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Zayn’s fucking around on his laptop, books spread out around him so he can at least feel like he’s getting something accomplished even if the only thing he’s researched all day is the diet of a bearded dragon. He’s mostly just kidding himself at this point, though, pretending like he’s going to get a head start on a paper that’s not due for over a month. He pulls up his Skype chat with Niall that’s been open in the background since he booted the laptop up and types out a message.
Niall’s at his door a half hour later, dressed in sweats and hair mussed like he’s just woken up from a nap. He drops down onto the couch and steals Zayn’s laptop, hands it back to him with a website blocking extension that Zayn figures out how to disable within sixty seconds. Niall makes an affronted noise and snatches it back. He angles it away pointedly so Zayn can’t see the screen, and Zayn just grins and indulges him.
He seems to give up on trying to help Zayn be productive after a few minutes, puts on the playlist that he’d downloaded to Zayn’s iTunes before Zayn had even properly stocked it with his own music. Zayn grumbles but makes no attempt to actually change the song. Sometimes he’ll find himself singing the Eagles or McFly under his breath before he even realises what he’s doing.
Zayn doesn’t even realise he’s been bouncing his leg up and down until Niall reaches over with a hand on his knee to still him. It’s possible he’s starting to get a bit restless from being cooped up all day. As if Niall’s read his mind, he says, “Fancy going out tonight?”
Apparently a mate of his, Justin, is having some people over to his place tonight. Zayn’s not even a hundred percent clear on who Justin is, finds it a bit hard to keep track of all Niall’s friends when he makes new ones walking to the store for crisps, but he’s in the mood to go out tonight. He’ll drag Harry along so he doesn’t have to face the inevitable awkwardness of making small talk with people he knows only vaguely–someone he had one lecture with back in first year, people who know him only as that quiet, hot friend of Niall’s. It’s the kind of thing that Harry thrives on, which Zayn mostly isn’t bitter about anymore.
Niall sticks around to whip up some spag bol after Zayn idly mentions grabbing a double cheeseburger later. Zayn maintains that it’s not necessary for Niall to worry so much about him getting three square meals a day, but he’s not about to protest. Niall seems to garner a certain sense of satisfaction from looking out for him, and Zayn can’t pretend he doesn’t enjoy being fussed over from time to time.
He takes off after they’ve finished eating, says he has some errands to run and a flat to dust. Which would be funny if Zayn weren’t oddly envious of how straight Niall and Harry (mostly Niall) manage to keep their flat in comparison to his. It sometimes feels like he doesn’t even have the time or energy to bung some clothes into the washer.
Zayn checks the time on his phone and figures he has time for a quick nap before he has to start getting ready. Despite the “effortlessly cool” vibe he’s been told he projects, he does actually try quite hard. Like maybe if he’s stood there in a leather jacket, hair impeccably coiffed and puffing on a cigarette, nobody will notice if he stumbles over his words, or the slightly awkward way he’s leant against the wall.
As it turns out, there’s not much ‘dragging’ involved in getting Harry to the party. Mostly Zayn just has to ask him what he’s doing tonight and a few minutes later Harry’s calling him up for details. That’s the thing Zayn appreciates about Harry, that he’s always up for anything. Even if ‘anything’ constitutes staying in on a Friday night playing video games because Zayn’s too knackered for anything else but too keyed up to be alone.
After he’s done work, Harry catches the tube to Zayn’s flat, and then steals some clothes out of Zayn’s closet and monopolizes the mirror while he tries to get his hair just so.
Despite his earlier reservations about making small talk, Zayn ends up chatting with a girl from work for long enough that he loses track of Harry somewhere in the fray. He finds him again in the living room, spread out on the couch like he owns it and somehow not getting told off for taking up nearly all the room.
“Budge over,” Zayn says, pushing at his skinny legs. Harry immediately swings them into Zayn’s lap and grins like he’s daring Zayn to protest.
Zayn leaves him be and settles into the surprisingly comfortable couch, sipping idly at his beer and watching the crush of people around him, more than it would seem could even fit in the relatively small flat. He’s always found it interesting just to people watch a bit at these things, see who’s getting into a row with who, who’s obviously knocked back two or three more than they should have.
Harry has just begun chattering on when Louis Tomlinson walks into the party and immediately starts shouting at the nearest person, always needing to be the centre of attention in any room. Zayn honestly tries his hardest not to roll his eyes.
Niall met Louis at a bar near the beginning of the term and now it’s like Zayn sees him everywhere. He must make some sort of face, though, because Harry pokes at him under his ribs right where he knows Zayn is most ticklish and raises his eyebrows meaningfully. Zayn bats Harry's hand away and pretends he doesn’t know what he's on about.
“What’s with the face?” Harry asks after a few more beats of silence, twisting his expression into something ridiculous and unflattering.
“I just don’t really like him, y’know?”
“Louis?” Harry sounds incredulous, like the very idea of someone not liking Louis is preposterous. “He’s funny, he’s a lad.”
“He’s too loud and he tries way too hard.” Zayn shrugs. He doesn’t really want to make a big deal of it; he just doesn’t get what all the fuss is about the guy.
Harry just hums, not defending Louis again, but not willing to indulge Zayn by agreeing. These parties would be much more enjoyable if Harry would just get off his high horse and join Zayn in talking a bit of shit every once in a while.
Zayn scans the crowd for Niall and finds him in the kitchen laughing at something Louis's just said, and he does roll his eyes then. He glances at Harry out of the corner of his eye to make sure he didn't catch it, because he realises he's being petty–but there's just something about Louis's presence that Zayn finds so...grating.
Suddenly, Zayn is exhausted, and all he wants to do is go home, read for a bit and then pass out. Most people don't really get it, but there's only so much Zayn can take of parties or similar atmospheres before it becomes too much and he has to retreat back into himself for a bit.
"Think I'm gonna call it a night."
“Zayn,” Harry protests half-heartedly, drawing his name out. He knows that Zayn won’t be swayed once he’s already made his mind up, but he says it’s the principle of the thing. Whatever that means.
Harry sighs heavily as Zayn stands up. “Fine, but I’ll miss you.”
Zayn laughs–there’s a girl across the room that looks like she’s just been waiting for Zayn to leave so she could approach Harry. “I think you’ll do alright.”
Zayn goes off to tell Niall he’s heading out and has to somewhat awkwardly interrupt the conversation he’s having with some guy Zayn’s never met before.
Niall pulls him into a hug and Zayn holds on too tight, for too long. It’s not like they came to the party together or anything, but still. Zayn feels like he’s barely seen Niall tonight, and it’s dumb because they just hung out not five hours ago, but Zayn misses him a bit. He wants to ask Niall to leave with him, go back to his and watch a film or something. He keeps quiet, though, because he knows Niall would follow him without question, and it isn't fair for Zayn to ruin his night just because he's feeling a bit anti-social.
"See you tomorrow?" Niall asks as Zayn shrugs his jacket on.
"Yeah, mate." Zayn and Liam always end up at Harry and Niall's after a night out, watching the two of them bicker over whose Eggs Benedict are more delicious. (An argument that Zayn is happy to stay out of as long as someone is piling some greasy food onto his plate.)
Zayn just stands there for a moment feeling a bit out of sorts, like there's something else he's meant to do or say.
Niall's completely turned from his previous conversation, attention focused solely on Zayn now. "You alright?"
"Yeah, just–tired. Probably shouldn't have had that glass of wine with dinner."
Niall laughs. "Right, know how you get after a sip or two."
Out of principle, Zayn wants to protest, but it's not too far off the mark, really. He doesn't really mind a bit of teasing when it comes from Niall, anyway.
Zayn’s up early the next morning–by his standards, anyway–but he knows Liam will already be at Niall and Harry’s, probably banging on about the calorie content of their mayonnaise or something.
Zayn fumbles for a cigarette as he walks, already has it lit when he remembers the way Niall’s nose always scrunches up when he hugs Zayn after he’s smoked, just an involuntary little twitch that Zayn’s probably not supposed to notice. He lets the fag fall from between his fingers, grinds it out with the heel of his boot. It can wait until later.
Zayn knocks when he gets to the door, because it’s the courteous thing to do, but someone just yells that it’s open as per. Harry and Niall can never be arsed to lock it, lest they actually have to get up when someone comes round.
There’s some half arsed joke about hosting duties on the tip of his tongue that’s forgotten about when he rounds the corner to find Louis, of all people, stood in the kitchen, chatting and laughing with the boys like they’ve all been friends for ages. Niall’s got an arm slung around his shoulder, but he breaks away to pull Zayn into a hug.
“It’s like you missed me or something.” Zayn says, laughing, unable to hide the pleased note to it. He ruffles Niall’s already messy hair, and Niall just ducks into the contact.
“Nah, mate, not me.” says Niall, not even able to keep a straight face as he says it, laughing through the last words. He gives Zayn one last squeeze before he pulls away.
Harry and Liam appear to be in the midst of a very heated debate about whether or not Jersey Shore was scripted, too engrossed to pay Zayn’s arrival any mind. Louis, however, is watching the exchange between Zayn and Niall, eyes sharp and expression unreadable. He nods when Zayn catches him looking, the kind of ‘hey, bro’ nod reserved for someone you’ve met only in passing. Zayn just returns the nod–there’s not really any proper way for him to ask what Louis’s doing here without sounding like a complete prick. It’s not like–he’s just curious, really. Niall’s got more friends than probably even he can count, but he’s always kept a tight knit inner circle. Zayn’s just not sure when he missed Louis becoming a part of that.
Niall shushes him and ushers him into a seat when Zayn asks if he can help with breakfast. A few minutes later Harry’s walking over to the table, juggling two plates and two glasses at once, but miraculously not dropping a thing.
“Think you’ve found your calling, bro. Who knew those abnormally large hands would ever come in handy.”
Harry leers, and Zayn groans as he realises what he’s just said.
“Oh, Zayn, they come in handy all the time.” He makes a wanking gesture just in case Zayn wasn’t clear on what he was getting at.
Harry sits down and starts telling Zayn about a documentary he found last night on the Discovery Channel. Zayn nods in all the right places, it actually does sound quite interesting, but his eyes keep straying towards the kitchen, distracted by the way Niall and Louis are carrying on.
Niall’s practically bent in half, clutching at Louis for support while Louis stands there grinning smugly. Zayn feels pretty confident that whatever Louis said was not that funny. Sure, Niall laughs easily and often, but this seems different.
Zayn nudges Harry and says in undertones, "Does Niall, like, fancy him or something?"
Harry pauses with his fork halfway to his mouth, frowning thoughtfully. "Hmm, I don't know. Why don't we ask him? Hey, Niall, do–"
Zayn doesn't even think about it, he just swipes his arm across the table, upending his glass of orange juice all down the front of Harry's t-shirt and effectively shutting him up. Harry shouts and jumps back in surprise, flailing about and almost falling off his chair. Niall, Liam, and Louis all turn their heads in sync to see what the commotion is about.
Zayn jerks a thumb towards Harry and laughs like he's had nothing to do with the mishap. "Can't take him anywhere."
The other three easily accept that the mess was caused by Harry's clumsiness–it's a pretty easy sell when he trips over his own big feet several times a day.
After the other boys have gone back to their conversation, Harry elbows Zayn, pulls his sticky top away from his chest.
"What'd you do that for?" he whines. He whips the top over his head and throws it carelessly behind him.
"You were gonna embarrass him."
Harry just stares at him. "He's a big boy, Zayn."
"Just because you're immune to embarrassment, doesn't mean everyone else is the same."
Harry tilts his head to the side, studying Zayn intently. “It’s so adorable when you go all protective dad mode.”
“Shut up,” Zayn says, but he's laughing. ”I'll show you dad.”
Harry cracks up at that, and does fall off his chair this time, landing in an ungraceful, half naked heap on the floor. Zayn kicks at him for good measure.
Niall catches Zayn’s eye and raises a brow, mouth twitching upwards a bit like he’s not sure if he’s in on the joke yet. Zayn rolls his eyes in a conspiratorial, ‘what are we gonna do about him’ kind of way and Niall’s smile goes full blown, pleased just to be included even though he’s missed the punchline.
Niall pushes away from the counter and announces that he's going to go watch some football highlights and Louis follows behind him. Zayn gets up too, even though he couldn't give less of a shit about football highlights, finds it hard enough to concentrate on an actual game. He walks a bit faster so he makes it to the living room before Louis and claims the spot on the couch next to Niall, relegating Louis to the armchair in the corner.
He can’t even find it within himself to care that it was probably the complete opposite of subtle. Whatever–he was here first. Well, not today, but, like, in general. Niall doesn't say anything, though, just slings an arm around Zayn's shoulder as he turns on the tv. When Niall finds the right channel, he and Louis immediately launch into a running commentary of everything that comes on screen. It's not really a conversation that Zayn has much to add to, what with his complete lack of knowledge of the game outside of FIFA.
He considers changing the channel to Big Brother or something just to be a dick, but Niall seems to be enjoying the banter, so he leaves it alone.
Somehow, Zayn ends up falling asleep on Niall even though he got a solid eight hours last night and he’s not even really hungover. When he wakes up, the flat is quiet, everyone else seeming to have taken off. He gives himself a few moments to properly wake up, stretches his neck to try and get the crick out. He blinks up at Niall, who’s absently playing with Zayn’s hair with one hand and texting with the other.
“Sorry, Ni, didn’t even think I was tired. How long was I out?”
Niall drops his phone beside him on the couch. “I don’t mind,” he says, smiling and ignoring Zayn’s question. Probably a good while then.
“No? Didn’t get too bored then?”
“No.” Niall’s cheeks are red, like when he’s been out in the sun too long, and Zayn sits up so Niall doesn’t feel so overheated. It’s not too warm in the flat, but Zayn always runs a bit hot and he’s been laying on Niall for at least an hour, probably.
“Everyone gone out?”
“Yeah,” Niall says, but he sounds distracted, like he’s answering on autopilot.
“That’s alright, better when it’s just the two of us.” he says, nudging Niall’s shoulder with his. It’s meant to be a joke, but it misses the mark a bit and falls somewhere in the middle.
There’s a beat of silence before Niall’s laughing. “Right? We’re class, don’t know why we bother keeping those other lads around.”
“Well...Harry does make a pretty mean lasagna. Hard to beat, that.”
Niall pulls back, looking genuinely offended, which is just the reaction Zayn was going for. He can’t help but laugh at the outrage on Niall’s face, like Zayn's gone and insulted his mum or something.
“Excuse me!?”
Zayn is walking home from work, trying to zip up his jacket and turn his mobile on at the same time. He nearly drops it into the gutter when it starts vibrating with incoming texts. The most recent of which is from Niall, cancelling their plans for the night.
lou’s footie team needs a sub for the game tonight. next stop , premier league ! save me a slice , or ten !
Well, they didn’t specifically have plans, but it’s well established that Tuesday nights are for getting buzzed off whatever’s left over from the weekend and not watching the X-Factor.
It’s not as if it’s set in stone that everyone has to be there every week–Zayn’s missed a few times himself, for a date or finishing an essay he’d put off until the last second. And Zayn doesn’t expect or even want Niall to skip out on something he rarely gets the chance to do, but this just feels different… Like it’s becoming a trend or something. Like Niall's found better, more interesting ways to spend his time, juvenile as that sounds.
So he’s in a bit of mood by the time Harry and Liam come round, not adding much to the conversation. He’s mostly just sipping at his beer and changing the channel every few minutes, Liam or Harry complaining each time that they were just getting into the show.
After he changes the channel from The Dark Knight, mostly just for consistency’s sake, Liam leans over and tries to wrestle the remote away from him. Zayn fights him off easily enough, and tells him to fuck off more harshly than he meant to, more harshly than the situation warrants, really.
Liam stills immediately and goes back to his side of the couch, trying to hide the wounded look on his face.
"Zayn..." Harry's giving him his disappointed, 'don't you know you should never be mean to Liam' look.
"What is with you tonight? What's your problem?" says Liam, starting off angry but losing steam halfway through, like he's afraid Zayn's going to snap at him again.
"Sorry, I'm just–shit, sorry. I should go.”
They’re both looking at him like he’s completely lost the plot. He thinks maybe he has.
“This is your flat.” Harry says slowly.
“To bed, I meant. I should go to bed.”
“We haven’t even watched Iron Man yet.” Liam says, like they both don’t already have the movie memorised.
“It’s fine, Liam, we’ll watch it another day. I can’t keep skipping lectures because I’m too hungover to get out of bed. Don’t you ever feel like we’re getting too old for this shit?”
Harry’s eying Zayn curiously and Liam is frowning like he doesn’t even want to think about growing out of having a few too many pints with his mates on a weeknight.
Zayn sighs and says, “Forget it, I'm just tired and talking shit. You guys carry on, I’ll talk to you tomorrow, yeah?"
Harry almost looks like he’s going to follow him, crawl into Zayn’s bed and cuddle him until Zayn gives in and tells him what’s bothering him, but something on his face must tell Harry that he just needs a bit of space to sort his head out.
Zayn tosses his top and jeans on the floor before falling into bed. He plays Candy Crush for a bit and scrolls through twitter without really reading anything, because despite all his talk of being tired, he can’t seem to shut his mind off long enough to fall asleep.
He can’t even blame it on being drunk when he texts Niall a bit later to say, missed u tonite... it’s like you’re never around anymore. He deletes it right after he sends it so he doesn’t have to look at it and see how whiny and melancholy he sounds. Too late he realises that it sounds like an accusation–he probably should have added a sad face on the end or something.
Now he’s agonising over every little nuance of a simple text like he’s back in year nine again. He really needs to sleep. He tosses his phone off the bed and out of reach so he’s not tempted to check for a reply.
He’ll deal with it tomorrow.
It’s not until Zayn has rolled out of bed and is brushing his teeth in a half conscious daze that he remembers to check his phone. He’s inexplicably nervous to see what Niall’s said, which is ridiculous because it’s Niall and nothing about him is the slightest bit intimidating. Still, what if Niall is annoyed with him? Danny’s never had any problems telling Zayn how infuriatingly passive aggressive he can be at times.
Deciding that he’s probably building this up in his head to be way more serious than it actually is, Zayn finally just unlocks his phone to check his texts. There’s a few from Harry and Liam asking him how he is that make him flush with shame at how he acted last night, one from his mum, and a text and snapchat from Niall.
hahahah mate what r u on about ?? just saw ya yesterday ! Did harry let you into the wine ,know how that gets u all sentimental an d shit
The snapchat is a blurry selfie of a grinning Niall, clearly taken at a bar, with the caption wish u were here !!
It's true that they did just see each other yesterday, and Zayn doesn't know if he could even put it into words if pressed. It's just a feeling of Niall slipping away, like when you can feel yourself drifting apart from someone despite best intentions, only different because Niall is still right there in so many ways. Maybe, Zayn realises with a start, maybe it's just the feeling of being replaced.
Zayn's first instinct is to internalise and like never talk about this ever, because it's depressing and also a bit embarrassing to realise that your best friend may be moving on without you. But apparently he's completely lost all impulse control, because not even fifteen minutes later he's texting Liam.
Do you think Niall's getting bored w/ me??
??????
im coming over
Liam's reply is almost instantaneous, and it makes Zayn smile but also makes his stomach flip over with nerves.When Liam arrives, Zayn brews a coffee for himself and tea for Liam, mostly just for something to do with his hands.
"So..." Liam says once it's clear that Zayn isn't going to start the conversation.
“So…” Zayn parrots. He knows he was the one that texted Liam, but that doesn’t mean he’s ready to just come right out with it, and because Liam is Liam, he lets Zayn get away with it.
“Something happened with Niall?” he prods. “Is that why you were all–” he makes some sort of aborted gesture because he’s too polite to come right out and say that Zayn was being a moody arsehole “–last night?"
“I mean, nothing really...I’m just being dumb. Niall’s allowed to have other friends, like, I know that, obviously. But sometimes it just feels like he doesn’t have time for me anymore.” Zayn laughs, short and humourless. “I can’t believe I’m saying this out loud, I sound like I’m in year two.”
Liam nods. “No, I get it. I mean, it’s normal to get a bit jealous when our old friends find new friends.”
Hearing it put in such point-blank terms is a bit jolting, but there's no denying now that that's what been going on: he's jealous of Louis. Jealous of how close he and Niall have become so quickly, jealous of how Louis seems to make Niall laugh without even trying.
He doesn't think he could admit it out loud to anyone but Liam. "I guess so, yeah."
"Do you think maybe, though..." Liam says haltingly, pausing like he's contemplating whether or not he should go on, "like maybe you're jealous for a different reason?"
It honestly takes a minutes or two for it to dawn on him what Liam's trying to say.
"No–that's–what? No."
Zayn’s definitely under no illusion that he’s one hundred percent straight, but this is Niall they’re talking about. They’ve been best mates nearly since the day they met two years ago when Niall moved into Harry’s flat, and Zayn would have noticed if it were anything more than that. He just would have noticed.
Liam’s looking contrite and slightly embarrassed, fiddling with his snapback. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything. I mean I shouldn’t have assumed. Sorry.”
“It’s not a big deal, Li. I just--I don’t really wanna talk about this anymore, it’s stressing me out, and I’ve already got uni for that.”
Liam agrees easily, because he’s never one to push something once you’ve asked him to leave it alone. He’s more than happy to set up Zayn’s xbox and chatter on about an assignment he’s got due that’s he’s pretty sure he misunderstood but is going to hand in anyway.
It’s only once Liam’s left and he’s no longer distracted that Zayn can’t put it out of his mind, can’t help drawing comparisons. He realises that the gut-wrenching reaction he has to the idea of Niall choosing someone else over him is not all that different to how he felt when he and Perrie were just starting out and he found out that they weren’t exactly on the same page as far as exclusivity, that Perrie’d been seeing other people. It’s really not that different at all.
And when he lets himself think about kissing Niall, about touching him and tasting him...
i think maybe you were right...
I’m so fucked
Zayn doesn’t know if he’s ready to see Niall, he’s not sure if he knows how to be around him just yet. But Niall calls him a couple days later after his late lecture asking if Zayn wants to grab a bite at the Thai place near Zayn’s flat. Zayn’s saying yes before he can even think it through, because embarrassing as it is to admit, he’s been craving Niall’s attention lately. He’s not about to turn it away just because he’s gone and developed a stupid crush. Honestly, maybe it’s not even that, maybe he’s been out of the dating scene for too long and he’s just projecting.
When Niall shows up at Zayn’s door, that theory is pretty much shot. There’s not really any denying the way his heart rate picks up speed, hands going clammy on the doorknob, like he’s showing someone he’s been seeing around his flat for the first time, worried they’re going to judge him for the messiness or lack of a unified decor. It’s honestly ridiculous, considering Niall’s been here more times than Zayn’s own mum.
Niall doesn’t seem to notice anything amiss, pitching his coat on the couch and making himself right at home. He turns on the kettle and asks Zayn if he wants a brew before they head out, and Zayn can only nod dumbly.
He sets Zayn’s tea in front of him, fixed just how he likes it, and starts chattering on about his lecture, because Niall is honestly and endearingly fascinated by his entire degree. Zayn could never get tired of listening to Niall talk about the things he loves, so genuinely and unabashedly passionate, but now he can barely concentrate long enough to respond in the pauses. Niall must notice something is off, because he trails off.
“You alright?”
Zayn looks down at his tea. “Yeah, just got a lot on my mind.”
“Well, come on, tell Dr. Nialler all about it!” He grins and pats the barstool next to his.
Zayn just gives him a tight lipped smile and hopes it doesn’t come across as stilted as it feels. Niall’s smiles dims a bit, but doesn’t fade completely. It takes a fair bit to knock Niall off stride.
Zayn mumbles something about changing before they go out, already halfway down the hall by the time Niall’s murmuring his acknowledgement.
He just needs a minute to get his head on straight, to figure out how he’s meant to act around Niall now. It was probably stupid of him to not have thought about this sooner, waiting until Niall was literally on his doorstep. It’s too late now, though, he’ll just have to get through today and then maybe take a few days to sort his head out. The last thing he wants is for his weirdness to affect his and Niall’s friendship.
He’s been sat in his room for more than an acceptable amount of time now, so he grabs a tank from the floor that probably needs a wash, quickly changes into his black jeans too, for good measure.
When he gets back to the kitchen, Niall is frowning down at his phone. "Ah shit, I totally forgot I told Louis I'd meet him for a pint after his audition. He's been bricking it all week, wouldn't shut up about it. Was starting to do my head in, to be honest."
"Come on, you don't have to go running every time Louis texts you."
Niall pauses from where he's tapping out a reply and looks up at Zayn. "What?"
Zayn closes his eyes; he really didn't mean to say that. Niall’s head is tilted curiously, like he’s ready to give Zayn the benefit of the doubt even if he doesn’t deserve it.
“Nothing, I just thought we were hanging out, like. It’s fine, it’s whatever.” He’s doing a pretty shit job of pretending like this isn’t affecting him.
Niall’s brow furrows and he sets his phone down. “I–do you want me to cancel?”
He wants that so bad he’s itching with it, but he can’t figure out how to say it without giving everything away. He runs a rough hand through his hair, frustrated both with himself and the situation.
“No–I just–” I want you to want to cancel. He can’t say it out loud for a number of reasons, not least of all because it’s selfish and not what Niall deserves. But that doesn’t make it any less true.
Niall gets up and rests a hand on Zayn’s shoulder, thumb brushing across the bare skin where his tank top doesn’t cover. Zayn doesn’t know how he never realised how good it feels just to be close to Niall, how a simple touch has his heart trying to beat its way out of his chest. Or maybe he did realise and he was just too afraid to put a name to it. But now that he has, it’s like it’s all the can think about, and he just wants more and more and more.
”Zayn, what’s going on with you lately? I feel like I’ve missed something.” Niall steps in a bit closer and tweaks Zayn’s nipple, like he’s done a hundred times before, but his smile is a bit uncertain now. Zayn knows it’s Niall’s attempt to lighten the mood, but he can’t take it, he just can’t.
He surges forward before he can talk himself out of it, kisses Niall right there in his kitchen while Drake plays from his shitty laptop speakers. Zayn’s barely registered the softness of Niall’s lips, the lingering taste of honey from his tea, before Niall’s pulling away, eyes wide. He’s backing away like he can’t put enough distance between them, and Zayn’s stomach bottoms out with dread. Like the time that Doniya took him to open mic night in some dive bar and conveniently forgot to mention that she’d put his name on the list.
Niall grabs his rucksack and laughs, anxious and strained, the way he does when too many people pile onto a lift and he doesn’t have a clear path to the door.
“I gotta go!” he says, verging on hysterical, and Zayn can’t even find the words to ask him to stay. Stay at least until they’ve talked about this, at least until Zayn knows he hasn’t completely fucked things up with one of the closest friends he’s ever had.
Zayn’s been laying low for the last few days, staying in and only answering texts from his mum. Which is not really that far out of the ordinary, but Harry is relentless, more so than usual when Zayn doesn’t answer his texts. (No matter how many times Zayn tells him it really isn’t personal, that he just forgets to answer sometimes or would rather just have a chat in person.) His texts go from cajoling to threatening back to cajoling. It would be funny at any other time.
Zaynnnnnn I’ve made too much quiche, would hate for it to go to waste. Come over and help a lad out? :)
It’s just ridiculous enough to pique Zayn’s interest. But–
what about niall aha, Zayn texts back, like it doesn’t make his heart beat uncomfortably fast just to type out his name.
Gone to Eoghan’s for the weekend. Just me and my breakfast pastries :(
Zayn doesn’t reply, but he’s already lacing up his boots.It would probably do him good to get out, and Harry’s always good for a cuddle besides. He’s also good at knowing when Zayn needs to talk something out before Zayn even knows himself.
Zayn is stood in front of Harry’s door, puffing air into the cup of his hands to keep them warm, knocking for the second time. He’s about to text Harry to bloody let him in already when the door swings open.
“Didn’t I fucking tell ya, if you lost your keys again–oh.” Niall cuts himself off mid-rant when he realises it’s not Harry he’s talking to. Zayn, for his part, can’t think of anything to say either. He can only stare, vaguely aware that, yeah, this was a set up. When he does find something to say, after seconds that feel like hours, it’s decidedly less than brilliant.
"Harry said you weren't going to be here."
It's obviously the wrong thing to say. Niall's face falls and he retreats back into the living room. He leaves the door open, at least. Zayn has to take a minute before he can follow.
Niall’s sat on the couch, knees hiked up to his chest with a blanket wrapped around him as the tv plays low in the background. He looks tired and sad, and it makes Zayn sick to think it’s because of something he’s done. Zayn sits down at the opposite end, awkward and unsure and everything he’s never had to be with Niall. He won’t even look at Zayn.
“You ran out on me,” Zayn says, and it’s not accusatory, just mostly sad. It’s not what he wanted to open with, but he can’t pretend it hasn’t been eating away at him.
That catches Niall’s attention. He twists to face Zayn and says, “You kissed me,” and that is an accusation.
Zayn can’t help but flush, staring down at his hands. It’s not like he thought this was going to be any easy conversation to have, but he thought that Niall would at least beat around the bush a bit. Let him preserve what’s left of his dignity.
“I–I know. I didn’t plan it–it just happened.”
Niall pulls the blanket tighter around him, and it’s all Zayn can do not to tuck himself next to Niall and keep him warm.
“Well that’s worse, isn’t it, if you just decided it on a whim.”
Zayn’s losing the thread of the conversation, he can’t keep up. “That’s not even–how would that be worse?”
Niall turns away but not before Zayn can see the red blooming on his cheeks, stark against the paleness of his skin.
“Niall, talk to me, please.” Zayn pleads when Niall stays quiet.
“Forget it,” Niall says, eyes not straying from the tv even though it’s on to some strange infomercial. “I shouldn’t have said anything.”
Zayn hasn’t let himself cry since the kiss, but he’s on the verge of it now, sat on opposite ends of the couch with Niall barely able to look at him. He says Niall’s name again and his voice catches, giving him away.
“Fuck, Zayn,” he says, sounding pained. “If I tell you, you have to promise it won’t change anything.”
Zayn nods feverently, even though he has no idea what Niall’s talking about. He’d promise him anything right now, give him anything.
“I just–God, okay.” His words are coming out in fits and starts, and Zayn’s never seen him so nervous. It makes his own stomach clench with anxiety to see Niall this wound up. “I can’t have you kissing me when it means something different to you than it does to me. I can deal with all the rest, but I can’t take that. I just can’t.”
Zayn’s been driving himself mad the past couple days going over possible scenarios, how this inevitable conversation was going to play out. Having to explain himself and then endure being awkwardly ‘let down easy’. Niall pretending that nothing had even happened in an attempt to save Zayn the embarrassment. It’s safe to say nothing like this ever occurred to him.
Zayn’s silent for long enough that Niall starts withdrawing back into himself.
He laughs self consciously. “Yeah, that’s why I didn’t–”
“What page are you on?” Zayn interrupts.
“What?”
“That page that you’re on that you don’t think I’m on. What page is that?”
Niall frowns like he thinks Zayn is being purposely obtuse. “Zayn, come on, don’t make me spell it out.”
“Please,” Zayn insists. He knows he’s pushing his luck, but he needs to be sure he’s not somehow misconstruing what Niall is saying.
“The ‘fancying me best mate who’s never gonna look at me that way’ page.” Niall is going on before Zayn can say anything, misinterpreting Zayn’s distressed look. “No, no, I shouldn’t have said it like that. I’m not bitter about it, I’m really not, and I’ve mostly learned how to deal by now. But, Zayn, I can’t have you pulling shit like that and getting my hopes up, it’s not on.”
He says the last bit with conviction, but Zayn can tell he’s nervous still with the way he’s fidgeting, biting at his fingernails and tapping his leg up and down.
“Zayn,” Niall says, low and plaintive, after a few beats of silence have passed.
“Sorry, sorry, I’m just gathering my thoughts.” He needs to do this right, needs to sort this out in his head before he says it out loud.
Niall bites his lip and looks away, like he’s already anticipating rejection.
“You asked the other day what’s been going on with me lately, and the truth is it’s about you.” That seems to surprise Niall, but he just nods for Zayn to go on. “I was–when you started hanging out with Louis I was feeling a bit left behind and kind of replaced. I know you weren’t trying to shut me out, but that’s what it felt like and that’s why I’ve been weird. No, it’s okay, let me finish. But I realised that I was blowing things out of proportion because I was jealous, like jealous jealous. It took Liam pointing it out for me to realise that I’ve maybe been a bit of an idiot. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have kissed you without explaining any of this first, but don’t think for a second that I’m not in this.”
Niall’s gaping at him, mouth opening and closing like he doesn’t know what thought to settle on.
“You’re serious?” he eventually says, and Zayn knows it’s not because he doesn’t believe him, but rather that he’s a bit shell shocked. Zayn knows the feeling.
“Niall, I’m one hundred percent serious.”
Zayn’s not sure when it happened, but they’re no longer on opposite ends of the couch. Niall’s close enough now that he only has to reach over to take Zayn’s hand.
“Tell me I can kiss you for real now.”
Zayn nods about five times and Niall doesn’t even laugh at his overeagerness. Just as Niall’s leaning in, his phone buzzes.
“If that’s Louis…” says Zayn, but he’s joking, and he says it one of his put on voices so Niall knows. (Well, he’s 95% joking.)
Niall, however, is completely straight faced when he chucks his phone off to the side without looking at the display, and says, “Whoever it is, they can wait.”