Chapter Text
Zayn reached into the bag of chips at his feet and popped another one in his mouth, the tangy barbecue taste sending his hungry taste buds into a frenzy. The living room was completely silent except for the sound of a Lifetime movie blaring on the television and he pulled the blanket tighter around him. It was Thanksgiving weekend so he had the week off from classes which meant he could spend all his free time bumming around the house, painting, watching television, and eating junk food. He was happy about that three days ago when it first started but by now he was getting bored without his classes to keep him busy. His roommate, a quiet boy named Liam, had flown home to Wolverhampton to see his family while he had the time, leaving Zayn alone in the house they shared. Zayn usually liked his alone time but not when it started to get to the point where he felt lonely. Regardless of any social issues one might have, no one liked to be alone.
The movie went on commercial and Zayn muted the volume, the room going silent. Only one light was on, a small lamp on the table directly behind the sofa, so the room was dim, the television providing most of the light. He finished off the chips—wiping his orange fingers on a towel—and folded up the bag, tossing it into the kitchen. He aimed roughly in the direction of the trash bin but it missed, bouncing off the rim. He sighed, pulling at his falling quiff, not in the mood to get up and get it. He was too comfortable. When a car insurance commercial came on, Zayn noticed the heavy pounding of loud music coming from next door. He leaned a little to the left and glanced out the four pane window next to the television. He frowned when he saw pulsing lights and a shitload of people hanging around outside the house next door, separated from his by only a white picket fence.
As luck would have it, at the beginning of the year a fraternity group moved in next door, making the house their frat house. Zayn was pissed when he first found out. How was he supposed to study and concentrate on his painting when the neighbors were always partying? But he'd been lucky up until now. For the first few months they'd been there, there hadn't been a single party. But tonight, they decided to change that, obscene rap music blaring from the open windows. Zayn furrowed his brows, knowing he'd miss the cool breeze if he closed the window but he also knew that if it was closed, it would help block out the music. He raised the volume on the television as the movie came back on and he got up off the couch to close the window. His heart leaped in his throat when someone hopped the fence and threw their solo cup of beer at the window just as it closed, beer running down the spotless glass. Zayn bit his lip, weighing his options, before he threw off the blanket and laced up his combat boots. He was going to go over there and sort these people out. It was ten o'clock on a Friday night, yes Zayn understood that partying was the go-to activity on nights like tonight but if these people wanted to party, there were going to have to take it elsewhere. Zayn wasn't going to put up with it.
He threw open the front door, grabbing his leather jacket from the hook as he stepped onto the porch, locking the door behind him. He shoved his hands into his pockets to protect them from November's chill as he pushed open the gate with his thighs, kicking it closed to where it latched with his foot once he was on the sidewalk. He pulled the grey beanie from his pocket to make more room for his hand and positioned it on his head to keep the cold out of his ears and the heat in his body, since most of it was lost through the head.
He mumbled under his breath as he marched over to the house next door, fighting sweaty bodies of countless people who really should have been wearing coats but he wasn't going to meddle in these people's lives, given that they returned the favour and didn't meddle in his. Which, he felt that at this moment in time, they weren't doing. He sidestepped around someone who was obviously piss drunk and this close to throwing their beer on him as he made his way up the creaky wood steps, that he knew from seeing them in the daylight, were pale blue and flaky. He gripped the white handrail as someone flew from the house, naked, and out into the biting cold air. Damn, Zayn thought as he knocked on the dark red door, these people are out of their fucking minds. He returned his hands to their previous position in his pockets as someone stumbled out the door, probably more of coincidence rather than to answer the door. Zayn grabbed their arm anyway, effectively stopping them. He noticed it was a boy his age with feathery blonde hair and a green sweater on, beer spilled down the front even though he appeared to be sober. Zayn recognised him as the owner of the house before it turned into a frat house. He'd been living next to the boy for a while now and never once did he ever speak to him. He'd spoken to frat types before and he wasn't going there again. But tonight was an exception.
"Excuse me," Zayn said, frowning to show he was upset even though the boy probably couldn't see his face too well in the dark. "Are you aware that you have neighbors?"
The boy nodded, a cheeky grin playing on his pink lips as he shoved his hands into the pockets of his denim jeans, his thumbs out, pointing towards his crotch. "Of course I am. I'm not a dumbass."
"Good. Then you'll be able to understand what I'm about to tell you," Zayn said, crossing his arms in front of his chest.
The boy nodded, rocking back on his heels. "Alright, mate. What seems to be the problem? Not enjoying the party?"
"I'm not attending the party," Zayn growled. "I live next door. I'm trying to enjoy my Friday night but I can't because you're throwing this obnoxious get-together."
The boy grinned. "Get-together? I like your choice of words, mate. How come we've never spoken?"
Zayn shrugged, throwing his hands in the air. "I don't know. Maybe because you're an arrogant asshole?"
The boy frowned, a hand going to his hair. "That's not very nice."
"Well," Zayn said, swearing as he was knocked aside by someone eager to refill their cup. "I'm not happy right now."
"How can I help, then? Want a beer?"
"I don't drink," Zayn informed him. "Just turn down the damn music and try to end this shindig before midnight. Got it? I have somewhere to be tomorrow."
The boy paused a moment before he nodded. "Alright. Midnight. Got it. Soda, then?"
Zayn tugged at his beanie. "I'm not attending your shit party so just fuck off, will ya? I'm going home. Oh, and tell your dumbass guests to stay off my property."
Zayn huffed as he walked away, even more pissed than he was when he left. He'd spent probably twenty minutes over there and he didn't accomplish anything. And to make things worse, the boy had an I don't give a shit about anyone but myself attitude which probably meant he was going to disregard everything Zayn just told him. Fuming as he entered his yard, Zayn decided to make a cup of tea to warm up and calm himself down. He closed the front door behind him and hung his coat back up, sliding off his boots. He rubbed his cold hands together as he walked into the kitchen, grabbing the tea kettle from the rear burner of the stove, moving it to the front and turning it on. He grabbed the box of tea from the cupboard and glanced out the window above the sink. More people were headed to the party next door, appearing to be drunk before they even got there. Zayn shook his head as he filled the kettle with water.
People these days.
While he waited for the water to heat up, he knelt down to look in the lower cupboards for the box of cookies he'd bought last week but had yet to open. They were Graham cookies with a chocolate bottom, as well as it being striped over top. They were his favorite and he always hid them from Liam when he was around. Liam was a total health nut and rode Zayn's ass all the time about the shit he was putting into his body. Zayn just tuned him out and thought about what he was going to draw next.
The kettle screeched on the burner and Zayn moved it to the back while he grabbed his mug, filling it up about an inch from the rim and dropping in his tea bag. He moved into the living room, putting his mug on the table and curling back up into the blanket. His movie was over and another had started but he'd already seen it so he shut off the television, opting to finish his tea in the dark.
When Zayn woke up the next morning on the couch, his mug had fallen off the table and shattered, spilling the remaining few drops of his tea onto the hardwood floor. He groaned as he turned away from it, and the light streaming in through the window, and buried his face in the back of the couch. He'd slept with his beanie on so he had a severe case of hat hair and his bare chest had lined imprints in it from the fabric of the couch cushions. It was warm and stuffy in the den but atleast he'd managed to go another night without contracting a cold or a mild case of the sniffles. The only thing worse than going to bed angry was waking up sick.
Deciding it was time to start his day, he rolled off the couch, falling before he could stop himself and landing on the floor, his crumpled up skinny jeans cushioning the blow to his head. He groaned as he pushed his hair back off his forehead, sitting up. His tight black boxer shorts had chip crumbs stuck to the ass and the orange dust was tainting the material. He stoop up, bending over to pick up his shirt and jeans to put them in the wash bin. He grabbed the small broom and dustpan from the sink cupboard and knelt down to scoop up the pieces of the mug. He slipped on a pair of sweatpants he had hanging over the couch and walked out onto the porch in only the pants and socks, his chest bare. The air was chilly and his nipples hardened to try and preserve heat and he instantly regretted leaving the house without a shirt. He walked down the steps, his not flaky, and down the footpath towards the green garbage can on the curb. He opened the lid and paused, looking over his shoulder when he heard laughter next door. There was people asleep on the porch swing, light blankets the only thing between them and the early morning air. The blonde boy from last night was sitting on the porch stoop, talking to someone on the phone. He laughed at something the other person said and glanced in Zayn's direction, his eyes raking up and down his body, a shiver of a smile on his chapped lips.
The smile reminded Zayn of the one you'd see in an amateur horror movie where the antagonist knew something the main character didn't. When Zayn turned around to head back inside, he saw that it was exactly like that. He looked at his house, eyes stopping at the roof before moving down again. After he went to bed last night, the boy and his shitty friends must have come over to show him they were superior or some shit because his house was covered in eggs and toilet paper. Zayn's blood boiled and he was no longer cold as his hands curled into fists around the dustpan. He glared over at the boy who was turned away, his hand covering his laughing lips because he knew what he did and he'd gotten the reaction he wanted. Zayn picked up on that and loosened his grip, trying to relax. He shook his head, breathing in deep as he stepped forward to go back inside, avoiding looking at the boy as he went. As it turned out, Zayn was right last night. The boy did not turn down the music and the party did not end at midnight. By the time the music was turned down and some of the guests left, it had to have been somewhere around four in the morning. Zayn got hardly a wink of sleep last night and he was seriously considering wringing that boy's pale ass neck.
He threw the dustpan and broom back in the cupboard and grabbed the vacuum from the hall closet, preparing to clean away his rage. He slipped off his sweatpants and tossed them over the couch once again so he could sweep in only his boxers because vacuuming made him warm. He reached down to plug the cord in and switched it on, the sound filling the room. He moved it back and forth, muttering under his breath. That damn boy, he grumbled. Keeping me up all night just so he can drink and party all night with his shit friends at his shit house at all hours of the fucking night. Zayn shook his head, pulling the vacuum behind him so he could sweep the cushions of the couch. He now had to call in Harry to help him clean the house so he didn't have to do it by himself and if Harry refused Zayn didn't know what he was going to do. He was tired of being alone. He wanted Harry to come help him but he supposed he understood if he couldn't make it.
He pulled the hose from the side of the vacuum and yanked it over the fabric, the chip crumbs along with a bunch of other shit, disappearing into the vacuum's dust and dirt trapper. He swept for hours until the house was spotless, even going as far to sweep the staircase. He shoved the vacuum back in the closet and walked up the stairs to his room, searching for a pair of jeans to wear after his shower. The doorbell rang as his hand touched the bathroom door knob and he sighed, running back down the stairs to get the door. He pulled it open, sighing in relief when he saw Harry's smiling face.
"Miss me?" He grinned, holding up a bag from Roscoe's, Zayn's favorite diner.
Zayn nodded, pulling him in for a hug. "Yes, of course, you little shit. Get in here. I'm starving."
Harry laughed as he closed the door behind him, kicking off his brown leather boots as he followed Zayn into the kitchen. He sat down at the table and pulled out a container of thick potato soup and a spoon, sliding it over to Zayn.
"Brought you some breakfast."
Zayn smiled as he sat down, pulling the bowl close to him and opening the lid. Steam flowed out, filling the air with its rich potato smell. Zayn inhaled as he lifted the spoon to his mouth, blowing on it.
"I also saw that someone attacked your house last night. What's that all about?" Harry asked, getting up to help himself to some of the tea leftover from last night, reheating it in the microwave.
"I don't know," Zayn said, swallowing the bite of soup. "I went over to the neighbor's last night to bitch about the music and I guess he didn't take it well."
"I'd say so." Harry smiled, sitting down, stirring sugar into his tea. "Vindictive little shit, isn't he?"
"Yes," Zayn said. "He is. And if he does it again I'm gonna recruit you to help me beat his ass. You should've seen his face this morning. He was grinning like he owned the damn sun."
Harry chuckled as he sipped his tea. "Well shit, Zayn. Sounds like you really hate this guy's guts."
"You don't know the half of it. I should call him over and make him clean the house. That'll teach his ass. It's like he did it just to wind me up," Zayn sighed, eating more of the chunky soup.
"Maybe he is," Harry pointed out.
"What?"
"Maybe," Harry paused, green eyes lifting to meet Zayn's face. "He is just doing it to wind you up. Get a reaction out of you. Hell, maybe that's his way of saying he wants to be your friend."
"My friend? No, I don't buy that. Try another theory, Harry."
Harry held up his hands in surrender. "I'm just saying. You don't know what his intentions were."
"I think I have pretty good idea."
"Oh, stop it," Harry said. "Get your ass out of this funk. So what if he egged your house? How hard is it to clean it? Just powerwash it."
Zayn glanced up at him. "Where am I going to get a powerwasher, Harry? I don't have that kind of money."
"No, but your boy next door does."
"How do you know that?" Zayn asked.
Harry shrugged. "I seen the powerwasher in his driveway. It's like he's expecting you to come ask for it."
"Well, I won't," Zayn said. "I don't want to play his games. I'll just go up there with a shovel and a bucket. Scrape it off by hand."
Harry snorted, rinsing his mug. "Okay, Zayn. Whatever you say. Just promise not to get any on your precious boots, alright? I have to go now. I'm meeting Louis at Shadow's Putt-Putt. We have a date today."
"Who's Louis?"
Harry brushed off the question. "Oh, you'll meet him eventually. If he sticks around long enough. Enjoy your soup!"
Zayn watched in silence as Harry sauntered out the door, humming as he walked out the gate and down the sidewalk, away from Zayn's house. He looked down at his soup and stirred the chunks of potato around in a circle, bored. He contemplated what Harry had said. Should he go over and ask for the powerwasher? No, his mind said harshly. You're not playing his games, remember? Forget about him!
Zayn realised as he stood up to rinse his bowl, heading up the stairs to start his shower, that he couldn't. He knew who the boy was now and the boy knew that. He was going to keep Zayn coming back whether he liked it or not.
—∞—
Zayn pulled at his face while he rocked back and forth on his heels. He was standing on the blonde boy's front porch, all the party guests gone, and he was working up the nerve to knock on the door. Harry had called after Zayn got out of the shower to further convince him that he needed to go over to the blonde boy's house and demand that he borrow his powerwasher to clean up the mess that he made. Harry claimed that if the boy had any manners at all, he would extend his courtesy and let Zayn borrow the powerwasher to clean his house. After all, Harry pointed out, if he was in Zayn's position, he'd want someone to do it for him so he'd better step up and be friendly. Zayn rolled his eyes at Harry's babble, he was so used to it. Harry always went around thinking he knew people. Granted, most times he was right but that didn't mean he always was. Some people you just don't know.
"Well, you gonna knock or just stand there like a jackass?" A voice asked.
Zayn looked towards the door, the blonde boy from last night was standing there in a new pair of jeans on and no shirt. He had bed hair, or maybe it was sex hair, and he was holding a guitar. Zayn fumbled, shoving his hands into his pockets so the boy wouldn't see them shaking.
"I came over here to ask a favour," Zayn started, shifting his weight to his left leg.
"Okay," the boy said, opening the door and coming out onto the porch. "What kind of favour?"
"Uh, my friend dropped by this morning and noticed that you have a powerwasher and he convinced me that I should ask you to borrow it so I can clean my house," Zayn said, looking anywhere but the boy's face. He was actually pretty good-looking in the daylight without beer all over his clothes. And he smelled better; like cocoa and mint.
"What do you think?" Blondie asked, sitting down on the swing. "Do you think I should lend you the powerwasher to clean your house?"
Zayn opened his mouth then closed it. He did think the boy should lend it to him but he wasn't sure if he wanted to be indebted to this asshole. He asks for a favour, he has to give one back and the boy could ask for anything. He just wasn't entirely sure if that was a responsibility he was willing to take on. He had enough to worry about. The last thing he needed was someone asking him to hunt down some heroin or some shit.
"Well? What do you think? You wanna borrow it?"
Zayn nodded, decision made. "Yes. I wanna borrow it. Do you mind? I'll return it when I'm finished."
He held up a hand. "No need. It's yours. I felt a little bad about egging your house last night, it was my friend's idea, so I went out last night before the shops closed and picked one up. It wasn't cheap but I figured it's the least I can do."
Zayn raised his eyebrows. "You, uh, bought me a powerwasher? But you don't even know me! That's quite a bit of money."
"I know," he said, standing up and walking off the porch and over to the powerwasher sitting in the drive. "But I felt it was the right thing to do. So, please, just take it. I'll even help you clean the house."
"Uh, no." Zayn shook his head. "That's alright. You don't have to do that. You've done plenty. Trust me."
"You sure? 'Cos I'd be glad to help." He rubbed the back of his neck. "I'm not an all around asshole, you know."
"Never would've guessed," Zayn muttered, bending to grab the powerwasher's handle so he could wheel it home. He stepped around the boy, stopping to look at him. "Thanks again for the powerwasher. I appreciate it. I'm Zayn, by the way."
"Niall. See you around, then?"
Zayn looked away briefly, contemplating. "Yeah. See you around."
"So, he just gave you the powerwasher?" Harry asked over dinner that night.
Zayn nodded. "Yep. Says he went out last night after it happened and bought it just for me."
He looked down at his breaded chicken, poking it with his fork. Harry smiled at him. He knew that look. "You're starting to think he's not so much an asshole, aren't you? You're starting to like him."
Zayn looked up sharply, dropping his fork making Harry smirk. "No I'm not. He's less of an asshole, yes. But I don't like him. I don't."
Harry shrugged, holding up his hands. "Alright. But when you two end up fucking, I'm gonna say I told you so."
"That's fine. But only if it happens."
"And it will."
Zayn smiled and shook his head. There he goes again, thinking he knows people. Zayn wanted to prove him wrong but something deep, deep down inside of him told him that he wouldn't able to. No matter how much he wanted to. His fate was already set in motion and if Niall happened to be in it, then so be it. But he didn't like Harry trying to tell him what he was going to do regarding his personal life. He didn't say anything about it, though. He really wasn't in the mood to argue with Harry. Not about this.
"How was your date today, Harry? Was Louis nice?"
He nodded. "He was actually. Very friendly. And funny, too."
"So, are you going to go out with him again?" Zayn asked, swallowing a bite of green beans.
Harry shrugged, cutting his chicken into pieces. "I don't know yet. Probably."
"I think you should. It seems like you really like him," Zayn told him.
"You think so? Yeah. Okay. I'll give him a call after dinner. Thanks, mate." Harry smiled as he finished his dinner and Zayn smiled, too. It's been a few years since Harry's been serious with someone, when he was eighteen, and he was praying that this Louis guy would be the one that hangs around for a while. After all the shit Harry's been through in the past few years, what with break-ups, mom and step-dad divorcing, sister leaving, and other stuff, he needed some consistency. He deserved it.
Zayn finished up his dinner and scooped the remaining food into the trash, loading the dishes into the dishwasher. Harry sat in silence at the table, watching him. He was nearly done with his chicken, Zayn leaning against the counter, when he spoke again.
"When's Liam coming home?"
"Tomorrow, I think. Said he wanted to relax for a few days at home before school started up again," Zayn answered, looking out the big window opposite of the sink, looking out into his small backyard, the only thing back there besides an old swing was an old grill that had a tarp over it, protecting it from the rain. When they actually had some, that is.
"Hm," Harry tutted. "I can understand that. Bet he's ready to get back though?"
"He is. He's really enjoying his classes and he's eager to start up again. I spoke with him on the phone earlier. He called while we were cleaning the house," Zayn explained.
"Oh, that's who you were talking to? The way you talked, I thought it was your mother!" Harry smiled and Zayn laughed, shaking his head.
"No. She called later."
A knock on the door interrupted their conversation and Zayn went to get it, furrowing his brows as he went. He reached out to open the door and his eyes widened. "Niall. What are you doing here? Don't you have a party to plan?"
"Yes, actually that's why I'm here," He said, Zayn turning to look at Harry who was coming up behind him.
"Is that so?"
"Yeah. I'm throwing a small party tonight—friends only—and I thought that maybe you wanted to, I don't know, come?" He asked, a hopeful expression coating his features. It looked good on him. A lot better than his asshole face, that's for sure.
"Um, " Zayn started.
"We'd love to!" Harry exclaimed, reaching out to hug the boy, causing Zayn to glare. "What time should we arrive?"
"Anytime after seven," Niall smiled, stepping out of Harry's embrace. "See you there"
Zayn watched him skip off back to his own house, waiting until he was inside before he reached over and punched Harry in the arm.
"What the hell are you thinking? A party?"
"What?" Harry asked, innocently. "It's just a party. No big deal."
"No big deal? God, Harry. What am I going to do with you?" Zayn sighed, wiping his face. It was going to be a long night.