but forget maybe: final
December
Liam’s vision is going blurry and he thinks it’s a bad sign.
When he sits up straight and blinks his eyes rapidly, stretching his arms over his head, his back cracks and twinges. He huffs out a breath, twisting around, his muscles and bones sore and resistant. He’s just got this one last paper and then he’s done, Christmas break and three glorious weeks until his very last semester of school - but first, he has twenty more pages to write on a book he’s hardly looked at, due tomorrow.
As he goes back to leaning over his laptop, he hears the front door close, hears Harry humming his way through the living room and the kitchen and then into Liam’s room.
“Brought you a triple shot latte,” he says, leaning over Liam to put it on the desk. Liam leans his head back and his neck is still sore, but he tries to smile, looking at Harry upside down.
“You’re the best,” he says.
“I know,” Harry says, and kisses his jaw, his cheek, the corner of his mouth. He steps back and Liam up-rights himself, turning to watch him and reaching for his drink. Harry unwinds the scarf from his neck and unbuttons his coat.
“How was the park?” Liam asks, content to take a short break from his work.
“Beautiful,” Harry says. He grins and his cheeks are red, matching the tip of his nose. “Wish you could’ve come.”
Liam sighs and turns back to his computer screen. “Maybe tomorrow after I hand this monster in,” he says.
Harry makes a noise in agreement and Liam sighs at the book in front of him before he goes back to it. A minute later Harry’s crawling into his bed, wearing one of Liam’s university hoodies, pulled up over his head and looking utterly comfortable and warm. Liam wants nothing more than to curl up under the covers with him and he hates, hates, hates that he can’t.
“Nialler still at the library?” Harry mumbles as he pulls the comforter over himself.
“Think so,” Liam says, and looks at his phone. Niall hasn’t texted him about his imminent death by boredom for a few hours, so hopefully he’s getting some work done.
“I’ll make you guys dinner tonight when he’s home,” Harry says, shifting around and turning to face the wall, so Liam can only see pillows and covers and a little streak of his purple sweatshirt. “You’ve been eating so much crap I’m surprised you’re not dead yet.”
“Kind of feel like I am,” Liam mutters, and flips through his book idly, the words swimming before his eyes.
“I know, love,” Harry says, his voice already drifting away into sleep. “Almost done.”
“Almost,” Liam says to himself, and gets back to work.
He takes a short break when Harry cooks for them, salad and vegetables and pasta and bread and Niall regales them of stories from the library, the girl at the table next to him who’d burst into tears and run out, not to be seen again, the group of students who’d stood up precisely at 5 p.m. and had a dance party for one minute before getting back to work like nothing had ever happened.
“That is exactly why I don’t work at the library,” Liam tells him, reaching for a second piece of garlic bread.
“Eat more salad,” Harry says, shooting him a glare and pushing the bowl toward him.
Niall just smirks. “That’s exactly why I do,” he says, “Like to know there are people out there worse off than me.”
Liam finishes his paper somewhere near 3:30 in the morning, and sets his alarm for 7:30 so he’ll have time for a quick last edit before the 9 a.m. deadline. He crawls into bed, bleary eyed, pressing his face into Harry’s curls, and Harry is dead to the world and it’s not long before Liam joins him.
In the morning his alarm wakes them both up but Liam waves Harry back to sleep, whispering, “I’ll be back in a tick,” and kissing his forehead, creased from the sheets.
He drops his paper off and his shoulders sag with relief. It’s cold but sunny and he takes his time getting back, stopping to pick up a paper - he has no idea about anything that’s happened in the world for at least 3 weeks - and 2 mochas, this time with a normal amount of espresso. When he gets back to the apartment Harry’s just waking up, sat in the middle of the bed and stretching. He smiles when he sees Liam in the door.
“You’re done!” he tries to call, but his voice is scratchy and low from sleep.
Liam smiles at him and sets their drinks down on the edge of the desk, shedding his coat and sliding back into pajamas. “I’m done,” he says, a bit more subdued, and yawns.
He crawls into bed and hands Harry his drink. Harry takes a sip and eyes Liam over the top of his cup. “We’re getting you off espresso starting tomorrow,” he says, reaching over to set his cup back down on the desk and taking Liam’s too.
Liam just smiles, letting his head fall against the pillows. He’s so tired and yet there’s so much he wants to do, so little time to actually enjoy the holidays now that he’s done - he needs to go Christmas shopping, he needs to pack, he needs to clean the kitchen -
But Harry settles over him, their noses touching, and first, first Liam needs this. “Hi,” Liam says, and he can’t stop smiling. Harry scrunches his nose up and leans in to kiss him.
“Hi,” he replies, after. He tastes like chocolate and Liam wants.
It should be him, Liam knows - after all the late nights, the coffee Harry brought him, the cooking, spending most of his days alone while Liam studied, Liam wants to do something for him, wants to make him feel good - but it’s Harry who moves over him, who slides a hand a hand up his shirt while the other fiddles with his waistband, and Liam is so tired, he lets his head fall back, lets Harry do what he wants.
He does protest, mildly, when Harry starts to move his hand lower - gets a grip on his wrist, says, “No, let me, I want to -“ but Harry ignores him, holds his hips down and blows him, long fingers rubbing against Liam’s sides. Liam just barely rolls his hips and Harry swallows him down, peering up at him until his hair falls into his face, and Liam touches it, soft and bouncing, pushing it out of the way until he can see Harry’s lips stretched around him. He comes with his mouth open wide but soundless.
It’s the best stress reliever Liam can think of, and after he feels boneless and sated, hardly able to move. Harry throws an arm around his waist and tucks his head over Liam’s shoulder, nosing behind his ear, and Liam can barely find the energy to pat his arm.
“You’re too good to me,” he mutters, his espresso forgotten somewhere behind them as his eyes droop.
Harry’s lips drag down his neck, warm, and he mumbles, “No, couldn’t be,” and it’s the last thing he hears before sleep takes him.
When he wakes up, Harry’s looking at him, blinking slowly. “Hello,” Liam says, and yawns, stretching his arms out over his head.
Harry’s smile is slow but bright. “Hello again,” he says.
Liam rolls, turning to face him, sliding a hand up the front of his sweatshirt and palming the warm soft skin over his ribs. “What should we do today?” he asks, because Harry’s been here for a week and they’ve barely done anything together because of finals.
“You wanna go to the park?” Harry asks, and of course that’s what he wants to do. Liam doesn’t particularly, doesn’t really want to leave the warm comfort of his bed, especially not when there’s snow on the ground, but he knows Harry wants to so he says yes, and it’s worth it immediately when Harry grins and gives a little “yay!”
He dons gloves and one of Harry’s beanies - his hair is growing back now, but not enough to keep him warm - and they take the train to Columbus Circle, Harry’s feet tapping excitedly on the train floor, even though he’d just been the day before, until Liam stills him with a hand on his thigh.
At the park they walk slow, up the same path they always take, the one that curves through Strawberry Fields and past the Imagine mosaic, although some days Harry decides he’d rather see something else and Liam always says okay. On this day they just walk quietly, Harry’s hand on Liam arm, or tangling with his gloves, or pulling him over to look at something they pass, his cheeks stung red with cold and Liam’s cheeks stung sore from smiling.
Harry does decide they should go by the mosaic, and there’s no one playing music there today but someone’s lined the tiles with red and white roses. Liam snaps a picture on his phone, holding it up to show Harry. He grins toothily, breathing, “Beautiful,” and hauling Liam down to sit next to him on the bench.
“Excited to go to your parents’?” Harry asks, holding his own phone up to take a picture of the mosaic.
“Yes,” Liam says, because he really is. He hasn’t seen his family since the summer and that whole time he was a bit of a wreck, so he’s looking forward to spending good, happy times with them. “Are you nervous to meet them?” he asks, half teasing.
Harry turns to him then, and his face is serious. “A little, yes,” he confesses, and Liam is overwhelming endeared, touching the side of his face with his gloved hand and wrinkling his nose at Harry.
“Don’t be,” he says. “They’re easily impressed.”
Harry’s quiet for a moment, and then he nudges Liam with his shoulder. “Heyyy,” he says, low, “I think I was just insulted.”
Liam just laughs, settling back against him. Harry knocks their knees together. “Excited for Australia?”
Liam’s heart leaps; he’s barely let himself think about it, because he had too much else going on and it was too overwhelming, but now, now he can. He can already feel his face almost splitting with a grin. “Yes,” he says, and his voice is going high pitched, “I honestly can’t even believe it’s happening, I’m about to go out of my skin thinking about it.”
When he looks over he catches Harry’s fond look, but he glances away quickly. Liam’s still grinning. “Yeah, Lou was unbearable nattering on about it,” he mutters. “And we just went a few months ago.”
“It’ll be better with me,” Liam says, obviously joking, but Harry’s face is serious when he looks over and says, “Yeah.”
Liam shakes his head, because sometimes he still doesn’t know how to react to Harry. “So are you going to surf with us?” he asks, to change the subject slightly. Harry stands then, apparently done with the mosaic, and when Liam joins him he hooks their arms together and starts moving west into the middle of the park.
“No,” he says. “Definitely not. You heard what happened last time I went skiing, I don’t need any more facial injuries.”
“Your face still looks nice,” Liam says, and doesn’t look at him. “What will you do while we’re there then?”
He feels Harry shrug against him. “Lay on the beach and be beautiful,” he says, and laughs when Liam groans. “I don’t know. I haven’t written any songs for awhile, maybe I’ll work on that.”
“Yeah?” Liam asks. “How will you ever write another album when you’re happy now?”
It’s a joke, kind of, but still presumptuous. They’ve had two happy months, and no doubt a few even happier weeks to come, but then Liam will go back to school and Harry will go on a tour of America, and - who knows? They both know nothing is guaranteed, they both know forever is a long time at twenty-two, and Liam knows maybe, maybe everything could fall apart, spectacularly so.
But he also knows that maybe never got him anywhere, knows Harry’s arm is warm and solid against him, knows it’s freezing cold and he’s sore and tired and wiped clean from finals and he’s never, never felt happier, and so - maybe he’ll give himself this one, just this once.
“Who knows?” Harry’s asking beside him, ducking close as they pass by a crowd of tourists, close enough that his hair brushes Liam’s cheeks. “I think I’ll figure it out.”
“Yes,” Liam says, "Yes, I bet you will." He puts his arm around Harry's waist and they wander deeper into the park, snow crunching beneath their feet. Later maybe they'll meet up with Niall, maybe they'll Skype with Zayn or email Louis about what they're bringing to Australia, or maybe they won't do any of that at all, and it doesn't much matter. Liam can wait to see how it all turns out.
-the end-
songs (all written and performed by brand new)
you won't know
okay i believe you but my tommy gun don't
i will play my game beneath the spin light
seventy times 7
soco amaretto lime
sowing season
good to know that if i ever need attention all i have to do is die
the boy who blocked his own shot
sink
degausser
bought a bride
play crack the sky
limousine