"The shitty part is, I don't even like my family all that much," Liam said sloshing his glass back down on the wooden table that has far too many glasses on it that are his. Were his. Are still his?
He's pretty sure that Niall's been drinking Guinness all afternoon so the six martini glasses are definitely his. He does vaguely remember pissing off the bar staff with his awful attempt at sounding like Sean Connery (Shaken, not stirred) every time he ordered, Niall laughing obnoxiously loud at his side. It was a dumb idea but Niall thought it would be funny and Liam liked hearing Niall laugh so, chalk it up to it being Christmas Eve. There were also three pint glasses and around double of that of shots with a variety of fluorescent colours skimming the bottom of the cups. Liam was most definitely going to be sick in the morning.
Which was okay really, because, "I don't you know, there's no way I'd be as pissed as this if I were there. For one thing, mum would have me guts for garters if I drank more than two beers in front of her. She still isn't as believing about me kidney and such," he hiccoughed and leaned back into the chair he was sitting on, "'There are no such things as miracle cures, Liam,' she says to me all the time," Liam said in a much higher pitch and equally awful attempt at sounding like his mum that trying to be Scottish had done for him earlier.
"And Dad, Dad would be on at me about figuring out what I wanted to do with me life, and not just shifting about pubs anymore, playing shitty little gigs because Simon Cowell told me I was alright once," Niall nods eyes slow in blinking as he shoves a handful of crisps in his mouth. Liam makes grabby hands at the bag and with a roll of his eyes, Niall holds the packet out. Liam takes a few himself, with a cheers, humming at the tang of too much salt and vinegar cutting through the sweet aftertaste of whatever the hell he's been drinking on his tongue.
"I should have gone back, you know? I should have sucked it up and gone back and tried out again. Who needs their bloody GCSE's? Bloody who?" He asked Niall, pointing a finger in his direction.
Niall cradled the purple packet back into his chest, much like a mum does a small child, all protective, "But Liam, don't you want to be a fireman or something? Isn't that why you came with me? To see some part of the world before you got right stuck into training?"
"Yeah," Liam said, picking up the glass he thought was his, half full with some lighter looking fizzy stuff which looked hopeful. He took a small sip, the bittersweet taste of apples filling his mouth. Cider then. Well, that wasn't half bad. "But Dad doesn't know that, because if he did, then it'd be 'are you training enough, son?' and 'you're looking a little weak in the arms,' and a bunch of shit that I really don't need to listen to,"
Niall nodded some more and Liam bit at his lip, the sudden image of Niall as a puppet on a string filling his mind. A marry, a ma, Christ, what were they called?
"Marionette," Niall answered with a belch that he rubbed his tummy with his free hand proudly after.
"Sir," Liam said, holding his glass out toward Niall in recognition of a bodily function well made, Niall echoing the sentiment, tapping their glasses together at the lip.
Liam took another larger sip this time, his mind still filled with family and home and cold weather and ugly, ugly Christmas knits.
"Bloody Rudolph. The girls always make mum get me the ugliest one to wear. 'it's tradition Wee Li!' Like i'm twenty now, don't they think it's time they gave that bloody nickname a rest!"
"Wee Li? Like, because you were small, right? Or-"
Liam felt his face heat and no, there was no way he was revealing that particularly embarrassing story from his youth to his mate. No way. No how.
"I was six and I didn't want to be any trouble and mum kept on talking and I didn't think anyone would notice if I just did a little wee in the corner plant."
Niall was laughing hard, eyes squinted up tight and crisps falling all over the place. Liam frowned, thought about shoving Niall just that little bit so where he was sitting with two legs of his chair up in the air might be enough to topple the irish fucker over.
"Every year, every single year Mrs. Davis next door to me mum and dad reminds me of where her toilet is. Snooty cow,"
Niall stood up, still cackling as he put a hand to Liam's shoulder, "Talking of wee, gotta go see a man about a horse, as they say Down Under," Niall squeezed a little harder than Liam expected, before heading off into the crowd that lined the outdoor bar at the beer garden they were at.
"It's a dog you twat!" Liam shouted in Niall's direction, but he was already gone. "And we say it at home, too!"
"Maybe we do," Liam said more to his drink than anyone else. Liam honestly couldn't be sure right now. England seemed so very far away when he was sitting here in his shorts and a bloody vest, sweltering in the heat that was near oppressive even at whatever the time of night was now. It was dark out, but that didn't mean anything here in the outskirts of Melbourne. Daylight savings meant that most nights, Liam and Niall and Niall's cousins who they were staying with, had dinner when the sun was still mostly up in the sky and shining bright. It was different here, and Liam had wanted different.
He jumped on the chance to come with Niall for Christmas with his cousins in Australia. His lease was about to run out and Dan, who usually played guitar when Liam sang, had broken his hand so that ruled playing any Christmas gigs out. There wasn't much keeping him at home.
Wasn't anyone in particular. Not really. Not enough that when Liam said he might head off to have a hot Australian Christmas, no one tried to stop him.
Christ, he missed Harry.
Harry with his stupid green eyes and his stupid big hair and his stupid hands. . . fuck his hands. Harry hadn't said anything about Liam staying. He'd just nodded all slow in that stupid Harry way and rolled out of the bed they'd been sharing, calling out a, "take some good photos, yeah?" as he disappeared into the bathroom.
It shouldn't have bothered Liam as much as it had. It wasn't as if they were an anything, really. They shared a flat for a better part of two years and spent around a year of that jumping in and out of each other's beds when they were bored or single or that one time that they'd been a little drunk and Liam ended up sucking Harry's cock while the lad Harry'd sort of been seeing was passed out on the sofa beside them.
Harry's inability to stick to one partner really should have been a sign for Liam. Liam was probably the longest sort of relationship Harry'd ever had. At least in all the time that Liam had known him.
"Got you another," Niall's voice interrupted Liam's musings as he passed Liam a bottle. Beer. Well, at least they were on lighter coloured liquids now. That should hopefully come up again later with a bit more ease. Liam's stomach turned a bit with the thought of the truly spectacular vomiting he would probably be first hand witness to over a bowl later in the morning. Christmas morning.
Christmas with Niall's extended family who were loud and Irish and constantly happy. Who loved a laugh and who asked, "What's the craic?" so often that finally, Liam had gotten used to it and stopped looking for splits in flooring and walls whenever he was asked.
Christmas with people, but somehow, Liam still felt very much alone.
"You still brooding about missing a bloody white Christmas where it's usually so cold you feel like your balls will freeze right off and your constantly wiping at your nose with some form of cold?" Niall asked, before chugging down at least half of his own beer. God that boy could drink.
"No, not really. I'm happy to be here, you know that, Niall," He tried for a smile but it didn't feel right and Niall's frown said he really didn't make it work at all.
Niall wiped at his mouth with the back of his hand, "Your happy, yeah? But you don't laugh like you normally do, your not smilin' proper and you sigh. A lot. Even me Aunt pulled me aside to ask the problem with your heart,"
"I don't have a problem with my heart!" Liam squawked and two birds who were laughing beside them turned to stare. Liam raised his glass to them and turned back to Niall, leaning in close. "There's nothing wrong with me. I'm fine. Really,"
Niall gazed up at him, his blue eyes suddenly a lot more focused than before, "I know you didn't just come down here with me for a laugh. I know it's not just because you're lease is running out either because Josh told me he'd offered you a room."
Liam shrugged because it was true. Josh was a mate of Dan and Niall's and he had an alright gaf - close to the tube and a great pub right around the corner - but it was missing one important thing.
A Harry.
Niall pulled his chair closer, put his hand on Liam's arm, "Did you even talk to him about getting another place together?"
Liam looked intently into his glass, his chest feeling awfully tight and eyes beginning to sting a little with tears he hadn't let himself shed yet. Hadn't let himself think about Harry and all the things he wanted when it looked like Harry didn't want anything with Liam at all. Not even to keep living together even though their current flat had been sold.
"Did you even talk to him? Tell him how fucking in love with him you've been this past year?"
Liam shook his head, closed his eyes and sucked in a shuddering breath, "Longer,"
"What?" Niall asked, voice soft.
Liam raised his head, blinking away the little wetness gathered in his eyes.
Liam replayed that day a lot in his mind. He'd had applicants through nearly all day, his only Saturday free from work of any kind (he'd had three jobs on the go back then just to pay the rent after Andy had left without notice). Every single one of the eleven that had come through his door were nice enough but none just felt right. And then Harry walked in.
He was sopping wet. From the bedraggled curls that dripped over the wooden floor to the button down that clung to his chest, top four or so buttons undone revealing tan skin with inked birds, wet. Soaked from head to toe, in these scuffed Chelsea boots that looked as if they'd seen better days, possibly a hole in the toe. He shook his hair like a dog, wetting Liam like a shower as he apologised, wiping his wet hand on his wet skinny jeans that looked now near impossible to separate from skin. Liam was ready to tell him to get out but then he lifted his head and those green eyes and that dimpled smile and lips that were bright and.
Liam got him a towel, sat him in the kitchen with a cup of soup that he had a packet mix of that was possibly out of date, and gave him the room within three short minutes.
It was the best and worst thing he ever did, opening that door. Opening his heart to this boy who started out as a stranger, turned into a great mate, lover and then this unnamable thing that Liam never dared voice.
"Fuck," Niall said, leaning right back in his chair, almost tipping it again, "this calls for more shots."
Liam didn't have it in him to refuse.
: : :
"I miss you. I miss you and you aren't. You're not getting this because you probly, pobly, probabably out with someone or somethink and I just. You. We could. We could have had it aaaalll! Rollin in a deeeeep! No! No, Niall I just. I want to call him. He doesn't know and I should tell him that I lo-"
Christmas Day goes pretty much how Liam thought it would. He gets a bit of a sleep in once they stumble back home. They manage not to wake anyone as they head out to the renovated shed that Niall's Aunt and Uncle are letting them share. It's not much, basically a tin roof and some brick walls but it's got a bed and a pull-out sofa bed that Liam and Niall have been sharing since they got in a week and a half before. Liam ended up with the bed, Niall having passed out on the sofa the minute his head cracked against the arm as he fell. Liam did think about keeping him awake in case of concussion but he was pretty tired himself and was asleep on the bed seconds after sitting down "just for a minute, just to get my shoes off."
He wakes to Niall's second cousins jumping all over him and the bed, never more happy to have thrown up in the street on the walk home. Yeah, he feels shit but his stomach is empty enough to tackle being trod upon. Liam does end up telling Niall's Aunt just who vomited all over her hydrangeas out the front, after being called "Wee Li" most of the morning buy Deo and Willie and half the bloody family with Niall cackling each and every time.
It's nice to feel like such a part of the family, Niall's Great Aunt squeezing Liam's cheeks and pinching his bum whenever he walks past. It reminds him so much of his Gran that he finds himself walking past more often just for a tiny slice of home. Lunch is a huge spread with nearly half of what feels like Melbourne or even Australia filling the yard and it's scorching hot but there's still a proper roast with all the trimmings. There's prawns and cold cuts, too, along with a huge pavlova, trifle and Mrs. Tremmel from next door brought along a Tiramisu. There's so much food but it all tends to disappear as people move in and out through the day and Liam and Niall spend it drinking, eating and laughing more often than not.
It's enough. It's enough to make him forget why he was being so sullen and morose at the pub the night before. It's enough to make him remember why he loves Niall and Niall's relations and why coming to Australia for a bit of summer and Christmas was such a good idea. It's to the sound of crickets in the trees and a few - hundred it feels like - squawking birds passing in the sky that he finds himself falling asleep, belly and heart full at half three in the afternoon. It's cool in the shed, Niall's family having just finished putting the air conditioning unit in the day the boys arrived and Liam makes the most of it. He turns the dial to arctic levels before stripping out of his clothes and lying face down on the bed in nothing but his pants.
He grins into his pillow, the sounds of Niall's laughter still able to be heard through brick and glass and maybe this is it. Maybe this is what Liam needed to get his head on straight before he goes back home. He'll take Josh up on the offer of a room. He'll start training up again before trying out for the fire service and he won't think about anything else. Or anyone. It's not like he and Harry moved in the same circles. Harry had his artsy friends that ate at coffee shops that served ridiculous sounding drinks at stupid prices. All mates he'd made through Uni with his photography course. Apart from their mutual love of music and the odd karaoke night, what did they really have?
Great sex. But Liam was sure he could find that with someone. Someone who he could curl up on the sofa and take the mick out of all the new X Factor hopefuls (Harry'd tried out the year after Liam and hadn't got very far). Someone who he could go and see all those romantic comedies with that wouldn't take the piss (they'd watched Love Actually with Harry crying on Liam's shoulder more times than he could count). Someone who he could just sit with, not talk, just sit, and have it be the most comfortable thing in the world.
Sundays were that for them. Sunday mornings with them both going for a run in the park, synchronicity of their footsteps marking the beat of time. Coming home to Liam reading the paper while Harry dished up the perfect scrambled eggs and bacon. Sitting in the kitchen or out on the balcony if the weather was right, sun rising higher in the sky, enjoying each other's company.
Finding someone like that wouldn't be that hard. Couldn't.
Liam sighed, snuffling further into the pillow. He really had no hope at all.
: : :
They end up at the Cricket for Boxing Day. Niall gets ridiculously sunburnt and Liam nearly gets thrown out when he gets a little too drunk and a little too loud being the only Pom in a sea of Aussie supporters. It's the best way to end his time in Australia, getting home late that night singing the praises of the British team playing shit but still taking home the Ashes because they always do. Deo's got them up early the next day, talk of a road trip to some mates up in Sydney who live close enough that you can see the Harbour for New Years. Liam and Niall are due to head back the day after, but their flights are easily changed. It's hard saying goodbye to these people that have treated him like family for the time he's been here, but he promises to return. Even they all know it's probably not possible for a good many years to come.
They pack Deo's mate's van and it's early in the morning that they set off. Liam's in the back, surrounded by luggage and he falls asleep with his face smooshed mostly against the window as Deo and Niall banter up the front. They take turns driving, heading through small towns and bushland that Liam sometimes thinks will never end. It does though, when they start getting closer to the city. The street lights are on and Liam's glad Deo is driving as he turns them through tight streets and corners and finally they arrive. It's late when they get in, nearing ten, which is aparently good time, even with them stopping at the McDonalds twice on the way (Deo's a bottomless pit for food, much like Niall). Liam heads straight for bed, longing to stretch out his body and doesn't wake again until lunch the next morning.
The best part about where Deo's mate lives is the proximity to the beach. Two streets, a ten minute walk down a hill and crossing the main road and their there. Wayne - Deo's mate - is a massive surfer and Liam's always been keen to learn. He picks it up after a day and a half, waking up early and staying out till the sunsets. Wayne like's a drink as much as Deo and Niall do and so the days end up being all about the water, and the nights drinking and laughing and sometimes dancing right up until New Years Eve. Wayne's planned a huge party and he's got all the lads on decorations while he picks up the food and booze.
Somehow, when it's getting late - so much so Liam's sure he heard someone talk about it being half eleven already - Liam finds himself in a similar position to where he was Christmas Eve.
Niall, too many drinks in front of them and Liam whining about being so far from home.
"But it's different, y'know. Like, at home, I'd be at the club and there'd be dancing and I'd be freezing m'nuts off going out for a smoke," Liam said, waving the bottle of beer he'd been sipping for the last however long this discussion had been going for.
Niall rolled his eyes and kicked at Liam's chair, the plastic stuttering on the concrete but not sending Liam very far. "You really need to stop this. Every single time we get really smashed you carry on about what we'd be doing at home instead. I don't want to be there, well, I don't want to be there much, not while there's this much fun to be had,"
Liam stared back at Niall lips turned down into a pretty epic pout, "I don't do this every time we drink. I didn't do it yesterday, or the day before."
Niall laughed but it sounded more sarcastic than anything else, "Sorry, Liam, I mean you only do this when we're wankered and it's a bloody special occasion and if you daren't tell me this isn't about one curly haired fucker you left at home i'll - "
"It's not!" Liam said, slamming his beer on the glass table top hard enough for all the drinks on top of it to rattle, one tipping over and spilling the little contents left in it all over Niall's shorts. He jumped up in a flash, cursing at Liam quick before shaking his head and fixing Liam with a sad look.
"Just, just tell me you've left your phone inside somewhere and I won't have to pry it of ya hands in a few minutes when the clock strikes twelve and you've decided to pour your heart out in song,"
Liam was about to ask what the hell Niall was on about, but his mate was already walking off in the direction of the house. It's as he's watching Niall's back that someone else comes into view. He's got to have had far more to drink than he'd thought because that head of big curls can't possibly belong to the person Liam is so used to seeing with them. He gets closer and Liam puts a hand over his mouth, stifling a laugh as the head of curls slips and slides over the mess of slimy stuff on the path out the back. It's where Wayne had setup a paddling pool filled with jelly earlier that two scantily clad girls and then their friends had messed about in earlier in the night.
His heart stops, stills in between beats when the curly haired lad gets up, when he pushes his hair back from his face and he's smiling. This huge grin that splits over his face, framed by two dimples etched deep into his cheeks and oh. Oh this can't be right at all.
Harry.
Harry's scanning the yard and Liam can't move, can't wave because Harry is here. Here in this backyard just outside of Sydney in bloody Australia and he can't be because Liam left Harry at home to pack up their little flat in England. Not here. Not here at all.
He can almost feel it when Harry spots him. It's as if their eyes lock and even with Harry being so far away, he imagines he can see the change in Harry's eyes. The green getting brighter, the gold shining through till the grassy green shimmers with it. He slows - or maybe time slows - as Harry makes his way over, gently shifting people to the side. Liam can't help it, he has to stand, has to make sure he's not drunk so much he's hallucinating. Harry nears and he says nothing, just stops with this great big grin, one of his favourite button downs in that familiar half done up or half undone way hanging from his frame. He's swapped his usual skinny jeans for jean shorts and Liam would laugh because of how knobbly Harry's knees are poking out from the turned up hem but that would mean Harry was here.
"You can't be here," Liam said, mouth opening and words pouring out of their own accord.
Harry had this little line form between his brow, lips turned down slightly at the side and Liam knew that. That was the nervous "I think I fucked this up" look that Liam had seen form on Harry's face whenever things went slightly wrong. Like that time at the grocers when he forgot some lads name that even Liam knew though Harry'd only brought that particular boy back to the flat twice. Or when Harry's sister arrived, ready to take Harry out for his birthday lunch and he'd had to turn down an already dressed Liam, ready to take Harry out on a "not a date but maybe a date" that he'd planned for weeks. Or, when Harry'd found Liam in his room, digging through his cupboard trying to find his passport and Harry'd said, "So, you really are leaving then?"
"I can go?" Harry asked, hands twitching at his sides and no. No.
Liam shook himself, took a step closer, wrapped his arms around Harry like they always did when they'd met up after a while apart. Well, after a day or a few hours, depending on how needy either of them were. He breathed in deep, familiar cologne and sweat and something stale clung to Harry's skin where Liam's nose settled in that place Liam liked to think of as his in the crook of Harry's neck. Harry's hand tightened at the small of Liam's back, bunching his shirt tight within his fist and Liam held on.
"I missed you," He whispered, listening as Harry took in a shaky breath, the hand resting above Liam's shoulder clapping him extra hard.
"Missed you more," Harry answered, still holding Liam tight and this was everything that Liam had been missing but tried to put out of mind.
Everything he wanted was right here, so very, very far from home and all Liam had to do was open up. Talk.
Be brave.
"I got your message," is what Harry said next, turning his head enough that his lips were right beside Liam's ear. This hot breath curling over his skin and oh, that was nice.
"Message?" Liam asked, voice shaky even to his own ears.
Harry nodded, "Yeah, the Adele was a bit much but," he pulled back, one hand sliding over Liam's shoulder, curling over his jaw, fingertips sliding into Liam's hair. "I should have said something. I should have said a lot,"
Liam shrugged, about to say something, anything that might give Harry an easy out but Harry was here and that said enough didn't it?
"THIRTY SECONDS!" someone called from inside the house, and Liam moved to let Harry go but Harry just gripped his shirt tighter.
"I wanted to. I wanted to tell you not to go and I wanted to tell you that-"
"TWENTY!"
Liam blinked, took in how seriously Harry was staring at him, how he kept licking over his red lips with every breath he took. The excitement of a New Year wasn't the only thing having Liam's stomach in knots now.
"You wanted to tell me?" Liam pushed, can't help but want an answer. Not with Harry here, not with Harry so close.
Harry smiled, "Yeah, I wanted to-"
"TEN, NINE!"
"-tell you that-"
"EIGHT!"
Nearly all the sound around them faded into white noise, the only thing Liam could hear was Harry's voice and a countdown that felt far more important than before.
"SIX!"
"I should have said-"
"FOUR!"
Of all the times for Harry to be slow at getting to the point of a story, this was not the time.
"I love you,"
Liam stared at Harry. Stared at this boy who he'd left a country to try and forget, put behind him for a while. Harry who'd listened to a drunk dial from across the sea and jumped a plane to basically return the call.
Harry who loved him.
"TWO. . . ONE!"
"Liam?" Harry asked, and Liam didn't need to hear anymore.
He pressed in close, lips meeting Harry's in an instant with the tiniest rush of breath from Harry's mouth, a surprised gasp perhaps. It didn't take long for Harry to get with it, though. He kissed Liam back with all that Liam could remember from those nights when they'd fall into bed, fall into each other. He kissed like he was saying all the things they'd yet to, that Liam had held in for months was expressed through lips, and tongue and Harry's fingertips slipping under Liam's shirt, scorching trails up his back and this was just what Liam had always hoped for.
It was romantic and cliche and they kissed at midnight on New Years. . . it couldn't possibly get any more cheesy love story and Liam couldn't care less.
"I'm the one that bought our flat. I was going to tell you, going to ask you to stay with me, be with me," Harry said between kisses, his lips searching out every spare inch of Liam's jawline, his neck, stopping to suck and nip right over his birthmark. Liam closed his eyes and gripped Harry's waist tighter.
"I don't want anyone else, been trying to tell you," he paused, kissing a still quiet Liam hard on the lips, "for months. For a year really. Didn't think there'd ever be a right time,"
Liam held Harry's face between his hands, slowed Harry down because Harry was saying everything and Liam had confessions of his own.
"I want that, too. Wanted it the day you came to stay. I've never, ever wanted you to leave, never wanted to leave you."
Harry smiled, Liam could feel the width of it under his palms. "I'm so glad you called,"
"I wish I could remember what I said," Liam admitted, and Harry laughed, pressing their foreheads together.
"I'll play it back for you sometime, but I think I'd rather be snogging you senseless right now,"
Liam laughed but it was soon cut off by Harry's lips, the only time they came up for air next was when some hardcore beats turned to Hometown Glory. Liam's flashed his middle finger up behind him much to the cackles of Niall that echoed loud into the night.
aw YAY i've been DYING for you to be online! This is the rough version, i added bits and polished it to post asap. just waiting on a bit of a beta look over it because my tense was ALL OVER THE PLACE but yay!!
"The shitty part is, I don't even like my family all that much," Liam said sloshing his glass back down on the wooden table that has far too many glasses on it that are his. Were his. Are still his?
He's pretty sure that Niall's been drinking Guinness all afternoon so the six martini glasses are definitely his. He does vaguely remember pissing off the bar staff with his awful attempt at sounding like Sean Connery (Shaken, not stirred) every time he ordered, Niall laughing obnoxiously loud at his side. It was a dumb idea but Niall thought it would be funny and Liam liked hearing Niall laugh so, chalk it up to it being Christmas Eve. There were also three pint glasses and around double of that of shots with a variety of fluorescent colours skimming the bottom of the cups. Liam was most definitely going to be sick in the morning.
Which was okay really, because, "I don't you know, there's no way I'd be as pissed as this if I were there. For one thing, mum would have me guts for garters if I drank more than two beers in front of her. She still isn't as believing about me kidney and such," he hiccoughed and leaned back into the chair he was sitting on, "'There are no such things as miracle cures, Liam,' she says to me all the time," Liam said in a much higher pitch and equally awful attempt at sounding like his mum that trying to be Scottish had done for him earlier.
"And Dad, Dad would be on at me about figuring out what I wanted to do with me life, and not just shifting about pubs anymore, playing shitty little gigs because Simon Cowell told me I was alright once," Niall nods eyes slow in blinking as he shoves a handful of crisps in his mouth. Liam makes grabby hands at the bag and with a roll of his eyes, Niall holds the packet out. Liam takes a few himself, with a cheers, humming at the tang of too much salt and vinegar cutting through the sweet aftertaste of whatever the hell he's been drinking on his tongue.
"I should have gone back, you know? I should have sucked it up and gone back and tried out again. Who needs their bloody GCSE's? Bloody who?" He asked Niall, pointing a finger in his direction.
Niall cradled the purple packet back into his chest, much like a mum does a small child, all protective, "But Liam, don't you want to be a fireman or something? Isn't that why you came with me? To see some part of the world before you got right stuck into training?"
"Yeah," Liam said, picking up the glass he thought was his, half full with some lighter looking fizzy stuff which looked hopeful. He took a small sip, the bittersweet taste of apples filling his mouth. Cider then. Well, that wasn't half bad. "But Dad doesn't know that, because if he did, then it'd be 'are you training enough, son?' and 'you're looking a little weak in the arms,' and a bunch of shit that I really don't need to listen to,"
Niall nodded some more and Liam bit at his lip, the sudden image of Niall as a puppet on a string filling his mind. A marry, a ma, Christ, what were they called?
"Marionette," Niall answered with a belch that he rubbed his tummy with his free hand proudly after.
"Sir," Liam said, holding his glass out toward Niall in recognition of a bodily function well made, Niall echoing the sentiment, tapping their glasses together at the lip.
Reply
"Bloody Rudolph. The girls always make mum get me the ugliest one to wear. 'it's tradition Wee Li!' Like i'm twenty now, don't they think it's time they gave that bloody nickname a rest!"
"Wee Li? Like, because you were small, right? Or-"
Liam felt his face heat and no, there was no way he was revealing that particularly embarrassing story from his youth to his mate. No way. No how.
"I was six and I didn't want to be any trouble and mum kept on talking and I didn't think anyone would notice if I just did a little wee in the corner plant."
Niall was laughing hard, eyes squinted up tight and crisps falling all over the place. Liam frowned, thought about shoving Niall just that little bit so where he was sitting with two legs of his chair up in the air might be enough to topple the irish fucker over.
"Every year, every single year Mrs. Davis next door to me mum and dad reminds me of where her toilet is. Snooty cow,"
Niall stood up, still cackling as he put a hand to Liam's shoulder, "Talking of wee, gotta go see a man about a horse, as they say Down Under," Niall squeezed a little harder than Liam expected, before heading off into the crowd that lined the outdoor bar at the beer garden they were at.
"It's a dog you twat!" Liam shouted in Niall's direction, but he was already gone. "And we say it at home, too!"
"Maybe we do," Liam said more to his drink than anyone else. Liam honestly couldn't be sure right now. England seemed so very far away when he was sitting here in his shorts and a bloody vest, sweltering in the heat that was near oppressive even at whatever the time of night was now. It was dark out, but that didn't mean anything here in the outskirts of Melbourne. Daylight savings meant that most nights, Liam and Niall and Niall's cousins who they were staying with, had dinner when the sun was still mostly up in the sky and shining bright. It was different here, and Liam had wanted different.
He jumped on the chance to come with Niall for Christmas with his cousins in Australia. His lease was about to run out and Dan, who usually played guitar when Liam sang, had broken his hand so that ruled playing any Christmas gigs out. There wasn't much keeping him at home.
Wasn't anyone in particular. Not really. Not enough that when Liam said he might head off to have a hot Australian Christmas, no one tried to stop him.
Christ, he missed Harry.
Harry with his stupid green eyes and his stupid big hair and his stupid hands. . . fuck his hands. Harry hadn't said anything about Liam staying. He'd just nodded all slow in that stupid Harry way and rolled out of the bed they'd been sharing, calling out a, "take some good photos, yeah?" as he disappeared into the bathroom.
It shouldn't have bothered Liam as much as it had. It wasn't as if they were an anything, really. They shared a flat for a better part of two years and spent around a year of that jumping in and out of each other's beds when they were bored or single or that one time that they'd been a little drunk and Liam ended up sucking Harry's cock while the lad Harry'd sort of been seeing was passed out on the sofa beside them.
Harry's inability to stick to one partner really should have been a sign for Liam. Liam was probably the longest sort of relationship Harry'd ever had. At least in all the time that Liam had known him.
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But wait does it end there? Please don't let it end there :(
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Christmas with Niall's extended family who were loud and Irish and constantly happy. Who loved a laugh and who asked, "What's the craic?" so often that finally, Liam had gotten used to it and stopped looking for splits in flooring and walls whenever he was asked.
Christmas with people, but somehow, Liam still felt very much alone.
"You still brooding about missing a bloody white Christmas where it's usually so cold you feel like your balls will freeze right off and your constantly wiping at your nose with some form of cold?" Niall asked, before chugging down at least half of his own beer. God that boy could drink.
"No, not really. I'm happy to be here, you know that, Niall," He tried for a smile but it didn't feel right and Niall's frown said he really didn't make it work at all.
Niall wiped at his mouth with the back of his hand, "Your happy, yeah? But you don't laugh like you normally do, your not smilin' proper and you sigh. A lot. Even me Aunt pulled me aside to ask the problem with your heart,"
"I don't have a problem with my heart!" Liam squawked and two birds who were laughing beside them turned to stare. Liam raised his glass to them and turned back to Niall, leaning in close. "There's nothing wrong with me. I'm fine. Really,"
Niall gazed up at him, his blue eyes suddenly a lot more focused than before, "I know you didn't just come down here with me for a laugh. I know it's not just because you're lease is running out either because Josh told me he'd offered you a room."
Liam shrugged because it was true. Josh was a mate of Dan and Niall's and he had an alright gaf - close to the tube and a great pub right around the corner - but it was missing one important thing.
A Harry.
Niall pulled his chair closer, put his hand on Liam's arm, "Did you even talk to him about getting another place together?"
Liam looked intently into his glass, his chest feeling awfully tight and eyes beginning to sting a little with tears he hadn't let himself shed yet. Hadn't let himself think about Harry and all the things he wanted when it looked like Harry didn't want anything with Liam at all. Not even to keep living together even though their current flat had been sold.
"Did you even talk to him? Tell him how fucking in love with him you've been this past year?"
Liam shook his head, closed his eyes and sucked in a shuddering breath, "Longer,"
"What?" Niall asked, voice soft.
Liam raised his head, blinking away the little wetness gathered in his eyes.
"Since the moment he walked in my door."
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And then Harry walked in.
He was sopping wet. From the bedraggled curls that dripped over the wooden floor to the button down that clung to his chest, top four or so buttons undone revealing tan skin with inked birds, wet. Soaked from head to toe, in these scuffed Chelsea boots that looked as if they'd seen better days, possibly a hole in the toe. He shook his hair like a dog, wetting Liam like a shower as he apologised, wiping his wet hand on his wet skinny jeans that looked now near impossible to separate from skin. Liam was ready to tell him to get out but then he lifted his head and those green eyes and that dimpled smile and lips that were bright and.
Liam got him a towel, sat him in the kitchen with a cup of soup that he had a packet mix of that was possibly out of date, and gave him the room within three short minutes.
It was the best and worst thing he ever did, opening that door. Opening his heart to this boy who started out as a stranger, turned into a great mate, lover and then this unnamable thing that Liam never dared voice.
"Fuck," Niall said, leaning right back in his chair, almost tipping it again, "this calls for more shots."
Liam didn't have it in him to refuse.
: : :
"I miss you. I miss you and you aren't. You're not getting this because you probly, pobly, probabably out with someone or somethink and I just. You. We could. We could have had it aaaalll! Rollin in a deeeeep! No! No, Niall I just. I want to call him. He doesn't know and I should tell him that I lo-"
Message recorded
: : :
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He wakes to Niall's second cousins jumping all over him and the bed, never more happy to have thrown up in the street on the walk home. Yeah, he feels shit but his stomach is empty enough to tackle being trod upon. Liam does end up telling Niall's Aunt just who vomited all over her hydrangeas out the front, after being called "Wee Li" most of the morning buy Deo and Willie and half the bloody family with Niall cackling each and every time.
It's nice to feel like such a part of the family, Niall's Great Aunt squeezing Liam's cheeks and pinching his bum whenever he walks past. It reminds him so much of his Gran that he finds himself walking past more often just for a tiny slice of home. Lunch is a huge spread with nearly half of what feels like Melbourne or even Australia filling the yard and it's scorching hot but there's still a proper roast with all the trimmings. There's prawns and cold cuts, too, along with a huge pavlova, trifle and Mrs. Tremmel from next door brought along a Tiramisu. There's so much food but it all tends to disappear as people move in and out through the day and Liam and Niall spend it drinking, eating and laughing more often than not.
It's enough. It's enough to make him forget why he was being so sullen and morose at the pub the night before. It's enough to make him remember why he loves Niall and Niall's relations and why coming to Australia for a bit of summer and Christmas was such a good idea. It's to the sound of crickets in the trees and a few - hundred it feels like - squawking birds passing in the sky that he finds himself falling asleep, belly and heart full at half three in the afternoon. It's cool in the shed, Niall's family having just finished putting the air conditioning unit in the day the boys arrived and Liam makes the most of it. He turns the dial to arctic levels before stripping out of his clothes and lying face down on the bed in nothing but his pants.
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He grins into his pillow, the sounds of Niall's laughter still able to be heard through brick and glass and maybe this is it. Maybe this is what Liam needed to get his head on straight before he goes back home. He'll take Josh up on the offer of a room. He'll start training up again before trying out for the fire service and he won't think about anything else. Or anyone. It's not like he and Harry moved in the same circles. Harry had his artsy friends that ate at coffee shops that served ridiculous sounding drinks at stupid prices. All mates he'd made through Uni with his photography course. Apart from their mutual love of music and the odd karaoke night, what did they really have?
Great sex. But Liam was sure he could find that with someone. Someone who he could curl up on the sofa and take the mick out of all the new X Factor hopefuls (Harry'd tried out the year after Liam and hadn't got very far). Someone who he could go and see all those romantic comedies with that wouldn't take the piss (they'd watched Love Actually with Harry crying on Liam's shoulder more times than he could count). Someone who he could just sit with, not talk, just sit, and have it be the most comfortable thing in the world.
Sundays were that for them. Sunday mornings with them both going for a run in the park, synchronicity of their footsteps marking the beat of time. Coming home to Liam reading the paper while Harry dished up the perfect scrambled eggs and bacon. Sitting in the kitchen or out on the balcony if the weather was right, sun rising higher in the sky, enjoying each other's company.
Finding someone like that wouldn't be that hard. Couldn't.
Liam sighed, snuffling further into the pillow. He really had no hope at all.
: : :
They end up at the Cricket for Boxing Day. Niall gets ridiculously sunburnt and Liam nearly gets thrown out when he gets a little too drunk and a little too loud being the only Pom in a sea of Aussie supporters. It's the best way to end his time in Australia, getting home late that night singing the praises of the British team playing shit but still taking home the Ashes because they always do. Deo's got them up early the next day, talk of a road trip to some mates up in Sydney who live close enough that you can see the Harbour for New Years. Liam and Niall are due to head back the day after, but their flights are easily changed. It's hard saying goodbye to these people that have treated him like family for the time he's been here, but he promises to return. Even they all know it's probably not possible for a good many years to come.
They pack Deo's mate's van and it's early in the morning that they set off. Liam's in the back, surrounded by luggage and he falls asleep with his face smooshed mostly against the window as Deo and Niall banter up the front. They take turns driving, heading through small towns and bushland that Liam sometimes thinks will never end. It does though, when they start getting closer to the city. The street lights are on and Liam's glad Deo is driving as he turns them through tight streets and corners and finally they arrive. It's late when they get in, nearing ten, which is aparently good time, even with them stopping at the McDonalds twice on the way (Deo's a bottomless pit for food, much like Niall). Liam heads straight for bed, longing to stretch out his body and doesn't wake again until lunch the next morning.
The best part about where Deo's mate lives is the proximity to the beach. Two streets, a ten minute walk down a hill and crossing the main road and their there. Wayne - Deo's mate - is a massive surfer and Liam's always been keen to learn. He picks it up after a day and a half, waking up early and staying out till the sunsets. Wayne like's a drink as much as Deo and Niall do and so the days end up being all about the water, and the nights drinking and laughing and sometimes dancing right up until New Years Eve. Wayne's planned a huge party and he's got all the lads on decorations while he picks up the food and booze.
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Niall, too many drinks in front of them and Liam whining about being so far from home.
"But it's different, y'know. Like, at home, I'd be at the club and there'd be dancing and I'd be freezing m'nuts off going out for a smoke," Liam said, waving the bottle of beer he'd been sipping for the last however long this discussion had been going for.
Niall rolled his eyes and kicked at Liam's chair, the plastic stuttering on the concrete but not sending Liam very far. "You really need to stop this. Every single time we get really smashed you carry on about what we'd be doing at home instead. I don't want to be there, well, I don't want to be there much, not while there's this much fun to be had,"
Liam stared back at Niall lips turned down into a pretty epic pout, "I don't do this every time we drink. I didn't do it yesterday, or the day before."
Niall laughed but it sounded more sarcastic than anything else, "Sorry, Liam, I mean you only do this when we're wankered and it's a bloody special occasion and if you daren't tell me this isn't about one curly haired fucker you left at home i'll - "
"It's not!" Liam said, slamming his beer on the glass table top hard enough for all the drinks on top of it to rattle, one tipping over and spilling the little contents left in it all over Niall's shorts. He jumped up in a flash, cursing at Liam quick before shaking his head and fixing Liam with a sad look.
"Just, just tell me you've left your phone inside somewhere and I won't have to pry it of ya hands in a few minutes when the clock strikes twelve and you've decided to pour your heart out in song,"
Liam was about to ask what the hell Niall was on about, but his mate was already walking off in the direction of the house. It's as he's watching Niall's back that someone else comes into view. He's got to have had far more to drink than he'd thought because that head of big curls can't possibly belong to the person Liam is so used to seeing with them. He gets closer and Liam puts a hand over his mouth, stifling a laugh as the head of curls slips and slides over the mess of slimy stuff on the path out the back. It's where Wayne had setup a paddling pool filled with jelly earlier that two scantily clad girls and then their friends had messed about in earlier in the night.
His heart stops, stills in between beats when the curly haired lad gets up, when he pushes his hair back from his face and he's smiling. This huge grin that splits over his face, framed by two dimples etched deep into his cheeks and oh. Oh this can't be right at all.
Harry.
Harry's scanning the yard and Liam can't move, can't wave because Harry is here. Here in this backyard just outside of Sydney in bloody Australia and he can't be because Liam left Harry at home to pack up their little flat in England. Not here. Not here at all.
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"You can't be here," Liam said, mouth opening and words pouring out of their own accord.
Harry had this little line form between his brow, lips turned down slightly at the side and Liam knew that. That was the nervous "I think I fucked this up" look that Liam had seen form on Harry's face whenever things went slightly wrong. Like that time at the grocers when he forgot some lads name that even Liam knew though Harry'd only brought that particular boy back to the flat twice. Or when Harry's sister arrived, ready to take Harry out for his birthday lunch and he'd had to turn down an already dressed Liam, ready to take Harry out on a "not a date but maybe a date" that he'd planned for weeks. Or, when Harry'd found Liam in his room, digging through his cupboard trying to find his passport and Harry'd said, "So, you really are leaving then?"
"I can go?" Harry asked, hands twitching at his sides and no. No.
Liam shook himself, took a step closer, wrapped his arms around Harry like they always did when they'd met up after a while apart. Well, after a day or a few hours, depending on how needy either of them were. He breathed in deep, familiar cologne and sweat and something stale clung to Harry's skin where Liam's nose settled in that place Liam liked to think of as his in the crook of Harry's neck. Harry's hand tightened at the small of Liam's back, bunching his shirt tight within his fist and Liam held on.
"I missed you," He whispered, listening as Harry took in a shaky breath, the hand resting above Liam's shoulder clapping him extra hard.
"Missed you more," Harry answered, still holding Liam tight and this was everything that Liam had been missing but tried to put out of mind.
Everything he wanted was right here, so very, very far from home and all Liam had to do was open up. Talk.
Be brave.
"I got your message," is what Harry said next, turning his head enough that his lips were right beside Liam's ear. This hot breath curling over his skin and oh, that was nice.
"Message?" Liam asked, voice shaky even to his own ears.
Harry nodded, "Yeah, the Adele was a bit much but," he pulled back, one hand sliding over Liam's shoulder, curling over his jaw, fingertips sliding into Liam's hair. "I should have said something. I should have said a lot,"
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"THIRTY SECONDS!" someone called from inside the house, and Liam moved to let Harry go but Harry just gripped his shirt tighter.
"I wanted to. I wanted to tell you not to go and I wanted to tell you that-"
"TWENTY!"
Liam blinked, took in how seriously Harry was staring at him, how he kept licking over his red lips with every breath he took. The excitement of a New Year wasn't the only thing having Liam's stomach in knots now.
"You wanted to tell me?" Liam pushed, can't help but want an answer. Not with Harry here, not with Harry so close.
Harry smiled, "Yeah, I wanted to-"
"TEN, NINE!"
"-tell you that-"
"EIGHT!"
Nearly all the sound around them faded into white noise, the only thing Liam could hear was Harry's voice and a countdown that felt far more important than before.
"SIX!"
"I should have said-"
"FOUR!"
Of all the times for Harry to be slow at getting to the point of a story, this was not the time.
"I love you,"
Liam stared at Harry. Stared at this boy who he'd left a country to try and forget, put behind him for a while. Harry who'd listened to a drunk dial from across the sea and jumped a plane to basically return the call.
Harry who loved him.
"TWO. . . ONE!"
"Liam?" Harry asked, and Liam didn't need to hear anymore.
He pressed in close, lips meeting Harry's in an instant with the tiniest rush of breath from Harry's mouth, a surprised gasp perhaps. It didn't take long for Harry to get with it, though. He kissed Liam back with all that Liam could remember from those nights when they'd fall into bed, fall into each other. He kissed like he was saying all the things they'd yet to, that Liam had held in for months was expressed through lips, and tongue and Harry's fingertips slipping under Liam's shirt, scorching trails up his back and this was just what Liam had always hoped for.
It was romantic and cliche and they kissed at midnight on New Years. . . it couldn't possibly get any more cheesy love story and Liam couldn't care less.
"I'm the one that bought our flat. I was going to tell you, going to ask you to stay with me, be with me," Harry said between kisses, his lips searching out every spare inch of Liam's jawline, his neck, stopping to suck and nip right over his birthmark. Liam closed his eyes and gripped Harry's waist tighter.
"I don't want anyone else, been trying to tell you," he paused, kissing a still quiet Liam hard on the lips, "for months. For a year really. Didn't think there'd ever be a right time,"
Liam held Harry's face between his hands, slowed Harry down because Harry was saying everything and Liam had confessions of his own.
"I want that, too. Wanted it the day you came to stay. I've never, ever wanted you to leave, never wanted to leave you."
Harry smiled, Liam could feel the width of it under his palms. "I'm so glad you called,"
"I wish I could remember what I said," Liam admitted, and Harry laughed, pressing their foreheads together.
"I'll play it back for you sometime, but I think I'd rather be snogging you senseless right now,"
Liam laughed but it was soon cut off by Harry's lips, the only time they came up for air next was when some hardcore beats turned to Hometown Glory. Liam's flashed his middle finger up behind him much to the cackles of Niall that echoed loud into the night.
- fin -
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I just saw this. I don't know what to say. Give me a few hours.
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