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Like most things that had ever happened in Liam’s (admittedly rather short) life, everything started with Louis.
Liam was just calmly texting his boyfriend, Niall--k babe. be there in 5--and getting up to leave when Louis just had to assert his opinion.
“You’re so whipped, mate.”
Liam was understandably confused. He looked to Zayn for help, but the other lad merely shrugged and took another drag of his cigarette. Louis was still smirking when Liam again met his eyes. The shorter boy was leaning on one of the poles supporting the bleachers they always hung out under for a smoke after school (although Liam was just standing with them, not actually smoking anymore as of five months prior, but he had never really been that into it anyway so when Niall scrunched up his face at the smell of cigarettes on Liam’s jacket, he’d figured it wouldn’t be that big of a deal if he quit).
Louis had that gleam in his eye that said he was both annoyed and amused with the situation at hand.
“What?”
“You’re whipped,” repeated Louis with a mean chuckle. “Two words from that fuck toy of yours and you’d jump off a bridge.”
“First, don’t call Niall that,” Liam growled angrily. “And second, I’m not ‘whipped’.”
“Oh really? Where are you going?” Louis gestured at the red rucksack Liam had been in the middle of hoisting over his shoulder when he’d been initially accosted.
Liam frowned. “Niall’s done with his group project meeting, so I’m driving him home.”
Louis hmm’d and crossed his arms smugly. “And where were you last Saturday during Perrie’s party?”
“Niall and I went out for Nando’s,” the taller replied quietly, beginning to get a queasy feeling in his stomach.
“And why are you out here shivering without your favorite jumper?”
“Niall was cold and,” Liam’s voice was reduced to barely a whisper, “...asked if he could borrow it this morning…”
“My point exactly, mate.” Louis stood up fully and reached out to pat his friend pityingly on the shoulder. “He’s got you wrapped around his little finger. Best not keep him waiting.”
As Liam trudged back towards the front entrance of their school, he couldn’t quite get Louis’ shit-eating grin out of his mind.
Yes, Liam had missed a few parties in the four months, three weeks, and five days since he and Niall had started dating, but he’d always sort of disliked going to them anyway since all he did (as he wasn’t able to join in the drinking) was avoid slurring, flirtatious girls and wait around to drive a smashed Louis and Zayn home.
And yeah, he’d missed his first boxing practice in six years last month, but Niall had been sick and he couldn’t deny his miserable boyfriend a movie marathon and a cuddle.
Maybe Liam had begged off hanging out with his two best mates a few (several) times to spend time with his boyfriend after school. Maybe he moved seats in Music so he could hold hands with Niall when before he’d been slacking off in the back with Zayn. Maybe he chose to have lunch in the cafeteria with Niall and his friend Harry instead of at the pizza place down the block with Louis and Zayn and their assorted web of acquaintances. So what? So what if he wanted to be with Niall sometimes? That didn’t make him whipped. That made him a good boyfriend.
Liam was still grumbling to himself under his breath--mostly things like “fucking Louis” and “not whipped”--when Niall finally exited the building. The blonde expected his happy grin to be met with the cute (and a little bit shy) smile of his boyfriend, but all he got was a distracted kiss on the forehead before Liam was off towards the parking lot. Niall pouted a little, but he shrugged it off pretty quickly and jogged to catch up with the taller boy.
Niall was further puzzled when Liam walked around and ducked into the driver’s side after tossing his bag in the back. It wasn’t that Niall needed his door opened for him--he wasn’t a damsel in distress, for Christ’s sake--it was just that Liam always opened Niall’s door for him, had done so before they’d even started dating, when they were just mutually pining over each other like a pair of spineless, lovesick losers. Niall had long ago stopped trying to beat Liam to the door handle, and Liam had long ago traded in his nervous blush for a cheeky smirk. It made no sense for him to just not do it.
Niall opened his own door and climbed into the passenger side, stuffing his bag at his feet.
“Are you alright?” The blonde asked as Liam started the engine.
“Fine, love,” Liam replied automatically.
“You sure?”
“Yeah. Why?”
“You just seem a bit off,” Niall shrugged.
Liam looked at his boyfriend quickly with a tiny smile before returning his focus back to the road ahead of them. He offered up his free hand palm up between them; Niall immediately grabbed it and linked their fingers together with a grin. He’d never admit it out loud for fear of sounding like a sap, but one of Niall’s favorite things about Liam was how warm and soft his hands were. It was a little bit silly, how safe he felt just holding hands. He’d made the mistake of mentioning it to Harry once and he was still facing the embarrassing consequences (“OMG it’s Liam, Niall! Look at his hands! I bet they’re so soft!” and “Do you think Liam would put his hands on my face if I ask?” and “Did you see Liam touch that wall this morning? I would die to be that wall!”). Harry was a shit best mate, really.
Niall was kicked out of his thoughts by the feeling of the car coming to stop. He looked up to see his house out the window, which was odd because it was Tuesday; he and Liam always went to the cinema on Tuesdays to sit in the back row and make fun of whatever movie was playing (okay, and maybe snog for a bit).
“Why’re we at my house, Li?”
“I can’t go to the cinema today, love. I’m sorry,” Liam grimaced over at him. “I’ve got a maths test tomorrow. Need to study.”
“My boyfriend? Studying for maths?” Niall faked a mother hen sort of concern and lifted his free hand to feel Liam’s forehead with the back of it. “Are you ill?”
Liam’s chuckle sounded a little forced as he leaned away from Niall’s touch and unwound their entwined fingers. “I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?”
“Course,” Niall said back, almost more of a question than a statement.
He stretched over the gap between their seats and kissed Liam’s cheek before pushing open the door and taking his bag with him. When he got to his front door and turned around to wave, Liam was already halfway down the street.
As soon as he got inside and fetched a bag of crisps from the kitchen, Niall pulled out his phone and called Harry.
“Niall!” Harry answered after two rings, voice typically welcoming. “Shouldn’t you be at the cinema with Liam?” he cooed.
“He said he has a maths exam to study for.”
“Are we talking about the same Liam here, mate?”
“That’s what I said! He never studies for maths! We had a Harry Potter marathon the night before his midterm!”
“Hmm…” Niall heard the distinct sound of Harry flopping face-first onto his bed. “Maybe he’s ill?”
“Didn’t feel like it.”
Harry was quiet for a moment, although Niall was certain he could hear the rusty cogs in the curly-haired lad’s head squeaking to life. “Did his granddad die?”
“Harry!” Niall shrieked, appalled.
“I’m just thinking!”
“You’re getting morbid!”
“Well the only other thing I can think of is he’s seeing someone else on the side!”
Both boys were silent for a minute after Harry’s exclamation.
“He wouldn’t do that, would he?” Niall whispered tragically.
“NO!” shouted Harry. “No, no, it was just a thought! Liam wouldn’t do that to you! He loves you!”
Niall sniffed, but sat up straighter on his couch and nodded his firm agreement, even though Harry couldn’t see him.
“No, he wouldn’t.”
“Of course he wouldn’t.”
“It must be something else!”
“Obviously!”
“But what?”
“No idea.”
The next few days at school were just as odd. Liam asked if Niall could get a ride with Harry to and from school because his car was “in the shop”--of course Niall could but he was a bit put off by the excuse considering Liam couldn’t tell him what was even wrong with the car, which had seemed perfectly fine Tuesday afternoon. Liam didn’t show up for lunch on Wednesday, didn’t even tell Niall that he wasn’t going to come, only later saying he’d promised Zayn and Louis he’d eat with them off-campus. He didn’t show up Thursday or Friday either, presumably for the same reason. Niall was obviously fine with Liam wanting to hang out with his friends, but it was kind of rude of him to just disappear. He even moved back to his old seat in the back in their shared Music class. Liam didn’t walk Niall between classes, either. Not even from Music to Spanish, which was right down the hall from Liam’s English Literature room.
Worst of all, though, he asked for his jumper back. Niall wasn’t selfish by any means and he had his own jumpers, but Liam always let him wear the grey one with a black Batman logo on it. Niall didn’t even like Batman, that was Liam’s thing, but the jumper smelled like his boyfriend and therefore he loved it a whole lot more than any of the hoodies in his own closet. The jumper was fairly old but in good condition; it looked practically sinful on Liam--showing off his muscular shoulders and arms--while Niall was nearly swimming in it every time he pulled it over his head. The sleeves covered his hands and the bottom almost reached his mid-thigh, but it was the closest thing to one of Liam’s hugs Niall could get when said boy wasn’t actually there, so he borrowed it as much as possible and kept it on even when he was sweltering in the Sociology classroom.
It wasn’t like they were back to the way they’d been before they started going out. Even then they’d been in a “flirtationship,” as Harry called it. Maybe less openly affectionate and often not able to meet each other’s eyes without turning away and blushing, but still closer than the strangers it appeared Liam was turning them into. Niall was trying not to be clingy and to give Liam the space he clearly needed, but it hurt to be left behind and apparently forgotten.
As for Liam, his head was a mess of conflicting feelings. On the one hand, he was immensely chuffed to have proven Louis utterly wrong. He could very easily get on without being glued to Niall’s side every second, thank you very much. He went to lunch with his mates and wore his own jumper when he was cold outside. He even accepted a cigarette from Zayn under the bleachers on Thursday (he barely smoked it, but it was good enough). On the other hand, though, he missed Niall. They saw each other every day at school, of course, but it wasn’t quite the same. Not to mention how hard it was to say no to Niall’s proposed Nando’s date on Saturday night. Some lad’s friend’s cousin was throwing a party, according to Louis, and Liam was determined to attend and once and for all establish that he was very much the same bloke he’d been before he met Niall, and most certainly not whipped.
The night of the party, Liam threw on a flannel shirt over his white tee and black skinny jeans just before he went out to meet Louis and Zayn. Inevitably Liam’s missing kidney was going to ensure his role as designated driver later in the evening, but Louis always insisted on driving to the party because...well, there was no good reason. Zayn didn’t have a car and Liam didn’t care that much as long as Louis handed over the keys before he started chugging cheap beer.
The party was already in full swing when they arrived, not at all surprising since they were nearly an hour late. There were drunk people grinding and laughing and spilling alcohol from plastic cups, and Liam very quickly remembered why it was so easy for him to miss that first party he’d skipped to spend time with Niall. Louis and Zayn were quickly absorbed into the crowd while Liam inched his way amongst the various partygoers to a corner where he hoped to be left relatively unscathed by the masses.
The problem with Liam’s plan was that the people around him were wasted, and wasted people never correctly deduced from his body language that he’d rather be left alone.
“Hey,” a girl slurred all over his chest as she palmed it clumsily. “I’m-- I’m…” She started giggling madly at her inability to produce her own name. “I’m smashed!”
“Yeah,” Liam agreed uncomfortably.
She pressed her face into his neck despite his efforts to gently push her away. “Do you… You smell nice…”
“Thanks. I need to go--uh--find my boyfriend?” Liam hoped desperately that his sexuality would be enough to get her off his person.
“Is he cute?” The girl mouthed along his neck and shoulder absentmindedly while she talked, so it came out muffled.
“Yes?” Liam replied honestly, although he wasn’t sure what the correct response for the situation was.
“Can we… sex?” Her flat brown hair covered most of her face, but he did catch the dazed yet turned on look in her expression.
“No.” He struggled yet again to push her off without hurting her. “I told you, I have a boyfriend.”
“He can too.”
“Look, I--”
“Liam!” Liam’s knight-in-a-shining-leather-jacket, Zayn, shouted from the entryway to the kitchen.
The shouting was enough distraction for the girl to let go of her vice grip on Liam’s arm, letting him escape towards his friend before she could trap him again.
“I owe you one, mate,” Liam sighed in relief as soon as he got to Zayn. The other lad was halfway to hammered already, but Zayn was usually a deceptively level-headed drunk until Louis got around to roping him into drunken antics.
“Why are you here?” Zayn asked after downing a shot of something.
Liam furrowed his eyebrows. “What sort of question is that?”
“You should be with Niall,” the other continued. “You don’t like parties.”
“Are you-- Zayn, I always come to parties with you and Louis.”
Zayn ignored him. “Lou’s a bit mad, like. Niall’s your boyfriend; you’re supposed to spend time with him.”
“He was right, Z. I was with Niall all the time.”
“He makes you happy,” Zayn argued back. “Really happy, like. You still come to lad’s nights and sit with me in Literature and with Lou in History. You came to my sister’s birthday party when you could’ve been snogging Niall in his empty house while his mum was on holiday. Lou said the same thing to me when I went over to Perrie’s instead of playing footie with you two in the park. He’s just jealous, like.”
Liam had always liked Zayn, from the moment the other boy complimented his Spiderman folder in primary school. He’d been aware of Zayn’s affinity for sharing wisdom (usually while under the influence of alcohol) for many years, but never before had he been so blown away by the straightforward truth.
“Can you get a ride home tonight?” Liam asked distractedly after a moment of contemplative silence.
“Sure, mate.”
“Tell Louis I’ll--” Liam suddenly remembered that his friend, although a fountain of knowledge, was plastered. “Nevermind. I’ll text him tomorrow.”
And with that, Liam strode through the swaying bodies like Moses parting the Red Sea (albeit with a bit more shoving) and out the door.
Niall’s house was dark and quiet when Liam finally pulled up to it in his borrowed (appropriated) vehicle. He only then realized it was nearly one in the morning, but still he could not be deterred. Liam got out of the car and slipped his phone out of his pocket to call his boyfriend, hoping that the younger boy hadn’t put his phone on silent.
It took three tries, but eventually Niall’s groggy “‘llo?” crackled through the line.
“Ni, it’s me.”
“Liam?” Niall yawned. “What time is it?”
Liam could see a faint light go on in the window he knew to be Niall’s.
“Sorry to wake you, love, but can you come outside?”
He saw the curtains in said window shift a bit and waved his free arm so Niall could see him.
“You’re mad.” Despite Niall’s muttered insult, Liam could clearly hear the sounds of the blonde shuffling around his house.
Not two minutes later, the call was disconnected as the front door opened. Niall was in a pair of joggers that were falling off his hips as he walked and a green tee that had seen better days. His hair was all over the place from sleep and, upon closer inspection, there was a faint pink impression of a pillow on his face. Liam took long strides to meet Niall at the top of his driveway and envelop the smaller boy in a tight hug.
“I’m sorry,” he breathed into Niall’s hair while peppering it with kisses.
“Couldn’t you be sorry in the morning?” Niall grumbled into the taller boy’s chest, though he didn’t sound as put out as he had on the phone and the grip he had on Liam’s shirt was to pull him closer, not push him away.
“It is morning.”
“Shut up.”
Liam pulled back just enough to look Niall in the eyes with his most apologetic expression. “I’m sorry I’ve been such a twat this week. I let something Louis said get to me. It will never happen again, I promise.”
Niall raised an eyebrow. “What did he say?”
Liam felt his cheeks heat up and hoped the moonlight wasn’t enough to give his blush away. “He said I was whipped.”
Niall seemed to be pondering that for a minute or two before he slid his hands up Liam’s chest to his neck so as to pull the taller down for a kiss.
“Did you bring my jumper back?” Niall asked as their lips separated.
Liam rubbed soothing circles on Niall’s hips with his thumbs, remembering the hurt look on the younger’s face when he’d requested the jumper be returned to its actual owner. “It’s in the car.”
Laughter bubbled out of Niall’s mouth. “Then I’m sorry, love, but I think Louis was right.”