Fic; 'Your Words All Over Me'; X Factor 2010 RPS; Liam/Louis, Zayn/Niall, Matt/Aiden/Harry; [3/3]
viii. try, try to forget, words in the past, tomorrow is here
Note, written by Zayn and left tucked under Louis' arm for him to find when he wakes up
“Morning,” Niall greets Zayn as he fumbles his way into their flat. It’s only eight thirty but Niall is already up and dressed, making tea and spreading marmalade onto toast. “You want anything, or are you just going to crash?”
Zayn sits down heavily at their tiny table. “Um, tea would be great.”
Niall nods and fetches an extra mug. Zayn watches him add the teabag and sugar in fascination, unable to tear his eyes away from how Niall’s shirt pulls across his shoulder blades and where it’s only half tucked in at his waist. He used to notice things like this all the time, in a detached, ‘fuck he’s attractive’ sort of way. But now everything takes on a new dimension.
This could be a problem, Zayn reflects glumly.
“Good time with Louis last night?” Niall’s voice is light, but Zayn hears the note of worry anyway. He’s known Niall too long to miss it.
“Yeah.” Zayn half-laughs, thinking of how he’d left Louis, still lying face down on the couch with ice cream stains all over his clothes. “Booze, Ben & Jerry’s and shitty movies. He’s a genius.”
“It’s the sisters,” Niall says wisely. He passes Zayn his tea.
Zayn sips at it. “Look, Ni.” He takes a deep breath. His head is still fuzzy and he rubs at his temples. Fuck, he’s shit at this. “Louis was drinking a lot last night.”
“Is he okay?” Niall brings his breakfast over and sits opposite Zayn. “He didn’t do anything stupid, did he?”
“Well.” Zayn doesn’t look at Niall. “He got really chatty, actually.”
He can feel Niall tense up. He risks a glance and finds Niall’s gaze glued to him, his expression defensive.
“Louis talks a lot of shit.”
“Yeah.” Zayn looks back at his mug. “He does.”
“Especially when he’s drunk.” Niall takes a bite of his toast.
“So it was all shit then, was it?”
Niall stubbornly stays silent. Zayn watches him chew from the corner of his eye.
“Fuck,” Zayn attempts again, pushing his thumbs into his forehead. “This wasn’t supposed to happen, alright? We’re mates - and even if - even if there’s other stuff -” he breaks off, at a loss, because there is no way to phrase what he’s thinking right now and he’s not in the mood to try.
“Even if we have sex.” Niall’s voice is brittle. “You can say it, it’s not like I don’t know, I’m usually there.”
“We’re best mates.” Zayn is gripping the mug so tightly his knuckles are turning white. “I never wanted - we were never supposed to lose that.”
They sit in complete silence for a few minutes. Niall finishes his toast and Zayn drinks his mug dry.
“Look,” Zayn says after a bit. “This doesn’t have to - change anything. I mean we’re still mates. We could, um, stop the other stuff. Take a step back.” He watches Niall, trying to gauge a reaction, wanting so badly to say the right things for once. “You know?”
Niall clears his throat, running a finger around his plate, not looking at Zayn. “I don’t think so,” he says slowly. “I’m sorry, Zayn. I can’t just - you have no idea. I’ve been - since halfway through first year, I’ve - you don’t get to mess me around like this. It’s not fair.”
This is too much for Zayn’s addled brain to take in, and he shakes his head in an effort to make himself understand. All he feels is bereft, of what he doesn’t know. “Wait, are you breaking up with me?”
Niall laugh is sardonic and Zayn hates it. “We’re not together, so no. That’s the whole fucking problem with you. We’re never really anything. We’re mates and we shag sometimes and I try so hard to be enough but I’m clearly not.”
Zayn says nothing. He is filled with a desperate want to fix this, whatever this void is that’s opened up between them, but he doesn’t know how.
“I’ve been thinking about this for a while,” Niall continues. He’s staring at his plate, speaking deliberately, like he’s imagined it a thousand times before. “And I just can’t do this anymore. I can’t have you only half the time. It - it hurts too much, alright? I thought after the first couple of times that it was what you wanted, but it was just to distract you from Geneva. I was your friend first. Everything’s too complicated now. All I wanted was to be with you, mate, properly be with you, that’s all I’ve wanted since I met you.”
Zayn has one of those rare flashes of clarity then, the kind that illuminates entire swathes of miscommunication and confusion. Unable to articulate his jumbled thoughts, he blurts out, “Alright.”
Niall raises his eyes for the first time in his spiel, eyes full of confusion. “What?”
“Alright,” Zayn repeats, more sure this time. “Yes. Okay. Let’s - let’s give it a go.”
“What? Are you serious?”
“Yes.” Zayn nods. “I think - I think maybe I wanted that, too.” He watches Niall’s incredulous expression morph into something like hope and it’s making his heart swell, a good kind of ache. “I mean - I know I wanted that. I just thought - I thought you were just being generous, not that you wanted - Fuck, I just - I’m no good at the word part.”
“You thought I was being generous? Do you really think I’d fuck you out of charity? You absolute twat.” Niall is shaking his head, but he’s smiling, really smiling, the first time in what feels like forever. “If you’re sure,” he continues, “I mean we can take it slow. If you’re positive about this -”
“Yeah, I am.” Zayn scratches the back of his neck. “I’m shit at this sort of thing Ni.”
“You really are,” Niall says. He’s fucking glowing, and Zayn finds his fingers itching to reach out and touch him, because he can now. He feels uninhibited and it’s a little terrifying.
“I’m sorry I’m hopeless,” he says instead.
Niall laughs giddily. “I’ve sort of loved you since forever. I thought, after the Geneva thing - I thought that was the best I’d ever get.”
“You fucking idiot,” Zayn says, for lack of anything better.
Niall just reaches across the table to twist their fingers together and Zayn would be lying if he said everything didn’t seem better for it.
ix. maybe I wanna do what bunnies do with you, if you know what I mean
Reminder, written by Louis on his hand, to buy Liam flowers
Louis didn’t love Liam from the very first time they met. He first saw Liam in the library at the University, poring studiously over his notes, a felt-tip highlighter between his teeth. He had books stacked as high as his chin on the table beside him. At first Louis just wrote him off as a keener who probably had a brain the size of a shed, but little personality besides, and when he struck up a conversation with him out of sheer boredom one afternoon he wasn’t really proven wrong. They traded casual remarks over the next few weeks, finally culminating in Louis suggesting they go for a drink, because alcohol could only really make Liam more interesting.
At some point between Liam’s shy acceptance and their third round of shots, Louis realized how much of a judgmental fucking idiot he was sometimes.
It was like a slow burn, the way Louis fell in love with Liam. They were just friends at first, even after that hilarious and impromptu night out. Louis would visit Liam in the library more often. Eventually Louis invited Liam to come out with Aiden and Matt, and sometimes Zayn and Niall, and eventually Liam brought Harry along as well. Sometimes Harry’s female flatmates would come too, Geneva and her friends, when she and Zayn were still together. At some point between the meet ups in the library, hung over from the previous night, and staying over at each others’ places, and eventually hanging out even when there was no alcohol involved, Louis realized that meeting Liam was the best thing that had ever happened to him.
~
Harry had been the catalyst, of course.
“Why aren’t you and Liam together?” he asked Louis once, on a night out as a group. Liam was at the bar ordering more drinks when Harry cornered Louis by the men’s loo, sloshing his fifth beer down Louis’ front.
“Because he’s gone to get drinks?” Louis answered. “Because even though we’re best friends, he doesn’t need to go with me when I take a piss? Because despite the rumours we’re not actually physically attached at the hip?”
“No, no, together,” Harry repeated impatiently. “As in fucking.”
Louis allowed himself a moment to stare at Harry in complete shock. “Um, what?”
“Fucking!” Harry cried. “You and Liam! Get on that shit, mate, I’m surprised he’s not already taken. He’s a catch you know, our Liam. He irons his own shirts.”
“Um, maybe it has something to do with the fact that he’s straight.” Louis shook his head in disbelief. “I know I’m pretty, but even I can’t pass for a girl.”
Harry laughed until he was bent double, tears streaming down his face, the remnants of his beer spilling all over the floor. “Liam,” he choked out, “straight? You must be joking!”
For the second time on one night, Louis was left speechless. Harry hiccoughed and planted a hand on Louis’ shoulder to steady himself as he leaned in closer, his voice now a stage-whisper.
“He likes you too.” Harry nodded conspiratorially. “I can always tell.”
“Um,” Louis said. He seemed to be making a habit of it.
“Well what are you waiting for? Go snog him or something!” Harry pushed himself off Louis’ shoulder heavily and stumbled back to their table.
~
And Louis had. Albeit it was a month later and it was just the two of them in Liam’s bedroom, playing cards and swapping stories about family holidays of all things. They weren’t even drinking. Liam had been leaning against the wall, reshuffling his hand aimlessly and describing how Nicola and Ruth had persuaded him to sing karaoke on a trip to Cornwall, and the story wasn’t that funny but Liam had Louis cracking up anyway. And then Louis just got on all fours, sort of crawled across the card deck and pressed his laughter against Liam’s face.
Liam went very still. Louis thought for a moment he’d miscalculated terribly, and that Harry had been too rat-arsed to know what he was on about, but then Liam made a noise deep in the back of his throat and grabbed Louis’ face with both hands as he kissed him. And that had been that.
~
The flower section in Marks and Spencer leaves a lot to be desired, and Louis spends a good fifteen minutes agonising over what to buy. He wants to make a gesture but he doesn’t know what Liam’s favourite flowers are, or if he even likes flowers. His original plan had vaguely involved chocolate syrup and some new bed sheets - Liam is overly hygienic, Louis knows that much - but that’s something he wants to save for when he screws up, maybe, or for Liam’s birthday. In the end he gets a few roses that have some leafy green stuff thrown in and come in a nice vase.
“This is all your fault,” Louis rages at Aiden when he calls him. Louis is standing at the bus stop with the flowers in one hand, his toms letting in the drizzle, squashed up the corner of the shelter with some lady’s enormous Paul’s Boutique bag in his face, trying to keep the roses dry and not crumpled and fish change out of his pocket all at once.
“You asked my advice.” Aiden sounds far too complacent for Louis’ liking. “Flowers are like the universal sign of love or something. What did you get?”
“Roses,” Louis grits out. “So fucking cliché, but it was that or these massive lily-things and they were forty quid, I’m not made of money.”
“Liam’s secretly a gigantic romantic. He’ll love them.”
“He’d better. And there had better be lots of grateful sex as well.”
“Mmm. Speaking of grateful sex.” There’s a rustle and voices in the background, murmuring.
“Are you still in bed?” Louis demands. “Are you trying to make me jealous?”
Aiden comes back on the line, giggling breathlessly. “Harry and Matt say hi.”
“Fuck you all,” Louis tells him, and hangs up.
~
“These are lovely,” Liam says predictably when Louis presents him with the flowers later. Liam is curled on the couch poring over cases from work. He blinks up at Louis in surprise. “But, um, what’s this about?” He frowns. “You didn’t break something did you?”
Louis purses his lips and does his best to look offended. “Can’t I just buy you flowers because I want to?”
“No,” Liam says.
“How about because I love you, then?” Louis asks, bouncing on the balls of his feet.
Liam looks up at him shyly, a smile playing around the corners of his mouth. “What’s brought this on?”
Louis shrugs. “Well, I do. I don’t really say it enough.”
“So you bought me flowers.”
“Hey, girls would be all over me for this, mate. It’s, like, romantic. You should be getting hot and bothered.”
Liam takes the flowers from Louis and puts them on the coffee table, then piles the papers on the floor and motions for Louis to sit down. Louis does so and slings his legs over Liam’s lap.
“Thank you,” Liam tells him, looking him in the eye. “I often forget that you’re not a complete idiot and you’re actually quite thoughtful.”
“Is that a compliment, Liam James Payne?” Louis grins. “Stop it, you’ll make me blush.”
“You are thoughtful, though. Sometimes,” Liam adds, and he lets Louis link their fingers.
“You’re welcome, then.” Louis’ fingers wander over the back of Liam’s hand, toying with his thumb ring idly. “I know they’re a bit shit, but I had no idea what to get - do you have a favourite flower? I feel like I should know this sort of stuff.”
“They’re perfect. I would’ve liked whatever you’d gotten.”
Louis shuffles forward to press his mouth to Liam’s, pushing up his shirt and fitting his hands to the ridge of muscle in Liam’s stomach.
“I was going to get something more fun,” Louis mumbles. “But Aiden told me I should be romantic instead.”
Liam just laughs and pulls Louis down on top of him, their legs tangling together. Louis decides he’ll probably buy Liam flowers more often.
x. everywhere I look, everything is looking so good, everyone is you
Party food list, written by Liam and Louis, on a page of Liam's notebook
“So it’s Aidey’s birthday next week.”
Liam looks up from his notebook. He’s leaning against the headboard of the bed, the sheet tucked around his waist. Louis is sprawled naked on top of the duvet, utterly without shame, still slightly short of breath.
“Do you always think about Aiden just after we’ve had sex?” Liam asks, because he feels that this is something they should address.
Louis flicks damp hair out of his eyes. “The second it’s over you start writing poetry. I think I’m allowed to discuss our social calendar.”
Liam closes his notebook. “It’s not poetry. It’s - free form prose. Just thoughts and stuff.”
“How many different ways can you phrase ‘fucking amazing’?” Louis asks. “If your thoughts are complicated enough that you’re writing them down, I must be doing something wrong.”
“Here,” Liam says, tearing out a page. “If you’re feeling left out, start writing a list of stuff we need for Aiden’s party. Matt texted me yesterday, said he’s throwing him a surprise-but-not-really get together on Saturday. Harry and the girls have said they can have it at their place, it’s bigger.”
Louis takes the paper and the biro, and scrawls ‘BOOZE’ across the top.
“We’re in charge of some of the food,” Liam tells him, taking the paper back. He begins adding to the list. “And apparently Aiden’s finished his book. But don’t tell him I told you, Matt said he still won’t let anybody read it and he’s just started considering looking for a publisher. He’ll probably hyperventilate and die if you bring it up.”
“About time it was done.” Louis tries to read the growing list over Liam’s shoulder. “I can’t wait for it to get released and then he won’t be able to stop us all from reading it and talking about it all the time.”
~
Even though it’s technically Aiden’s party, he’s sat at the back of the room in the corner, giggling with Matt behind a couple of beers, in less than forty-five minutes of everyone arriving. Nobody seems to find this odd or even rude. Harry takes over as the host, mingling and chatting to everyone, making sure everyone has drinks. It started out as just the five of them, Matt, and Aiden. However Harry’s housemates bought their boyfriends along, and Aiden ended up inviting his slightly insane Italian friend that Liam is a little afraid of, and he bought a handful of people, and the house is getting quite busy now.
“Alright Liam?” Harry asks as he passes, hands full of empty cups.
“I’ll give you a hand,” Liam offers, and follows Harry into the kitchen. He helps stack the glasses in the sink and take fresh bottles out of the fridge.
“Everyone’s having a good time,” Harry notes, popping open a Coke and adding it to his vodka. He’s grinning in a way that suggests he’s already tipsy.
“Yeah.” Liam clears his throat. “Aiden and Matt - well, they seem to be enjoying themselves.”
Harry puts the can down and eyes Liam. “Do you think that’s subtle or something?”
“It’s just - you’re supposed to be with them, aren’t you?” Liam asks. “They’re so cliquey, I don’t know how you stand it.”
“It’s not as straightforward as you make it out to be.” Harry downs half of his drink and wipes his mouth on the back of his hand. “They’re in a relationship - a solid, permanent relationship. I’m probably not permanent, and that’s cool. I’m still their friend.”
“It doesn’t bother you?” Liam presses, aghast in spite of himself.
Harry pats Liam on the shoulder in a way that indicates Liam doesn’t know what he’s talking about. “Different people need different things,” he says simply. “I don’t need to be in love right now.”
“But you love them.”
“I love everybody,” Harry laughs, throwing an arm around Liam’s neck and kissing him on the cheek. “Stop worrying.”
“Hazza,” Louis interrupts them, standing in the doorway. He’s pouting and Liam shouldn’t find that as adorable as he does. “Stop molesting my boyfriend. You’ve got two, don’t be so greedy.”
“Sorry Lou.” Harry untangles himself to press sloppy kisses all over Louis’ face. Louis makes a show of pushing him back into the party, where he is greeted with yells of delight.
“Harry is confusing,” Liam says meditatively. “He’s my best friend. I don’t get him.”
“You don’t need to get him,” Louis says, moving to stand in front of Liam. He hooks his thumbs into Liam’s belt loops, drawing them together hip-to-hip. “You just need to accept him.” He leans up a couple of inches to kiss Liam’s nose.
Liam sighs. “Since when are you good at giving advice?”
“I’m a man of many talents,” Louis tells him seriously. “Not all of them have to do with sex either.”
“Shocking,” Liam mumbles. Louis kisses him until he’s smiling again, then drags him back to the party, fingers warm around Liam’s wrist.
Liam lets himself be coerced into dancing, and he and Louis slide together in some sort of easy rhythm for a while. Aiden and Matt eventually begin to mingle too. It’s difficult to be annoyed with them when Aiden’s got his hand tucked into Matt’s pocket, both of them so starry-eyed it induces nausea. Harry spins past them with Sophia, giggling, and Matt reaches out to rumple Harry’s curls in an offhand affectionate way that Liam has never been able to master. Harry disentangles himself from Sophia to yank both Matt and Aiden into a hug.
“More booze,” Aiden yells cheerfully over Harry’s shoulder.
“Happy fucking birthday, Aiden,” somebody answers. There is a general roar of agreement.
“We are so incredibly beautiful,” Harry is shouting to anybody who will listen. His hand is twisted in Matt’s collar for balance, and he’s waving his beer around. “I fucking love all of you.”
“Love you too, Hazza,” Niall calls. He and Zayn are sitting next to each other on the couch, so close that Niall is practically on Zayn’s lap, and Niall hasn’t looked this happy in years. Zayn still seems pretty thrown by it all, but when Niall turns to tell him something with a laugh, Zayn grins back and squeezes Niall’s hand.
“Our lives,” Liam and Louis say at the same time, glancing at each other, “are fucking amazing.”
“You especially,” Louis adds. He tucks his hand into Liam’s back pocket. “I owe Harry, you know?”
Liam looks confused. “Harry?”
“Did someone call me?” Harry appears in front of them. He’s swaying happily. “I love you both, have I told you already?”
“Yes.” Liam pats Harry’s cheek. “Go sit down before you fall down, okay?”
Harry smiles and nods. “Okay, Liam, whatever you say.” He goes, leaving Liam shaking his head fondly.
“I love you, too,” Louis says peevishly, winding his arm around Liam’s waist. “Just so you know, like.”
Liam grins at him. “Well, just so you know, I love you. Kind of a stupid fucking amount, really.”
Louis pulls him into a kiss, both of them smiling and laughing too much for it to work properly, but Liam doesn’t care and it’s sort of perfect anyway.
Birthday card for Aiden's twenty-second, signed by his friends from University, and Matt
Fin.