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they started sleeping together, and picking apart those threads is going

to take some time. It‟s fine.

If he‟s being honest, it had kind of started to feel strained during those

times anyway. It‟s hard to face it, because they had become such fast

mates, but the tension between them has taken its toll, and Louis finds

himself enduring awkward pauses more often than not when they‟re

alone these days, wrung out of words he can say out loud and keeping

everything else under lock and key. There‟s not much else left, and it

hurts, but that‟s what it is now. That‟s what he‟s chosen.

He wishes it were still winter so he could hide from all of this inside his

coat, so the air would be cold on his skin and he wouldn‟t feel like

crawling out of it all the time, but time keeps passing and it‟s more than

halfway through May now. Outside it‟s warmer and softer and sunnier,

and Louis feels at odds with everything. He goes home alone at night

and sits on the kitchen floor in shorts and an old t-shirt, feeling the cool

tiles against his thighs and shutting his eyes against the memories that

dredges up.

God, he hates how much he doesn‟t want Harry to go.

At least it‟s almost over, he thinks. He may not be able to let go of

Harry on his own, but at least soon he won‟t have a choice. Somehow

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that seems like a mercy, like he can let go and relax soon enough. Like

freezing to death. It‟s just like freezing to death.

It‟s a sorry fucking state of affairs, Zayn thinks.

Harry and Louis are worse off than he ever imagined, and he‟s

powerless to do anything but sit there and watch two of his best friends

make each other miserable because they won‟t fucking admit they‟re in

love with each other. Seeing it every day is like one long root canal that

won‟t end, and that‟s on top of things with Liam, which are nonexistent

at the moment and have been that way for a while. He‟s given up

entirely by now. Liam is probably very happy with his beautiful

nameless girlfriend, looking effortlessly handsome and getting felt up

in coffee shops all over the country. How nice for him.

He stands, staring into his fridge, and contemplates the eternal

question: suck it up and eat the last of the unappetizing leftovers, or go

get take-out? The leftover stir-fry looks truly heinous, but if he goes

outside he‟ll have to change out of his comfy t-shirt and sweatpants,

and he really is not feeling up to dressing like an adult. Maybe he‟ll

split the difference and order in a pizza.

No wonder he and Louis are best friends. They‟re equally pathetic and

equally incapable of fending for themselves like grown humans.

Zayn‟s just about to give up on dinner too when he‟s startled out of his

reverie by a knock on the door. He frowns into the fridge. He didn‟t

order food in earlier and forget about it, right? That would be a new

low.

He slumps over to the door and pulls it open, ready to repel whatever

neighbor has had the misfortune to require his assistance this afternoon.

Morning? Probably afternoo—

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Liam is standing in his doorway. Zayn doesn‟t remember taking any

hallucinogenic drugs recently, and yet there Liam stands, looking all

wholesome and plaid with his hand on the back of his neck, just like

Zayn remembers him. He‟d kind of been hoping that he‟d been

imagining that, or that he‟d exaggerated it in his own mind, but no. He

really does look like that.

“Hi,” Zayn says blankly, standing there in the least attractive clothing

he owns.

“Hi, Zayn,” Liam says, smiling sheepishly. Zayn just blinks at him.

Liam shifts his weight back and forth. “Sorry, this is so rude, I should

have called first. I don‟t know why I didn‟t, actually, I just. I don‟t

know. Sorry.”

“What are you doing here?” Zayn knows he‟s being rude, but right now

all he can deal with is gathering as much information as possible before

choosing what kind of meltdown he‟s going to have. Efficiency is

important.

“It‟s, um. I just hadn‟t heard from you in a while, and I, uh. Did I... do

something wrong?” The look on his face is the picture of dejection.

Oh, Zayn had thought he‟d reached the absolute bottom of his self-

loathing, but he had been so wrong. A year and a half of trying to be

with this person, the happiest person Zayn knows, and all he‟s managed

to do is make him sad. Of course.

The nice thing about hating himself this much, though, is that the next

decision he makes isn‟t even that difficult. What‟s a little more

humiliation at this point? If it takes that apologetic look off Liam‟s

face, it‟ll be worth it.

“Liam, I—no, hold on. Come inside,” Zayn says, holding the door

open. “D‟you want tea? I can put the kettle on.”

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“Oh, no thank you,” Liam says, stepping across the threshold. “Unless

you wanted to have some? Because, I mean, go ahead if you do.”

“Nah, just felt like the thing to say,” Zayn says, scratching the back of

his head. “Um, here, sorry, hold on a minute.” He starts clearing off the

kitchen table, picking up the debris that‟s accumulated on the extra

chair he never uses. “Here, sit down. Sorry.”

Liam sits down carefully, watching Zayn like he thinks he‟s going to

take off and leave a human-shaped hole in the wall at any second. Zayn

isn‟t entirely sure he won‟t, but he sits down across from Liam anyway.

He can flee in five minutes. Right now he has something he needs to

do.

“So,” Zayn says, looking across the table at Liam‟s upsettingly earnest

face. He‟s got a little line between his eyebrows. Zayn has never

wanted to draw someone so badly. “You asked me if you‟d done

something wrong.”

“I just—I‟m sorry, I feel really silly,” Liam says. “It‟s just that we were

talking all the time? And hanging out? And then it all just stopped, and

I got kind of paranoid about it, and I didn‟t want to ask about it because

I thought it‟d be weird.” He fiddles with the sleeves of his shirt and

half-smiles down at them. “But then not asking drove me crazy and

that‟s why I‟m showing up on your doorstep like a nutter. Which, sorry

about that again.”

If he apologizes again Zayn is going to burst into flames out of sheer

guilt. “Don‟t be. It‟s good, I‟m glad you did. Gives me a chance to

explain myself, I guess. Because I‟m the one who did something

wrong, by the way. Not you. You didn‟t do anything,” Zayn says,

forcing himself to keep contact with Liam‟s eyes, huge and brown and

terribly relieved.

“Okay, I‟m glad you‟re not cross with me or anything,” Liam says,

“Really glad. But—”

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“Why have I been avoiding you? Right. This is going to sound crazy,

because it is, but just bear with me, yeah?” Zayn takes a deep breath. In

for a penny, in for a pound. He looks Liam right in the eye and keeps

his voice as steady as he can. “I was avoiding you because I was trying

to play hard to get. Because I have feelings for you. Have for a long

time, actually. But I was being an idiot, because all I‟ve done is make

you feel bad, and I can‟t be sorry enough for that. And you really,

really haven‟t done anything wrong.”

Well. That‟s out there. Not planned. Not calculated. Just done. It feels

like the whole world should have shifted on its axis, but his kitchen still

looks exactly the same. He still feels like the same person, just with

slightly higher blood pressure. Liam even still looks mostly the same,

though his expression is significantly more shocked than it was thirty

seconds ago.

“Is it really that surprising?” Zayn has to laugh. He kind of wants to

laugh hysterically, actually. “I‟ve—God, you‟ve got no idea, have you?

I‟ve been a complete idiot over you since I met you.”

Liam‟s mouth drops open a little. “What?” he finally manages. Well, at

the very least, Zayn knows what it‟s like to not be the speechless one

now.

“Sorry, this is a lot to spring on you at once. It was just...” Zayn says.

He scrubs a hand over his face. “You showed up out of nowhere and

you were perfect and I knew I‟d never meet somebody like that ever

again, and I kept thinking if I could just get you to notice me then

maybe I could have a shot, and, ugh, I‟ve been so stupid. Trying the

hard to get thing was just the last in a very long line of very, very stupid

things I‟ve tried to get your attention.”

“No, Zayn,” Liam says, eyebrows knitting into a frown, and damn him

for being so earnest and nice when Zayn is hanging what little is left of

his dignity out to dry. “Don‟t say that. You‟re not stupid.”

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“No, I am. Really,” Zayn barrels on, determined to prove that Liam has

no reason to apologize to him. And the honesty actually feels pretty

good. If this bridge is getting burned, he‟s gonna burn it all the way to

the ground. “You want proof? Okay, how‟s this: there‟s nothing wrong

with my building. I just told you that because I thought maybe you‟d

come „round to check and I‟d get to see you.”

He pauses to see Liam‟s reaction. He doesn‟t seem appropriately

horrified, just sort of stunned into silence, so Zayn grabs a shovel and

digs his grave deeper. “I reported the sprinklers on my hall at school

because I wanted to see you, Liam. I put Louis‟ cat up a tree because I

wanted to see you. More than once. I, I almost fucking started a grease

fire in Louis‟ kitchen, to see you. I accidentally caught my own hair on

fire and then I spent a week hiding in closets every time you came

around because I was too embarrassed to let you see me, all right, that‟s

what I do with my life. Because I really like you and I had no idea what

to do about it.”

Liam is staring at him now, unblinking, and Zayn just keeps plodding

on. Fuck it. Fuck all of it. Being afraid is boring, keeping secrets is

boring, and not telling this incredible man how much he adores him is

the most boring of all.

“I wanted so badly to make you to notice me and I didn‟t know how

else to do it. I had it in my head that we were supposed to be together

and if I wanted it bad enough that it would happen, but I‟m stupid, I‟m

so stupid, because you don‟t even know. A fucking year and a half of

my life, all of this shit, and you don‟t even know. I should have told

you from the beginning, when you were standing on my doorstep with

Yeats, because I wanted to be with you even back then. I‟m sorry for

every second I spent making silly plans and not letting you know how

wonderful I think you are. Because I do.” This is the most powerful

Zayn has ever felt in his life.

“Zayn...” Liam says, and there‟s no way Zayn is interested in hearing

the end of that sentence before he says his piece. Liam can let him

down easy once he‟s finished.

404

“I think you‟re wonderful,” Zayn says, forcing himself not to drop his

eyes to the floor. He doesn‟t know half of what he‟s saying before he

says it, but it‟s too late to stop now. “I‟m a tragic idiot and half an

arsonist besides, and I don‟t even care that you probably think I‟m

mental now, because I honestly deserve it. And if you don‟t want to see

me ever again, that‟s fine. But not before I‟m sure that you know that

you‟re the best person I‟ve ever met, and the bravest, and the most

impossibly kind.” He takes a deep breath and smiles. “And you‟re cute,

too, for the record. And it‟s fine if you don‟t feel the same way. I don‟t

expect you to, since I‟m pretty sure you‟ve got a girlfriend anyway. It‟s

okay. Honestly, I‟m glad you didn‟t fall for my bullshit, because it was

pathetic, and demeaning, and I needed to learn that. So thanks, I guess.

I regret all that stuff. But I don‟t for a second regret the way I feel about