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Sometimes Zayn just loathes Niall.
Like tonight, for instance. The club is crowded with people, either dancing the night away on the dance floor or hanging out near the bar. Zayn sips his drink in a corner, watching Niall who is across the room, a slight frown marring his handsome features.
Niall is near the DJ stand, surrounded by three giggling girls, who are apparently paying rapt attention to whatever the heck he is telling them about. Zayn watches as Niall gestures with his hands enthusiastically and laughing as he narrates his story, and Zayn forces himself to look away, focusing instead on the bright lights scattered on the walls near him.
That only lasts for about ten seconds, and Zayn finds himself looking again. He can’t help it. Even from a distance, Niall seems to glow in all his carefreeness and charm, and Zayn curses inwardly because Niall is so oblivious to the fact that it is slowly killing him inside.
Fuck Harry, fuck Louis, fuck Liam and most of all fuck you, Niall, Zayn thinks as he swallows down the remains of his drink, his grip on the glass tightening. He isn’t in the mood for partying today and had planned for a long, lazy Sunday the moment he woke up but then the boys came over afterwards and dragged him out, calling him a party-pooper, which is something he never likes to be called.
Especially from the life of the party himself, Niall Horan.
Niall had said it with a joking tone, but Zayn had never wanted more than to smack him across his face at that moment. Throughout the whole car ride to the club, Zayn avoided Niall’s eyes in hopes of hinting the anger that was building in him. He sat and looked out the window, looking aloof and not saying a single word, not even to the other boys.
Clearly the silent treatment didn’t have an effect on Niall, because the Irish boy continued acting like everything was normal and right in the world. This of course, agitated Zayn even more.
Zayn feels like a child, with the way he’s acting so immaturely over Niall’s teasing. But he just can’t stand it when he wakes up every morning feeling better than the day before, only to be crushed down again with the bitter feeling in the pit of his stomach whenever he sees Niall being the way he is – carefree, sociable, forever loveable.
Whenever he sees Niall with a couple of girls, he becomes needlessly hostile. Heck, Zayn can’t even stand the thought of Niall with a guy, god damn it. Granted, he’d always been the quieter, brooding type among the boys, but one day, out of nowhere, it hit him unexpectedly, and it hit hard.
“Welcome to the wonderful world of jealousy, Zayn thinks sourly, for the price of admission, you get a splitting headache, a nearly irresistible urge to commit murder, and an inferiority complex. Yippee.”
Truth be told, Zayn doesn’t quite recognize himself anymore. Every time Niall puts his arm around Liam affectionately or playfully messes up Harry’s curly locks, a roaring monster awakens inside of him, urging him to wrench Niall away from them and claim the boy as his own. He is filled with the intense desire to physically hurt anyone whom Niall showers his attention upon.
It’s become so much of a disease that Zayn has been distant from the other boys lately, constantly giving excuses or insisting over phone calls that he is sick (like he planned to do on this particular Sunday morning). He figures a little quarantine would be good for now, at least, until he is able to move on from this abominable phase.
But at times it hurts. Zayn would be sitting alone on his couch, watching reruns of some reality TV show and suddenly he feels pangs of misery. His attention towards the TV would waver and he’d start imagining Niall’s stupid grin, hear Niall’s stupid laugh. He’d start imagining Niall sitting right beside him, stuffing his face with a bag of junk food and hear loud crunches as Niall chews on a crisp.
Zayn hates that feeling of longing and he hates how much he even gives a fuck because he knows that Niall doesn’t. Day by day, Zayn continues to suffer with his inner battle while Niall acts like his normal self, like the self-proclaimed ‘carefree mofo’ he is.
And now Niall continues to prove himself to be the most unmindful person in the world and Zayn despises him so much he thinks he is just about ready to leave. Zayn leaves his empty glass on a table, trying to ignore the fact that the table is dangerously close to two couples on a couch, playing a furious game of tonsil hockey.
He looks around and spots Harry, who is dancing with a girl that Zayn had never seen before and goes over towards them. He cringes slightly as he walks towards them, noting Harry’s extremely bad dancing skills, which go unnoticed by the girl because she is drunk, but everyone else around them is staring and Zayn feels embarrassed for Harry.
“Hey Haz,” Zayn grabs Harry by the shoulder, stopping him from doing some sort of odd dance move that looked like a cross between a robot and a hustle.
“Hey man,” Harry replies drunkenly, a silly grin on his face. He pulls the girl he was dancing with towards him and says, “This is Miranda.”
The girl, who is equally intoxicated, bursts out into hysterical laughter. “Miranda… sounds so funny right now!” she laughs almost maniacally, and Zayn would have been amused if he isn’t in such a state of annoyance. Harry is laughing, and Zayn resists the urge to call them idiots in their faces and stomp off angrily.
“Look, Haz,” Zayn grabs Harry’s shoulder again to regain his friend’s attention, “I need to go now, I’ve got a headache and I can’t stand being here, so tell the boys I’m going now, okay?”
Harry looks confused, and then cups his ear, signifying that he couldn’t hear Zayn over the loud music. Zayn sighs, then repeats his sentence.
“I’VE GOT TO GO NOW, TELL THE OTHER BOYS,” Zayn bellows in Harry’s ear, making Harry wince.
“You didn’t have to yell!” Harry said, pouting like a little child. Miranda starts giggling, and once again they are caught up in another laughing fit.
Zayn rolls his eyes and turns away, making his way towards the door.
Once he steps out of the noisy club, he feels much better in the cool autumn air. He digs in his pocket and pulls out a cigarette and a lighter, and soon he is walking down the pavement and along the stores, smoke billowing out from his mouth with every drag he takes. He is thankful for the fact that his house is nearby, and he can’t wait to just go back to his original plan, even though half his night was already wasted.
“Zayn!” someone calls just as he is about to cross the street to get to his flat. He hears running footsteps and turns to see Niall, looking breathless from his sprint. “Where’re you going?” the younger boy asks, gasping for air.
Zayn pays no attention to how Niall’s cheeks are now shaded with a bright tint of red and replies shortly, “Home.” He refuses to take in Niall’s infuriatingly disheveled yet appealing appearance and looks away, turning back his attention to the moving traffic, waiting for the next red light.
“Why so soon? Night’s still young, buddy,” Niall says, a lighthearted air to his voice.
Zayn doesn’t respond to this for a while, eyes stubbornly fixed on the traffic light, willing it to turn red faster. “I have a headache,” he says, taking a drag of his cigarette and releasing a long, slow train of smoke from his mouth.
“Oh…” Niall nods, “That explains why you’ve been a little off today.”
“Nice to know that you noticed,” Zayn mutters sarcastically as the awaited red light finally makes the cars stop for him to cross the road. As he walks to the other side of the road, Niall follows him despite the snarky comment.
Zayn is mildly surprised at first, but then remembers that Niall never takes comments like that too seriously. He doesn’t say anything else throughout the whole walk towards his flat and neither does Niall, but once they reach in front of the elevator of Zayn’s flat, Zayn whips around and asks, “Why are you following me?” He doesn’t like the fact that he sounds threatened, so he fixes Niall with a glare, intending to possibly scare him away.
“There’s something more than a headache, I know it,” Niall says calmly, undaunted.
The two of them don’t take their eyes off of each other until the elevator emits a ‘ping!’ sound and the doors open. Zayn steps in, Niall following slightly behind him and the doors close. Zayn shifts his glance from the buttons in the elevator to Niall.
He is staring at Zayn with those bright blue eyes, blonde hair tousled from his run and clothes disarray.
So god damn beautiful.
At that moment, Zayn breaks.
He lunges towards Niall and smashes his lips against Niall’s, taking handfuls of Niall’s shirt in his fists. The kiss is hungry and desperate, much like his current emotion. He nips at Niall’s bottom lip with force, willing for the boy to kiss him back, but Niall stays frozen and Zayn feels his heart drop.
There is another ‘ping’ sound, and they’ve reached Zayn’s floor. Zayn pushes him away, breathing heavily, more frustrated than ever. He avoids Niall’s eyes, feeling dejected and ashamed. There is a long period of silence.
This is it, Zayn thinks; everything’s going to be over. Those little fantasies that you cooked up in your brain involving him aren’t going to happen, Malik.
“Zayn?” he hears Niall call softly. Zayn is reluctant to look up, but he forces himself to.
Niall’s pale cheeks are coloured with red once again, and he has an expression on his face that looks like slight confusion. “That’s not how you do it, Z.”
Before Zayn could be surprised about Niall’s use of his nickname, Niall is already edging closer, bringing their lips together again. There is huge contrast between this kiss and the previous one, Zayn notes, as Niall presses his slightly chapped lips against his own soft ones gently, moving to some sort of rhythm that quite well matched their heartbeats.
It is long and slow, and Zayn wants the moment to last forever. After a while, Niall pulls away and Zayn suddenly is plagued with the feeling of terror as to what will happen next.
Another pause of silence.
“Why?” Zayn asks.
“Because…”Niall says, looking down at the floor, then looking back at him. “Because to tell you the truth, I don’t know what the fuck just happened, but it was amazing.” He breathes out, a slight smile appearing on his face. “I think you have a little bit of explanation to do.”
“I just…” Zayn runs his hand through his hair and sighs. “I don’t know why, but one day, I looked at you and I just decided that I want you. All for myself. I feel bothered when you’re with other people, I can’t stand it when you touch anyone else. I know this sounds stupid and selfish and weird but I feel like I don’t want to share you with anyone else and I just want you to want me back.” At this point, Zayn feels like a complete blabbering idiot so he stops.
“Is that why you’ve been avoiding us lately?” Niall’s tone is gentle, and Zayn likes the sound of it. He nods in response.
“I probably sound like a lunatic to you now.”
“Sort of. But I think we should figure it out. We’ll talk it out, yeah?” Niall says. Zayn looks at Niall and feels a bit of longing to start kissing him again, but he resists and nods instead.
The two of them realize that they are still in the elevator.
~
Zayn’s eyes flutter open slowly. It’s late night, and he is lying on the couch of his living room in front of the TV, but unlike the previous nights, the TV isn’t on.
And for once, he isn’t alone.
Curling up against him, Niall’s face is buried in Zayn’s chest, sleeping soundly. Zayn stares down at him, stroking his fingers lightly through the strands of Niall’s blonde hair, listening to the sound of his breathing. Zayn cracks a smile, something that he realizes he hasn’t done for a while and leans in to place a soft kiss on Niall’s forehead.
Just before Zayn falls back asleep, his chin resting on the younger boy’s head, he feels the heavy, angry feeling he had in his chest lift, replaced with content thoughts of waking up the next morning with someone to cook and eat breakfast with.
fin.