between me and you, i feel a chemistry
title: between me and you, i feel a chemistry (part one of three)
rating: pg-13
warning(s): none
pairing(s): liam payne/zayn malik
word count: 5,442
summary: Zayn likes R&B. Liam likes Zayn.
also on ao3
“I love that last bit, the run with the ‘ooh-ahhh-ooh,’ but god it’s hard to get it right.” Liam pulled his headphones off, letting them hang round his neck while he stretched out his back. He mumbled through it a few more times, adding, “I want to keep it, I’m just a bit worried about performing it live.”
“Quit your whining, Payne, you’re lucky I gave this one to you and not Tommo,” the man on the opposite side of the glass snorted, rolling his eyes and flipping Liam the bird.
“Niall, please. I know we all think the sun shines out Louis’ arse, but even he couldn’t pull this song off as well as me.” Niall scoffed incredulously at that, wheezing out a “you wish” between fits of laughter, and Liam ignored him as he tidied up the booth - picking up water bottles, crisp wrappers, and, gingerly, a few used napkins that could have been his but were probably Niall’s. “I’m absolutely knackered, do we have much more to do for the day?”
“I think we’re good. You can fuck off now, let the professionals work their magic and get you to sound halfway decent.” Niall had a classic case of Dr. Jekyll/Mr. Hyde - he was the nicest lad on their downtime, causing mischief and getting rowdy with Liam at company parties, even hanging out with him while they weren’t working together. But when he was in the studio, Niall became the most brilliant, albeit crotchety recording-guru-bastard this side of the pond. Being one of the most sought-after producers in the industry could give you a complex, apparently.
“Love you, Niall, thanks for bein’ amazing,” Liam sing-songed, pinching Niall’s cheek and pushing a few of the tabs on the soundboard in random directions, then quickly skipping out of Niall’s reach when he tried to claw at Liam’s arm. “See you tomorrow, bye now!”
Liam slipped on his coat and walked down the hallway with his phone in hand, scrolling through his Twitter feed and favoriting tweets with links to check out later.
@Real_Liam_Payne: done recordingg for the day....tiredddd but had load s of fun w/@NiallOfficial !! good lad
His notifications blew up instantly with people begging him to follow them, asking him to listen to their covers of his songs, and a few very graphic tweets asking him to upload pictures of the “ten-inch.” Honestly, he’d only made it big a few months ago, when one of his songs was used on an American TV show and skyrocketed him onto the radars of 13- to 21-year-olds everywhere, and he still hadn’t gotten used to the fans. He had fans now.
As he approached the exit, a door on the side of the building that was pretty well hidden away from any lurking fans (although Louis’ fans, a very intense and persistent bunch, had pretty much managed to find any little nooks and crannies to hide in, on, or under), he contemplated calling for his bodyguard. He wasn’t a huge fan of his security detail - he liked the guys, they were really nice and never judged him when he couldn’t be bothered to shower for the day - and even though he understood why he needed them, he still preferred to be alone.
After deciding to brave it on his own, he pushed open the door, stepping out into the yellow light of a street lamp and taking a dramatic inhale of fresh, wintry air - and promptly got a lungful of cigarette smoke. Liam coughed, eyes watering, and waved the air in front of his face to try to clear some of the smoke away. He glared at the smoker accusingly.
“Shit, ‘m so sorry,” the guy said, and Liam jerked a thumb at the very large ‘NO SMOKING (it is against the law to smoke in these premises)’ sign. “Sorry, sorry, I’m putting it out.”
“It’s alright,” Liam sighed, wiping his eyes with very deliberate fists, then felt a little guilty for laying it on so thick. “Seriously, don’t worry about it, it’s my fault for being dramatic.”
“Still, ah, I’m really...sorry...” He trailed off, and Liam finally blinked away the last remains of his tears to see - possibly the most beautiful human being, like actually. The most. Of ever. Thick dark hair swept to the side, brown eyes, the clearest skin he’d ever seen on a teenaged boy - Liam was completely taken aback and had to readjust himself to the situation quickly. “You...you look a lot like - you aren’t Liam Payne. Are you?”
“Oh! Yeah, hi,” Liam said with a stupid little wave. “Hi.”
“Hi,” the guy said shyly, ducking his head a bit. “I’m, like, a really, really huge fan. You’re like my second favorite artist of all time.” His eyes widened in horror. “Oh, god, wait - no, I didn’t mean to say that, I’m sorry, I’m nervous, I’m sorry - ”
Liam laughed a little, scratching the back of his neck and shrugging. “It’s alright, mate. I get it, I get it. Although, for the sake of my dignity - who’s your first?”
The boy flushed, covering his face. “I don’t really - I mean, I love you - your music, it’s great, I just - I love Frank Ocean, his stuff really helped me. When I was going through some stuff.”
Liam nodded solemnly. “If I’m gonna lose out to anyone, I’d most want it to be Frank Ocean. Maybe Justin Timberlake, too. Nah, who’m I kidding, definitely Justin Timberlake. I can be your third favorite.” The guy cracked a smile, holding his tongue between his teeth, which looked both very cute and a little scary. He also couldn’t help but be pleased that he didn’t disagree with Liam on his enormous musical crush on JT. With an unexpected surge of confidence, Liam asked, “What’s your name?”
“Zayn, Zayn Malik,” he responded, sticking a hand out, which Liam took.
“Nice to meet you, Zayn, I’m Liam Payne,” Liam said dutifully. “Although you already knew that, I suppose. Hey, that rhymed! Zayn Payne.” He chuckled. Zayn let out a little choking noise. “You alright?”
“Yeah, sorry,” Zayn coughed, leaning against the railing a bit.
“Hey, I just realized - what are you doing over here?” Liam asked sort of abruptly. “Not that I’m going to turn you in to security or anything, I just thought - you’re probably lingering by the door for a reason...?”
Zayn’s hands went straight to his pockets and, because he was a mind reader and knew all of Liam’s buttons within minutes of meeting him, had his bottom lip between his teeth. Liam wet his lips. “I’m sure you hear this a lot, but I, um, just came to try to get an audition with somebody, just to get my foot in the door, like - I just. I wanna be a singer.”
Liam nodded and closed his eyes, unable to stop the sinking feeling of dread creeping up on him. A boy as good looking as Zayn, who smoked - clearly had no proper vocal training, because who dreamed of being a singer and thought smoking cigarettes was a good idea? - Liam kept his sigh of disappointment to himself.
“You should let me love you, let me be the one to give you everything you want and need.” Liam’s eyes snapped open, zeroing in on Zayn’s mouth. His lip was back between his teeth, worrying it, and when Liam finally managed to pull his gaze up, he met Zayn’s direct stare head on. “Baby, good love and protection, make me your selection, and show you the way love's supposed to be.”
He sang it a little quickly, as if trying to get it over with sooner, but despite the lack of training and nerves - he was good. He was really good. Liam told him so. Zayn huffed out a laugh, shaking his head and looking down, his shoulders coming up to his ears. “No, really, you’ve got a great voice. Honest.”
Zayn bit his lip again, and Liam’s brain must have shorted, because suddenly he was blurting out, “Hey, d’you wanna come inside, maybe? There’s a room that I’ve been given here while I’m recording. I can’t promise to get you in with anyone. Just, like - I could give your demo a listen, or you could ask me any questions you have about the industry, advice for getting noticed...”
“For real? I’d love to - that’d be amazing, yeah, definitely,” Zayn breathed, hands coming up as though to hug him, though they quickly snapped back to Zayn’s sides in seconds.
Liam grinned at his infectious excitement, digging around in his pocket for the keycard to swipe them into the building. “Shall we?”
Liam lead Zayn down the hallway, pointing out framed photos on the wall that he thought might interest Zayn (“This one’s of Niall and Michael Bublé, Ni practically did backflips when MIchael asked to work with him - and him with Kanye, I nearly bit his head off when I saw the photo. Beyoncé and Jay-Z, absolute legends”). Liam gestured for Zayn to be quiet when they approached the room that Niall was still working in; well, he was one-handedly typing out a message on his Blackberry with a stick of cheese hanging out his mouth, but his MacBook screen wasn’t folded down, and according to Niall, that meant he was hard at work. Liam and Zayn crept past the booth and Liam let them into the next room with another swipe of his keycard.
The room was on the small side, since it was mostly meant to be a space for artists to have a diva meltdown without breaking any expensive equipment. There was a long, black leather couch with a flat screen mounted on the opposite wall, a desk with a computer and a swivel chair, and a mini fridge and microwave. Liam opened the fridge. “D’you want a beer or anything?”
Zayn swallowed and gave an overly casual shrug. “Uh, yeah, sure, whatever.”
Liam looked up at him, tilting his head and humming. “How old are you?”
“Ah, seventeen? But only for a few more months...”
“For shame,” Liam groaned, bypassing the beer for two cans of Pepsi and handing one to Zayn with a raised eyebrow. “Enough of that. Where’s that demo?”
Zayn handed over his USB drive to Liam, who pulled it up on the computer and gestured for Zayn to sit on the couch. He hit play and turned the volume all the way up, and grainy background noise from the likely amateur equipment quickly filled the room. The first two songs were covers done a capella, an Usher song and, unsurprisingly, a Frank Ocean track. The third song was an original production; generic beats, fairly standard lyrics about diamond rings and true love, but it accomplished what it needed to: convincing Liam one hundred percent that Zayn had it in him to be a star.
The song ended and when Liam glanced to Zayn, he was hunched over his lap, right leg bouncing frantically and face in his hands as if waiting to be torn to shreds. Liam remembered what it was like to put himself out there for the first time, have somebody scrutinize his voice and his looks and tell him he wasn’t quite good enough. “Listen, Zayn, I won’t beat around the bush.” Zayn’s entire body went still. “I think you’re really talented. You’ve got a great sound, and these are just demos. If you recorded something in the studio, I could see it getting airtime on the radio, no problem.”
Zayn head shot up, wide-eyed and looking like, oddly enough, a baby possum. “Serious, mate? Like, I. I’m. I.”
Liam kicked at Zayn’s foot with a laugh. “Why would I lie to you? I loved it. With some lessons, maybe a vocal coach, you’ll be giving all of us a run for our money. And I bet Niall’d love to work with you, too, he’s been begging me to try out some more R&B-type stuff he’s been messing about with.”
Zayn looked seconds away from falling into a dead faint. “Wow, Liam, I...that means a lot. Coming from you.” He shook his head. “Thank you so, so much.”
Liam grinned at him, nudging at his foot again, before clicking to the rest of the iTunes catalogue. “Dunno if you’re a fan or not, but Louis Tomlinson passed his CD along to me, told me to give it a listen. I haven’t had the chance, are you up for it?”
Zayn sort of looked as though he was about to cry. “Locked Down? It’s done already? Oh, god, yes, I love Louis.”
“Good man.” He clicked the first track, queued the rest of the album, and stood. “Think a match is supposed to be on tonight. I could mute it, if you wanted to watch it?” Zayn nodded mechanically, just staring at Liam in this way that...well, it made him flush hot with the sense of being admired, maybe even desired. He sat down next to Zayn on the couch. “Er, so are you in school, then?”
Zayn sipped his drink, elbows on his knees and very carefully making sure not to touch Liam at all. “Um, after I sat my GCSE’s, I sort of made a deal with my parents to move to London for a year, and if nothing turned up with music, I’d go back home to Bradford and do my A-levels and, like, just. Try uni.” Zayn gave a nervous laugh, hiding his face in his hand. “So, no, I guess I’m not in school. Sorry for just rambling on, or whatever.”
Liam elbowed Zayn, bumping his shoulder with a scoff. “Nonsense, we’re getting to know each other. I didn’t do my A-levels either. Well, I did them, but I failed most of them. So I understand not wanting to do school anymore, trust me.”
Zayn gave a half-smile, fiddling with the tab on the can and shrugging. “Something like that, yeah.” There’s a bout of quiet, Louis’ voice crooning a metaphor about love and the ocean, and pretty much nothing has changed in the room, but somehow, the fluorescent lights seem dimmer, maybe more intimate?
“It’s cool of your parents to let you move to London on your own...?” Liam knows he’s unashamedly fishing, but he just has to know - Zayn must have a boyfriend, or girlfriend, or a sugar daddy for all he knows, a flat in London couldn’t be an easy thing for a seventeen-year-old to pick up the tab on by himself.
“Actually, I live with my best friend from home, Danny? He moved here a couple of years ago, cuts me some slack on the rent since it’s a one-bedroom and I’ve got the couch.” The fond expression on Zayn’s face sort of made up for the uneasiness that Liam’d felt zip through him at the mention of a flatmate. “I think it has to do with his girlfriend staying over sometimes, too...they can be a bit much. Thin walls.”
Zayn’s toothy grin (and perhaps the mention of the girlfriend) lessened the tension in Liam’s shoulders, making him sink back into the couch a bit and relax. “So. The new JT album.”
Zayn sighed, settling back so that he was slouched low like Liam. “Love it. A masterpiece.” Liam’s heart throbbed, he was - Zayn was perfect.
And Liam knew how dodgy this had to look - someone with a bit of power, using it to coerce a struggling up-and-comer, desperate for validation, into doing whatever he said - Liam knew about those people, despised them, and it wasn’t even a question that he would never, ever do a thing like that.
But when they were sitting next to each other on the couch, television turned to a muted football match and the stereo quietly playing Louis Tomlinson’s unreleased album, Liam, in a move he wasn’t proud of, stretch-and-yawned his arm around Zayn’s shoulders. He pretended to focus on the match, though he was hyperaware to the way Zayn was half-turned into him, staring up at him with wide eyes. Liam felt the last of his resolve disappearing as the electricity between them sparked where his fingertips grazed Zayn’s arm. He brushed them up and down before trailing his hand up to Zayn’s neck and tilting his chin up. Zayn looked up at him through his mile-long eyelashes, his lips pursing just slightly, lashes fluttering as he looked back and forth between Liam’s eyes and mouth.
Liam leaned all the way to meet their mouths, eyes closing. It was sweet, Liam just pressing his lips to Zayn’s lightly, no pressure to turn it into anything. They stayed like that, just coming together briefly over and over again, unhurried and a little dry and a lot easy.
Liam stopped, pulled back a bit to look Zayn in the eye, thumb brushing across his cheek gently. “Is this okay?” The music had played out, so he kept his voice at a whisper, afraid to break the moment with any loud or sudden movements. Zayn turned his face to Liam’s jaw, running his lips along his jaw and nodding.
They kissed some more, the first little hints of tongue gaining momentum until Liam had Zayn pressed back, full blown sucking on his tongue, the arm still around his shoulders pressing Zayn tight to his chest. Liam ran his unoccupied hand from Zayn’s knee to his thigh, up his hip and side, gently massaging his way along his body. Zayn arched into Liam’s hand, and, in a move that surprised Liam in the best way, rolled himself over to straddle him.
Liam watched with wide eyes as Zayn slid down between his legs. He rested a hand over Liam’s crotch, hiding his face in his shoulder for a second. “I’m not. I don’t usually do stuff like this, so like.”
Liam bent over to kiss him. “I want you, only if you want to.”
Zayn broke away, pushing Liam back against the couch and dragging down the zip of his jeans. “Yeah, want it.”
-
The two made out lazily, gently rocking back and forth as they traded noisy wet kisses. Their brushing tongues sent a jolt to Liam’s dick, which he squeezed once with his absolutely filthy right hand before separating from Zayn with a chuckle. “I’m a mess, so I can only imagine you feel about ten times worse.” He spotted a box of tissues on the mini fridge and, with great effort, managed to stumble over and grab a few, his still-open trousers sliding down his hips a bit. He looked between Zayn’s soaked jeans to the handful of tissues. “Suppose these aren’t really going to cut it, eh?”
Zayn squirmed a bit, grimacing down at the crotch of his jeans. “Probably not, no.”
“I mean. You can take mine, if you want? Since you probably don’t want to sit in a taxi in wet pants,” Liam offered, already stepping out of his clothes.
Zayn took them with a blush. It seemed the quiet Zayn from before was creeping back in. Liam was both pleased and disappointed; he thought Zayn’s shyness was endearing, but also wanted him to be comfortable around Liam, to joke with him and argue with him and just. Be himself. Liam got attached really quickly... “Oh, you don’t have to...um. Thanks. What will you wear?”
“Niall keeps a set of sweats, for this Chinese place a few blocks over? He doesn’t like going to the buffet in jeans, says it’s a waste. I’ll just tell him I spilled something on myself, no problem.” He watched Zayn fiddle with the button on his pants for a moment before jumping. “Oh, right, I’ll just - turn around, here - ”
Liam listened to the clinking of Zayn’s belt buckle and the rustle of denim brushing against skin. “So, uh, I was thinking - I’ll probably give your demo to Niall, if that’s alright with you? Like, if Niall wants you, I almost guarantee someone will try to sign you.” Liam paused, biting his lip before breathing out, “You could give me your number, so - um - we could reach you? If they like you. Which is pretty likely.”
“Um...” Liam glanced back to see Zayn tightening his belt; his jeans bunched at the waist unnaturally, clearly too big and making Zayn look even smaller and younger than he already did. “I don’t. I sort of don’t really...” Zayn looked down, scuffing his socked feet sheepishly against the carpet, mumbling now. “Don’t have a phone, at the moment. Just use Danny’s if I need to call home, or like. Work.” He chuckled nervously, furrowed eyebrows at odds with the forced lightness in his voice. “Small record shops don’t actually pay very well, shockingly enough. Most of what I make goes to rent...”
Liam’s face warmed, hand immediately going up to clench at his hair. “Oh! You know what, that’s not even a big deal - I’ll just give you my number. Just ring me in a few days, we can meet up for coffee or something, and we can figure it out from there.” Liam looked around for a pad of paper, quickly scribbling out his number across the page and signing with a quick ‘Liam x.’ “Do you want me to call you a cab?”
“That’s, uh, really nice, thanks, but I think I’ll take the tube? You know, on a budget.” Nervous laughter again. Liam pinched himself.
“I mean, I could get the tab for you? If you’d like? And you could get our coffee, or something, like - ”
“Um, I’m good, thanks, mate. I’ll, like, show myself out, you don’t have to walk me - but thanks again. It was really nice to meet you, Liam.” Zayn shoved on his Supras, not bothering to lace them before scurrying out the door. Liam stood there in his pants, staring after him. If he wasn’t half-naked, he might’ve wondered if he’d imagined the whole thing.
With a cross of his fingers and hope for a call from an unknown number in the next couple of days, Liam took up Zayn’s USB stick and slowly made his way to the studio where, just as he’d suspected, Niall was still sitting with a huge set of headphones on. His lips were pressed together tightly, head bobbing along to the track and index fingers drumming out the beat.
Liam pushed them off one ear, making Niall jump and swear. “Bloody Jesus fuck - Liam goddamn Payne, what the fuck’re you still doing here?” A pause. “Where are your trousers?”
“Uh, I forgot something? And then I spilled something on my jeans, figured I’d ask if I could borrow your ‘Gold Star Chinese’ sweats.” Niall fixed him with a glare, head cocked back distrustingly. Liam could see him turning over his story in his head, deciding if he’d comment on the vague ‘somethings.’ Liam gave him a sheepish smile and a shrug.
Finally, Niall rolled his eyes. “In the duffel. Just make sure you get them back to me soon as you can, have to be prepared at all times.” Liam gave his hair a ruffle in thanks, pulling out the sweats and quickly stepping into them. “Get home, now, you strange little man.”
“Alright, man, see you tomorrow!” Liam turned to leave before remembering - “Hey, also. I have this demo, right, it’s proper good. Give it a listen, if you’ve got the time. Guy’s got a good sound, I think you’ll like him.”
“Jesus, ‘s like you think I actually live here, fuck’s sake,” Niall muttered, snatching the USB from Liam and waving him off. “Now go, before you give me more work to do and I completely snap.”
-
Liam waited for Zayn’s call for a week and a half before he started to worry. He made sure his ringer was turned up all the way, even during meetings and when he went to bed at night (just in case Zayn’s record shop kept odd hours and the only time he could talk was at three in the morning). The only time he didn’t have his mobile on him was when he was actually recording, and that’s because Niall would’ve absolutely castrated him if he dared take his phone with him in the booth.
Liam told himself not to worry about it. Zayn would call him when he got the chance. He was probably just swamped with work, or. His mate was being a dick, maybe. Liam immediately felt bad; he didn’t know Zayn’s friend at all, it wasn’t fair for him to blame Zayn’s disinterest on him -
And that was the crux of it, wasn’t it? No matter how much rationalizing Liam tried to do, reassuring himself that Zayn hadn’t called because he couldn’t, the fact remained - a week and a half had gone by. Of Liam furtively checking out every little record store his Google Maps search turned up, and a few it didn’t. Of Liam thinking that he’d accidentally written down the wrong number, or that his handwriting was so messy that Zayn was dialing the wrong person. It was more comforting than the thought that Zayn would rather give up the opportunity for a record deal (because of course Niall loved the songs and wanted to know straightaway where Liam found the singer, demanding he bring him in so they could sit down with Louis and Simon and Nicole and discuss a contract) than to be harassed by Liam any longer. Oh, god. Liam thought, in the moment, that they’d acted on mutual attraction, that Zayn had been just as into it as Liam...but after having ten days to pick it apart and put it back together, he couldn’t think of any other explanation than that he’d bullied Zayn into sleeping with him.
Liam was a horrible, terrible person.
After two full weeks of casual stalking and paranoia had passed, when the first days of December brought huge lighted displays that spanned the width of the street, Liam had halfway given up on Zayn. Only halfway, because it was Christmas and he still had the faintest hope that Zayn would call. Liam was walking down the street in a part of London he wasn’t very familiar with, the extent of his disguise a pulled-up hood and a morose set to his face. The festive lights blinked merrily on as he sulked under them, completing his ‘sad sack’ look with his hands in his pockets. He passed by a few antique shops, a secondhand store that he imagined taking Harry to, a nice looking café that he debated stopping in, but didn’t.
He thought about hailing a cab; it was getting dark out, the forecasts had predicted the first snowfall tonight, and he was already a bit miserable and cold and feeling sorry for himself. He almost stuck his arm out, but something in his peripheral caught his eye; it was a giant window display of upcoming albums, and Liam was proud to see Louis’ album cover dead center. He smiled, walking along the storefront slowly, stopping short when he saw a lifesize cardboard cutout of himself. That sort of thing usually embarrassed the hell out of him anyway, but - a gap tooth and spectacles and a Harry Potter scar had been drawn on in shiny black Sharpie.
Objectively speaking, Liam knew there had to be people who didn’t like him or his music; as a rational person, he understood the concept. But he hadn’t ever actually met someone who had, at least to his face, out and out told him that they were anything but a fan. Seeing it like this was a whole lot different from going through his mentions on Twitter with the odd rude tweet getting through. It sort of hurt, in person.
Now Liam definitely wanted to go home, but a warm surge of indignation had him pushing the door to the shop open. The first thing to hit him was the musky smell of Nag Champa; it sent a jolt down his spine for some reason, even though he didn’t have any strong memories attached to the scent, at least none that he could think of. The second was the song playing - it was the Mario song that Zayn had sung for him outside the studio that day, the one from a few years ago. It was bizarre that it would be playing in any store, let alone one with literally thousands of other options to choose from.
The third thing to knock the breath out of him was the dark haired boy at the counter, standing with his back to Liam and wearing a pair of very familiar too-loose trousers. He was talking to his co-worker, a small-ish bloke with broad shoulders and a young face. “Heya, mate, how’s it goin’?"
“Well, I think?” At the sound of Liam’s voice, the boy spun around, and Liam’s heart leapt to his throat - yes, it was Zayn, Zayn was here, he’d found him -
“Hey, you look familiar. Who does he look like, Zayn? Eh? Bro, I’m talking to you, who does this guy look like - ”
“Ah, Josh, I’m taking my lunch now, all right?”
Josh scratched his head. “But you already had your lunch. What’s got you all jumpy, then?”
“Man, please, just cover for me? I’ll only be fifteen, promise. I’ll owe you.” Zayn was already moving from behind the counter, tossing a “thanks!” over his shoulder. He took Liam’s hand and dragged him through the store, opening a door at the back to reveal a closet masquerading as an office. Zayn shut the door, slowly turning to press his back against it as he stared at Liam. Liam stared back. “Uh. Hi.”
“Hello,” Liam said cautiously, leaning against the desk. He fought the urge to cross his arms, feeling it would give off a hostile vibe, and he didn’t want that. He just wanted Zayn.
“I don’t suppose I could tell you that I’ve been out of cell reception for two weeks and you’d believe me.” Zayn’s smiling, but it’s a sad sort of smile, and Liam wants to shake him by the shoulders. “How did you - like, how’d you turn up here?”
“The impressive window display grabbed my attention,” Liam said drolly, making Zayn sigh and hide his face in his hands. “I take it someone here isn’t a fan, then? Is that why you never called?” Liam winced. Jesus, he sounded bitter.
“No, it was a dumb joke - one of the twats that works here got hold of a marker and went crazy with it. I thought we took most of them down, but I guess we forgot one?”
“Yes, the one in the window - makes sense.” But this time Liam managed a more teasing tone and a smile, and Zayn returned it shyly with cast-down eyes.
“Sorry for not returning your jeans to you.”
“Nah, it’s alright. They look good on you. Although if you’re really sorry, you could come out with me on that coffee date I asked you about last time?” Zayn’s mouth twitched, and Liam instantly latched on to the lifeline. “Yeah! I was thinking about stopping for a cuppa at the café next door. Come with me. We can just chat about music, or. Whatever you want, really.”
Zayn’s tongue was pressed against his teeth now, the corners of his eyes turned up and Liam was absolutely over-the-moon. “Definitely not the shop next door. There’s a sort of persistent barista there, can’t really take the hint that I’m not interested...god. I guess, if my co-worker says it’s okay - ?”
Liam took his hand, walking backwards to the front of the store, never breaking eye contact with Zayn. “Hey, it’s Josh, isn’t it? My man. I’d very much appreciate if you’d cover for the rest of Zayn’s shift while I take him out? I could get you some backstage passes to whoever, just tell Zayn and they’re yours. Thanks a lot!” Before Josh could tell Liam to fuck off, they were out the door, the sky now well and truly dark and the bitter cold instantly soaking them through.
They stood on the street, laughing and watching each
other’s breath fog the air. A few flurries settled in Zayn’s hair, and he gave a hard shiver, though the smile on his face didn’t drop. Liam’s heart pounded wildly in his chest. It was literally something out of a romantic comedy, finding his guy during the first snow at Christmas time. He squeezed Zayn’s hand, grinned hard when Zayn squeezed back, and, with a gleeful “come on!”, the two strode off down the street.
rating: pg-13
warning(s): none
pairing(s): liam payne/zayn malik
word count: 5,442
summary: Zayn likes R&B. Liam likes Zayn.
also on ao3
“I love that last bit, the run with the ‘ooh-ahhh-ooh,’ but god it’s hard to get it right.” Liam pulled his headphones off, letting them hang round his neck while he stretched out his back. He mumbled through it a few more times, adding, “I want to keep it, I’m just a bit worried about performing it live.”
“Quit your whining, Payne, you’re lucky I gave this one to you and not Tommo,” the man on the opposite side of the glass snorted, rolling his eyes and flipping Liam the bird.
“Niall, please. I know we all think the sun shines out Louis’ arse, but even he couldn’t pull this song off as well as me.” Niall scoffed incredulously at that, wheezing out a “you wish” between fits of laughter, and Liam ignored him as he tidied up the booth - picking up water bottles, crisp wrappers, and, gingerly, a few used napkins that could have been his but were probably Niall’s. “I’m absolutely knackered, do we have much more to do for the day?”
“I think we’re good. You can fuck off now, let the professionals work their magic and get you to sound halfway decent.” Niall had a classic case of Dr. Jekyll/Mr. Hyde - he was the nicest lad on their downtime, causing mischief and getting rowdy with Liam at company parties, even hanging out with him while they weren’t working together. But when he was in the studio, Niall became the most brilliant, albeit crotchety recording-guru-bastard this side of the pond. Being one of the most sought-after producers in the industry could give you a complex, apparently.
“Love you, Niall, thanks for bein’ amazing,” Liam sing-songed, pinching Niall’s cheek and pushing a few of the tabs on the soundboard in random directions, then quickly skipping out of Niall’s reach when he tried to claw at Liam’s arm. “See you tomorrow, bye now!”
Liam slipped on his coat and walked down the hallway with his phone in hand, scrolling through his Twitter feed and favoriting tweets with links to check out later.
@Real_Liam_Payne: done recordingg for the day....tiredddd but had load s of fun w/@NiallOfficial !! good lad
His notifications blew up instantly with people begging him to follow them, asking him to listen to their covers of his songs, and a few very graphic tweets asking him to upload pictures of the “ten-inch.” Honestly, he’d only made it big a few months ago, when one of his songs was used on an American TV show and skyrocketed him onto the radars of 13- to 21-year-olds everywhere, and he still hadn’t gotten used to the fans. He had fans now.
As he approached the exit, a door on the side of the building that was pretty well hidden away from any lurking fans (although Louis’ fans, a very intense and persistent bunch, had pretty much managed to find any little nooks and crannies to hide in, on, or under), he contemplated calling for his bodyguard. He wasn’t a huge fan of his security detail - he liked the guys, they were really nice and never judged him when he couldn’t be bothered to shower for the day - and even though he understood why he needed them, he still preferred to be alone.
After deciding to brave it on his own, he pushed open the door, stepping out into the yellow light of a street lamp and taking a dramatic inhale of fresh, wintry air - and promptly got a lungful of cigarette smoke. Liam coughed, eyes watering, and waved the air in front of his face to try to clear some of the smoke away. He glared at the smoker accusingly.
“Shit, ‘m so sorry,” the guy said, and Liam jerked a thumb at the very large ‘NO SMOKING (it is against the law to smoke in these premises)’ sign. “Sorry, sorry, I’m putting it out.”
“It’s alright,” Liam sighed, wiping his eyes with very deliberate fists, then felt a little guilty for laying it on so thick. “Seriously, don’t worry about it, it’s my fault for being dramatic.”
“Still, ah, I’m really...sorry...” He trailed off, and Liam finally blinked away the last remains of his tears to see - possibly the most beautiful human being, like actually. The most. Of ever. Thick dark hair swept to the side, brown eyes, the clearest skin he’d ever seen on a teenaged boy - Liam was completely taken aback and had to readjust himself to the situation quickly. “You...you look a lot like - you aren’t Liam Payne. Are you?”
“Oh! Yeah, hi,” Liam said with a stupid little wave. “Hi.”
“Hi,” the guy said shyly, ducking his head a bit. “I’m, like, a really, really huge fan. You’re like my second favorite artist of all time.” His eyes widened in horror. “Oh, god, wait - no, I didn’t mean to say that, I’m sorry, I’m nervous, I’m sorry - ”
Liam laughed a little, scratching the back of his neck and shrugging. “It’s alright, mate. I get it, I get it. Although, for the sake of my dignity - who’s your first?”
The boy flushed, covering his face. “I don’t really - I mean, I love you - your music, it’s great, I just - I love Frank Ocean, his stuff really helped me. When I was going through some stuff.”
Liam nodded solemnly. “If I’m gonna lose out to anyone, I’d most want it to be Frank Ocean. Maybe Justin Timberlake, too. Nah, who’m I kidding, definitely Justin Timberlake. I can be your third favorite.” The guy cracked a smile, holding his tongue between his teeth, which looked both very cute and a little scary. He also couldn’t help but be pleased that he didn’t disagree with Liam on his enormous musical crush on JT. With an unexpected surge of confidence, Liam asked, “What’s your name?”
“Zayn, Zayn Malik,” he responded, sticking a hand out, which Liam took.
“Nice to meet you, Zayn, I’m Liam Payne,” Liam said dutifully. “Although you already knew that, I suppose. Hey, that rhymed! Zayn Payne.” He chuckled. Zayn let out a little choking noise. “You alright?”
“Yeah, sorry,” Zayn coughed, leaning against the railing a bit.
“Hey, I just realized - what are you doing over here?” Liam asked sort of abruptly. “Not that I’m going to turn you in to security or anything, I just thought - you’re probably lingering by the door for a reason...?”
Zayn’s hands went straight to his pockets and, because he was a mind reader and knew all of Liam’s buttons within minutes of meeting him, had his bottom lip between his teeth. Liam wet his lips. “I’m sure you hear this a lot, but I, um, just came to try to get an audition with somebody, just to get my foot in the door, like - I just. I wanna be a singer.”
Liam nodded and closed his eyes, unable to stop the sinking feeling of dread creeping up on him. A boy as good looking as Zayn, who smoked - clearly had no proper vocal training, because who dreamed of being a singer and thought smoking cigarettes was a good idea? - Liam kept his sigh of disappointment to himself.
“You should let me love you, let me be the one to give you everything you want and need.” Liam’s eyes snapped open, zeroing in on Zayn’s mouth. His lip was back between his teeth, worrying it, and when Liam finally managed to pull his gaze up, he met Zayn’s direct stare head on. “Baby, good love and protection, make me your selection, and show you the way love's supposed to be.”
He sang it a little quickly, as if trying to get it over with sooner, but despite the lack of training and nerves - he was good. He was really good. Liam told him so. Zayn huffed out a laugh, shaking his head and looking down, his shoulders coming up to his ears. “No, really, you’ve got a great voice. Honest.”
Zayn bit his lip again, and Liam’s brain must have shorted, because suddenly he was blurting out, “Hey, d’you wanna come inside, maybe? There’s a room that I’ve been given here while I’m recording. I can’t promise to get you in with anyone. Just, like - I could give your demo a listen, or you could ask me any questions you have about the industry, advice for getting noticed...”
“For real? I’d love to - that’d be amazing, yeah, definitely,” Zayn breathed, hands coming up as though to hug him, though they quickly snapped back to Zayn’s sides in seconds.
Liam grinned at his infectious excitement, digging around in his pocket for the keycard to swipe them into the building. “Shall we?”
Liam lead Zayn down the hallway, pointing out framed photos on the wall that he thought might interest Zayn (“This one’s of Niall and Michael Bublé, Ni practically did backflips when MIchael asked to work with him - and him with Kanye, I nearly bit his head off when I saw the photo. Beyoncé and Jay-Z, absolute legends”). Liam gestured for Zayn to be quiet when they approached the room that Niall was still working in; well, he was one-handedly typing out a message on his Blackberry with a stick of cheese hanging out his mouth, but his MacBook screen wasn’t folded down, and according to Niall, that meant he was hard at work. Liam and Zayn crept past the booth and Liam let them into the next room with another swipe of his keycard.
The room was on the small side, since it was mostly meant to be a space for artists to have a diva meltdown without breaking any expensive equipment. There was a long, black leather couch with a flat screen mounted on the opposite wall, a desk with a computer and a swivel chair, and a mini fridge and microwave. Liam opened the fridge. “D’you want a beer or anything?”
Zayn swallowed and gave an overly casual shrug. “Uh, yeah, sure, whatever.”
Liam looked up at him, tilting his head and humming. “How old are you?”
“Ah, seventeen? But only for a few more months...”
“For shame,” Liam groaned, bypassing the beer for two cans of Pepsi and handing one to Zayn with a raised eyebrow. “Enough of that. Where’s that demo?”
Zayn handed over his USB drive to Liam, who pulled it up on the computer and gestured for Zayn to sit on the couch. He hit play and turned the volume all the way up, and grainy background noise from the likely amateur equipment quickly filled the room. The first two songs were covers done a capella, an Usher song and, unsurprisingly, a Frank Ocean track. The third song was an original production; generic beats, fairly standard lyrics about diamond rings and true love, but it accomplished what it needed to: convincing Liam one hundred percent that Zayn had it in him to be a star.
The song ended and when Liam glanced to Zayn, he was hunched over his lap, right leg bouncing frantically and face in his hands as if waiting to be torn to shreds. Liam remembered what it was like to put himself out there for the first time, have somebody scrutinize his voice and his looks and tell him he wasn’t quite good enough. “Listen, Zayn, I won’t beat around the bush.” Zayn’s entire body went still. “I think you’re really talented. You’ve got a great sound, and these are just demos. If you recorded something in the studio, I could see it getting airtime on the radio, no problem.”
Zayn head shot up, wide-eyed and looking like, oddly enough, a baby possum. “Serious, mate? Like, I. I’m. I.”
Liam kicked at Zayn’s foot with a laugh. “Why would I lie to you? I loved it. With some lessons, maybe a vocal coach, you’ll be giving all of us a run for our money. And I bet Niall’d love to work with you, too, he’s been begging me to try out some more R&B-type stuff he’s been messing about with.”
Zayn looked seconds away from falling into a dead faint. “Wow, Liam, I...that means a lot. Coming from you.” He shook his head. “Thank you so, so much.”
Liam grinned at him, nudging at his foot again, before clicking to the rest of the iTunes catalogue. “Dunno if you’re a fan or not, but Louis Tomlinson passed his CD along to me, told me to give it a listen. I haven’t had the chance, are you up for it?”
Zayn sort of looked as though he was about to cry. “Locked Down? It’s done already? Oh, god, yes, I love Louis.”
“Good man.” He clicked the first track, queued the rest of the album, and stood. “Think a match is supposed to be on tonight. I could mute it, if you wanted to watch it?” Zayn nodded mechanically, just staring at Liam in this way that...well, it made him flush hot with the sense of being admired, maybe even desired. He sat down next to Zayn on the couch. “Er, so are you in school, then?”
Zayn sipped his drink, elbows on his knees and very carefully making sure not to touch Liam at all. “Um, after I sat my GCSE’s, I sort of made a deal with my parents to move to London for a year, and if nothing turned up with music, I’d go back home to Bradford and do my A-levels and, like, just. Try uni.” Zayn gave a nervous laugh, hiding his face in his hand. “So, no, I guess I’m not in school. Sorry for just rambling on, or whatever.”
Liam elbowed Zayn, bumping his shoulder with a scoff. “Nonsense, we’re getting to know each other. I didn’t do my A-levels either. Well, I did them, but I failed most of them. So I understand not wanting to do school anymore, trust me.”
Zayn gave a half-smile, fiddling with the tab on the can and shrugging. “Something like that, yeah.” There’s a bout of quiet, Louis’ voice crooning a metaphor about love and the ocean, and pretty much nothing has changed in the room, but somehow, the fluorescent lights seem dimmer, maybe more intimate?
“It’s cool of your parents to let you move to London on your own...?” Liam knows he’s unashamedly fishing, but he just has to know - Zayn must have a boyfriend, or girlfriend, or a sugar daddy for all he knows, a flat in London couldn’t be an easy thing for a seventeen-year-old to pick up the tab on by himself.
“Actually, I live with my best friend from home, Danny? He moved here a couple of years ago, cuts me some slack on the rent since it’s a one-bedroom and I’ve got the couch.” The fond expression on Zayn’s face sort of made up for the uneasiness that Liam’d felt zip through him at the mention of a flatmate. “I think it has to do with his girlfriend staying over sometimes, too...they can be a bit much. Thin walls.”
Zayn’s toothy grin (and perhaps the mention of the girlfriend) lessened the tension in Liam’s shoulders, making him sink back into the couch a bit and relax. “So. The new JT album.”
Zayn sighed, settling back so that he was slouched low like Liam. “Love it. A masterpiece.” Liam’s heart throbbed, he was - Zayn was perfect.
And Liam knew how dodgy this had to look - someone with a bit of power, using it to coerce a struggling up-and-comer, desperate for validation, into doing whatever he said - Liam knew about those people, despised them, and it wasn’t even a question that he would never, ever do a thing like that.
But when they were sitting next to each other on the couch, television turned to a muted football match and the stereo quietly playing Louis Tomlinson’s unreleased album, Liam, in a move he wasn’t proud of, stretch-and-yawned his arm around Zayn’s shoulders. He pretended to focus on the match, though he was hyperaware to the way Zayn was half-turned into him, staring up at him with wide eyes. Liam felt the last of his resolve disappearing as the electricity between them sparked where his fingertips grazed Zayn’s arm. He brushed them up and down before trailing his hand up to Zayn’s neck and tilting his chin up. Zayn looked up at him through his mile-long eyelashes, his lips pursing just slightly, lashes fluttering as he looked back and forth between Liam’s eyes and mouth.
Liam leaned all the way to meet their mouths, eyes closing. It was sweet, Liam just pressing his lips to Zayn’s lightly, no pressure to turn it into anything. They stayed like that, just coming together briefly over and over again, unhurried and a little dry and a lot easy.
Liam stopped, pulled back a bit to look Zayn in the eye, thumb brushing across his cheek gently. “Is this okay?” The music had played out, so he kept his voice at a whisper, afraid to break the moment with any loud or sudden movements. Zayn turned his face to Liam’s jaw, running his lips along his jaw and nodding.
They kissed some more, the first little hints of tongue gaining momentum until Liam had Zayn pressed back, full blown sucking on his tongue, the arm still around his shoulders pressing Zayn tight to his chest. Liam ran his unoccupied hand from Zayn’s knee to his thigh, up his hip and side, gently massaging his way along his body. Zayn arched into Liam’s hand, and, in a move that surprised Liam in the best way, rolled himself over to straddle him.
Liam watched with wide eyes as Zayn slid down between his legs. He rested a hand over Liam’s crotch, hiding his face in his shoulder for a second. “I’m not. I don’t usually do stuff like this, so like.”
Liam bent over to kiss him. “I want you, only if you want to.”
Zayn broke away, pushing Liam back against the couch and dragging down the zip of his jeans. “Yeah, want it.”
-
The two made out lazily, gently rocking back and forth as they traded noisy wet kisses. Their brushing tongues sent a jolt to Liam’s dick, which he squeezed once with his absolutely filthy right hand before separating from Zayn with a chuckle. “I’m a mess, so I can only imagine you feel about ten times worse.” He spotted a box of tissues on the mini fridge and, with great effort, managed to stumble over and grab a few, his still-open trousers sliding down his hips a bit. He looked between Zayn’s soaked jeans to the handful of tissues. “Suppose these aren’t really going to cut it, eh?”
Zayn squirmed a bit, grimacing down at the crotch of his jeans. “Probably not, no.”
“I mean. You can take mine, if you want? Since you probably don’t want to sit in a taxi in wet pants,” Liam offered, already stepping out of his clothes.
Zayn took them with a blush. It seemed the quiet Zayn from before was creeping back in. Liam was both pleased and disappointed; he thought Zayn’s shyness was endearing, but also wanted him to be comfortable around Liam, to joke with him and argue with him and just. Be himself. Liam got attached really quickly... “Oh, you don’t have to...um. Thanks. What will you wear?”
“Niall keeps a set of sweats, for this Chinese place a few blocks over? He doesn’t like going to the buffet in jeans, says it’s a waste. I’ll just tell him I spilled something on myself, no problem.” He watched Zayn fiddle with the button on his pants for a moment before jumping. “Oh, right, I’ll just - turn around, here - ”
Liam listened to the clinking of Zayn’s belt buckle and the rustle of denim brushing against skin. “So, uh, I was thinking - I’ll probably give your demo to Niall, if that’s alright with you? Like, if Niall wants you, I almost guarantee someone will try to sign you.” Liam paused, biting his lip before breathing out, “You could give me your number, so - um - we could reach you? If they like you. Which is pretty likely.”
“Um...” Liam glanced back to see Zayn tightening his belt; his jeans bunched at the waist unnaturally, clearly too big and making Zayn look even smaller and younger than he already did. “I don’t. I sort of don’t really...” Zayn looked down, scuffing his socked feet sheepishly against the carpet, mumbling now. “Don’t have a phone, at the moment. Just use Danny’s if I need to call home, or like. Work.” He chuckled nervously, furrowed eyebrows at odds with the forced lightness in his voice. “Small record shops don’t actually pay very well, shockingly enough. Most of what I make goes to rent...”
Liam’s face warmed, hand immediately going up to clench at his hair. “Oh! You know what, that’s not even a big deal - I’ll just give you my number. Just ring me in a few days, we can meet up for coffee or something, and we can figure it out from there.” Liam looked around for a pad of paper, quickly scribbling out his number across the page and signing with a quick ‘Liam x.’ “Do you want me to call you a cab?”
“That’s, uh, really nice, thanks, but I think I’ll take the tube? You know, on a budget.” Nervous laughter again. Liam pinched himself.
“I mean, I could get the tab for you? If you’d like? And you could get our coffee, or something, like - ”
“Um, I’m good, thanks, mate. I’ll, like, show myself out, you don’t have to walk me - but thanks again. It was really nice to meet you, Liam.” Zayn shoved on his Supras, not bothering to lace them before scurrying out the door. Liam stood there in his pants, staring after him. If he wasn’t half-naked, he might’ve wondered if he’d imagined the whole thing.
With a cross of his fingers and hope for a call from an unknown number in the next couple of days, Liam took up Zayn’s USB stick and slowly made his way to the studio where, just as he’d suspected, Niall was still sitting with a huge set of headphones on. His lips were pressed together tightly, head bobbing along to the track and index fingers drumming out the beat.
Liam pushed them off one ear, making Niall jump and swear. “Bloody Jesus fuck - Liam goddamn Payne, what the fuck’re you still doing here?” A pause. “Where are your trousers?”
“Uh, I forgot something? And then I spilled something on my jeans, figured I’d ask if I could borrow your ‘Gold Star Chinese’ sweats.” Niall fixed him with a glare, head cocked back distrustingly. Liam could see him turning over his story in his head, deciding if he’d comment on the vague ‘somethings.’ Liam gave him a sheepish smile and a shrug.
Finally, Niall rolled his eyes. “In the duffel. Just make sure you get them back to me soon as you can, have to be prepared at all times.” Liam gave his hair a ruffle in thanks, pulling out the sweats and quickly stepping into them. “Get home, now, you strange little man.”
“Alright, man, see you tomorrow!” Liam turned to leave before remembering - “Hey, also. I have this demo, right, it’s proper good. Give it a listen, if you’ve got the time. Guy’s got a good sound, I think you’ll like him.”
“Jesus, ‘s like you think I actually live here, fuck’s sake,” Niall muttered, snatching the USB from Liam and waving him off. “Now go, before you give me more work to do and I completely snap.”
-
Liam waited for Zayn’s call for a week and a half before he started to worry. He made sure his ringer was turned up all the way, even during meetings and when he went to bed at night (just in case Zayn’s record shop kept odd hours and the only time he could talk was at three in the morning). The only time he didn’t have his mobile on him was when he was actually recording, and that’s because Niall would’ve absolutely castrated him if he dared take his phone with him in the booth.
Liam told himself not to worry about it. Zayn would call him when he got the chance. He was probably just swamped with work, or. His mate was being a dick, maybe. Liam immediately felt bad; he didn’t know Zayn’s friend at all, it wasn’t fair for him to blame Zayn’s disinterest on him -
And that was the crux of it, wasn’t it? No matter how much rationalizing Liam tried to do, reassuring himself that Zayn hadn’t called because he couldn’t, the fact remained - a week and a half had gone by. Of Liam furtively checking out every little record store his Google Maps search turned up, and a few it didn’t. Of Liam thinking that he’d accidentally written down the wrong number, or that his handwriting was so messy that Zayn was dialing the wrong person. It was more comforting than the thought that Zayn would rather give up the opportunity for a record deal (because of course Niall loved the songs and wanted to know straightaway where Liam found the singer, demanding he bring him in so they could sit down with Louis and Simon and Nicole and discuss a contract) than to be harassed by Liam any longer. Oh, god. Liam thought, in the moment, that they’d acted on mutual attraction, that Zayn had been just as into it as Liam...but after having ten days to pick it apart and put it back together, he couldn’t think of any other explanation than that he’d bullied Zayn into sleeping with him.
Liam was a horrible, terrible person.
After two full weeks of casual stalking and paranoia had passed, when the first days of December brought huge lighted displays that spanned the width of the street, Liam had halfway given up on Zayn. Only halfway, because it was Christmas and he still had the faintest hope that Zayn would call. Liam was walking down the street in a part of London he wasn’t very familiar with, the extent of his disguise a pulled-up hood and a morose set to his face. The festive lights blinked merrily on as he sulked under them, completing his ‘sad sack’ look with his hands in his pockets. He passed by a few antique shops, a secondhand store that he imagined taking Harry to, a nice looking café that he debated stopping in, but didn’t.
He thought about hailing a cab; it was getting dark out, the forecasts had predicted the first snowfall tonight, and he was already a bit miserable and cold and feeling sorry for himself. He almost stuck his arm out, but something in his peripheral caught his eye; it was a giant window display of upcoming albums, and Liam was proud to see Louis’ album cover dead center. He smiled, walking along the storefront slowly, stopping short when he saw a lifesize cardboard cutout of himself. That sort of thing usually embarrassed the hell out of him anyway, but - a gap tooth and spectacles and a Harry Potter scar had been drawn on in shiny black Sharpie.
Objectively speaking, Liam knew there had to be people who didn’t like him or his music; as a rational person, he understood the concept. But he hadn’t ever actually met someone who had, at least to his face, out and out told him that they were anything but a fan. Seeing it like this was a whole lot different from going through his mentions on Twitter with the odd rude tweet getting through. It sort of hurt, in person.
Now Liam definitely wanted to go home, but a warm surge of indignation had him pushing the door to the shop open. The first thing to hit him was the musky smell of Nag Champa; it sent a jolt down his spine for some reason, even though he didn’t have any strong memories attached to the scent, at least none that he could think of. The second was the song playing - it was the Mario song that Zayn had sung for him outside the studio that day, the one from a few years ago. It was bizarre that it would be playing in any store, let alone one with literally thousands of other options to choose from.
The third thing to knock the breath out of him was the dark haired boy at the counter, standing with his back to Liam and wearing a pair of very familiar too-loose trousers. He was talking to his co-worker, a small-ish bloke with broad shoulders and a young face. “Heya, mate, how’s it goin’?"
“Well, I think?” At the sound of Liam’s voice, the boy spun around, and Liam’s heart leapt to his throat - yes, it was Zayn, Zayn was here, he’d found him -
“Hey, you look familiar. Who does he look like, Zayn? Eh? Bro, I’m talking to you, who does this guy look like - ”
“Ah, Josh, I’m taking my lunch now, all right?”
Josh scratched his head. “But you already had your lunch. What’s got you all jumpy, then?”
“Man, please, just cover for me? I’ll only be fifteen, promise. I’ll owe you.” Zayn was already moving from behind the counter, tossing a “thanks!” over his shoulder. He took Liam’s hand and dragged him through the store, opening a door at the back to reveal a closet masquerading as an office. Zayn shut the door, slowly turning to press his back against it as he stared at Liam. Liam stared back. “Uh. Hi.”
“Hello,” Liam said cautiously, leaning against the desk. He fought the urge to cross his arms, feeling it would give off a hostile vibe, and he didn’t want that. He just wanted Zayn.
“I don’t suppose I could tell you that I’ve been out of cell reception for two weeks and you’d believe me.” Zayn’s smiling, but it’s a sad sort of smile, and Liam wants to shake him by the shoulders. “How did you - like, how’d you turn up here?”
“The impressive window display grabbed my attention,” Liam said drolly, making Zayn sigh and hide his face in his hands. “I take it someone here isn’t a fan, then? Is that why you never called?” Liam winced. Jesus, he sounded bitter.
“No, it was a dumb joke - one of the twats that works here got hold of a marker and went crazy with it. I thought we took most of them down, but I guess we forgot one?”
“Yes, the one in the window - makes sense.” But this time Liam managed a more teasing tone and a smile, and Zayn returned it shyly with cast-down eyes.
“Sorry for not returning your jeans to you.”
“Nah, it’s alright. They look good on you. Although if you’re really sorry, you could come out with me on that coffee date I asked you about last time?” Zayn’s mouth twitched, and Liam instantly latched on to the lifeline. “Yeah! I was thinking about stopping for a cuppa at the café next door. Come with me. We can just chat about music, or. Whatever you want, really.”
Zayn’s tongue was pressed against his teeth now, the corners of his eyes turned up and Liam was absolutely over-the-moon. “Definitely not the shop next door. There’s a sort of persistent barista there, can’t really take the hint that I’m not interested...god. I guess, if my co-worker says it’s okay - ?”
Liam took his hand, walking backwards to the front of the store, never breaking eye contact with Zayn. “Hey, it’s Josh, isn’t it? My man. I’d very much appreciate if you’d cover for the rest of Zayn’s shift while I take him out? I could get you some backstage passes to whoever, just tell Zayn and they’re yours. Thanks a lot!” Before Josh could tell Liam to fuck off, they were out the door, the sky now well and truly dark and the bitter cold instantly soaking them through.
They stood on the street, laughing and watching each
other’s breath fog the air. A few flurries settled in Zayn’s hair, and he gave a hard shiver, though the smile on his face didn’t drop. Liam’s heart pounded wildly in his chest. It was literally something out of a romantic comedy, finding his guy during the first snow at Christmas time. He squeezed Zayn’s hand, grinned hard when Zayn squeezed back, and, with a gleeful “come on!”, the two strode off down the street.