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on days like these, zayn just feels like pulling liam into his arms, breathe into his hair, all soft and tickling and liam breathes back evenly against his chest, eyes closed. their bed is warm and the sheets are tangled around their legs and half of it is almost touching the floor, but zayn doesn't bother reaching to pull it back up (unless liam shivers and says "'s chilly," and zayn would pull the covers up to his shoulders) because that would mean moving, and that's absurd.
the light rain makes little noises against the glass, and the sky is painted gray and something about it all makes zayn's stomach curl and he can't believe he's where he is, right now. (beside liam, on their bed, in their room; it's all zayn ever wanted.)
liam moves a little, mumbling in his sleep, shifting and pressing his cheek into zayn, breathes and zayn kisses his hair.
"zayn?" zayn hums. "you're awake early," his voice drifts, arms lifting to curl around zayn's shoulders so zayn's goes around his waist--- (and it's perfect, just like that. always been like that.) liam's buries his face into the crook of his neck and presses a kiss there, smiling into it, and zayn hums again, watching the rain tap into the glass and the gray sky turn lighter.
"you still tired, babe?" he asks, voice a little rough and liam mumbles a "no" into his collarbone. "aw," he presses, leaning forward to kiss the tip of his ear as liam pokes into his sides, "wanted to watch you some more."
liam laughs, light and soft and melodic; giggly and cheerful and it makes zayn feel all of that at once; burning into the pores of his skin and the tissues in his bones, stomach, lighting up a city; and all he can hear is the faint tap of the rain and liam, here, by his side. "rather strange that that's become your hobby now, malik."
"it's gotta be you, li," and he doesn't plan that, but it comes out just as if he had, because he laughs right after it slips past his lips and liam slaps his arm, laughing into his chest.
"i can't believe i fell for you," and it's those seven words that complete zayn's world, completes his life and he can't express it, can't express anything except to find his way back home and find his way to liam payne who made it all worth it; made breathing the second important thing and water the third.
"i can always show you how," he says, easily, and liam blushes a light pink that zayn almost missed if he hadn't looked down. "yeah?"
liam's fingers curl at the back of his neck, finding short strands and playing with them for a moment. zayn counts the seconds in-between as he watches liam think, cheeks red and trying not to smile; he leans into his fingers and traces lines into liam's hips until liam hides into his neck and says, quietly, "yeah."
zayn knows liam's a bit worn out, sore and aching from the day before, but that doesn't stop him from trailing his palm down liam's thigh, fingers brushing between and that makes liam arch into him, and zayn knows he's biting his lip to keep quiet.
his thumb rubs circles into liam's skin, likes the way his breath catches and his hands clutch onto zayn's shoulders instead, likes the small whine that comes low in his throat, and zayn wishes he could kiss that. he settles by kissing liam's lips, swallowing the soft noises liam makes, focuses on the outlines of his body and tracing shapes on his skin, humming low and feeling liam hum back.
that's their morning.
+
+
the telly's on but zayn's too busy staring at liam's laugh and his lips and the way he smiles and the way he swallows, and then zayn says "y'know, we've ran out of condoms," before he can stop himself from ruining the moment.
liam twists his head from where they're watching spongebob, "really?" zayn nods. "that was quick. hadn't we just gotten that box three weeks ago?"
zayn raises his hands in mock defeat, struggling not to twitch his lips up into a smile, but it's a challenge with the way liam stares at him all innocent and sweet and zayn just wants to run his thumb across his cheek and kiss him until they get bored of that. "but you're irresistible," he whispers into the air, watches the way liam's cheeks pink. "gorgeous," he adds, tilting his face closer and hums when he hears liam's breath hitch. "beautiful," and their lips meet.
when they break apart, liam's red and it's such a pretty shade for zayn to see and savour, there because of zayn and it's wonderful. "maybe," he says, eyes at his lap, "maybe it's okay."
"maybe what's okay, babe?"
"that we ran out of them," he runs around the word condom and zayn practically wants to throw himself at liam payne at this point, because it's just a word, condom, and then wait---
"what do you mean?" zayn's confused and liam's squirming from where he's curled into zayn, hands fidgeting and his eyes not meeting his. "li?"
liam takes a shaky breath and places a hand on zayn's leg, spreading warmth and zayn rests a hand on top of his. "i--- it's--- kind of disgusting, maybe, but," his tongue comes out to wet his lips and zayn watches it, watches as liam's teeth press into his bottom lip lightly. "maybe we could try without it?"
zayn wants to breathe in but he breathes out. liam's hand curls at his knee and zayn grabs it when he pulls back, grips his wrist and liam doesn't look up once.
"i mean, if that doesn't seem unsanitary to you. i just--- i just wanted to see how it would feel if you were inside me, just you, just us." liam's cheeks are far more than its usual red hinge; he's stuttering and breathing harsh, biting his lip and digging his teeth into it. "but it's alright if you don't---"
zayn thinks he's floating. his chest doesn't seem to even stop rising and he seriously has never loved someone as much as liam james payne. he's flying, in the middle of their living room, with the telly on and his heart feels tight and his stomach is jumping; all because of liam and somehow, he thinks back to that cup of coffee they have every single afternoon. (he's never liked coffee but he's always loved liam's coffee.)
he kisses liam, simple and sweet and closed-mouth until he needs to breathe, pulls back and exhales into liam's hair and inhales it all back in. "you don't know what you do to me," he says, eyes closed and fingers still tight on liam's wrist. liam's all soft sighs underneath him and his free hand clings onto the front of zayn's jumper, wrinkling it and anchoring himself.
and then liam says, "i hope it's something positive," and then zayn's so gone, so fallen apart and pieced back together and in love.
(liam's no one else's; just his. always been his.)
+
it's around quarter to three in the afternoon when zayn wants to take a short, half-hour nap. his eyes just seem dry and his brain is thinking a blur; dizzying really, and usually he'd solve that problem by going out for a drag, let the smoke infuse through his throat and his lungs and set at the pit of his stomach, make him feel alive and awake and he loves that burn in his chest, loves breathing in and breathing it out.
(but he can't because even though liam doesn't tell him not to smoke, zayn knows by the blink of his eyes and the change of his breath and the way his lips fall open just a bit, just wide enough that zayn knows he doesn't want to say what he wants, so he closes them and somehow, that's all that zayn thinks about.
"i won't go if you don't want me to," he'd whisper in liam's ear, soothing and comforting and he doesn't know what makes him run his hands down liam's sides, yearning to hear his small sigh and the small laugh when "it tickles!" when liam never said anything yet.
liam'd grab his hands and push them, half-thrashing and gasping out "quit it, zayn!" and zayn'd let him go, watch him try to catch his breath before his eyes flickers over to his and he'd say, "it's terribly bad for your health and your body, but i don't control you. i want to be able to convince you to quit, but i can't tell you what you can and cannot do." he'd be quiet after that, just staring off into space, his voice light every time when he says, "besides, i don't want to change you.")
he still does it, not as often anymore but he still craves for it every now and then, still addicted to the kick and the overwhelming feeling that washes through his lungs and down to his stomach.
but he's sleepy right now, and liam's right beside him, knees against his chest and eyes wide open and watching whatever's on the telly.
"zayn?" and zayn's pats liam's leg again. "what's wrong?"
he mumbles a "'m sleepy," and liam smiles, just a curve at the corners, and zayn tries to mirror it back. "up for a quick kip?"
liam's cheeks does that thing where it just keeps rising and doesn't stop, makes zayn lean over and press his lips against it, mumbling a "yeah?" underneath his breath and smiling when liam nods.
+
they sleep until the brink of dusk, when the sky fuses with navy blue and faded clouds, and the light rain starts again.
liam's curled underneath the covers, hair mussed and breathing slow. zayn lifts up and rests on an elbow and liam shifts at the movement, mumbling and burying his face in the duvet and zayn thinks he's always been similar to a puppy. he decides against waking him up, but he's hungry and basically the only thing they've ate today was cereal and coffee.
he stretches his arms and cracks his neck when he manages to get out of bed without waking liam up. his feet are tingly, numb, so he shakes at it and then goes off to the bathroom.
when he's out, liam's curled himself into zayn's spot, embracing the warmth that was there, and zayn can't remember how many times he wanted to see this picture in his head ever since they met and met the whole band years ago. ever since they met on x factor and ever since simon formed them, formed one direction; ever since ages after they became a worldwide hit for seven years straight. ("that's a lucky number, innit?" harry'd always point out.)
(and ever since their friendship deepened more and more until liam and danielle broke up and liam was shattered, shaking and hadn't talked to them for three whole weeks except for interviews and signings and tours. zayn was there with him the whole way, along with the rest of the boys, but it was zayn who was really understanding; knew all the types to cheer liam up, all the touches and words and jokes (but mainly it was louis who made him laugh, niall who cheered him up with food, and harry dancing with nothing but a pair of knickers made liam smile) and liam opened up even more to him than before.
zayn made it a lot obvious that he cared about liam more than a best mate, but never dared to confess, even after months flew past and liam was finally starting to smile genuinely again. (niall, harry and louis all knew that zayn fancied liam more than just a brother kind of way, more than just a friend, but never bothered to rag him about it; and they were all certain that liam had figured out one way or another, they've all just never brought it up.)
one night, he's sharing a room with liam and liam's eyes are what caught his attention, filled with happiness and emotion and gratitude, appreciation; and zayn knew what was coming. "you've--- you've seriously been such a great support to me all this time, mate; you and the boys, and you, you're all unbelievable, you know that? truly unbelievable to me. i have that mixed feeling right now where i really want to burst out all different kinds of thank yous in different languages, but i feel that that's also not enough."
zayn shrugged on that, giving liam a crooked smile and liam smiled right back. "a thank you's enough; you know we'd do anything for you, mate. you know i would, too. anything."
a week after that, liam started acting strange.
he'd flinch whenever zayn's arm went around his shoulders, even though it'd long been a gesture they all did to one another all the time. he'd stay silent whenever zayn came in the room after a fag, he'd look at the floor or somewhere else when zayn talked. harry tried speaking with him, but he shook his head every time, saying that "nothing's wrong. i'm just a little tired, is all." of course none of them believed it.
it went on like that whenever it was just with the five lot of them; liam acted like normal in interviews and signings and tours, occasionally avoiding zayn, but it hadn't been obvious to the public. paul frowned at the sudden change in liam's attitude, but couldn't do anything to end it.
it wasn't until nearly four months after all of the flinching away and avoiding that liam comes to zayn's room during their second visit to australia and says, "i'm really confused." zayn remembers the way his voice was so small and afraid and he stared at the carpet of his room, his head down and he kept blinking, blinking, blinking and then zayn was confused, too. confused that liam had been trying to avoid him for the past four months and then he's all of a sudden the person liam decided to talk to.
"you've always been one of my best mates, and then i, i'm so, so sorry. and i'm just really, terribly confused about it all, about me acting like an arse, but i'm just--- i'm just so sorry, zayn." zayn had pulled him to sit on his bed and told him not to be sorry and he forgives him for everything; asked him a repeat of why are you confused, babe? and liam bit into his lip hard and unforgiving, shut his eyes and said,
"tell me how it's like to possibly fancy one of your best mates--- your best mate, really, and i'm just--- what if i think i fancy a mate? of the same gender? what, what if it's you?"
zayn remembers how liam's breathing was rough and uneven, eyes fluttering and hands trembling, fidgeting; how he had been really, really confused. of all different reasons because it had been a year and a bit since he and danielle had broken up, four months of him acting weird around zayn and refusing to speak with him like they used to, and then, then, he was in zayn's room and afraid that he had started to like his best mate of the same gender--- started to like zayn.
liam had been panicking. the look on his face and the way his eyes were wide and his mouth was pink and he was constantly chewing it, looking up at zayn and then zayn stared back, shocked and surprised and speechless. it wasn't until liam moved to get off the bed, close to tears almost, scared and confused and ten different sorts of emotions just bursting, melding together tight at the pit of his stomach and zayn couldn't believe anything; just reached and grabbed and held on, fingers wrapped around liam's wrist like it was always meant to be there.
"liam," he breathed out, and for the first time, it felt strange, foreign, unusual, saying liam's name; like liam wasn't just a name anymore--- wasn't just the name of his best mate and someone who he's slowly fallen in love with.
liam's pulse jumped repeatedly as zayn's fingers ran over the spot, pressing the tips of them into it and hearing liam's breath change.
"liam," his voice had been shaky, trembling and liam had been as well, so confused and nervous and this is not just some liam; this is his best mate liam, the one who blushes too often and gets worried about everything, liam whose nicknamed "daddy direction" and it's worth a laugh because it fits so well with his personality, liam who is sensible and charming and his cheeks never stop rising whenever they get the chance to be happy and excited--- "i feel the same way. i have been for the longest time. it's never changed. 's just been you. always."
zayn doesn't forget the look on liam's face. doesn't think he would ever forget it in a million years.)
zayn trails his fingers into liam's hair and rakes through the strands, soft and short underneath his skin. "li, wake up."
liam makes a breathy noise and rolls away from where the bed's dipped a little from zayn's weight. "'m sleepy," he mumbles, quiet and barely there into the pillow, burying his face there, and zayn can't help the smile curling on his face.
"no, up, liam, come on. it's seven thirty, you're gonna miss the rerun of monsters inc." liam shifts at that, silent except for his breathing. he's awake, then; zayn knows, just by the sound of his breaths.
liam curls into the covers and shifts back to where zayn's sitting on the side of the bed, his eyes bleary and tired as he stares up at zayn. he blinks, and zayn blinks back, watches the only source of light from the bathroom flickering in liam's eyes. liam opens his mouth but shuts it, lips chapped from sleeping most of the day, and all zayn wants to do is to lean down and run his tongue over them. he holds himself though, and they blink at each other for a few moments; liam looking up at zayn and zayn looking back down, elbow propped around his pillow and one leg on the floor, holding half his weight.
and then liam rolls over and groans something in zayn's hip, wrapping his arms there and pulling lightly, mumbling small and soft, "i'm not falling for that one. monsters inc is on at nine-twenty, right after some reality show about cars, you donut." he pauses there, leaves time for both of them to breathe in and breathe out, before he laughs and zayn feels the vibration on his hip. "that sounds silly. sounds as if cars could talk and they had formed a show based on their daily lives."
zayn laughs at that too, breathy and quiet so he can hear liam's laugh along his side, close to a melody, all gentle tunes and makes zayn's head swim.
he pulls liam up by his arms and rolls them both on the bed, the mattress squeaking underneath their weight mixed with liam's surprised one --- "zayn, what---" --- and zayn tilts liam's jaw until he can lean in and kiss, burn the touch of his lips and dig marks into the pale of his skin until they corrode. liam gasps, his throat jumping a little from the sound and zayn kisses the spot. kisses his birthmark. ducks down lower and sweeps his lips across liam's collarbone, light and fluttery enough to make liam's arms fly up and grip tight on zayn's shoulders, trying to find some ground. "zayn."
zayn hums, and that makes liam squirm, laughing a little so zayn hums against his skin again, mumbling super ticklish, aren't you? and liam's fingers curl themselves onto the back of zayn's shirt.
"come on, let's get up, yeah? we've literally done nothing productive today." liam laughs, says and that's coming from you; usually you'd rather stay in bed all day than move an inch and zayn makes a face at him, grabbing his wrists and keeping them tight with one hand. liam scrunches his nose, his wrists uncomfortable right against each other, but zayn grips tighter and leans down to meet their lips.
their eyes flutter close at the touch, but liam's stomach coils tight again like every other time they share light, feathery kisses, every time zayn presses him down to the bed but asks him to get up, every time at seven forty-seven of every night when the traffic six stories below them start their work and the lighting from the dim sky accompanied with the bathroom does something to make liam's head spin.
zayn's lips are warm and soft and liam can't get enough of them, so zayn kisses him again as if he can read minds (as if he can read liam'smind, because it always seems like he can) and says "up, come on, babe," against his lips and liam's convinced all over again.
he nods, but zayn breathes out against his lips so he breathes in, slowly and carefully and keeps it in, breathing in zayn and breathing in this; and that makes liam want to stay just like that for a while longer.
+
they've got chinese takeout from niall when he came over last week (along with harry and louis, who brought crisps with salsa dip and vodka, because apparently according to louis, "no party is a real party until you've got some sort of hard liquor, young malik" and since when did a hang out meant it's a "party"?), some sort of plain lo mein with this really great sauce, but liam says "it's been in the fridge for over forty-eight hours, which means the noodles have stiffened and aren't fresh and therefore, not suitable to be eaten as the "overnight germs" would upset our tummies." zayn snorts a laugh and liam frowns. ("i'm serious, zayn!")
they find three potatoes --- liam sort of holds it in his hands, staring and just staring and it stares back at them. "do you remember how to make baked potatoes?" --- and they have to search up how to bake a potato before they actually bake it.
("we are sad lads," zayn mutters, while they're reading the instructions off the screen of his iphone and liam laughs, half because it's true and half because "that rhymes!" zayn rolls his eyes --- "seriously, liam," --- but he can't help but laugh along, muttering maybe i should be a poet for youagainst liam's cheek.
"we are such sad lads," zayn starts, watching as liam bites the inside of his cheek, lips trembling to stay straight. "why can't we bake potatoes," zayn continues, counting every syllable with a finger; "i am poet zayn," he finishes, lasting a third of a second before he makes a slight eye contact with liam and he bursts out to a laugh, right as liam crumples to the ground on his knees, shaking in silent laughter.
"you're horrible, malik," liam chokes out, hand covering his eyes and his lips stretched wide, "that was a terrible haiku." zayn pulls him up and laughs silently into his neck, feeling liam doing the same and laughing onto his shoulder, shaking and hands grabbing onto zayn's shirt.)
at nine-fifteen, the potatoes are finally put into the oven--- "we've got five minutes until the movie! quick, zayn, switch to the channel, i've got to set this oven!"
zayn turns on their telly, has to find the channel (slipped his mind somehow, even with liam's constant "channel seventy-two!" repeating over and over at the back of his head in the past two days) on the guide and brings the volume up.
liam comes out of the kitchen, biting his lip and says, "hope they come out nicer than we think," and zayn just mutters a don't worry and spreads his arms. liam curls on the couch next to zayn, settling in his space, and then says, right before the movie starts and the music's floating from their telly: "do we have a plan b if the potatoes come out looking like glop?"
zayn hides a chuckle and presses his face into liam's hair, (closes his eyes and lets himself inhale liam's shampoo--- it's the one they got at the store last week, the one liam said smells like home, and zayn thinks it's because liam is home.) "i doubt it'll turn into glop, li, 's gonna be fine."
liam does a small exasperated huff, scrunching his face like he's in a dilemma and that always makes zayn want to wrap his arms around liam's waist and tug, dig in bruises into liam's ribs and the dips of his hips and press in until he proves his point that liam is really just his, and no one else can have him. (he's fucking adorable and fuck fuck fuck, he doesn't even realize what he does to zayn.) "well, i hope we at least done it right, then. be a bit of an embarrassment if we didn't."
zayn draws lines down liam's sides with his thumbs, admiring the way liam writhes just the slightest. "then it'll just be an embarrassment between you and me." liam smiles into zayn's cheek and zayn leans to kiss the top of his head. "you don't need magic to make something magic, remember? it'll be fine."
it takes about three seconds before liam's lips curl up slowly at that and he twists in zayn's arm and pokes his nose until zayn rumples it, "hey, that's what i said this morning. quit mimicking me, you copycat."
"make me," zayn challenges, staring down at liam until liam gives up and hides his face in zayn's chest. he messes liam's hair, hearing liam groan and trying to swat his hands away, but gives up after a few seconds and zayn tangles his fingers into the mop of hair and leaves them there.
at nine-forty-seven, liam laughs against zayn's chest at a scene they've watched almost a million times--- zayn breathes in and it's just a typical night.
+
"what do you want to do tomorrow?" zayn asks later when they're both rinsed clean and teeth bristled through and through, mouth minty and voice soft as he watches liam curled up next to him on the bed, warm and comfortable. zayn blindly finds liam's hand with his own, sliding his fingers through the slots between liam's fingers and holds on tight. liam holds on back.
"we could go visit niall. we did promise him we would last week."
zayn quirks his brows at that, staring as he traces his thumb along liam's veins, drawing circles on the back of his hand. "we could."
"you don't want to?" liam tries to tug his hand away and zayn knows it's because it tickles, but he doesn't let go, smiling when liam squirms his hand.
"never said that. just thought maybe you'd be more up for like, a date or something." liam shifts his gaze up to zayn's, blinking, mouth dry. zayn doesn't meet his eyes.
"a date?" liam repeats underneath his breath, his stomach curling and it's that familiar feeling again, at the bottom, just light and fluttery and his chest feels a bit numb at the word. it's more of a right, we can do that now. it's public and we can and we don't have to hide like before, that always makes liam breathe at that word because it's still an overwhelming thought infused with dozens of emotions. (no more management to plan out their lives. follow them around and order them what to do and what not to do. no more seething lies ofwe're more of brothers than anything else. it's just the truth; just zayn and him, just we're in love and nothing can stop that. it's not just best mates anymore--- it's this and thisis their new life.)
zayn's thumb finally stops and liam's heart stops, skips a beat, his eyes fluttering, breath uneven, and then zayn looks up and gives him that lovely crooked smile. "yeah."
liam stays silent; focuses on breathing. (inside he's screaming, yelling and laughing and smiling and crying all the same; shouting that yeah, yes, of course, and it's like fireworks bursting in his stomach.)
liam's eyes are wide with wonder and thought --- barely notices when he finally slips out a quiet, breathless yes --- and zayn just leans in and brushes their lips together, smile never fading. "but first," zayn whispers, pausing to lick at liam's bottom lip, "i've got to do this."
it's all heated breaths and the warmth of their tongues pressing together, licks at the roof of their mouths like they can't get enough, lips rough but soft and eyes shut in order to search with their mouths.
zayn pulls away and leaves small, quick kisses down the side of liam's neck, wandering just to the right of his birthmark and---
"oh god," liam holds on tighter where their hands are still curled together, sucking in a breath and shuts his eyes at the gentle graze of zayn's teeth along his skin.
it's a light sting, makes him gasp and his chest heave, but it's guaranteed to leave a bruise; zayn always intends to leave a bruise.
his pulse is frantic and his knuckles are white from gripping their hands together. zayn lets him feel his smile against his skin and he feels dizzy, his vision blurry and his chest jumping, but it's just them.
"that way they'll know," zayn says, mumbles, voice rough as he uses his other thumb to graze over the spot, doing everything that makes liam pant and arch and feel.
his cheeks are burning, and his throat is dry, but he manages a smile and presses his palm against zayn's, warm and real. "i'm always yours, zayn."
+
on nights like these, zayn lets himself fall into rhythm with liam's soft breaths, warm against his chest, there for him to grip and hold on until the next morning.
(the rain patters softly like golden whispers against their window --- tapping you've got him now, don't let him go and zayn won't, knows liam won't let him either --- as if to remind them that this won't fade; zayn knows it won't.)
he presses his lips to liam's forehead and keeps them there, closes his eyes and breathes all of it in because he can.
liam's all muscles and height, and zayn definitely hasn't got as much upper-body strength than him, but he's also about the same height as him and liam's a lot light than everyone thinks and zayn likes the way he gets flustered when he gets picked up. zayn doesn't work out quite often --- he's never been the athletic one --- but liam's an exception because he's practically weightless (which, shouldn't be a good thing, but zayn knows not to worry because liam eats healthier than a grandma) and he gets adorably red and embarrassed whenever he gets carried, and zayn loves that; loves him.
"i can walk just fine, zayn!" liam tries to push at zayn's chest, but that just makes zayn want to pick him up more; hold him against the wall and kiss him breathless, senseless, until he's gasping and keening, legs weak and jelly so it makes an excuse for zayn to carry him to the couch and snag a snog from him, again and again. over and over.
the rain's stopped by now, but the sky's still gray and clouded over, sun hidden and that's just the perfect september weather.
liam mumbles something about breakfast underneath a quiet pant and a mixed whimper, and zayn smiles at that, leans in and presses their lips slow and hot; licking into liam's mouth and thinks that this is his breakfast.
+
he doesn't like coffee. it's bitter and bland and black and too strong, but liam does miraculous things in a matter of seconds and it's still bitter coffee, but there's a light sweetness in the aftertaste that makes zayn crave it, makes him take a sip and another, tasting that same feeling again, and it works.
"what do you put in these anyway?"
liam looks up from where he's stirring his mug and he shrugs a little, looking back into his coffee and bringing it to his lips. zayn watches the liquid disappear through his lips and god, liam's his, all his, every inch of him. (he's not letting go.) "cream, of course. and half a packet of sweetener--- not sugar, because that's too sweet and overwhelming, and sweeteners aren't much healthier but they're still a bit better and all."
zayn snorts, laughing with a breath into his cup, making the heat fog up against his cheeks. "'s all? it tastes fantastic."
liam crinkles his nose and zayn leans in to kiss it. "you don't need magic to make something magic, i guess."
zayn wonders if his life was like the bitter coffee before liam came, before liam changed everything and the way he looked at things, way he perceived them, the way liam made it all look easy and made him fall in love.
(but then he thinks: liam is the magic.)