Preparedness (3/3)
Title: Preparedness (3/3)
Rating: NC-17
Length: 3, 884
Fandom: One Direction
Characters: Liam Payne, Zayn Malik, Louis Tomlinson, Harry Styles, Niall Horan,
Ships: Liam/Zayn
Notes: This contains self-harm and descriptions of it.
Summary: Liam has a deadly secret and addiction.
The sickly pale walls of the hospital brought the cruel memories rushing back to Liam. His heart sank with each step on the dirt painted tiles. He looked around at the nurses dashing around in scrubs, looking in at old people who were too far gone to even care for themselves anymore. Liam decided that if he were ever at a position in his life where he couldn’t even dress himself, he just wanted to die. There was no point in living if you weren’t really living. Life was precious, that he knew, but when you couldn’t even think or care for yourself, what was the point in any of it?
He’d never forget his first meeting with his psychiatrist, and the way she’d study his behavior, every movement was judged and analyzed, extended far beyond what was really needed. He had to go alone, which he was alright with, but it was just a bit different, usually his mother always told him what to say. Whenever he’d speak a little too much she’d glance at him with pleading eyes, begging for him to censor himself. But now he was unsure of what to say to this woman, and she seemed friendly, he felt like he could trust her.
“You’re sure none of this will get back to my mum?” Liam asked her for the fifth time, chewing on the inside of his lip nervously.
She didn’t grow annoyed though, she just looked up at him and grinned and replied soothingly, “Liam, you don’t need to worry. We’re here to help, not hurt. This is your case, not your mother’s. She doesn’t need to know anything that’s being said. The only thing I will tell her, though, is if you’re hurting yourself or someone else.”
He described to her meticulously how he felt each and every day; he told her how he felt hollow. How it was just a struggle to get out of bed, and not just because he was tired. But simply because it was just the idea of having to live through another twenty-four hours of the same pain, the same plan, the same life. He told her how he felt incomplete, and how he felt like one of those old people that couldn’t even feed themselves. He told her how he felt like a burden upon his family, how he felt like a burden, upon, well, everyone.
“Is that why you tried to kill yourself, Liam?” She asked pointedly.
And even though he knew that she knew the answer, he still slowly nodded his head. And he didn’t like it when people put it so bluntly. Yes, he knew it was wrong. He knew shouldn’t want to kill himself. He knew that it was selfish and that people would miss him, but he couldn’t bring himself to stop the thoughts. Actually, he couldn’t stop the thoughts. It was almost as if his entire body and mind was screaming out against him.
“Your mother told me they didn’t treat you well at hospital,” she said with a hint of inquiry. “Is that true?”
Liam nodded solemnly, “Yeah, they basically called me selfish. They said that I was wrong for doing what I did. And that I was messed up.”
“You’re not messed up, Liam,” she told him sternly. “You’ve got a problem, and we’re going to fix it.”
She diagnosed him with depression, something that he had already pretty much guessed that he had, but to actually hear it come from a medical professional stung at his heart a little bit. She announced that she was putting him on medicine to help him get better, she sort of spoke to him like he was a child. And even though he felt like one he wasn’t. He was almost all grown-up now. He was fifteen years old and he already shaved for God’s sake. And then she called his mother in and talked to her in private, Liam sat alone outside, twiddling his thumbs and glancing up at the clock. His mother’s eyes were bright red when she exited the psychiatrist’s office, and Liam felt his stomach sink. And it seemed like everything was getting worse than better.
And here he was nearly four years later, little progress made, and he almost felt like his life was a cruel joke. Zayn took Liam’s hand, and comfortingly moved his thumb around Liam’s nimble, shaking fingers. Liam glanced over at him and gave him a half-hearted smile, and Zayn leaned in and kissed him on the side of the cheek. And he told him that he loved him, he told him things would be okay, and that something good would work for him. And Liam desperately wanted to believe him, but a part of him wanted to scream and yell that nothing would be okay. Nothing ever was okay, and that he just wanted life to pause.
And Liam went alone as he walked into the psychiatrist’s office again, and this was a different woman then he had before. She still looked kind, she was tan and had her short black hair tucked behind her ears. She looked proper and Liam looked her up and down before she smiled at him, motioning for him to sit down. He looked at the pink wallpaper, and it seemed so fake, and he looked at her in her pink cardigan, which also seemed to be made out of some type of fake, cheap imitation of silk. He didn’t know how to be real with people that were so fake. And the suffocating feeling came back again, pulling him under and failing to let him even kick to the surface.
“Hello, Liam,” she spoke in a high-pitched tone, she seemed kind enough. “How are you today?”
He looked around again before responding back flatly, “I’m alright, thanks.”
“Great,” she smiled and nodded.
There was an awkward pause before she stated, more to herself then to Liam, that she needed to get his files in order. And he saw his name on a manila folder, old medical records and photos of his cuts that much he could see before she briskly shut it and pulled out her clipboard. She asked him the typical questions, like what medicines he was taking, if he smoke or drank basic questions. Then she dug deeper and asked about his family and his early life, which he told her gradually. He tried to speak as casually as he could, and he was almost stunned at how normal his life sounded now that he were telling it to someone again from start to finish. And he realized that maybe it was all in his head, maybe he didn’t really have a problem.
“Are you still taking your Zoloft?” She asked him, not bothering to look up at him, she remained writing steadily on her clipboard.
“No,” he answered.
She slowly lifted her head, “Why not?”
“I just…didn’t want to, I guess,” Liam shrugged. “I’m busy; I just don’t have the time, or the brain capacity, really, to remember that kind of stuff.”
She grew stern suddenly, “Liam, when you have a serious mental health disorder like depression, you can’t just not take your medicine. How long has it been?”
“About a year.”
“And how long have you been cutting for?” She asked, her eyes moving back to her paper, full of angry scribbles, Liam’s life.
“Uh,” he shut his eyes, struggling to think. “Maybe, four years, I think?”
“You’ve been cutting since you were fifteen?” She confirmed.
And he could remember his first time doing it, too, so vividly. He and his best friend, Andy Samuels, had been spending the weekend at his mother’s house alone. Andy was telling him this story of a girl, her name was Andrea, and everyone made fun of her. She dressed in all black and never spoke to anyone. He told Liam how he saw these scratch-type things upon her arm, and how he had asked her what they were. She refused to tell him, telling him to fuck off and mind his own business.
“She was cutting herself, obviously,” Liam snorted at Andy.
“Well no shit,” Andy snapped back. “I just…I didn’t know what to say.”
“I wonder if it hurts,” Liam wondered aloud.
“I want to try it, just to see if it does, or something,” Andy nodded. “Have any spare razors?”
And they each took one; Andy struggled with getting the razor to even break his skin. Now that Liam looked back on it, he realized how completely stupid they really were. Andy thought it was funny, though. He would just laugh and say they were ‘friendly masochists’. But for Liam, the blood trickled down his arm faster than he could blink. It wasn’t deep, and it healed in practically two days. It stung, though, once the blades entered the soft skin of his forearm.
Andy hissed and shook his arm, “Fuck that hurts.”
Liam winced and nodded in agreement. But he could remember thinking that it wasn’t really that bad, it stung a little, and it was sensitive to the touch, but it was a little relieving in a way. It was almost like his skin was crying, releasing the feelings and emotions that his eyes just couldn’t.
He failed to tell the psychiatrist though, he just told her he just had felt the impulse to do it one day, and just did it. He didn’t tell her about Andrea or Andy, he didn’t tell her about anyone. He knew that he was the one to blame for his issues and problems. Andy wasn’t the one that started this, he was.
She insisted on him taking his Zoloft, and he declined the offer to see a therapist. Liam was just too busy to see a therapist, and the appointments would be sporadic and pointless anyway. She handed him the prescription note, his name written in thick, black ink. He shuddered at the thought of taking medicine to make him healthy again. But Zayn walked close to him, hands woven tightly, and it’s as if he is reassuring him without words.
And Liam eyes the pills on his counter suspiciously, he was required to take one every morning, and it would take about three weeks to begin working again. Liam sighed at the thought. Three fucking weeks till he could actually, maybe, feel normal. There was always the possibility that it couldn’t work. Liam hoped that it would finally be his savior, that just maybe he could be better, he needed to get better.
And he was prepared that night, he didn’t quite know what for, but when Zayn’s sweeping, large hands held his back and pressed his weight against him, he felt shivers up and down his spine. Zayn was quick in removing his clothing, till just a pair of boxers hung lazily upon his hips. Liam was cautious, though, and of course Zayn could sense it.
“Li?” Zayn raised his head inquiringly and glanced up at Liam, his mouth resting just above the strings of Liam’s shorts. “Tell me, what is it?”
Liam took a deep, shaking breath, avoiding Zayn’s dark eyes, which were hurt and concerned. He’d always turned Zayn away. It was never for the reason Zayn thought it was. Liam wanted Zayn so unbelievably bad, to the point of his whole body aching. He was just ashamed of his body, ashamed of the scars that decorated almost every inch of him. Some faded quicker than others, but they’d always be there, they’d always serve their purpose. A reminder of just how idiotic Liam truly could be.
“I don’t know how to say it,” Liam muttered softly, eyes flickering to and from Zayn’s face.
“Just say what you need to say,” Zayn goaded gently. “I’m here for you, babe.”
“I’m embarrassed of myself,” Liam admitted, his voice still low and shaky, and he sounded so fragile. “My body…it’s not…it’s weird.”
“It is most certainly not,” Zayn furrowed his brow and pressed his lips to Liam’s momentarily. “What are you on about?”
“I have all these bloody scars,” Liam lamented, gesturing to his shirt that had ridden up, revealing the faint white welts.
“Listen,” Zayn took Liam’s cheeks firmly between his hands, rubbing the pads of his thumbs along Liam’s jawline. “No matter what you do, you will always be beautiful to me. You’re not just gonna make me stop loving you, I won’t let you…I won’t let myself. I need you and you need me. Come here.”
He rose up off the bed and still only clad in his boxers he held out his hand to Liam. Liam took it apprehensively and thoughts racing as Zayn led him towards the bathroom. Zayn flicked on the light and turned so he was facing the mirror, Liam had to laugh a little as Zayn ran his fingers through his hair, analyzing himself. He turned to face Liam, he smiled at him always reassuringly as he slowly slid the thing cotton t-shirt from Liam’s body. Liam didn’t even want to ask as Zayn was quickly pulling down Liam’s shorts, then his boxer briefs, and the rush of air made him gasp. He looked at Zayn questioningly, but Zayn just grinned and turned Liam by his shoulders facing the mirror.
“Look.”
That was all he said, and Liam did. He looked at Zayn’s hands carefully roaming his body. He softly kissed Liam along his neck and shoulders, faintly, so Liam could hardly even feel it. His soft feather touches could hardly be felt either, but Liam knew they were there. He could hardly look at his own reflection, but he willed himself because of Zayn. And Zayn’s fingers traced delicately around each scar etched into the skin of Liam’s thighs. And without even saying a word, Liam could tell what Zayn was trying to convey. He felt his entire body shaking with anticipation, some intense pulsing pleasure that he hadn’t felt in a while.
Zayn chuckled and said softly in Liam’s ear, “Relax, Payne, I’m trying to have an intimate moment with you.”
Liam chortled back, his lips brushing softly against Zayn’s. Zayn wrapped his arms around Liam’s torso, and rested his head upon his shoulder. They stood there looking at each other in the mirror. It was almost like they were really seeing each other for the first time. Zayn hadn’t ever really seen Liam like this before, completely vulnerable and a little fragile, begging to be broken. But this was when Zayn loved Liam most, and it’s not as if Liam wasn’t real, he was. Liam James Payne was the definition of real, and that’s what Zayn adored most about him. But he saw Liam’s eyes glisten with tears and his throat clenching, and he could see that Liam was feeble, and he absolutely loved it.
And it reminded Liam intensely of the first time he and Zayn had even kissed. It was snowing and the flakes collected in Liam’s ruffled hair. Zayn had laughed and shook them out of Liam’s hair with his hands. He could see Liam blush in the dark; Liam never wanted to look Zayn right in the eyes. It felt so good to have confirmation, just a simple look or touch felt so different. It felt so good to know someone felt the same. Niall had hinted to Liam that Zayn had liked him, but Liam refused to believe it.
“No, he’s not like that,” Liam shook his head, blushing and grinning like an absolute idiot.
Liam was convinced that he was the only gay one in the band, and he was quite okay with that. The boys never once thought of him any differently. But as Zayn would take girl after girl to his room and look at them and chase after them, Liam began to lose hope. He’d only told Niall, at this point, that he had feelings for Zayn.
“You should tell him,” Niall urged him. “I’m sure he feels the same.”
“Bullshit, he’s not…he’s not…it’s just not gonna happen,” Liam shook his head, wishing he could push the silly thoughts out of his head.
“If you don’t try you’ll never know,” Niall replied teasingly, his voice raising an octave towards the end of the sentence. “Besides, why waste your time if you don’t know if he feels the same way?”
“Because ignorance is bliss,” Liam stated firmly.
“I’m sure he’d be more than happy to hear from you,” Niall smirked, raising his eyebrows playfully.
Liam tossed Niall a confused look but Niall stood up abruptly and uttered a simple, “Think about it.” Before walking away, leaving Liam with his consuming thoughts.
And once it was out, it was almost as if the anchor that had sunken in Liam’s lungs was lifted. He no longer had to struggle to breathe whenever he was around Zayn, now he just had to struggle to think. He always wanted to touch Zayn, to have some sort of contact. Want want want. He didn’t care about anything else, just a simple hand holding was fine with him. He loved it when they sat ever so close and their thighs would rub together, and Liam wondered if Zayn was as turned on as he was.
“Where the hell’d all this snow come from?” Zayn asked with a laugh, eyes wide and gazing up at the sky.
Liam managed to speak out, his voice was quick and shaky, and he sounded anxious, “You know why I brought you here, right?”
Zayn turned and looked at him, his eyes gleaming, he spoke coyly, shuffling his feet in the slow, “No..”
“I wanted to um,” Liam stepped forward, taking Zayn’s hand in his. “I wanted to give you something. Proper, this time, not just…messing around.”
“You gonna kiss me, Payne, or am I gonna have to wait around all night?”
This was enough for him. His lips molded instantly with Zayn’s. His hand cradled the back of Zayn’s neck and held his face to his own. He felt a heat rise in the pits of his stomach. And Zayn kissed him back just as much, lips parted slightly, tongue edging out carefully. He never wanted the moment to end; Liam never wanted to breathe if it might tear their lips apart.
It didn’t matter if his hair and clothes were soaked from standing in the snow storm for so long. He didn’t care if anyone saw them .He gave no thought to the pros or cons of their actions. The only thing he cared about was the boy holding him close and kissing him in the middle of the street. Nothing else mattered, nothing at all. It was a blissful moment that Liam had craved to go back to, the happiest night of his life. The night he was almost positive that he fell in love with Zayn.
“You’ve never really been in love, have you?” Liam had asked him one day, their hands locked as they sat on the couch watching television.
“No,” Zayn answered slowly. “I thought I was, but it wasn’t really…love.”
“What was it, then?” Liam pressed.
“Jesus, you’re worse than my mum,” Zayn cursed.
Liam nudged him and beamed at him, “Come on, and tell me.”
“It was just this stupid guy I met one summer is all,” Zayn shrugged and spoke nonchalantly. “We had sex, and I kind of thought, oh yeah, maybe he really loves me. He a lot older than me, and cuter, and I was stupid, I was only sixteen or so. But I got my heart broken; it was kind of like summer love from Grease or whatever? Just none of the cheesy flying away in a car at the end bullshit.”
“I haven’t either, to be honest,” Liam drawled. “Just…the occasional boyfriend here and there, but never any intense feelings.”
“I could see myself falling in love with you,” Zayn turned and look at him directly, and the look on his face was completely serious, his gaze never faltering. “Honestly.”
“I could too, I honestly do,” Liam retorted, squeezing Zayn’s hand.
“I don’t care what you look like,” Zayn spoke finally, his voice taking a moment to adjust after not speaking for so long. “You are so beautiful to me, it doesn’t matter what you do…what you look like. You are beautiful person on the inside and out, you’re one of the most selfless people I know. You’re absolutely incredible, Liam, I couldn’t manage without you by my side. I guess what I’m trying to say is, that…none of your scars could ever make me love you less. I’m not happy that you do it, but I’m always here to try and help you. You’re my boyfriend, you’re my best friend. I love you. I absolutely love you.”
His lips crashed hungrily against Zayn’s, legs widening, begging for Zayn. He couldn’t remember winding up on the bed from the bathroom but somehow they had managed. Somehow Zayn’s boxers had fallen off of his legs. And it was the farthest they had ever gotten. He could feel Zayn’s swollen cock pressed stiffly against his thigh, and Zayn’s fervent hand pumping Liam’s shaft. And Liam begged in whimpers, he was too incoherent to speak, and he just knew that he wanted Zayn so so much. And it hadn’t occurred to him just exactly how Zayn had finally gotten pressed inside of him. He winced at the pain, Zayn kissed at his face tenderly, whispering words of encouragement. Liam wasn’t worried, the pain was as over as soon as it had begun and he was gasping, begging for the quickening of Zayn’s hips and movements.
And he almost wanted to kick himself at resisting Zayn for this long. Zayn knew just how to work him. Every defined thrust of his hips sent Liam even closer and closer to the edge. He moaned even more loudly as Zayn sucked at his neck, tweaking his nipples, and he rolled his hips to meet Zayn, and this sent them both into a crashing orgasm. Their strained gasps against each other’s chests, legs entwined and hair awry, they looked at each other and smiled.
“See, that wasn’t so bad, was it?” Zayn asked him with a playful grin.
“No, actually,” Liam spoke in barely a whisper. “It was perfect.”
“We’re going to get through this, Liam.” Zayn pulled in closer, holding Liam’s warm body against his own. “We can do this together.”
“As long as I have you,” Liam brushed Zayn’s cheek with his hand. “That’s all I need. I just wanna know if you’re prepared.
“You’ll always have me. Always. And I’m always prepared, I’ve always been prepared. You ought to come with an instruction manual, Liam.”
Liam laughed at this and brought his face close to Zayn’s, he could feel the older boy’s long lashes fluttering against his cheeks, the soft breathing settling him to sleep. And things were only going up from here, they could only go up from here. He had Zayn now, he was prepared.
Rating: NC-17
Length: 3, 884
Fandom: One Direction
Characters: Liam Payne, Zayn Malik, Louis Tomlinson, Harry Styles, Niall Horan,
Ships: Liam/Zayn
Notes: This contains self-harm and descriptions of it.
Summary: Liam has a deadly secret and addiction.
The sickly pale walls of the hospital brought the cruel memories rushing back to Liam. His heart sank with each step on the dirt painted tiles. He looked around at the nurses dashing around in scrubs, looking in at old people who were too far gone to even care for themselves anymore. Liam decided that if he were ever at a position in his life where he couldn’t even dress himself, he just wanted to die. There was no point in living if you weren’t really living. Life was precious, that he knew, but when you couldn’t even think or care for yourself, what was the point in any of it?
He’d never forget his first meeting with his psychiatrist, and the way she’d study his behavior, every movement was judged and analyzed, extended far beyond what was really needed. He had to go alone, which he was alright with, but it was just a bit different, usually his mother always told him what to say. Whenever he’d speak a little too much she’d glance at him with pleading eyes, begging for him to censor himself. But now he was unsure of what to say to this woman, and she seemed friendly, he felt like he could trust her.
“You’re sure none of this will get back to my mum?” Liam asked her for the fifth time, chewing on the inside of his lip nervously.
She didn’t grow annoyed though, she just looked up at him and grinned and replied soothingly, “Liam, you don’t need to worry. We’re here to help, not hurt. This is your case, not your mother’s. She doesn’t need to know anything that’s being said. The only thing I will tell her, though, is if you’re hurting yourself or someone else.”
He described to her meticulously how he felt each and every day; he told her how he felt hollow. How it was just a struggle to get out of bed, and not just because he was tired. But simply because it was just the idea of having to live through another twenty-four hours of the same pain, the same plan, the same life. He told her how he felt incomplete, and how he felt like one of those old people that couldn’t even feed themselves. He told her how he felt like a burden upon his family, how he felt like a burden, upon, well, everyone.
“Is that why you tried to kill yourself, Liam?” She asked pointedly.
And even though he knew that she knew the answer, he still slowly nodded his head. And he didn’t like it when people put it so bluntly. Yes, he knew it was wrong. He knew shouldn’t want to kill himself. He knew that it was selfish and that people would miss him, but he couldn’t bring himself to stop the thoughts. Actually, he couldn’t stop the thoughts. It was almost as if his entire body and mind was screaming out against him.
“Your mother told me they didn’t treat you well at hospital,” she said with a hint of inquiry. “Is that true?”
Liam nodded solemnly, “Yeah, they basically called me selfish. They said that I was wrong for doing what I did. And that I was messed up.”
“You’re not messed up, Liam,” she told him sternly. “You’ve got a problem, and we’re going to fix it.”
She diagnosed him with depression, something that he had already pretty much guessed that he had, but to actually hear it come from a medical professional stung at his heart a little bit. She announced that she was putting him on medicine to help him get better, she sort of spoke to him like he was a child. And even though he felt like one he wasn’t. He was almost all grown-up now. He was fifteen years old and he already shaved for God’s sake. And then she called his mother in and talked to her in private, Liam sat alone outside, twiddling his thumbs and glancing up at the clock. His mother’s eyes were bright red when she exited the psychiatrist’s office, and Liam felt his stomach sink. And it seemed like everything was getting worse than better.
And here he was nearly four years later, little progress made, and he almost felt like his life was a cruel joke. Zayn took Liam’s hand, and comfortingly moved his thumb around Liam’s nimble, shaking fingers. Liam glanced over at him and gave him a half-hearted smile, and Zayn leaned in and kissed him on the side of the cheek. And he told him that he loved him, he told him things would be okay, and that something good would work for him. And Liam desperately wanted to believe him, but a part of him wanted to scream and yell that nothing would be okay. Nothing ever was okay, and that he just wanted life to pause.
And Liam went alone as he walked into the psychiatrist’s office again, and this was a different woman then he had before. She still looked kind, she was tan and had her short black hair tucked behind her ears. She looked proper and Liam looked her up and down before she smiled at him, motioning for him to sit down. He looked at the pink wallpaper, and it seemed so fake, and he looked at her in her pink cardigan, which also seemed to be made out of some type of fake, cheap imitation of silk. He didn’t know how to be real with people that were so fake. And the suffocating feeling came back again, pulling him under and failing to let him even kick to the surface.
“Hello, Liam,” she spoke in a high-pitched tone, she seemed kind enough. “How are you today?”
He looked around again before responding back flatly, “I’m alright, thanks.”
“Great,” she smiled and nodded.
There was an awkward pause before she stated, more to herself then to Liam, that she needed to get his files in order. And he saw his name on a manila folder, old medical records and photos of his cuts that much he could see before she briskly shut it and pulled out her clipboard. She asked him the typical questions, like what medicines he was taking, if he smoke or drank basic questions. Then she dug deeper and asked about his family and his early life, which he told her gradually. He tried to speak as casually as he could, and he was almost stunned at how normal his life sounded now that he were telling it to someone again from start to finish. And he realized that maybe it was all in his head, maybe he didn’t really have a problem.
“Are you still taking your Zoloft?” She asked him, not bothering to look up at him, she remained writing steadily on her clipboard.
“No,” he answered.
She slowly lifted her head, “Why not?”
“I just…didn’t want to, I guess,” Liam shrugged. “I’m busy; I just don’t have the time, or the brain capacity, really, to remember that kind of stuff.”
She grew stern suddenly, “Liam, when you have a serious mental health disorder like depression, you can’t just not take your medicine. How long has it been?”
“About a year.”
“And how long have you been cutting for?” She asked, her eyes moving back to her paper, full of angry scribbles, Liam’s life.
“Uh,” he shut his eyes, struggling to think. “Maybe, four years, I think?”
“You’ve been cutting since you were fifteen?” She confirmed.
And he could remember his first time doing it, too, so vividly. He and his best friend, Andy Samuels, had been spending the weekend at his mother’s house alone. Andy was telling him this story of a girl, her name was Andrea, and everyone made fun of her. She dressed in all black and never spoke to anyone. He told Liam how he saw these scratch-type things upon her arm, and how he had asked her what they were. She refused to tell him, telling him to fuck off and mind his own business.
“She was cutting herself, obviously,” Liam snorted at Andy.
“Well no shit,” Andy snapped back. “I just…I didn’t know what to say.”
“I wonder if it hurts,” Liam wondered aloud.
“I want to try it, just to see if it does, or something,” Andy nodded. “Have any spare razors?”
And they each took one; Andy struggled with getting the razor to even break his skin. Now that Liam looked back on it, he realized how completely stupid they really were. Andy thought it was funny, though. He would just laugh and say they were ‘friendly masochists’. But for Liam, the blood trickled down his arm faster than he could blink. It wasn’t deep, and it healed in practically two days. It stung, though, once the blades entered the soft skin of his forearm.
Andy hissed and shook his arm, “Fuck that hurts.”
Liam winced and nodded in agreement. But he could remember thinking that it wasn’t really that bad, it stung a little, and it was sensitive to the touch, but it was a little relieving in a way. It was almost like his skin was crying, releasing the feelings and emotions that his eyes just couldn’t.
He failed to tell the psychiatrist though, he just told her he just had felt the impulse to do it one day, and just did it. He didn’t tell her about Andrea or Andy, he didn’t tell her about anyone. He knew that he was the one to blame for his issues and problems. Andy wasn’t the one that started this, he was.
She insisted on him taking his Zoloft, and he declined the offer to see a therapist. Liam was just too busy to see a therapist, and the appointments would be sporadic and pointless anyway. She handed him the prescription note, his name written in thick, black ink. He shuddered at the thought of taking medicine to make him healthy again. But Zayn walked close to him, hands woven tightly, and it’s as if he is reassuring him without words.
And Liam eyes the pills on his counter suspiciously, he was required to take one every morning, and it would take about three weeks to begin working again. Liam sighed at the thought. Three fucking weeks till he could actually, maybe, feel normal. There was always the possibility that it couldn’t work. Liam hoped that it would finally be his savior, that just maybe he could be better, he needed to get better.
And he was prepared that night, he didn’t quite know what for, but when Zayn’s sweeping, large hands held his back and pressed his weight against him, he felt shivers up and down his spine. Zayn was quick in removing his clothing, till just a pair of boxers hung lazily upon his hips. Liam was cautious, though, and of course Zayn could sense it.
“Li?” Zayn raised his head inquiringly and glanced up at Liam, his mouth resting just above the strings of Liam’s shorts. “Tell me, what is it?”
Liam took a deep, shaking breath, avoiding Zayn’s dark eyes, which were hurt and concerned. He’d always turned Zayn away. It was never for the reason Zayn thought it was. Liam wanted Zayn so unbelievably bad, to the point of his whole body aching. He was just ashamed of his body, ashamed of the scars that decorated almost every inch of him. Some faded quicker than others, but they’d always be there, they’d always serve their purpose. A reminder of just how idiotic Liam truly could be.
“I don’t know how to say it,” Liam muttered softly, eyes flickering to and from Zayn’s face.
“Just say what you need to say,” Zayn goaded gently. “I’m here for you, babe.”
“I’m embarrassed of myself,” Liam admitted, his voice still low and shaky, and he sounded so fragile. “My body…it’s not…it’s weird.”
“It is most certainly not,” Zayn furrowed his brow and pressed his lips to Liam’s momentarily. “What are you on about?”
“I have all these bloody scars,” Liam lamented, gesturing to his shirt that had ridden up, revealing the faint white welts.
“Listen,” Zayn took Liam’s cheeks firmly between his hands, rubbing the pads of his thumbs along Liam’s jawline. “No matter what you do, you will always be beautiful to me. You’re not just gonna make me stop loving you, I won’t let you…I won’t let myself. I need you and you need me. Come here.”
He rose up off the bed and still only clad in his boxers he held out his hand to Liam. Liam took it apprehensively and thoughts racing as Zayn led him towards the bathroom. Zayn flicked on the light and turned so he was facing the mirror, Liam had to laugh a little as Zayn ran his fingers through his hair, analyzing himself. He turned to face Liam, he smiled at him always reassuringly as he slowly slid the thing cotton t-shirt from Liam’s body. Liam didn’t even want to ask as Zayn was quickly pulling down Liam’s shorts, then his boxer briefs, and the rush of air made him gasp. He looked at Zayn questioningly, but Zayn just grinned and turned Liam by his shoulders facing the mirror.
“Look.”
That was all he said, and Liam did. He looked at Zayn’s hands carefully roaming his body. He softly kissed Liam along his neck and shoulders, faintly, so Liam could hardly even feel it. His soft feather touches could hardly be felt either, but Liam knew they were there. He could hardly look at his own reflection, but he willed himself because of Zayn. And Zayn’s fingers traced delicately around each scar etched into the skin of Liam’s thighs. And without even saying a word, Liam could tell what Zayn was trying to convey. He felt his entire body shaking with anticipation, some intense pulsing pleasure that he hadn’t felt in a while.
Zayn chuckled and said softly in Liam’s ear, “Relax, Payne, I’m trying to have an intimate moment with you.”
Liam chortled back, his lips brushing softly against Zayn’s. Zayn wrapped his arms around Liam’s torso, and rested his head upon his shoulder. They stood there looking at each other in the mirror. It was almost like they were really seeing each other for the first time. Zayn hadn’t ever really seen Liam like this before, completely vulnerable and a little fragile, begging to be broken. But this was when Zayn loved Liam most, and it’s not as if Liam wasn’t real, he was. Liam James Payne was the definition of real, and that’s what Zayn adored most about him. But he saw Liam’s eyes glisten with tears and his throat clenching, and he could see that Liam was feeble, and he absolutely loved it.
And it reminded Liam intensely of the first time he and Zayn had even kissed. It was snowing and the flakes collected in Liam’s ruffled hair. Zayn had laughed and shook them out of Liam’s hair with his hands. He could see Liam blush in the dark; Liam never wanted to look Zayn right in the eyes. It felt so good to have confirmation, just a simple look or touch felt so different. It felt so good to know someone felt the same. Niall had hinted to Liam that Zayn had liked him, but Liam refused to believe it.
“No, he’s not like that,” Liam shook his head, blushing and grinning like an absolute idiot.
Liam was convinced that he was the only gay one in the band, and he was quite okay with that. The boys never once thought of him any differently. But as Zayn would take girl after girl to his room and look at them and chase after them, Liam began to lose hope. He’d only told Niall, at this point, that he had feelings for Zayn.
“You should tell him,” Niall urged him. “I’m sure he feels the same.”
“Bullshit, he’s not…he’s not…it’s just not gonna happen,” Liam shook his head, wishing he could push the silly thoughts out of his head.
“If you don’t try you’ll never know,” Niall replied teasingly, his voice raising an octave towards the end of the sentence. “Besides, why waste your time if you don’t know if he feels the same way?”
“Because ignorance is bliss,” Liam stated firmly.
“I’m sure he’d be more than happy to hear from you,” Niall smirked, raising his eyebrows playfully.
Liam tossed Niall a confused look but Niall stood up abruptly and uttered a simple, “Think about it.” Before walking away, leaving Liam with his consuming thoughts.
And once it was out, it was almost as if the anchor that had sunken in Liam’s lungs was lifted. He no longer had to struggle to breathe whenever he was around Zayn, now he just had to struggle to think. He always wanted to touch Zayn, to have some sort of contact. Want want want. He didn’t care about anything else, just a simple hand holding was fine with him. He loved it when they sat ever so close and their thighs would rub together, and Liam wondered if Zayn was as turned on as he was.
“Where the hell’d all this snow come from?” Zayn asked with a laugh, eyes wide and gazing up at the sky.
Liam managed to speak out, his voice was quick and shaky, and he sounded anxious, “You know why I brought you here, right?”
Zayn turned and looked at him, his eyes gleaming, he spoke coyly, shuffling his feet in the slow, “No..”
“I wanted to um,” Liam stepped forward, taking Zayn’s hand in his. “I wanted to give you something. Proper, this time, not just…messing around.”
“You gonna kiss me, Payne, or am I gonna have to wait around all night?”
This was enough for him. His lips molded instantly with Zayn’s. His hand cradled the back of Zayn’s neck and held his face to his own. He felt a heat rise in the pits of his stomach. And Zayn kissed him back just as much, lips parted slightly, tongue edging out carefully. He never wanted the moment to end; Liam never wanted to breathe if it might tear their lips apart.
It didn’t matter if his hair and clothes were soaked from standing in the snow storm for so long. He didn’t care if anyone saw them .He gave no thought to the pros or cons of their actions. The only thing he cared about was the boy holding him close and kissing him in the middle of the street. Nothing else mattered, nothing at all. It was a blissful moment that Liam had craved to go back to, the happiest night of his life. The night he was almost positive that he fell in love with Zayn.
“You’ve never really been in love, have you?” Liam had asked him one day, their hands locked as they sat on the couch watching television.
“No,” Zayn answered slowly. “I thought I was, but it wasn’t really…love.”
“What was it, then?” Liam pressed.
“Jesus, you’re worse than my mum,” Zayn cursed.
Liam nudged him and beamed at him, “Come on, and tell me.”
“It was just this stupid guy I met one summer is all,” Zayn shrugged and spoke nonchalantly. “We had sex, and I kind of thought, oh yeah, maybe he really loves me. He a lot older than me, and cuter, and I was stupid, I was only sixteen or so. But I got my heart broken; it was kind of like summer love from Grease or whatever? Just none of the cheesy flying away in a car at the end bullshit.”
“I haven’t either, to be honest,” Liam drawled. “Just…the occasional boyfriend here and there, but never any intense feelings.”
“I could see myself falling in love with you,” Zayn turned and look at him directly, and the look on his face was completely serious, his gaze never faltering. “Honestly.”
“I could too, I honestly do,” Liam retorted, squeezing Zayn’s hand.
“I don’t care what you look like,” Zayn spoke finally, his voice taking a moment to adjust after not speaking for so long. “You are so beautiful to me, it doesn’t matter what you do…what you look like. You are beautiful person on the inside and out, you’re one of the most selfless people I know. You’re absolutely incredible, Liam, I couldn’t manage without you by my side. I guess what I’m trying to say is, that…none of your scars could ever make me love you less. I’m not happy that you do it, but I’m always here to try and help you. You’re my boyfriend, you’re my best friend. I love you. I absolutely love you.”
His lips crashed hungrily against Zayn’s, legs widening, begging for Zayn. He couldn’t remember winding up on the bed from the bathroom but somehow they had managed. Somehow Zayn’s boxers had fallen off of his legs. And it was the farthest they had ever gotten. He could feel Zayn’s swollen cock pressed stiffly against his thigh, and Zayn’s fervent hand pumping Liam’s shaft. And Liam begged in whimpers, he was too incoherent to speak, and he just knew that he wanted Zayn so so much. And it hadn’t occurred to him just exactly how Zayn had finally gotten pressed inside of him. He winced at the pain, Zayn kissed at his face tenderly, whispering words of encouragement. Liam wasn’t worried, the pain was as over as soon as it had begun and he was gasping, begging for the quickening of Zayn’s hips and movements.
And he almost wanted to kick himself at resisting Zayn for this long. Zayn knew just how to work him. Every defined thrust of his hips sent Liam even closer and closer to the edge. He moaned even more loudly as Zayn sucked at his neck, tweaking his nipples, and he rolled his hips to meet Zayn, and this sent them both into a crashing orgasm. Their strained gasps against each other’s chests, legs entwined and hair awry, they looked at each other and smiled.
“See, that wasn’t so bad, was it?” Zayn asked him with a playful grin.
“No, actually,” Liam spoke in barely a whisper. “It was perfect.”
“We’re going to get through this, Liam.” Zayn pulled in closer, holding Liam’s warm body against his own. “We can do this together.”
“As long as I have you,” Liam brushed Zayn’s cheek with his hand. “That’s all I need. I just wanna know if you’re prepared.
“You’ll always have me. Always. And I’m always prepared, I’ve always been prepared. You ought to come with an instruction manual, Liam.”
Liam laughed at this and brought his face close to Zayn’s, he could feel the older boy’s long lashes fluttering against his cheeks, the soft breathing settling him to sleep. And things were only going up from here, they could only go up from here. He had Zayn now, he was prepared.