours and the bus leaves in twenty minutes!” Perrie said, grabbing the garment bag off the back of the door and shoving it at him. “Here’s your clothes.”

Jesy took his bag and pushed him towards the stairs. Liam ran up to use Zayn’s room to change. Unzipping the bag, he pulled out a black wool peacoat, black jeans, and a black turtleneck. He’d been so busy with footie, work and classes, he’d told the girls he’d just wear something he already had, but they wouldn’t hear of it and had told him the day before they’d picked out his outfit and he would have to stop at theirs to change before heading to the bus. This was the first time he’d seen what they’d chosen and felt like he was playing dress up but hoped that the trust he’d laid in Perrie and Jesy wouldn’t be unfounded.  

Changing out of his uniform quickly and pulling on the clothes, he looked at himself in the mirror. He’d been nervous about the girls getting the right sizes, but the soft fabrics fit as if they had been made for him. Turning his attention to his hair, he groaned loudly. It was tousled from running his fingers through it while at work. He grabbed Zayn’s hair wax and rubbed some between his palms, running his hands through the strands, separating them so the tousling looked more deliberate and not just messy. His beard was a bit on the heavy side and as he debated shaving, Jesy and Perrie shouted in unison for him to hurry or he’d miss the bus.

Taking an extra minute to wash the sticky residue off his hands, he jumped when one of the girls let out a loud whistle. Running down the stairs, he laughed at each of the girls holding one of his black boots, laces loose and ready to put them on his feet. “I can tie my own shoes!”

“Sit, dammit,” Jesy said, pushing him so he landed on the stairs with an oof, his feet kicking out so they could each grab one and wrestle boots on, tying them up and yanking him to his feet. “Now, you have everything? Wallet? Phone? Keys?”

“Lube? Condoms?” Perrie asked, laughing when Jesy shoved her.

Liam shook his head. “Yes. Yes. Yes,” he said, pulling his wallet, phone and keys out as proof. “And none of your business on the last two.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Jesy told him. “We snuck some in for you.”

Before he could say anything, they shoved both his and Zayn’s duffles at him and pushed him out the door. “Two minutes until the bus!”

“Wrap it before you tap it!” Sam shouted down the street as Liam made it to the bus stop, face burning red, just as the bus opened its doors. As he stepped up into the bus, he wondered when everyone had become so interested in his sex life.

After settling into a window seat, he settled the duffles on the floor between his feet, leaving the seat next to him open. He rubbed his hands over his cheeks, hoping to dispel some of the heat, stopping when his phone buzzed in his pocket. Arching his back, he pulled it out and smiled down at Zayn’s face filling the screen. “Hey babe,” he answered, keeping his voice low so as not to disturb the exhausted looking woman in scrubs who had dropped down next to him, head fallen back against the seat and eyes closed.

“I’m coming home. I can’t do this.” Zayn’s voice was high pitched and fast, the panic palpable even over the distance. Liam hated him sounding this way and opened his mouth to say something, anything, to soothe his boyfriend, but Zayn kept going. “There are no other artists to take the attention off of me; I can’t do this alone. Why can’t you be here? Why did I tell you not to come?”

Liam didn’t have an answer for that, remembering how excited he’d been when Zayn had first mentioned the show in Cambridge, an honour that the gallery had even extended the invitation to him for a solo show. When he’d started making plans to go with Zayn, he’d been blindsided by him telling Liam that he didn’t want him to go, that he didn’t want anyone to be there for the opening in case it didn’t go well. When Liam had pouted, Zayn had promised to take him at a later time if the opening went well. Liam had agreed to avoid an argument but carried the hurt deep inside to protect Zayn’s feelings.

As time passed and Zayn became completely involved with new works for the show, Liam’s insecurities grew until one night, when Liam had stopped by to surprise him only to be locked out of Zayn’s studio, everything had come to a head. They’d argued for hours and he was sure it was the end of everything, but Zayn had shown up at the diner the next night looking contrite and holding out a sketch of himself holding a sign saying, “I’m an asshole.”

They’d talked while Liam worked and Zayn had confessed how stressed he was over the showing and apologised for taking it out on Liam. They’d worked things out between them and made sure to spend time together at least one night a week, but Liam decided that night there was no way he was going to miss the opening. As he’d started planning with Jesy, Perrie, Paddy and Sam, he’d worried Zayn would hate him for going against his wishes. Now, listening to Zayn’s panic, he knew he’d made the right decision.

“I’m there in spirit, babe,” Liam told him, hating that the words were a lie, but hoping Zayn would forgive him when he saw Liam. “I love you and I know everyone who sees your work is going to love you, too.”

“You can’t know that,” Zayn argued, but his voice already sounded a bit more relaxed. The bus driver shouted out the exit for the train station and Liam pushed to his feet, apologizing to the woman who had startled when the bus stopped. “Where are you?”

“Bus,” Liam said as he held the phone against one shoulder and managed to throw the strap of his duffle over one shoulder while grabbing Zayn’s in his hand. He made his way off the bus and toward the train station stopping near the door and hearing the tinny overhead announcements coming from inside. “I need to get going, but I promise to call you after practice.”

Zayn let out a wet sigh. “I won’t be able to answer until late because of the show, but I’ll call you when I’m done. I just really wish you were here.”

They said their goodbyes and Liam slid his phone into his pocket as he stepped into the station, digging out his ticket with his other hand. He checked the terminal and made his way there just as they gave the five-minute warning. Picking up his pace, he scooted between people, shouting out apologies as he went until he was jumping onto the first step and showing his ticket. He didn’t relax until he was seated next to a window and the train began moving. He was relieved the car was empty so he could get caught up on some reading for Clinical Kinesiology; he had an exam the day after he was due back.

Soon, the rocking of the train combined with the hours of missed sleep due to extra hours at work to save up money to surprise Zayn for the weekend caught up with him. His eyes started to droop as he thought about the doubled up footie practices he’d been struggling with in an effort to improve his skills as he fought to stay first string and impress the professional scouts that had been attending games. He jumped when the train jerked to a stop, the disembodied voice announcing the Cambridge stop.

Grabbing the bags, he climbed off and smiled as he was greeted by a young woman with brown hair and light brown eyes holding a sign that read his name. “Jade?” he asked as he approached her.

“Liam!” She looked him up and down. “Perrie said you were attractive, but she didn't say you were fit as fuck,” she teased as she reached for one of the bags. “So, here is a key to the hotel. I already grabbed Zayn’s bag from our flat and it’s in the car. After we drop you at the gallery, I’ll take that and these to the hotel, leaving the extra key at the front desk. Everything should be set up just as you planned and I stopped at the pharmacy and picked-”

Liam placed a hand over her mouth. “If you mention anything to do with sex, I might scream.” Her eyes twinkled at him, but she just nodded and when Liam dropped his hand she giggled. “We just don’t know each other like that.”

“Gotcha!” she said, leading him to a car idling near the curb. “That’s my flatmate Leigh-Anne behind the wheel.”

“Hi, Leigh-Anne,” Liam greeted as he climbed into the back seat of the car.

“Damn, you’re fit,” she said in greeting. “Zayn’s gonna be thrilled to see you.”

“I really hope so,” he responded, playing with the buttons on his coat. “He sounded like he wanted me there when he called an hour ago, but what if it was just his nerves talking. What if showing up when he told me, originally, he didn’t want me there upsets him and he never speaks to me again?” He knew he was rambling to near-strangers, the girls being friends of Perrie and Jesy’s that he’d never met before that day, but he couldn’t seem to stop the word vomit.

“We don’t really know Zayn, but I know if you were my boyfriend and it was opening night for one of my shows, I’d want you there no matter what I said,” Leigh-Anne said, smiling into the rearview mirror when Liam looked up, eyes narrowed in confusion. “I’m a dancer. I’m always a bundle of nerves opening night and I tell everyone not to come, but they always do and I’m always happy to see them.”

Liam nodded, swallowing hard when Leigh-Anne pulled off the road and turned around in the seat to face him, Jade mirroring her actions in the passenger seat. “Everything is going to be fine, but if it isn’t, you have our numbers and we’ll come and get you.”

He nodded again, giving the two girls a smile before he pushed open the door to the car. Stepping out onto the crowded street, he spotted the doorway of the gallery. Turning and closing the door, he waved as the girls drove away, Jade leaning out the window and waving as she shouted, “Good luck, Liam!”

He kept waving until the car turned a corner and then he took a deep breath and moved towards the entrance. He smiled at the woman taking tickets and gave his name, checking the box on the table next to her, she found his. Smiling, she gave him a program for the showing. “Have a good time. Refreshments are being served in the reception area set up in Gallery C while the majority of Mr. Malik’s work is displayed in Gallery D, the remainder in Gallery F.”

Liam nodded and walked through the doors, looking at the signs and the people milling around. He heard a few people leaving Gallery D talking positively about the works inside and he felt a burst of pride. He entered and saw paintings displayed throughout, a few he recognized from Zayn’s showing the previous year, but there were a couple that were newer. Moving among them, he saw Pining and smiled at the memory of Zayn explaining creating that particular piece one night after a friend of Liam’s had come into the diner and Zayn had thought it was Liam’s boyfriend.

The next painting Liam didn’t recognize, but the greens and golds mixed with black and white geometrics made him feel like he was watching a footie game from the field, the players flashing by as he tried to focus on the ball. He remembered describing it to Zayn one night after a game where Liam had scored three goals and was pissed on too much celebratory alcohol. He couldn’t believe how accurately Zayn had recreated his ramblings. The title on the placard, Player , brought a smile to his face as he moved away, finding an archway that led into Gallery F.

He heard a laugh, Zayn’s laugh, and he looked up to find his boyfriend standing next to a painting that took up a large portion of one wall, the biggest work of Zayn’s that Liam had ever seen. He wanted to keep studying the painting, but his eyes were drawn to Zayn as he let out another laugh. Liam took in Zayn’s ensemble, a black turtleneck under a black suit coat cut similarly to his own peacoat; clearly Perrie and Jesy had helped Zayn choose his outfit as well as Liam’s.

His eyes traced up his chest to Zayn’s face as he smiled at the elderly woman talking to him, a hand on his arm. If you didn’t know Zayn, the smile would seem genuine and relaxed, but Liam could see the tension around his eyes and the slight grit to his teeth as he conversed with the woman. All Liam wanted was for Zayn to relax and be himself, but he wasn’t sure how to go about making that happen. As he made his way through the room, he wracked his brain for how to handle the situation; should he just walk up and say hello or keep following him until Zayn noticed his presence.

The decision was taken from him when he stumbled over a flipped edge of carpeting and landed sprawled at Zayn’s feet. “Liam?” Zayn asked as Liam buried his face in his hands, wanting to cry but bursting into laughter instead.

“I really need to stop coming to your shows,” he said, pushing himself up to his knees before scrambling to his feet and brushing himself off.

Zayn grabbed him by the lapels of his coat and shook him gently until Liam looked him in the eye. “No. Don’t ever stop coming to them,” Zayn said, his voice fierce as he wrapped him in a tight hug.

“But I destroy them,” Liam whispered, feeling the eyes of everyone in the room on his back.

“Definitely not,” Zayn told him, sliding a hand down to tangle their fingers together. “Now, come look at the paintings you haven’t seen yet.”

Zayn led him away from the large painting, showing him some smaller works that reminded him of the ones he’d done of the diner. They paused in front of a canvas edged in a swirling night sky, the centre filled with flowers from Mrs. Shea’s garden. Liam grinned at the memory as he pointed to each of the blooms rattling off the names that Zayn had told him. When they got to Player, Liam shared his impressions of it and Zayn admitted to having come up with the idea while watching Liam play, specifically watching him play the game where he’d scored the three goals. He’d started the sketch at the game but it hadn’t come together until Liam’s rambling. Zayn pointed to one patch of green and Liam squinted, gasping as he saw his name in the twisted strokes.

“I don’t know why you’re so surprised; I’ve told you most of my art has been inspired by you,” Zayn told him. “Now, tell me what you’re doing here?” Liam bit into his lip, wincing when he tasted copper. Zayn reached up to pull his lip free and then wiping away the spot of blood with his thumb. “I’m not complaining. I am so glad you didn’t listen to me and showed up.”

Liam’s cheeks burned with the strength of his smile as he started telling Zayn about all the planning that had gone into this surprise. Zayn’s smile turned wicked when he mentioned the hotel he’d gotten them for the next two nights, as well as the concert tickets for the following night. Liam found himself telling him about everyone’s sudden interest in their sex life as they came to stand in front of the large painting where’d he’d first found Zayn.

Zayn stood behind Liam, turning him to take in the painting as he leaned in, whispering in his ear, “We should probably not let all those things go to waste and disappoint our friends.” Laughing when a shiver ran through Liam, he squeezed his biceps and rested his chin on Liam’s shoulder. “This is my favourite.”

Liam looked at the canvas, overwhelmed by everything there was to see. Colours ran up and down both sides, the same colours but in different patterns. There were mostly reds and yellows that travelled towards the middle of the painting and met in a swirl. Liam tilted his head as he ran his eyes over the patterns again, realizing as he traced that they were lines, not straight, but connected as they went from one edge to the other. “The same, but different,” Liam said as he took another step closer, Zayn’s hands dropping from his arms.

He looked back at Zayn who was rubbing his thumb over his lips and watching, eyes hooded but sparkling. Liam smiled before turning back to study the painting some more as he saw even more patterns twisted into the colours. One edge had silver chevrons and when he traced those across, he found a golden tiger, the images faint and probably missed by a casual glance, but clear as day to Liam. “It’s us,” he breathed out. “This is us.”

Zayn smiled as Liam turned and threw his arms around Zayn’s neck. “You love me,” he said, laughing and crying. It wasn’t that Liam didn’t know, that Zayn hadn’t told him and shown him in a million different ways over the previous year, but this was different. It felt larger, yet intensely personal and he couldn’t imagine this painting hanging in anyone else’s space. “I want to buy this, but I’m sure I can't afford it.”

Zayn turned Liam around again, keeping an arm wrapped around his waist while reaching out with his other hand and tapping a tag next to the placard. ‘Not for sale.’ “It’s yours, Leeyum,” Zayn explained.

Liam kept staring between the placard and the painting. “You really love me,” he said, disbelieving.

“Well, yeah…” Zayn trailed off. “You love me, too.”

Tapping the name of the painting, ‘Mutual,’ Liam nodded. “The feeling's definitely mutual,” he said before kissing Zayn, ignoring the sound of polite applause that filled the gallery around them.