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Zayn groaned when he heard his phone ping multiple times in a row. Rolling over, he slapped his hand on the nightstand until he made contact and dragged it closer, dropping it on the mattress twice in the process and having to start the entire slapping thing all over again. When he managed to pull it close enough to read, he turned it on and realised he still hadn’t opened his eyes.
With great effort, he managed to slit them open enough to wince against the sunlight shining through the curtains. It never failed that he always managed to leave them open on the nights when he got the least amount of sleep. His phone pinged again, drawing his attention from the window.
A string of text messages from his boyfriend filled the screen. Three more appeared before Zayn could unlock his phone. The last text was simply, “ZAYN!!!!” He panicked when the phone started ringing, Liam’s face filling the screen. Liam never called. Something must have happened.
“Who died?” Zayn asked when he answered.
“What? Someone died?” Liam asked. “Who? What happened?”
“Liam, you’re texting and calling me like a madman, so if someone died, doesn’t that, like, mean you would know who it was?” Zayn asked, amazed he’d managed to string so many words together in a somewhat comprehendible sentence. When the only response was silence, Zayn continued. “Why are you calling?”
“Brunch,” he said.
Zayn froze while sitting up and immediately started scrambling off the bed. He’d completely forgotten in his rush to finish the midterm art project that he was supposed to be having Liam and his parents over for a ‘meet the parents' brunch. He pulled his phone away to look at the time and started moving faster. They were due to arrive in less than an hour.
“We can just do it another time,” Liam said when Zayn hadn’t said anything. The hurt in his voice was enough to get Zayn to move even faster, and he managed to get his feet caught in the duvet and fell to the floor.
“No. No!” Zayn said. He already had the food in the fridge. He just had to figure out what to turn it into to impress Liam’s parents, hopefully. “It’ll be fine. I’m just going to jump into the shower. See you when you get here.”
“Are you sure?” Liam asked. “If you’d rather not do this, I understand.”
Zayn swallowed past the lump in his throat. Liam’s last relationship had ended because his girlfriend refused to meet his parents, so he knew how vital this brunch was to Liam. He wasn’t going to lose him over his own forgetfulness.
“I’m sure. I love you. See you soon.”
“Okay,” Liam responded, sounding only moderately happier. “I love you, too.”
Zayn threw his phone onto the bed after Liam hung up. “Shit, shit, shit,” he muttered. Looking around his room, he decided to keep the door closed while his guests were there. He did not have time to clean up the disaster left over from the work he’d done the night before.
Hurrying into the kitchen, he pulled open the fridge and grabbed two packages of cinnamon rolls. They could cook while he showered, and then once he was done with that, he could start cutting up the fruit and figuring out what he wanted to do with the eggs and veggies he’d bought.
Forty minutes later, Zayn stood at the hob. He’d pulled his damp hair into a top knot. He wore a grey tee shirt underneath a grey and white flannel. He’d put on his one part of jeans without holes in the knees. On his feet were the fuzzy socks that Liam had given him for Christmas.
He stared into the pan as the butter melted. He’d been thinking about making omelettes but wasn’t sure if he should wait for everyone to get there so he could customise or just make a bunch ahead of time and hope there would be something for everyone.
A knock at the door distracted him from the pan in front of him. He knew Liam had a key, but he figured he didn’t want his family knowing that, so he turned off the flame beneath it. “Coming!” he called out as he made his way to the door.
“Waiting!” Liam called back, followed by a giggle.
He heard a woman hiss, “Don’t be rude.”
Zayn pulled the door to find Liam looking properly chastised with people Zayn recognised from the multiple photos Liam had shown Zayn. “Welcome, Mr and Mrs Payne,” he said, stepping back to let them pass.
“Geoff,” Liam’s dad insisted as Karen stepped up and pulled Zayn into a hug.
“Oh, Liam, he’s so pretty,” Karen said. “His photos don’t do him justice.”
“Mooooom,” Liam whined.
“Thank you, ma’am,” Zayn said, returning the hug.
“Call me Karen,” she said, pulling back and holding Zayn’s face between her hands for a moment before patting his cheeks and moving further into the flat.
“Sorry,” Liam said, pressing a kiss to Zayn’s cheek.
“They seem lovely,” Zayn said, still feeling nervous, but Karen’s aura put him at ease. “Now, help me finish cooking.”
When Zayn and Liam got to the kitchen area, Karen stood over the pan, watching a mix of eggs and ingredients. “Mom,” Liam said.
“Oh, I’m sorry. I just wanted to help.” She turned to Zayn, eyes wide.
“I appreciate the help, Karen,” Zayn said. “Now tell me how I can help you.”
It took about fifteen minutes for the egg scramble Karen had started to cook. Geoff and Liam set the small table in the corner of Zayn’s living room. Once they settled around the table, the ease of conversation surprised Zayn. He’d been so nervous about meeting Liam’s parents, and after oversleeping, he’d been sure everything would be an absolute disaster. Instead, when the plates were empty, Zayn felt like a part of the family.