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It was nearing midnight, and the party was in full swing. Zayn had been roaming around for the past couple of hours, forcing fake smiles and polite conversation, all while wishing desperately that he was anywhere but here.
The friends he came with had disappeared a while ago—he’d barely been here fifteen minutes before they all scattered, leaving Zayn to mingle with people he barely knew. He had seen a few familiar faces, but he had yet to see the one face he wanted to see.
Liam had said he was coming, yet Zayn hadn’t caught so much as a glimpse of him. It was a little irritating, if he was being honest.
Zayn did another quick sweep of the room, hoping desperately to catch a glimpse of those short, messy curls. He came up empty handed again and was just about to give up and head outside for a smoke break when he caught site of Louis chatting someone up across the room. Zayn hurried over, pushing his way through the throng of people and not caring if he was being a little rude—he definitely was, there was no polite way to shove someone out of the way.
If anyone knew where Liam was—if he was even at this stupid fucking party—it would be Louis.
“Louis,” Zayn panted, interrupting whatever flirting was happening. Louis turned an annoyed expression Zayn’s way, obviously more than a little peeved at being interrupted. Zayn was past caring.
“What?” Louis spat out. “’m a little busy here, mate.”
Zayn rolled his eyes—he was well aware, thanks.
“Have you seen Liam?”
Louis’ eyebrows shot up his forehead, his face morphing into utter disbelief. “You interrupted me…to ask about Liam’s current location?” Louis’ voice rose towards the end, high enough that he practically squeaked out the last couple words.
Zayn heaved a sigh, running a hand through his hair. He really didn’t have time for Louis’ dramatics. He was just flirting, for Christ sakes. He could do that after he answered Zayn’s question.
“Yeah, yeah,” Zayn said, huffing out an impatient breath. “Y’know, the quicker you answer my question, the quicker you can get back to flirting or whatever—”
Louis let out a squawk, but Zayn continued nonplussed.
“Louis, seriously. Have you seen Liam?”
Louis rolled his eyes before crossing his arms. “No,” he replied. “I haven’t seen lover boy since the start of the party.”
Zayn shot Louis a dirty look at the nickname, but Louis continued before Zayn could comment.
“If I had to guess, though, I’d say he’s up pouting on the roof.”
Zayn’s glare dropped off his face, a look of confusion slowly slipping over it.
“Why’s he pouting?”
Again, Louis raised his eyebrows in Zayn’s direction. “You’re kidding, right? You’re not seriously asking me that question?”
It was Zayn’s turn to roll his eyes, so he did before huffing out a short whatever and turning around, heading towards the stairs. Liam had always had a habit of disappearing at parties, but normally he took Zayn with him. This time he disappeared before Zayn had even gotten a chance to see him. He was decidedly not thinking about why that made something unfamiliar and bitter rise in his throat.
Zayn jogged up the steps, pushing through the door to the flat roof of the building. Liam had always had a habit of sneaking up onto any rooftop he could, sitting and sketching the city in front of him. Part of Zayn understood it—the city was something breathtaking at night, and even Zayn’s own hands twitched with the desire to put the sprawling lights to paper—but another, bigger part of Zayn was terrified at Liam’s habit. It was always so fucking high in the air. It made Zayn more than a little jumpy, made his pulse more than double.
Still, he always found himself on these Godforsaken things with Liam. The things he did for his best friend.
Zayn found him sitting cross legged a couple feet from the edge, his sketchbook open in his lap and his hand idly tracing over something on the page with a soft smile curled on his lips. Zayn was pretty sure Liam hadn’t heard him come up, too lost in his own thoughts to be too aware of his surroundings.
Zayn would probably yell at him for that later—it was dangerous enough up here, so high above the city—but for the moment he used that to his advantage, sneaking up on Liam.
He got right behind him, about to put a hand on his shoulder, when the open page in Liam’s lap caught his eye. The outline was achingly familiar, and Zayn felt his breath catch in his throat.
Liam wasn’t sketching the city, he was sketching Zayn. His pencil formed around Zayn’s jawline, darkening it so carefully, and Zayn felt an involuntary noise escape his throat.
Liam jerked around at the noise, slamming his sketch book shut before Zayn could fully take in all the details Liam had included. He turned his startled gaze to Zayn’s face, his shoulders forming a tense line as he realized who it was standing behind him.
“Zayn,” Liam said, his tone impossibly tight. Zayn hated that tone a lot.
“Um, hi, Li,” Zayn murmured, still practically frozen to the spot. His brain was still trying to process the fact that Liam had been sketching him, unprompted and so focused—that soft smile curved over his lips as he concentrated on the page, like thinking about Zayn, sketching him, made Liam happy somehow. It was mind blowing, is what it was.
“What are you doing up here?” Liam’s voice was still strained, his shoulders not having relaxed the slightest bit since Zayn’s sudden appearance. That, more than anything, kicked Zayn into action, propelling him forward to sit next to Liam, close enough that he could feel the warm press of Liam’s thigh against his own. Liam relaxed slightly when Zayn nudged his shoulder with his own.
“Was lookin’ for you,” Zayn began. “You disappeared. Couldn’t find you.”
Liam let out a long breath, finally tearing his gaze away from Zayn’s to stare at the skyline in front of them.
“Yeah,” Liam muttered. “Sorry, I just. I needed to escape for a bit, clear my head.” Zayn nodded as Liam spoke, turning his own eyes to the sight in front of them. It really was something.
“I get it, Li,” Zayn said. “It’s always ridiculously peaceful up here, even if it is ridiculously dangerous.” Zayn couldn’t stop the grimace that filtered across his face as he thought about how high they were right now, no walls to prevent them from hurtling off the edge. Never mind the fact that they weren’t even by the edge of the building.
Zayn kept his head turned forward as Liam’s eye fell on him again, but he didn’t miss the way Liam was looking at him. He could still see the soft expression, the way his eyes crinkled up—not from the size of his smile, but from how much fucking affectionwas in it—the slow, upward slope of his mouth as he smiled at Zayn. Those looks were intoxicating, Zayn knew, but there was one problem with them: Zayn had never seen them directly. They were always fleeting—given out in moments where Zayn isn’t looking at him, but every time he turns to study that expression up close, Liam either turns away or masks it in the blink of an eye.
It’s frustrating because Zayn has a feeling he knows what those looks mean, but he can’t ever catch Liam looking at him long enough to fully process them. And maybe at first they had terrified Zayn—the thought of his very best friend having feelings for him? There was more than a little potential for disaster there, especially since Zayn had convinced himself he didn’t feel the same—but it didn’t take long for Zayn to realize that thought was absolutely ridiculous. He did feel the same; he’d fallen for Liam a long time ago, it just took him a while to pull his head out of his ass.
Zayn took a deep breath, finally turning to look at Liam. Just like he’d expected, Liam turned his head back to the city, his expression slackening into something less soft, less affectionate.
Zayn felt that familiar rush of frustration surge up his throat, threatening to spill out in a rough growl.
Well, maybe it was time for Zayn to take matters into his own hands.
“I’ve seen it, y’know?” Zayn murmured.
Liam tensed up beside him, his eyes darting nervously to the sketch book by his thighs, and Zayn wanted to laugh. He wasn’t talking about the sketches—though he had definitely taken notice of that, too—he was talking about those fucking looks.
“Seen what?” Liam gritted out, his jaw clenched so hard it had to be painful. Fuck, but Zayn was fucking this all up. Liam wasn’t supposed to be this tense, he wasn’t supposed to look like he was five second away from bolting for the door. Zayn wanted to take it back, to say anything besides what he was about to say. He wanted to erase that look from Liam’s face—the panicked, painful expression that had Zayn’s heart aching in his chest—and pretend like maybe he hadn’t seen the sketches, the looks. But it was too late to back down now.
“I, um,” Zayn started, trying to force his nerves down by shaking them out. He looked down at his laps, his own nerves threatening to clog up his throat. “I’ve seen the way you look at me when you think I don’t notice.”
If possible, Liam tensed up even further. Zayn was pretty sure he was going to tear something with how tight his shoulders were bunched up, how stiff he was holding himself. He looked absolutely miserable, and Zayn wanted that look to go away more than anything.
“I’m sorry,” Liam whispered, his expression still so hopelessly wretched, and—what?
Why was Liam sorry? Zayn was so hopelessly confused in that moment that all he could do was squeak out a weak—
“Sorry?”
“Yeah,” Liam croaked out as he dropped his face into his hands and his shoulders slumped. When he spoke again, his voice was slightly muffled from his hands. “I didn’t realize I was being so obvious with them.” He let out a short, humorless chuckle. “I figured they would make you uncomfortable, and, well, obviously I was right.” Liam scrubbed his face in quick, rough movements before dropping his hands back to his lap. “I’d make them go away, if I could.” His statement was followed with a self-depreciating shrug, and, well—
Liam was still refusing to look at him. And Zayn, well, Zayn was still a bit confused.
“The…looks?” Zayn asked, voice perplexed. “You’d make the looks go away?”
Liam looked up at Zayn then, his own confusion clouding over his features. “What?” Liam gave a slight shake of his head before, “No, Zayn. I-I mean, yes, the looks, but I meant my feelings. For, um,” and Liam looked away again, picking at his own fingers as he continued. “For the feelings to go away.”
“Liam,” Zayn started, “I don’t want—”
“I know,” Liam interrupted. “I know you don’t want me like that, Zayn. I do, and that’s why I’ve tried so hard to keep a lid on all this shit. I didn’t want you to find out, to make things weird between us by going and falling in fucking love with you.” Liam turned to Zayn again, his eyes wide and panicked. “I promise I’ll work on it—o-on the looks, on making sure that I’m not doing anything dumb with my face, just please don’t stop being my friend. Please, Zayn.”
Liam turned towards Zayn more fully, his legs coming mostly uncrossed and his hands reaching forward until Liam immediately drew them back, holding them to his chest like he’d been burned.
“Please, Z,” Liam croaked, his voice trembling. “I-if you need space, I get that, I really do. I’ll give it to you, just please. The last thing I want is for my stupid feelings to take away my best friend, and I know that they have to make you uncomfortable, but I promise I’ll do everything I can to make sure that they don’t show ever again and I’ll—”
“Liam,” Zayn cut in, his heart breaking as Liam kept talking. Liam cut off immediately, his mouth snapping shut and his posture slumping. Probably preparing for rejection,Zayn thought.
“There’s nothing stupid about your feelings,” Zayn continued. Zayn kind of wanted to laugh—Liam was so insistent on his feelings being stupid, so set in his belief that Zayn didn’t return them or want them, that he’d never even stopped to consider that maybe Zayn did. Even if his own revelation had been recent, it didn’t mean it was any less powerful. “Not unless that means mine are stupid, too.”
Liam’s eyes widened, his jaw slackening a little as he processed Zayn’s words.
“W-what?” He asked, and Zayn couldn’t help the small, slightly giddy chuckle that escaped him.
“Li, you’ve been giving me those looks for months, and I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I haven’t exactly been complaining about them.” Zayn shrugged, leaning forward to wrap Liam’s hands in his.
“I kind of, um, actually really like them,” he murmured, lowering his gaze to their joined hands. “I, um, I think I’d like them more if you stopped hiding them from me?”
Since Zayn wasn’t looking, it took him by surprise when Liam pressed forward, connecting their lips in a breathless kiss. Zayn felt his shoulders tense, trying to process what was happening, before he melted into the kiss, untangling their hands in order to grip Liam’s shirt and keep him closer for longer.
Maybe Liam had been in love longer, maybe Liam had been less subtle, and maybe Liam was the only one who was awful at hiding his feelings. All that just made Zayn love him a little more.