if you weren't real i would make you up (lt+zm)
title: if you weren't real i would make you up
pairing(s): louis tomlinson + zayn malik as codependent best friends (with louis/zayn overtones, references to future zayn malik/liam payne)
rating: NC-17
word count: 9,000ish
disclaimer: hilariously untrue
summary: AU. zayn is kind of quiet and louis kind of loud and they kind of fall into each other without hesitation. prequel to don't give up on us quite yet and you be the motive and i'll be the gun -- prior reading not necessarily required, as this is a prequel.
notes: um, so this happened kind of quickly, didn't it? this is for, like, everyone: mozarts_piano, jannika, wandersfound (because i love her), and of course, all the credit and love in the world to estuve who is, like, the basis of everything and puts up with me like a champ and has done for a good 3 years, even when i'm just a big fat whiner for hours. also thanks to marlboro lites, because that shit gets it done.
if anyone has any, like, requests from this verse, feel free to suggest them. this is all i've had planned, but it's been a great ride, so i'm open to more. thank you so insanely much for the feedback and the beautiful comments and compliments and i just seriously am overwhelmed and honoured and i love you all. x
Zayn meets Louis when he's nine years old. He's just moved to Doncaster and he's stuck in this new school and he's the youngest in his Year 5 class and everyone has their friends already and he sits at the back, hoping no one notices him.
Turns out, that's too much to hope for when he's a new boy, a dark boy.
Jeremy Donner notices him first. "Oi, what's this then? You get lost in the sand dunes or summat?"
Zayn keeps his eyes down, his bangs tangling in his eyelashes. He doesn't say anything. He's played this game before. His dad just says, "Wait till you're bigger," and Zayn nods silently. When will he be big enough?
He doodles in his new notebook. He doodles a man, a nondescript man hovering in thin air because art period has never taught him foreground or background or anything but don't drip the paint, boy. He looks at his little nameless man and writes "Bruce" underneath him. He moves his pencil over two inches and draws a monster, a huge beast, muscles rippling through skin, teeth bared. He writes "Hulk" underneath his beast.
His pencil moves back to Bruce and he scribbles out the letters. Writes "Zayn" instead.
Someone jostles his arm on the 'n,' someone has dropped their bag on the desk next to him. Zayn immediately tenses, moves his body to the furthest edge of his chair. He doesn't look over. It's not worth it, it's never worth it. Eye contact is dangerous, sometimes, he knows.
The kid next to him doesn't seem to get the message. The kid next to him leans into his arm, leans over his paper. "Hey! That's sick!" the kid next to him says. "Can you draw me next?"
Zayn glances over at this boy. He's skinny and lanky and his limbs are kind of sticking out at weird angles and his eyes are bright and a little wild and he's got this crazy smile and his hair is poking out of his head like untrimmed grass.
"I'm Louis!" the boy chirps. "But I wanna be Iron Man, so, like, can you do that?"
Zayn stares at him mutely. Louis's smile dims a bit and he glances down. "Or, like, you don't have to? I mean. Sorry?"
Zayn looks down at his paper, then back up at Louis. Louis is now rustling around in his bag, his cheeks are a bit flushed. "I'm Zayn," he says quietly.
Louis's head shoots up at his voice, and the smile's back. "Nice! You're new, right? I mean, that's a dumb question, I know everybody here, but like. Yeah. Right?"
Zayn nods. "Yeah, um. I just moved here from Bradford." He's whispering because he doesn't know how to be loud anymore. Louis looks like he knows how to be loud.
"Oh! Cool! I mean, it sucks that you had to move, though! I'd hate to have to move. Was it sucky to have to leave all your mates? But it's okay, I'll be your mate! So you don't miss them too much. Kind of like a plaster? Only those hurt to rip off, so don't rip me off." Louis hasn't stopped smiling, his face stretched and open and Zayn doesn't know what to do. He furrows his brow.
"I haven't got mates," he says.
Louis's mouth opens, then closes, then opens again. "Well. Can I be your mate? I'll be your first mate, how's that? First mate, best mate -- sounds kind of like a codename thing, right? That could be cool. I'll be First Mate and you be Best Mate and then we'll, like, I dunno -- fight crime! Or at least chase people at recess?"
Zayn blinks. "Okay?" Then he nods. "Okay, yeah."
Louis is still smiling at him.
Zayn looks back down, starts drawing another little man. His pencil hovers over the paper after he draws an oval for the head. "Thank you," he mutters.
Louis kicks at his foot. "So, do you like the football? I'm a big Man United fan. Did you see the match on Saturday up in the Toon? Giggsy just tore it up, didn't he? Did you see his goal? Unbelievable! I'm gonna be as good as him someday. And don't even get me started on Gazza Neville, right? Incredible, wasn't he? And Van Nistelrooy's goal in the 29th? I thought I was about to piss my pants!" Louis is bouncing in his chair, now. His feet are twitching like he'd rather be on a pitch than in a classroom.
"I'm, um. I've always been a Bradford City fan," Zayn says. "But, y'know, I suppose I like United for the Prem."
"Oh, mate." Louis pulls at his arm excitedly. "If we're gonna be best friends, you're gonna have to be a Man United fan, or else what am I gonna do? Who's your favourite footballer of all time?"
Zayn considers this. He's always played, but he's never fully paid attention to the leagues. He'd rather be out there himself. "I dunno, really. The original Gazza? George Best? Cantona? Always wished I could play like Cantona..." he trails off, looking to Louis for approval.
"All good choices! Oh! What part of town are you in? You should join my team! That'd be so much fun! You be Cantona and I'll be Giggsy and it'll be like. Dream team!" Louis is still squirming, unable to sit still. Zayn remembers the phrases 'attention deficit' and 'Ritalin' and 'Adderall' being thrown around when he was younger. He wonders if Louis has ever heard those words. Zayn hopes not. Zayn doesn't want Louis dulled.
*
It startles Zayn, a little, how dedicated Louis is to being his friend, his first friend, his best friend.
Jeremy Donner finds him again, during a lunch period two weeks after that first day. "Oi, it's our little Paki charity case, did you pinch your lunch off someone, then?"
Louis stands up then, all wiry muscles and shining eyes. "Wanna say that again?"
Jeremy looks at Louis scathingly. "Simmer down, Tomlinson. What, you've been practicing your handbags with your sisters or summat? Don't hurt yourself."
Louis steps closer. "Can't talk about Zayn that way."
"Can't I?" Jeremy holds himself a little taller, a good four inches above Louis. A good six inches wider. Zayn's just watching, wide-eyed, jam butty halfway to his mouth.
"Nope," Louis says simply. "He's my best mate."
Jeremy scoffs. "Everyone's your best mate. Whatever. Go do your eyeshadow or whatever it is you fancy and leave the games to the big boys."
But he leaves -- Jeremy leaves. Louis sits back down, looking immeasurably proud and pleased. He leans into Zayn and whispers conspiratorially, "He was scared."
Zayn laughs, kicks Louis in the shin under the table. "So was I, mate, you're terrifying. Like a Jack Russell terrier."
"Oi! I'm a bulldog, I'll have you know. A pitbull. A wolf. A sabre-toothed tiger. I'm ferocious!" Louis lets out a growl.
"Okay, Simba. Either eat your lunch or I will." Zayn makes a move to grab his packet of crisps, but Louis sees him coming and snatches them away.
"Reflexes like lightening, innit?"
Zayn rolls his eyes. His laugh has gotten louder over the past few weeks. He just had to dust off a few cobwebs.
*
So it goes, really. They're best friends. Best friends, Zayn thinks. He thinks maybe best isn't the right word. He thinks maybe there should be a better word for this clawing desire to just be with someone at all times. Talking, kicking a football, walking around, laying in bed, sitting in the dark, playing silly games, chasing pigeons off the footie pitch, just. Everything he's doing, every single thing that he does, he wants Louis to be there. Wants Louis to be a part of it.
And Louis -- Louis always will, which surprises Zayn. Louis surprises Zayn in so many ways, and at first he thinks it's because he's never had a friend, and certainly not a best friend. He thinks that he's been missing out on this best friend lark if all best friends are like Louis. But time goes on and Zayn drags Louis to libraries and comic book shops and walks down by the river and the factories and he talks about what he wants to grow up to be and Louis listens. Louis, inexhaustible, tireless Louis. Louis, with no attention span to speak of, no reverence to speak of, listens to him. Listens to him ramble about comics, about books, about becoming a doctor. And he'll smile and brush his arm against Zayn's and nod and say, quietly -- the only time Louis does quiet, "Yeah, mate, yeah. You'd be so good at that. You're so smart."
And sometimes. Sometimes, sometimes, so very rarely, but sometimes, Louis will talk, too. Sometimes Louis will talk about his sisters, something funny that happened that day in maths, or how sometimes he just gets so frustrated -- he's the oldest, he's from a different part of his mum's life, he's not totally part of her new, blonde family. Sometimes he talks about how maybe he'd like to go to university, study something worthwhile, something that's not football. But then he quickly amends that, laughing brightly, because that's just blasphemy, isn't it, Zayner? And then he'll run down by the water and scare the birds and laugh so loudly, standing in the sun, looking back to Zayn. Waiting for Zayn to join him.
And Zayn always does, because Louis has got some kind of magnetism, some kind of pull, and Zayn's too happy in those moments to resist.
*
When they're eleven, Louis gets a girlfriend. She's called Alix and Louis holds her hand at school and carries her books and walks her home.
Zayn doesn't mind, really. So he has to walk home alone sometimes. He had nine years of being alone, it's alright. Really. He takes the long way home, the way down by the river and kicks a rock to his alley. It's fine, really. He doesn't need to be around Louis all the time.
He just wants to be.
And then, two weeks later, Louis catches up to him after the final bell. "Zayn! Hold up, mate!"
Zayn turns, stops. Waits for Louis to dash up to him. "What happened to Alix, then?"
Louis looks down, scuffs his trainer in the dirt. "She's gone off me, I guess."
Zayn flinches a bit and pulls Louis into his side. "How could someone go off you?"
"Said I'm too loud, too annoying." Louis shrugs, clearly trying to hide how it affected him.
"What crap," Zayn says. "How stupid. She's stupid. Whatever. More of you for me. I've missed you, this has sucked. Who needs a girlfriend, anyway?"
Louis huffs out a little laugh. "Yeah. Whatever! I missed you, too! Her eye rolls were much meaner than yours."
"I don't roll my eyes that much, shut up."
Louis scoffs, and leans in front of Zayn's face, rolling his eyeballs back into his head so exaggeratedly that Zayn bursts out laughing. Louis steps back, looking pleased with himself.
Zayn's still giggling, looking over at Louis, who's got a grin on his face finally. "Why bother with anyone who doesn't think you're funny, right, Lou?"
Louis nudges Zayn with his elbow and his grin fades into a soft quirk of his mouth and a gentle look in his eyes. "Right, Zayner. We're too good for anyone else. Screw 'em if they don't like us!"
They race the rest of the way home, neck and neck, until Louis pushes Zayn into the shrubbery just before Louis's gate.
"Wanker!" Zayn screams.
Louis slams into his house, laughing all the way.
*
When they're thirteen, Zayn starts to feel. Different. He's got friends and he's got interests and he's doing well in school, but. Something's off. Something's strange.
Something sharp gets him right in the gut when Louis curls around him in his bed, whispering about girls, whispering about what they're doing this weekend, whispering whispering whispering.
He keeps his mouth shut about all of it. It’s not worth it. Not worth Louis pulling away.
On a Saturday night in February, Zayn gets a call from Stan. It's past midnight and Stan's more Louis's friend -- everyone's more Louis's friend, honestly -- so he considers not answering. He sends it to voicemail, and two seconds later it starts buzzing again.
"Alright, mate? You do realise the time, yeah?" Zayn says, annoyed.
"Yeah, hey, Zayn, sorry. But, look. You gotta come get Lou. We're at Daniel's and he's a mess and you have to come get him before this gets around." Stan's slurring but the background noise is muffled, as if he's in a bathroom, as if this call is important enough to leave the party.
Zayn sits up. "What's going on?"
Stan sighs. "Just. Get here, yeah? You know where it is?"
"Yeah, yeah," Zayn says, hurriedly, pulling on trousers and a jacket. "Be there soon."
He grabs his keys and wallet, sliding everything into the pocket of his jean jacket, and slips out the door. The streets are quiet and dark and he makes his way to Daniel's, silence pounding through the worry in his veins.
See, like. Louis isn't the smartest. Well, wait. Louis is very smart -- Louis is hilarious and sharp and quick and cunning and, okay, Louis is fucking brilliant. But Louis is careless and reckless and he throws himself around, throws himself into things, throws himself at people. He refuses to protect himself. He protects everyone else -- he protects Zayn, his sisters, his friends -- but he's just so goddamn reckless with himself. It drives Zayn mad.
There are people spilling out over the driveway, onto the lawn, when Zayn reaches Daniel's. He cuts through everyone, pulling anyone he vaguely recognises aside -- Have you seen Tommo? -- and they all shrug and vaguely point. Some laugh and roll their eyes, shaking their heads. Zayn sighs. The standard Tommo is fucking smashed expression, every weekend.
Zayn eventually finds him in a bathroom on the second floor, pressed against the wall, pressed against --
Wait.
Pressed against Andy Smalls.
Zayn stops. He needs to move forward, he needs to pull Louis away, he needs to stop this before someone sees, before someone says something. But. But.
Louis is arching his back, and Andy's hands are on his hips, pulling his shirt up, showing flashes of his lower belly, of the ridges of his hips. He's curved forward, pushed against Andy, and his head his thrown back and the long line of his throat is caught in the light, gleaming from sweat and spit, and his eyes are closed and his mouth is caught open and. Zayn watches and. Fuck. Zayn watches and he wants.
Louis lets out a groan, suddenly, and Andy's hand is pressed against him, pressed against the bulge in his trousers and Zayn cannot let this get farther, cannot let this get out.
"Lou," he chokes out. "Lou, Louis, hey, we gotta get home. Time to come home."
Louis's eyes fly open, dazed and glassy, and his eyelashes flutter wildly until he finds Zayn in the doorway. "Zayn," he gasps.
Zayn ignores how he sounds, ignores how fucked out he is, ignores it all because he has to get Louis out of here right now. "Lou, hey, come with me, okay? Time to come with me."
Andy's turned around, eyes flashing with fear, anger. Zayn looks at him calmly. He doesn't want to say any sort of fucking reassurance, because fuck this kid, honestly, but. Zayn also doesn't want anyone to think he would out them. "It's fine," he bites out. "I won't say anything."
Andy steps off, looking a little calmer, but he's swaying on his feet and Zayn hasn't got time for this. "Louis, we're going," he says a little more forcefully.
Louis is still against the wall, looking boneless and disheveled and turned on and. Zayn glances at the floor before steeling himself. He pulls Louis toward him, gets his arm over his shoulder, gets their hips aligned. "Sleep at mine, yeah?" he murmurs.
Louis bites his shoulder, then kisses his neck. "Yes, please."
Zayn struggles to make Louis walk, half-dragging him between people, between catcalls, between the ubiquitous life of the party as usual, Tommo jeers. He's heavier, now. No longer the skinny boy who looked half in-flight with every step he took. He's heavier and more solid, but still slender -- he just has these fucking curves amidst those sharp angles of bone. Zayn's hands tighten, slipping down to Louis's waist, digging in. He's got these curves -- not like a girl's and not like he's overweight, just. His arse pushes out against his trousers and his stomach curves out slightly and his thighs flex with every movement and. Zayn really cannot be dealing with this right now.
They stumble home in the quiet darkness, the only sound being Louis's occasional incoherent mutterings and Zayn's whispered expletives as he stumbles over cracks in the sidewalk. As they approach Zayn's front walk, he grabs Louis by the hips, pulling him to a stop.
"Lou, hey, Lou, you with me, mate?" He taps Louis's cheek lightly.
Louis smiles up at him. "Hey, beautiful."
Zayn clenches his jaw. "Yeah, hey, we gotta be absolutely quiet, yeah? My parents already think you're mad as hell, alright?"
Louis nods. And nods, and doesn't stop nodding. Zayn closes his eyes and hopes for the best.
They make it to Zayn's bedroom without incident, and Zayn unceremoniously drops Louis onto his bed. Louis groans a little, shifting and sliding around uncomfortably until Zayn sighs.
"Can you get your kit off?" he asks flatly.
Louis just stares up at him. "Spinning," he moans.
"Christ." Zayn starts with his shoes, yanking off the stupid espadrilles Louis loves so much, wrinkling his nose at the faint smell. He moves up to his trousers, gingerly undoing the fly, carefully sliding them down his thighs. Once they're off, Zayn glances up at Louis, deciding quite firmly that he can sleep in his t-shirt.
He pulls off his own jeans and crawls in next to Louis. "You owe me," he says quietly.
Louis shifts over gingerly to look at him. "I believe," he drawls, "you just cockblocked me, Zayner. I think we're even."
Zayn rolls his eyes. "We'll see what you say in the morning, love. Go to sleep."
Louis closes his eyes obediently, but two seconds later they fly back open. "Zayn," he whispers urgently. "Zayn, no, wait, I need to be on the outside. Can't be next to the wall. Zayn, please, easy access to a toilet, you get me?"
Summoning whatever patience he has in reserve, Zayn crawls over Louis, careful not to jostle him. "You're lucky I love you," he says as he slides back under the covers.
"I know," is Louis's quiet response.
*
When Zayn wakes up the next morning, Louis is gone. There's a note on the nightstand, scrawled on the back of a receipt. It just says thx m8 x. Zayn sits up, annoyed.
It's raining heavily outside as Zayn walks to Louis's. His jean jacket soaks through in five minutes and his hair is plastered to his head. His trainers make an awful squelching noise with every step. He blames Louis for all of it.
The house is loud -- as always -- as he stands on the stoop. Knocking doesn't seem to gain any attention, so he lets himself in. Standing just in the door, he sees Louis's mum in the kitchen, tending to the two infant twins. Fizzy is toddling around in the family room and Lottie is passively playing with her dolls in front of the television, which is blasting some American cartoon.
Zayn sticks his head in the kitchen. "Hi, ma'am," he says, hesitantly. Louis's mum turns to look at him, her face softening.
"Hi, darlin', Lou's in his room," she says, smiling. "Would you like something to eat?"
Zayn shakes his head and smiles back at her in thanks, turning quickly toward the stairs.
He knocks on Louis's door at the end of the second floor hallway. "Lou?"
"I'm busy," comes Louis's muffled reply.
Zayn sighs. "Louis, come on."
There's a pause. "I'm wanking."
"No, you're not. I'm coming in." Zayn actually doesn't know if he's about to get an eyeful here, but he's braced himself for the chance.
Louis is curled up on his bed, fully clothed in pajamas. "Fuck you," he says, glancing up at Zayn.
Zayn sits next to him. "So, what's the deal?"
Louis shifts over, making more room on the bed. "Nothing. What do you mean? You came here, mate, not the other way 'round."
"Are we gonna talk about it?" Zayn moves into the cleared space, laying down next to Louis.
Louis pulls his elbow over his eyes. "Talk about what?"
Zayn hums consideringly. "I dunno, the weather? It's a mess out there. Or politics? I hear Blair's not doin' too well. Or, like, I dunno, the fact I had to pull you out from under a bloke last night?"
Louis makes a small noise from under his arm.
"Lou. Come on. I don't care. If you don't wanna talk about it, that's fine, but like. Y'know. Are you okay? Like. It wasn't, like... I mean. He didn't... you know?"
"Christ, Zayn, shut up." Louis rolls to face the opposite way, bringing his knees up to his chest.
Zayn curls his body up behind him, spooning against him, wrapping his arm around his stomach. He whispers into his hair, "I just want to make sure you're okay, Lou, yeah? You know I don't care about anything else."
Louis lets out a shuddering breath. "I just... didn't know how to tell you." His hand finds Zayn's, weaving their fingers together.
"That's okay, Lou. It's okay." Zayn presses a kiss into his soft hair and they stay curled up until they fall asleep.
When Zayn wakes up awhile later, Louis is looking up at him. Louis smiles briefly, glancing away. Zayn takes a deep breath.
"Hey, Lou?"
"Hmm?"
"I... um. Me too. Never, um. Knew how to tell you."
*
They don't talk about it again for a month and a half, almost exactly.
And then they do, sort of.
Louis is sitting on Zayn's bed while Zayn is trying to decide what to wear to Stan's birthday party that night.
"Hey, Zayn?" Louis is picking at the quilt, staring at it intently.
"What?" Zayn says, pulling off another t-shirt, glancing at Louis in the mirror.
Louis shrugs. "Have you ever, like, kissed a bloke?"
Zayn abruptly stops moving, his head caught in fabric, and Louis giggles at him. Zayn lets out a choked half-laugh. "Um. No, why?"
"Just wondering," Louis says lightly. "You're a fucking idiot, by the way. Wear the purple shirt with that stupid wolf on it, it's ironic or something. I hear Stan's parents are out of town, also. We're getting smashed."
Zayn wrestles with the shirt -- how the hell did he get himself this stuck? Louis comes up behind him and slides it off him, his hands warm against his back. Zayn twitches a little, hopes Louis doesn't notice.
"Are we?" Zayn mutters. "Should I be keeping an eye on you?"
"Nah, that's a boring job! Let loose, Zany-Zayn, you're only young once!" Louis throws a pillow at him as he settles back on the bed.
Zayn wears the purple shirt with the stupid wolf on it. Apparently it's ironic.
*
So Zayn lets loose and Louis lets loose and the party is big and loud and it's half past one in the morning and all Zayn really wants right now is to find Louis because Zayn's maybe half past drunk in the morning, also.
"Oi!" Zayn yells in the general direction of a group of girls. "Where's Tommo?"
Some tall brunette rolls her eyes and says back, "Last I heard a group of them were smoking downstairs."
Excellent. Excellent. Zayn gives her a charming smile and wink. "Ta, love."
She pulls a face at him. Whatever. He heads toward the stairs, taking them two at a time.
Louis, Stan, Jon, and Reed are huddled in a small circle, passing a bowl around.
"Oi, lads, room for another?" Zayn says and his voice sounds loud. His cheeks feel hot. He feels a bit wobbly. It's good. He's good.
"Zayn!" Louis says brightly. "Budge over, budge over, let Zayn in. Hi, babe, missed you, where've you been?" Louis pulls him down close, breathes hotly on his neck, hand wrapped around his shoulder. Zayn leans in, resting his head against Louis's temple, dropping his hand up high on Louis's thigh.
Stan arches an eyebrow at them after he takes a hit. "You two are so weird," he says, exhaling smoke thickly before coughing. Zayn smirks.
"Give it," he demands, pointing at the pipe.
Stan passes it over and Zayn takes a long hit, feeling the smoke fill his lungs, feeling it reach his head before he's done inhaling. He sucks in a bit of oxygen and holds it all in, feeling like a balloon, like he could float away. He starts to let out the smoke in wisps, loves seeing the tendrils float through the air.
"Ooh! Sexy," Louis laughs, staring at his mouth. Zayn smiles at him, before blowing the rest out into Louis's face with a long sigh.
Zayn takes two more hits, laughing and exclaiming, "I'm just catching up!" when the other boys start smacking at him to pass it on.
Louis is still staring at him. "I think I need a bit of air. Zayn, yeah?" he says, already tugging on Zayn's arm.
Zayn nods. Yes. Air sounds good. Air with Louis sounds good. With Louis always sounds good, yes. Good.
The patio out back is crammed with people and the drive out front is crammed with people, so Louis grabs hold of Zayn's hand and pulls him out into the street, starts walking them down the block.
"Are we leaving, then?" Zayn asks, keeping tight grasp of Louis's hand.
Louis shrugs. "Maybe? I dunno." He presses closer, till their shoulders are touching, no room between them.
They walk for awhile, Louis alternating between intense observations of their surroundings and mad giggling. Zayn just smiles at him sleepily.
"Your cheekbones, Lou," he says, slowly.
"What about my cheekbones?" Louis smiles back.
Zayn raises his other hand to Louis's face, stroking his thumb over the sharp edges of bone. "I dunno, they're great. Nice. Pretty. So pretty."
Louis's smile fades into something smaller and his eyes darken. "Yeah?"
Zayn nods, eyes dropping to Louis's mouth.
Louis stops walking and grabs hold of Zayn's stupid ironic wolf shirt. "You've got these eyelashes," he mumbles nonsensically before pulling Zayn in.
Zayn snaps into reality suddenly with the first press of Louis's lips. They're warm and wet and he tastes like weed and beer and it's good suddenly, it's good and familiar and his hands travel up to Louis's sides, just under his ribs on the curve of his waist, thumbs rubbing into his warm shirt, feeling the softness of his skin through the fabric. He pulls Louis closer, wanting to feel how warm he is everywhere, and Louis has got the fingers of one hand curled in the hair at the back of Zayn's head and the other on the small of his back, pressing in.
Zayn pulls back minutely to catch his breath, and their lips catch, pull apart slowly. Louis has his eyes closed and a small smile on his wet lips and Zayn bites down on his own lip because fuck, he's getting hard and Louis is so fucking sexy in this moment. His fingers dig into Louis's waist harder, they slide down to sharp hipbones, thumbing under his shirt at the dip between them and the soft curve of his belly. Louis lets out a soft noise and pulls Zayn back in by the hand still in Zayn's hair. Zayn goes willingly, finding Louis's mouth again, curling his tongue in immediately.
Louis lets his other hand, the one on Zayn's back, drop down farther, down to slide into Zayn's back pocket, pulling him closer with fingers digging into his arse and suddenly Zayn's crotch is pressing against Louis's and Louis's hips are moving in a tight rhythm, small circles against Zayn and fuck Zayn's so hard and so is Louis and they're in the middle of a street in Stan's neighbourhood.
Zayn pulls back again, breathing heavily. "Lou, Lou, hold on, Lou."
Louis looks up at him, dazed and smiling and not letting go of Zayn. "What?"
"Lou, we're in the middle of the street, like." Zayn glances around them. It's probably two in the morning, it's not like they'd get caught, but. This isn't exactly what he wants.
Louis blinks. "Oh. Oh. Yeah, um. Yours?"
Zayn nods.
They stumble back to Zayn's house, the giddiness of their crossfade bleeding into exhaustion, dizziness. They collapse into Zayn's bed, holding hands, fully dressed, and fall asleep wound around each other.
*
Louis is still there when Zayn wakes up. Zayn gives himself a point in his own favour. He wriggles around intentionally, jiggling the bed, until Louis cracks open an eye.
"Such an arse," Louis grumbles.
Zayn laughs a little, in such a good mood. "Morning, princess."
"Did you get laid or something?" Louis peers at him curiously, before his eyes widen and he blushes. Zayn laughs a little more.
"Nah. Almost. Guess I passed out before sealing the deal."
Louis presses his lips together. "Guess so."
Zayn feels his smile drop as he looks at Louis carefully. "You okay?"
Louis shrugs, then nods. "I just. Should we, like, talk?"
"I... okay?" Zayn's feeling a bit lost.
Louis nods again, shortly, and rolls over onto his back. Zayn stays on his side, staring at Louis in profile.
"Like, you're my best friend, right? Like. We can't, like. We can't fuck with that. Don't ever want to have to find another you, you know? Don't think I could ever find another you." Louis laughs, a bit embarrassedly.
Zayn feels his stomach drop a bit. He rolls onto his back as well. "No. Yeah. You're right. Yeah."
Louis turns his head to glance at him. "We could be like. I dunno. Convenient? Just like. With boundaries?"
Zayn flinches. "Are you really suggesting, like, friends with benefits, Lou?"
Louis shrugs. "I mean. Gonna be tough to ever get some in this town, you know? Just like. It's a possibility. You're pretty fucking fit, mate. And I already love you."
Zayn's lungs feel tight. "Right. Yeah. I dunno, I guess? Maybe we should just. Wait and see?"
Louis nods slowly. They're quiet for a few minutes.
Then Louis says, "Wait. Zayn?"
"Yeah, Lou," Zayn replies tiredly.
"You don't, like... you don't like me or anything, do you?" Louis's voice is small, almost timid. Louis doesn't do timid.
Zayn wants to laugh. Or cry? He's not sure. "Only when I'm stoned, apparently, mate. We're all good." He gives Louis a little smile.
Louis's face relaxes and he turns to throw an arm around Zayn's middle. "Last night was pretty fucking hot, though," he mutters into Zayn's shoulder.
Zayn reaches up to run a hand through Louis's hair. "I suppose I can't take all the credit, there, babe."
It'll be fine. He'll be fine. He's still got Louis and he'll always have Louis. It'll all be fine.
*
Because Zayn's not even fourteen and because he's gay and because his best friend is too and because his best friend is also some kind of fucking sex magnet and because he's weak, he's sitting on his bed and he's got Louis on his knees between his legs.
"Lou, Lou, Lou, Lou," he's chanting and Louis looks up at him and, okay, yep, that's Zayn done, done, done. He pulls Louis back by his hair and Louis finishes him off with his hand, and then he's yanking Louis up to the bed, quickly unbuttoning his fly and pulling him out, jerking him with long strokes until Louis is curling his fingers into Zayn's hair, pulling him into a harsh kiss that's more Louis heavily breathing into Zayn's mouth but Zayn doesn't mind because Louis is hot and hard in his hand and he's making these delicious little noises and squirming under Zayn's body and it's all so fucking sexy he can't even handle it, he's just come and he feels himself twitching already and -- jesus, Louis is breathing harder and panting out, "More, Zayn, more, yes, come on, come on, babe, yeah, yeah," and then his hand is wet and Louis is boneless, stretched out on his bed, and.
Zayn slumps over beside him. Louis smiles at him. "We make good choices."
Zayn's not sure about that, but he smiles at Louis anyway, before whacking him on the arm. "Go get us a flannel."
Louis pulls a face. "Why me? It's your house."
"Because I said so," Zayn replies, as if he expects that to work with Louis Tomlinson.
Louis gives him a disbelieving look, before laughing. But he gets up and walks shakily to the bathroom. "Write this day down in your diary, Malik, because this ain't happening again."
"Nice arse," Zayn calls after him. He gets a middle finger in return.
*
It becomes a semi-regular thing, which Zayn knew would happen as soon as he gave in to the first time. They suck each other off, they jerk each other off, and it's like, whatever. It's whatever. Zayn's fine with it; he's getting off with a hot boy whom he loves more than anything and it's almost like everything he wants. He's fine with it because Louis is still Louis and he still comes to Zayn's house when things get too much at home, when there are too many babies crying and too much shouting and too much noise and activity and sometimes Louis just needs to fade. He comes to Zayn's and curls up on his bed and they watch some old Batman cartoons and sometimes they get naked and sometimes Louis sucks two of Zayn's fingers in his mouth and guides them between his legs and sometimes it gets so intense that Zayn finds himself pressing nonsense words into the angles of Louis's collarbones, hoping like hell they're not coherent.
Zayn worries about Louis so much, about Louis not protecting himself, about Louis giving too much of himself away. He worries so much for Louis and in the process he fails to realise he gave Louis every single first. Louis has his first friendship, his first kiss, his first blowjob, his first fuck, his first love. Louis has all of it and it's not like Zayn's lent him a jumper, it's not like he gave him a goddamn candy bar -- Louis has all of it and there's no way to for Louis to give it back, to repay him. Louis has Zayn in all of these intangible and scary ways and Zayn's so terrified it's going to mean he loses Louis in the process of it all falling apart.
And it does fall apart. It does end, just like it was always going to, because friends with benefits never works out and there's always someone who's going to get hurt and always someone doing the hurting. This is no different and the variables are x and y and there are just. No surprises for anyone. But he doesn't lose Louis.
They're fourteen, now, and Zayn's worried about everything: Louis, himself, GSCE's, the future -- everything in his fourteen year old world.
He's waiting for Louis after the final bell, leaning against the brick of the Upper School, smoking a fag. He sees Louis walking toward him, but he's not alone. Some tall, blonde boy is walking next to him, leaning down, hanging onto Louis's words. Zayn recognises him vaguely, some sixth former called Steve or something.
Louis looks up and catches Zayn's eye. He smiles, and turns back to Steve, shrugging apologetically, gesturing to Zayn. Stevie is nodding, and scribbling something in the corner of a piece of notebook paper, tearing it off and handing it to Louis.
Zayn drops his fag, grinding it into the cement with his toe. He gives himself exactly ten seconds to be upset, before resigning himself.
He smiles at Louis when he bounds over. "Met someone, then, did you?"
Louis grins back a little hesitantly before shrugging. "I dunno, really. Seems nice. Fit, and all. Whatever. How was your day, sexy?"
Zayn holds onto his smile. "Fine, mate. The usual. You know."
Louis sighs, nods. "I can't wait to fucking get out of this town. First chance we get, Zayner, we're moving to London."
"Sounds good, Lou," Zayn says distantly. "You can play for Arsenal."
Louis lets out a sharp laugh and pinches Zayn's nipple. "Fuck off!"
*
When they're fifteen, Louis has a trial for Doncaster Rovers.
It doesn't go well.
He spends three hours hiding in his room while Zayn pounds on his door, begging to be let in.
He spends the next three days in Zayn's bed, curled up in Zayn's quilt, curled up in Zayn's arms.
He doesn't touch a football for three months. He's not quite himself for a bit longer. He drinks too much. He cries too much. He's quiet too much.
But one night when he's about to pass out after a bottle of whiskey he stole from his stepdad, he says to Zayn, "I don't know what I'd do if I lost you. You're the only thing keeping me sane."
And Zayn tries so hard not to cry because that would be so selfish. He presses kisses to Louis's hair and holds him close and resolves, finally, after everything, to be the best friend he could possibly be to Louis. He's only ever wanted to be close to him, only ever wanted to be there for him, and there's no way -- no way -- he's going to risk that for a few more shags. He can love Louis the best he knows how, and he doesn't need anything else.
*
When Zayn's sixteen, he walks into his dad's office because he forgot his lunch at home and his mum asked Zayn to bring it into him. So, he goes to his dad's office and stops at the reception desk because apparently he needs a pass to go up to his dad's floor and there's this boy sitting there.
"Hi, um. I'm here to see Yaser Malik?" Zayn gets the sentence out somehow, feels his face redden.
The boy behind the desk looks up at him and gives him this smile. He's got dark blonde hair, straightened fringe dropping down into his eyes. He kind of brushes his hair back with his fingers and Zayn can't stop looking at him. There's a birthmark on his neck. He's got... arms.
Zayn actually and actively wishes he wasn't the stupidest person alive for once.
"Cool!" the boy says. It's really not that cool, is what Zayn would normally say, dripping disdain and condescension, but if this boy thinks it's cool, then, like. Yeah, sure. Zayn can get on board with that. Cool.
Zayn's so stupid he wants to put his head under the wheels of a bus.
"Yes," Zayn says.
The boy just looks at him for awhile, and Zayn doesn't know what's going on -- what is this why is he looking at me like that did I say something out loud -- and then he says, "Oh! Oh, god, sorry." He's laughing embarrassedly, this boy is. "Third floor. Here's the elevator key. Wow. Like. Sorry."
"Right. Um. Thanks?" Zayn backs away and almost runs into a potted cactus. For fuck's sake. He wishes Louis were here. Louis would have some choice words to put Zayn in his place, because god fucking dammit.
"No problem!" the boy calls after him.
Zayn bites his tongue to keep from replying again.
When Zayn comes back down to the lobby, the boy is still there. Naturally. Obviously this is his job, so he's probably going to still going to be doing it ten minutes after Zayn saw him last.
Zayn's having a rough day.
The boy looks up again as Zayn approaches the desk, clutching the elevator key. "Um. Thanks."
He gets a smile back. "I'm Liam, by the way. Not that you care, just, like. In case you wanted to know? Or whatever."
Zayn gives him a little smile. "I'm Zayn."
Liam brightens up. "Sorry about earlier, Zayn. That was pretty embarrassing for me. It's my first day. I've just moved up here from Wolverhampton about two minutes ago for this work experience gig and I'm kind of a mess right now."
"Oh," Zayn says. Then he wants to punch himself. "I mean. Oh."
What the fuck.
He gathers himself hastily. "Do you have friends up here at all?"
Liam shakes his head slowly. "Haven't really got friends anywhere," he says, and then flushes bright red. "Oh, cool, wow, I'm just making myself sound awesome today, aren't I?"
Zayn laughs a little. "Nah, it's chill, I can relate. But, um, we could like. Exchange numbers or something? Like, you could maybe come out with me and my mates tonight or whatever? If you wanted, I mean. If not, that's, like, totally fine. Like, no problem. Doubt you want to, anyway."
Liam smiles at him with all these, like, teeth. And stuff. Mouth. "No, wow, that'd be so great. Super great. I'd love that."
Zayn just looks at him. "Super great, yeah." He writes his number on the back of a business card on the desk and slides it over to Liam. "Text me when you get off, yeah?"
Liam stares at his number for a second, as if in shock. "Yes! I will. Awesome. Love it. Great. See you later!"
"Cool. Yeah. Okay. Nice," Zayn babbles and turns to leave, turning fully this time. He'll never fall victim to a potted cactus again.
*
He rings Louis on the bus back to his house. "I'm the fucking stupidest person to walk the earth. No, wait. Not even human. I'm the fucking stupidest creature to ever, like, breathe air. No, wait. I'm the fucking stupidest creature to ever, like, I dunno. Be an organism."
"Wait, what? Orgasm, what?" Louis says back, sounding distracted.
Zayn rolls his eyes. "What are you doing?"
There's a pause. "Homework?"
"Shut up, what are you doing?"
There's another pause. "Watching One Tree Hill, okay, sorry, christ, what are you on about?"
"How stupid I am, arsehole. Pity me." Zayn presses his forehead against the window of the bus.
"Alright, Zayn, lay it on me. What's up?"
"There's this thing. This, like, boy-type-thing." Zayn sighs.
Louis audibly perks up. "Oh! Ooh! Tell me tell me tell me."
"There's this like. Receptionist at my dad's office. He's like. A boy. And stuff?"
"For chrissakes, Zayn, do I have to, like, beat this out of you?"
"I just. Oh, god. I was such an idiot, Lou, I was rambling and, like, stupid and just entirely the biggest fucking twat in the world and I gave him my number? Oh, we're going out tonight, by the way."
"You and this boy?" Louis sounds incredulous, a little shocked.
"No, Louis, do try and keep up," Zayn snaps.
Louis makes a frustrated noise. "If you were talking proper English, mate, maybe I could. Who's going out tonight, then?"
"You and me. And maybe Liam. The boy. Thing. Oh, god, Lou, what if he comes?"
Louis says slowly, "So, wait. You asked him out with me?"
Zayn opens his mouth. Then he closes it. Then he groans. "I guess?"
Louis is laughing openly now. "Oh, for fuck's sake, Malik, you are priceless. Alright, we'll go out with him. He'll probably think we're the kinkiest sixteen year olds ever, but we'll do it."
Zayn is actually contemplating throwing himself out the window of the moving bus. "Oh, my god. Louis, wait. You can't, like. No, wait, you have to be normal. And, like, nice. And not yourself. Oh, fucking hell, why is this happening, oh my god."
Louis is still laughing down the phone. "Oh, god, Zayn, you're so adorable. No, it'll be fine. We'll make him love you. We'll get you a proper boyfriend or die trying."
"Fuck off," Zayn mutters.
"Oi! No way to speak to your fairy godmother, mate, remember that."
"Fairy something, alright," Zayn says and hits end call.
Christ.
*
Liam texts him later that afternoon. Zayn doesn't look at until a half an hour later because he's pretending he's not pathetic.
hi :):) this is liam, sitll watn to go out l8r.,?.
Zayn bites back a smile, and types, yeah, mate, are you drunk already?
He gets a text back almost immediately.
omg srory sory im hopless at spellign, not drunk1!!!!
Zayn wants to actually end his life for being so endeared. What the actual, honest, legitimate fuck is going on. He calls Louis again.
"Is this about the boy?" Louis asks immediately upon answering.
"No. Fuck you. Where are we going tonight?" Zayn replies.
Louis snorts. "You made these plans, mate, shouldn't you figure it out?"
"Louis, god, please, come on. You're the fun one. Just. Where are we going?" Zayn is kind of desperate. Pathetic.
"Alright, alright. Let's go to that weird Horse Whisperer pub downtown, yeah?"
"Brilliant. Like, 8ish?"
"Sure, whatever. I'll come to yours, first. God forbid you choose an outfit without me."
"You're the best, the very very best, the best of the best. Thanks, Lou, see you soon, bye." Zayn hangs up in a rush, anxious to reply to Liam.
there's this pub that doesnt card on silver st called the horse whisperer or something twatty like that. 8ish?
Twenty seconds later, his phone vibrates.
bralliant :):) :) see u thn
*
He ends up wearing Louis's trousers and Louis's jumper. At least he's got his own trainers on.
"Alright, Zayn. Do we need to have a codeword or something? Like, if you're trying to pull, I'm not trying to hang around and, like, watch. Christ. I can't believe I'm third-wheeling for you." Louis shakes his head.
Zayn bites his lip. "You're not third-wheeling! You're. Er. Wingmanning? That's a thing?"
"Right, right. Okay. So. Codeword? Like, I have no idea what this is. Why am I even here?"
"Moral support!" Zayn grabs onto Louis's wrist. "Seriously, Lou... you know."
Louis looks at him and his eyes soften. "Hey, Zayn, come on. He'd be crazy not to love you. Anyone who gets to know you loves you."
Zayn glances at Louis from the corner of his eye. "You're the only one who knows me, mate."
"Well? My point stands." Louis shakes off Zayn's grasp on his wrist and takes his hand instead. "Just stay calm, okay? And don't shut down. And just. Be yourself. Be funny and smart and sarcastic and sweet and everything you already are, okay?"
Zayn wraps his fingers around Louis's. "Thanks, Lou," he says quietly.
Louis just squeezes his hand and gives him a small smile, shaking his head.
*
Liam's waiting outside the pub for them, looking awkward and nervous and adorable. Louis elbows Zayn as soon as they're within eyesight of him.
"That him?" Louis whispers.
"Yeah," Zayn says back.
Louis smiles. "Typical." He bounds up to Liam.
"Hi! I'm Louis! I'm the friend Zayn brings along places when he needs to look better!" Louis gives Liam his most charming smile and holds his hand out and laughs loudly and Zayn smiles too, loving Louis so much in that moment.
Liam grins at Louis. "Hey, hi! Wow. I'm Liam, I've just moved here, so I'm like. Overwhelmed, a bit."
Louis bounces up and down. "No worries! We're your new best mates, it's all good! We'll show you a good time." He throws Liam a lewd wink.
Liam laughs, a little nervously, and looks over at Zayn. "Hi," he says, a little quieter, a little shyer.
"Hi," Zayn says back. "I, um. Sorry about Lou, really. That's actually exactly how he introduced himself to me, too, when we were nine."
Louis winks again. "That's true."
Liam laughs again, a little less nervously. "Am I supposed to be reassured?"
"Yes!" Louis yells.
Zayn mouths No! from behind Louis's head. Liam laughs, again. Zayn really, really likes Liam's laugh.
*
So, Zayn has a little problem. Actually, Zayn has about 11 stone of problem. Zayn has a Louis of a problem.
Zayn's problem is that when he's had a few drinks, he sort of melts into Louis. No matter what, if Louis is around -- and Louis is always around if alcohol's around -- Zayn turns into a puddle around Louis's feet. Or Louis's lap. Or Louis's shoulder.
It's... not ideal, when Zayn's out with a boy that he might kind of like. A boy who's decidedly not Louis. For once.
So, Zayn has a problem. And maybe it wouldn't be quite so massive of a problem if Louis didn't have the exact same goddamn problem.
But, because Zayn's life never seems to turn out exactly how he wants it to, he's walking home with his arm around Louis and their hips bumping together and they're giggling madly and Liam had said goodbye kind of softly, kind of confused.
Zayn has a bigger problem than the Louis problem, it seems. It seems Zayn's problem is that he's an actual fucking idiot.
"I'm an actual fucking idiot," he says into Louis's ear.
Louis turns to him, all glassy-eyed and grinning. "Probably! Why, though?"
"D'you think Liam thinks we're together?" Zayn asks.
Louis considers this. "Well, I mean, you just met, so probably not? But ask him out again! Maybe he will next time?"
Zayn kicks at Louis's foot, but holds onto him so he doesn't fall. "No, you shithead. You and me."
"Oh." Louis looks thoughtful. "Ohhh. Yeah, I see. I see what you're saying. Oh. Yeah. Oh, that could maybe be a problem. We maybe shouldn't have drank so much."
Zayn sighs and it turns into a sort of tired moan halfway out of his lungs. "Why me, Louis? Why always me?"
Louis rolls his eyes. "Okay, Morrissey, I think you're gonna be fine. Just text him! Straighten it out! Or," Louis pauses to chuckle at his own pun, "gay it out." He chuckles again.
"You're the actual fucking worst," Zayn says, pulling him closer.
Louis cuddles into Zayn's neck. "Shh, baby, just love me."
"Yeah, yeah. How are we ever going to get laid if we go places together?"
Louis tightens his grip on Zayn's waist. "Don't think like that, because you can't leave me."
Zayn stares down the darkened streets, focusing on putting one foot in front of the other. "Couldn't ever, Lou. Couldn't ever."
*
Louis comes back to his house, as usual, and curls up under his quilt, as usual. Zayn lays down next to him, as usual, and wraps whatever limb is closest around him, as usual.
They stay there, touching, sharing heartbeats, for a few minutes, just being together.
"Zayn?"
"Yeah?"
"I think I might -- I think I might tell my parents."
Zayn's silent for a moment. Then he says, "If you ever need anything, Louis..."
"I know," Louis says back.
They're quiet again.
"I'm so scared," Louis says, barely audible.
Zayn tightens his arms around him.
"We'll make it. First Mate and Best Mate, yeah? Better than the Hulk and Iron Man."
pairing(s): louis tomlinson + zayn malik as codependent best friends (with louis/zayn overtones, references to future zayn malik/liam payne)
rating: NC-17
word count: 9,000ish
disclaimer: hilariously untrue
summary: AU. zayn is kind of quiet and louis kind of loud and they kind of fall into each other without hesitation. prequel to don't give up on us quite yet and you be the motive and i'll be the gun -- prior reading not necessarily required, as this is a prequel.
notes: um, so this happened kind of quickly, didn't it? this is for, like, everyone: mozarts_piano, jannika, wandersfound (because i love her), and of course, all the credit and love in the world to estuve who is, like, the basis of everything and puts up with me like a champ and has done for a good 3 years, even when i'm just a big fat whiner for hours. also thanks to marlboro lites, because that shit gets it done.
if anyone has any, like, requests from this verse, feel free to suggest them. this is all i've had planned, but it's been a great ride, so i'm open to more. thank you so insanely much for the feedback and the beautiful comments and compliments and i just seriously am overwhelmed and honoured and i love you all. x
Zayn meets Louis when he's nine years old. He's just moved to Doncaster and he's stuck in this new school and he's the youngest in his Year 5 class and everyone has their friends already and he sits at the back, hoping no one notices him.
Turns out, that's too much to hope for when he's a new boy, a dark boy.
Jeremy Donner notices him first. "Oi, what's this then? You get lost in the sand dunes or summat?"
Zayn keeps his eyes down, his bangs tangling in his eyelashes. He doesn't say anything. He's played this game before. His dad just says, "Wait till you're bigger," and Zayn nods silently. When will he be big enough?
He doodles in his new notebook. He doodles a man, a nondescript man hovering in thin air because art period has never taught him foreground or background or anything but don't drip the paint, boy. He looks at his little nameless man and writes "Bruce" underneath him. He moves his pencil over two inches and draws a monster, a huge beast, muscles rippling through skin, teeth bared. He writes "Hulk" underneath his beast.
His pencil moves back to Bruce and he scribbles out the letters. Writes "Zayn" instead.
Someone jostles his arm on the 'n,' someone has dropped their bag on the desk next to him. Zayn immediately tenses, moves his body to the furthest edge of his chair. He doesn't look over. It's not worth it, it's never worth it. Eye contact is dangerous, sometimes, he knows.
The kid next to him doesn't seem to get the message. The kid next to him leans into his arm, leans over his paper. "Hey! That's sick!" the kid next to him says. "Can you draw me next?"
Zayn glances over at this boy. He's skinny and lanky and his limbs are kind of sticking out at weird angles and his eyes are bright and a little wild and he's got this crazy smile and his hair is poking out of his head like untrimmed grass.
"I'm Louis!" the boy chirps. "But I wanna be Iron Man, so, like, can you do that?"
Zayn stares at him mutely. Louis's smile dims a bit and he glances down. "Or, like, you don't have to? I mean. Sorry?"
Zayn looks down at his paper, then back up at Louis. Louis is now rustling around in his bag, his cheeks are a bit flushed. "I'm Zayn," he says quietly.
Louis's head shoots up at his voice, and the smile's back. "Nice! You're new, right? I mean, that's a dumb question, I know everybody here, but like. Yeah. Right?"
Zayn nods. "Yeah, um. I just moved here from Bradford." He's whispering because he doesn't know how to be loud anymore. Louis looks like he knows how to be loud.
"Oh! Cool! I mean, it sucks that you had to move, though! I'd hate to have to move. Was it sucky to have to leave all your mates? But it's okay, I'll be your mate! So you don't miss them too much. Kind of like a plaster? Only those hurt to rip off, so don't rip me off." Louis hasn't stopped smiling, his face stretched and open and Zayn doesn't know what to do. He furrows his brow.
"I haven't got mates," he says.
Louis's mouth opens, then closes, then opens again. "Well. Can I be your mate? I'll be your first mate, how's that? First mate, best mate -- sounds kind of like a codename thing, right? That could be cool. I'll be First Mate and you be Best Mate and then we'll, like, I dunno -- fight crime! Or at least chase people at recess?"
Zayn blinks. "Okay?" Then he nods. "Okay, yeah."
Louis is still smiling at him.
Zayn looks back down, starts drawing another little man. His pencil hovers over the paper after he draws an oval for the head. "Thank you," he mutters.
Louis kicks at his foot. "So, do you like the football? I'm a big Man United fan. Did you see the match on Saturday up in the Toon? Giggsy just tore it up, didn't he? Did you see his goal? Unbelievable! I'm gonna be as good as him someday. And don't even get me started on Gazza Neville, right? Incredible, wasn't he? And Van Nistelrooy's goal in the 29th? I thought I was about to piss my pants!" Louis is bouncing in his chair, now. His feet are twitching like he'd rather be on a pitch than in a classroom.
"I'm, um. I've always been a Bradford City fan," Zayn says. "But, y'know, I suppose I like United for the Prem."
"Oh, mate." Louis pulls at his arm excitedly. "If we're gonna be best friends, you're gonna have to be a Man United fan, or else what am I gonna do? Who's your favourite footballer of all time?"
Zayn considers this. He's always played, but he's never fully paid attention to the leagues. He'd rather be out there himself. "I dunno, really. The original Gazza? George Best? Cantona? Always wished I could play like Cantona..." he trails off, looking to Louis for approval.
"All good choices! Oh! What part of town are you in? You should join my team! That'd be so much fun! You be Cantona and I'll be Giggsy and it'll be like. Dream team!" Louis is still squirming, unable to sit still. Zayn remembers the phrases 'attention deficit' and 'Ritalin' and 'Adderall' being thrown around when he was younger. He wonders if Louis has ever heard those words. Zayn hopes not. Zayn doesn't want Louis dulled.
*
It startles Zayn, a little, how dedicated Louis is to being his friend, his first friend, his best friend.
Jeremy Donner finds him again, during a lunch period two weeks after that first day. "Oi, it's our little Paki charity case, did you pinch your lunch off someone, then?"
Louis stands up then, all wiry muscles and shining eyes. "Wanna say that again?"
Jeremy looks at Louis scathingly. "Simmer down, Tomlinson. What, you've been practicing your handbags with your sisters or summat? Don't hurt yourself."
Louis steps closer. "Can't talk about Zayn that way."
"Can't I?" Jeremy holds himself a little taller, a good four inches above Louis. A good six inches wider. Zayn's just watching, wide-eyed, jam butty halfway to his mouth.
"Nope," Louis says simply. "He's my best mate."
Jeremy scoffs. "Everyone's your best mate. Whatever. Go do your eyeshadow or whatever it is you fancy and leave the games to the big boys."
But he leaves -- Jeremy leaves. Louis sits back down, looking immeasurably proud and pleased. He leans into Zayn and whispers conspiratorially, "He was scared."
Zayn laughs, kicks Louis in the shin under the table. "So was I, mate, you're terrifying. Like a Jack Russell terrier."
"Oi! I'm a bulldog, I'll have you know. A pitbull. A wolf. A sabre-toothed tiger. I'm ferocious!" Louis lets out a growl.
"Okay, Simba. Either eat your lunch or I will." Zayn makes a move to grab his packet of crisps, but Louis sees him coming and snatches them away.
"Reflexes like lightening, innit?"
Zayn rolls his eyes. His laugh has gotten louder over the past few weeks. He just had to dust off a few cobwebs.
*
So it goes, really. They're best friends. Best friends, Zayn thinks. He thinks maybe best isn't the right word. He thinks maybe there should be a better word for this clawing desire to just be with someone at all times. Talking, kicking a football, walking around, laying in bed, sitting in the dark, playing silly games, chasing pigeons off the footie pitch, just. Everything he's doing, every single thing that he does, he wants Louis to be there. Wants Louis to be a part of it.
And Louis -- Louis always will, which surprises Zayn. Louis surprises Zayn in so many ways, and at first he thinks it's because he's never had a friend, and certainly not a best friend. He thinks that he's been missing out on this best friend lark if all best friends are like Louis. But time goes on and Zayn drags Louis to libraries and comic book shops and walks down by the river and the factories and he talks about what he wants to grow up to be and Louis listens. Louis, inexhaustible, tireless Louis. Louis, with no attention span to speak of, no reverence to speak of, listens to him. Listens to him ramble about comics, about books, about becoming a doctor. And he'll smile and brush his arm against Zayn's and nod and say, quietly -- the only time Louis does quiet, "Yeah, mate, yeah. You'd be so good at that. You're so smart."
And sometimes. Sometimes, sometimes, so very rarely, but sometimes, Louis will talk, too. Sometimes Louis will talk about his sisters, something funny that happened that day in maths, or how sometimes he just gets so frustrated -- he's the oldest, he's from a different part of his mum's life, he's not totally part of her new, blonde family. Sometimes he talks about how maybe he'd like to go to university, study something worthwhile, something that's not football. But then he quickly amends that, laughing brightly, because that's just blasphemy, isn't it, Zayner? And then he'll run down by the water and scare the birds and laugh so loudly, standing in the sun, looking back to Zayn. Waiting for Zayn to join him.
And Zayn always does, because Louis has got some kind of magnetism, some kind of pull, and Zayn's too happy in those moments to resist.
*
When they're eleven, Louis gets a girlfriend. She's called Alix and Louis holds her hand at school and carries her books and walks her home.
Zayn doesn't mind, really. So he has to walk home alone sometimes. He had nine years of being alone, it's alright. Really. He takes the long way home, the way down by the river and kicks a rock to his alley. It's fine, really. He doesn't need to be around Louis all the time.
He just wants to be.
And then, two weeks later, Louis catches up to him after the final bell. "Zayn! Hold up, mate!"
Zayn turns, stops. Waits for Louis to dash up to him. "What happened to Alix, then?"
Louis looks down, scuffs his trainer in the dirt. "She's gone off me, I guess."
Zayn flinches a bit and pulls Louis into his side. "How could someone go off you?"
"Said I'm too loud, too annoying." Louis shrugs, clearly trying to hide how it affected him.
"What crap," Zayn says. "How stupid. She's stupid. Whatever. More of you for me. I've missed you, this has sucked. Who needs a girlfriend, anyway?"
Louis huffs out a little laugh. "Yeah. Whatever! I missed you, too! Her eye rolls were much meaner than yours."
"I don't roll my eyes that much, shut up."
Louis scoffs, and leans in front of Zayn's face, rolling his eyeballs back into his head so exaggeratedly that Zayn bursts out laughing. Louis steps back, looking pleased with himself.
Zayn's still giggling, looking over at Louis, who's got a grin on his face finally. "Why bother with anyone who doesn't think you're funny, right, Lou?"
Louis nudges Zayn with his elbow and his grin fades into a soft quirk of his mouth and a gentle look in his eyes. "Right, Zayner. We're too good for anyone else. Screw 'em if they don't like us!"
They race the rest of the way home, neck and neck, until Louis pushes Zayn into the shrubbery just before Louis's gate.
"Wanker!" Zayn screams.
Louis slams into his house, laughing all the way.
*
When they're thirteen, Zayn starts to feel. Different. He's got friends and he's got interests and he's doing well in school, but. Something's off. Something's strange.
Something sharp gets him right in the gut when Louis curls around him in his bed, whispering about girls, whispering about what they're doing this weekend, whispering whispering whispering.
He keeps his mouth shut about all of it. It’s not worth it. Not worth Louis pulling away.
On a Saturday night in February, Zayn gets a call from Stan. It's past midnight and Stan's more Louis's friend -- everyone's more Louis's friend, honestly -- so he considers not answering. He sends it to voicemail, and two seconds later it starts buzzing again.
"Alright, mate? You do realise the time, yeah?" Zayn says, annoyed.
"Yeah, hey, Zayn, sorry. But, look. You gotta come get Lou. We're at Daniel's and he's a mess and you have to come get him before this gets around." Stan's slurring but the background noise is muffled, as if he's in a bathroom, as if this call is important enough to leave the party.
Zayn sits up. "What's going on?"
Stan sighs. "Just. Get here, yeah? You know where it is?"
"Yeah, yeah," Zayn says, hurriedly, pulling on trousers and a jacket. "Be there soon."
He grabs his keys and wallet, sliding everything into the pocket of his jean jacket, and slips out the door. The streets are quiet and dark and he makes his way to Daniel's, silence pounding through the worry in his veins.
See, like. Louis isn't the smartest. Well, wait. Louis is very smart -- Louis is hilarious and sharp and quick and cunning and, okay, Louis is fucking brilliant. But Louis is careless and reckless and he throws himself around, throws himself into things, throws himself at people. He refuses to protect himself. He protects everyone else -- he protects Zayn, his sisters, his friends -- but he's just so goddamn reckless with himself. It drives Zayn mad.
There are people spilling out over the driveway, onto the lawn, when Zayn reaches Daniel's. He cuts through everyone, pulling anyone he vaguely recognises aside -- Have you seen Tommo? -- and they all shrug and vaguely point. Some laugh and roll their eyes, shaking their heads. Zayn sighs. The standard Tommo is fucking smashed expression, every weekend.
Zayn eventually finds him in a bathroom on the second floor, pressed against the wall, pressed against --
Wait.
Pressed against Andy Smalls.
Zayn stops. He needs to move forward, he needs to pull Louis away, he needs to stop this before someone sees, before someone says something. But. But.
Louis is arching his back, and Andy's hands are on his hips, pulling his shirt up, showing flashes of his lower belly, of the ridges of his hips. He's curved forward, pushed against Andy, and his head his thrown back and the long line of his throat is caught in the light, gleaming from sweat and spit, and his eyes are closed and his mouth is caught open and. Zayn watches and. Fuck. Zayn watches and he wants.
Louis lets out a groan, suddenly, and Andy's hand is pressed against him, pressed against the bulge in his trousers and Zayn cannot let this get farther, cannot let this get out.
"Lou," he chokes out. "Lou, Louis, hey, we gotta get home. Time to come home."
Louis's eyes fly open, dazed and glassy, and his eyelashes flutter wildly until he finds Zayn in the doorway. "Zayn," he gasps.
Zayn ignores how he sounds, ignores how fucked out he is, ignores it all because he has to get Louis out of here right now. "Lou, hey, come with me, okay? Time to come with me."
Andy's turned around, eyes flashing with fear, anger. Zayn looks at him calmly. He doesn't want to say any sort of fucking reassurance, because fuck this kid, honestly, but. Zayn also doesn't want anyone to think he would out them. "It's fine," he bites out. "I won't say anything."
Andy steps off, looking a little calmer, but he's swaying on his feet and Zayn hasn't got time for this. "Louis, we're going," he says a little more forcefully.
Louis is still against the wall, looking boneless and disheveled and turned on and. Zayn glances at the floor before steeling himself. He pulls Louis toward him, gets his arm over his shoulder, gets their hips aligned. "Sleep at mine, yeah?" he murmurs.
Louis bites his shoulder, then kisses his neck. "Yes, please."
Zayn struggles to make Louis walk, half-dragging him between people, between catcalls, between the ubiquitous life of the party as usual, Tommo jeers. He's heavier, now. No longer the skinny boy who looked half in-flight with every step he took. He's heavier and more solid, but still slender -- he just has these fucking curves amidst those sharp angles of bone. Zayn's hands tighten, slipping down to Louis's waist, digging in. He's got these curves -- not like a girl's and not like he's overweight, just. His arse pushes out against his trousers and his stomach curves out slightly and his thighs flex with every movement and. Zayn really cannot be dealing with this right now.
They stumble home in the quiet darkness, the only sound being Louis's occasional incoherent mutterings and Zayn's whispered expletives as he stumbles over cracks in the sidewalk. As they approach Zayn's front walk, he grabs Louis by the hips, pulling him to a stop.
"Lou, hey, Lou, you with me, mate?" He taps Louis's cheek lightly.
Louis smiles up at him. "Hey, beautiful."
Zayn clenches his jaw. "Yeah, hey, we gotta be absolutely quiet, yeah? My parents already think you're mad as hell, alright?"
Louis nods. And nods, and doesn't stop nodding. Zayn closes his eyes and hopes for the best.
They make it to Zayn's bedroom without incident, and Zayn unceremoniously drops Louis onto his bed. Louis groans a little, shifting and sliding around uncomfortably until Zayn sighs.
"Can you get your kit off?" he asks flatly.
Louis just stares up at him. "Spinning," he moans.
"Christ." Zayn starts with his shoes, yanking off the stupid espadrilles Louis loves so much, wrinkling his nose at the faint smell. He moves up to his trousers, gingerly undoing the fly, carefully sliding them down his thighs. Once they're off, Zayn glances up at Louis, deciding quite firmly that he can sleep in his t-shirt.
He pulls off his own jeans and crawls in next to Louis. "You owe me," he says quietly.
Louis shifts over gingerly to look at him. "I believe," he drawls, "you just cockblocked me, Zayner. I think we're even."
Zayn rolls his eyes. "We'll see what you say in the morning, love. Go to sleep."
Louis closes his eyes obediently, but two seconds later they fly back open. "Zayn," he whispers urgently. "Zayn, no, wait, I need to be on the outside. Can't be next to the wall. Zayn, please, easy access to a toilet, you get me?"
Summoning whatever patience he has in reserve, Zayn crawls over Louis, careful not to jostle him. "You're lucky I love you," he says as he slides back under the covers.
"I know," is Louis's quiet response.
*
When Zayn wakes up the next morning, Louis is gone. There's a note on the nightstand, scrawled on the back of a receipt. It just says thx m8 x. Zayn sits up, annoyed.
It's raining heavily outside as Zayn walks to Louis's. His jean jacket soaks through in five minutes and his hair is plastered to his head. His trainers make an awful squelching noise with every step. He blames Louis for all of it.
The house is loud -- as always -- as he stands on the stoop. Knocking doesn't seem to gain any attention, so he lets himself in. Standing just in the door, he sees Louis's mum in the kitchen, tending to the two infant twins. Fizzy is toddling around in the family room and Lottie is passively playing with her dolls in front of the television, which is blasting some American cartoon.
Zayn sticks his head in the kitchen. "Hi, ma'am," he says, hesitantly. Louis's mum turns to look at him, her face softening.
"Hi, darlin', Lou's in his room," she says, smiling. "Would you like something to eat?"
Zayn shakes his head and smiles back at her in thanks, turning quickly toward the stairs.
He knocks on Louis's door at the end of the second floor hallway. "Lou?"
"I'm busy," comes Louis's muffled reply.
Zayn sighs. "Louis, come on."
There's a pause. "I'm wanking."
"No, you're not. I'm coming in." Zayn actually doesn't know if he's about to get an eyeful here, but he's braced himself for the chance.
Louis is curled up on his bed, fully clothed in pajamas. "Fuck you," he says, glancing up at Zayn.
Zayn sits next to him. "So, what's the deal?"
Louis shifts over, making more room on the bed. "Nothing. What do you mean? You came here, mate, not the other way 'round."
"Are we gonna talk about it?" Zayn moves into the cleared space, laying down next to Louis.
Louis pulls his elbow over his eyes. "Talk about what?"
Zayn hums consideringly. "I dunno, the weather? It's a mess out there. Or politics? I hear Blair's not doin' too well. Or, like, I dunno, the fact I had to pull you out from under a bloke last night?"
Louis makes a small noise from under his arm.
"Lou. Come on. I don't care. If you don't wanna talk about it, that's fine, but like. Y'know. Are you okay? Like. It wasn't, like... I mean. He didn't... you know?"
"Christ, Zayn, shut up." Louis rolls to face the opposite way, bringing his knees up to his chest.
Zayn curls his body up behind him, spooning against him, wrapping his arm around his stomach. He whispers into his hair, "I just want to make sure you're okay, Lou, yeah? You know I don't care about anything else."
Louis lets out a shuddering breath. "I just... didn't know how to tell you." His hand finds Zayn's, weaving their fingers together.
"That's okay, Lou. It's okay." Zayn presses a kiss into his soft hair and they stay curled up until they fall asleep.
When Zayn wakes up awhile later, Louis is looking up at him. Louis smiles briefly, glancing away. Zayn takes a deep breath.
"Hey, Lou?"
"Hmm?"
"I... um. Me too. Never, um. Knew how to tell you."
*
They don't talk about it again for a month and a half, almost exactly.
And then they do, sort of.
Louis is sitting on Zayn's bed while Zayn is trying to decide what to wear to Stan's birthday party that night.
"Hey, Zayn?" Louis is picking at the quilt, staring at it intently.
"What?" Zayn says, pulling off another t-shirt, glancing at Louis in the mirror.
Louis shrugs. "Have you ever, like, kissed a bloke?"
Zayn abruptly stops moving, his head caught in fabric, and Louis giggles at him. Zayn lets out a choked half-laugh. "Um. No, why?"
"Just wondering," Louis says lightly. "You're a fucking idiot, by the way. Wear the purple shirt with that stupid wolf on it, it's ironic or something. I hear Stan's parents are out of town, also. We're getting smashed."
Zayn wrestles with the shirt -- how the hell did he get himself this stuck? Louis comes up behind him and slides it off him, his hands warm against his back. Zayn twitches a little, hopes Louis doesn't notice.
"Are we?" Zayn mutters. "Should I be keeping an eye on you?"
"Nah, that's a boring job! Let loose, Zany-Zayn, you're only young once!" Louis throws a pillow at him as he settles back on the bed.
Zayn wears the purple shirt with the stupid wolf on it. Apparently it's ironic.
*
So Zayn lets loose and Louis lets loose and the party is big and loud and it's half past one in the morning and all Zayn really wants right now is to find Louis because Zayn's maybe half past drunk in the morning, also.
"Oi!" Zayn yells in the general direction of a group of girls. "Where's Tommo?"
Some tall brunette rolls her eyes and says back, "Last I heard a group of them were smoking downstairs."
Excellent. Excellent. Zayn gives her a charming smile and wink. "Ta, love."
She pulls a face at him. Whatever. He heads toward the stairs, taking them two at a time.
Louis, Stan, Jon, and Reed are huddled in a small circle, passing a bowl around.
"Oi, lads, room for another?" Zayn says and his voice sounds loud. His cheeks feel hot. He feels a bit wobbly. It's good. He's good.
"Zayn!" Louis says brightly. "Budge over, budge over, let Zayn in. Hi, babe, missed you, where've you been?" Louis pulls him down close, breathes hotly on his neck, hand wrapped around his shoulder. Zayn leans in, resting his head against Louis's temple, dropping his hand up high on Louis's thigh.
Stan arches an eyebrow at them after he takes a hit. "You two are so weird," he says, exhaling smoke thickly before coughing. Zayn smirks.
"Give it," he demands, pointing at the pipe.
Stan passes it over and Zayn takes a long hit, feeling the smoke fill his lungs, feeling it reach his head before he's done inhaling. He sucks in a bit of oxygen and holds it all in, feeling like a balloon, like he could float away. He starts to let out the smoke in wisps, loves seeing the tendrils float through the air.
"Ooh! Sexy," Louis laughs, staring at his mouth. Zayn smiles at him, before blowing the rest out into Louis's face with a long sigh.
Zayn takes two more hits, laughing and exclaiming, "I'm just catching up!" when the other boys start smacking at him to pass it on.
Louis is still staring at him. "I think I need a bit of air. Zayn, yeah?" he says, already tugging on Zayn's arm.
Zayn nods. Yes. Air sounds good. Air with Louis sounds good. With Louis always sounds good, yes. Good.
The patio out back is crammed with people and the drive out front is crammed with people, so Louis grabs hold of Zayn's hand and pulls him out into the street, starts walking them down the block.
"Are we leaving, then?" Zayn asks, keeping tight grasp of Louis's hand.
Louis shrugs. "Maybe? I dunno." He presses closer, till their shoulders are touching, no room between them.
They walk for awhile, Louis alternating between intense observations of their surroundings and mad giggling. Zayn just smiles at him sleepily.
"Your cheekbones, Lou," he says, slowly.
"What about my cheekbones?" Louis smiles back.
Zayn raises his other hand to Louis's face, stroking his thumb over the sharp edges of bone. "I dunno, they're great. Nice. Pretty. So pretty."
Louis's smile fades into something smaller and his eyes darken. "Yeah?"
Zayn nods, eyes dropping to Louis's mouth.
Louis stops walking and grabs hold of Zayn's stupid ironic wolf shirt. "You've got these eyelashes," he mumbles nonsensically before pulling Zayn in.
Zayn snaps into reality suddenly with the first press of Louis's lips. They're warm and wet and he tastes like weed and beer and it's good suddenly, it's good and familiar and his hands travel up to Louis's sides, just under his ribs on the curve of his waist, thumbs rubbing into his warm shirt, feeling the softness of his skin through the fabric. He pulls Louis closer, wanting to feel how warm he is everywhere, and Louis has got the fingers of one hand curled in the hair at the back of Zayn's head and the other on the small of his back, pressing in.
Zayn pulls back minutely to catch his breath, and their lips catch, pull apart slowly. Louis has his eyes closed and a small smile on his wet lips and Zayn bites down on his own lip because fuck, he's getting hard and Louis is so fucking sexy in this moment. His fingers dig into Louis's waist harder, they slide down to sharp hipbones, thumbing under his shirt at the dip between them and the soft curve of his belly. Louis lets out a soft noise and pulls Zayn back in by the hand still in Zayn's hair. Zayn goes willingly, finding Louis's mouth again, curling his tongue in immediately.
Louis lets his other hand, the one on Zayn's back, drop down farther, down to slide into Zayn's back pocket, pulling him closer with fingers digging into his arse and suddenly Zayn's crotch is pressing against Louis's and Louis's hips are moving in a tight rhythm, small circles against Zayn and fuck Zayn's so hard and so is Louis and they're in the middle of a street in Stan's neighbourhood.
Zayn pulls back again, breathing heavily. "Lou, Lou, hold on, Lou."
Louis looks up at him, dazed and smiling and not letting go of Zayn. "What?"
"Lou, we're in the middle of the street, like." Zayn glances around them. It's probably two in the morning, it's not like they'd get caught, but. This isn't exactly what he wants.
Louis blinks. "Oh. Oh. Yeah, um. Yours?"
Zayn nods.
They stumble back to Zayn's house, the giddiness of their crossfade bleeding into exhaustion, dizziness. They collapse into Zayn's bed, holding hands, fully dressed, and fall asleep wound around each other.
*
Louis is still there when Zayn wakes up. Zayn gives himself a point in his own favour. He wriggles around intentionally, jiggling the bed, until Louis cracks open an eye.
"Such an arse," Louis grumbles.
Zayn laughs a little, in such a good mood. "Morning, princess."
"Did you get laid or something?" Louis peers at him curiously, before his eyes widen and he blushes. Zayn laughs a little more.
"Nah. Almost. Guess I passed out before sealing the deal."
Louis presses his lips together. "Guess so."
Zayn feels his smile drop as he looks at Louis carefully. "You okay?"
Louis shrugs, then nods. "I just. Should we, like, talk?"
"I... okay?" Zayn's feeling a bit lost.
Louis nods again, shortly, and rolls over onto his back. Zayn stays on his side, staring at Louis in profile.
"Like, you're my best friend, right? Like. We can't, like. We can't fuck with that. Don't ever want to have to find another you, you know? Don't think I could ever find another you." Louis laughs, a bit embarrassedly.
Zayn feels his stomach drop a bit. He rolls onto his back as well. "No. Yeah. You're right. Yeah."
Louis turns his head to glance at him. "We could be like. I dunno. Convenient? Just like. With boundaries?"
Zayn flinches. "Are you really suggesting, like, friends with benefits, Lou?"
Louis shrugs. "I mean. Gonna be tough to ever get some in this town, you know? Just like. It's a possibility. You're pretty fucking fit, mate. And I already love you."
Zayn's lungs feel tight. "Right. Yeah. I dunno, I guess? Maybe we should just. Wait and see?"
Louis nods slowly. They're quiet for a few minutes.
Then Louis says, "Wait. Zayn?"
"Yeah, Lou," Zayn replies tiredly.
"You don't, like... you don't like me or anything, do you?" Louis's voice is small, almost timid. Louis doesn't do timid.
Zayn wants to laugh. Or cry? He's not sure. "Only when I'm stoned, apparently, mate. We're all good." He gives Louis a little smile.
Louis's face relaxes and he turns to throw an arm around Zayn's middle. "Last night was pretty fucking hot, though," he mutters into Zayn's shoulder.
Zayn reaches up to run a hand through Louis's hair. "I suppose I can't take all the credit, there, babe."
It'll be fine. He'll be fine. He's still got Louis and he'll always have Louis. It'll all be fine.
*
Because Zayn's not even fourteen and because he's gay and because his best friend is too and because his best friend is also some kind of fucking sex magnet and because he's weak, he's sitting on his bed and he's got Louis on his knees between his legs.
"Lou, Lou, Lou, Lou," he's chanting and Louis looks up at him and, okay, yep, that's Zayn done, done, done. He pulls Louis back by his hair and Louis finishes him off with his hand, and then he's yanking Louis up to the bed, quickly unbuttoning his fly and pulling him out, jerking him with long strokes until Louis is curling his fingers into Zayn's hair, pulling him into a harsh kiss that's more Louis heavily breathing into Zayn's mouth but Zayn doesn't mind because Louis is hot and hard in his hand and he's making these delicious little noises and squirming under Zayn's body and it's all so fucking sexy he can't even handle it, he's just come and he feels himself twitching already and -- jesus, Louis is breathing harder and panting out, "More, Zayn, more, yes, come on, come on, babe, yeah, yeah," and then his hand is wet and Louis is boneless, stretched out on his bed, and.
Zayn slumps over beside him. Louis smiles at him. "We make good choices."
Zayn's not sure about that, but he smiles at Louis anyway, before whacking him on the arm. "Go get us a flannel."
Louis pulls a face. "Why me? It's your house."
"Because I said so," Zayn replies, as if he expects that to work with Louis Tomlinson.
Louis gives him a disbelieving look, before laughing. But he gets up and walks shakily to the bathroom. "Write this day down in your diary, Malik, because this ain't happening again."
"Nice arse," Zayn calls after him. He gets a middle finger in return.
*
It becomes a semi-regular thing, which Zayn knew would happen as soon as he gave in to the first time. They suck each other off, they jerk each other off, and it's like, whatever. It's whatever. Zayn's fine with it; he's getting off with a hot boy whom he loves more than anything and it's almost like everything he wants. He's fine with it because Louis is still Louis and he still comes to Zayn's house when things get too much at home, when there are too many babies crying and too much shouting and too much noise and activity and sometimes Louis just needs to fade. He comes to Zayn's and curls up on his bed and they watch some old Batman cartoons and sometimes they get naked and sometimes Louis sucks two of Zayn's fingers in his mouth and guides them between his legs and sometimes it gets so intense that Zayn finds himself pressing nonsense words into the angles of Louis's collarbones, hoping like hell they're not coherent.
Zayn worries about Louis so much, about Louis not protecting himself, about Louis giving too much of himself away. He worries so much for Louis and in the process he fails to realise he gave Louis every single first. Louis has his first friendship, his first kiss, his first blowjob, his first fuck, his first love. Louis has all of it and it's not like Zayn's lent him a jumper, it's not like he gave him a goddamn candy bar -- Louis has all of it and there's no way to for Louis to give it back, to repay him. Louis has Zayn in all of these intangible and scary ways and Zayn's so terrified it's going to mean he loses Louis in the process of it all falling apart.
And it does fall apart. It does end, just like it was always going to, because friends with benefits never works out and there's always someone who's going to get hurt and always someone doing the hurting. This is no different and the variables are x and y and there are just. No surprises for anyone. But he doesn't lose Louis.
They're fourteen, now, and Zayn's worried about everything: Louis, himself, GSCE's, the future -- everything in his fourteen year old world.
He's waiting for Louis after the final bell, leaning against the brick of the Upper School, smoking a fag. He sees Louis walking toward him, but he's not alone. Some tall, blonde boy is walking next to him, leaning down, hanging onto Louis's words. Zayn recognises him vaguely, some sixth former called Steve or something.
Louis looks up and catches Zayn's eye. He smiles, and turns back to Steve, shrugging apologetically, gesturing to Zayn. Stevie is nodding, and scribbling something in the corner of a piece of notebook paper, tearing it off and handing it to Louis.
Zayn drops his fag, grinding it into the cement with his toe. He gives himself exactly ten seconds to be upset, before resigning himself.
He smiles at Louis when he bounds over. "Met someone, then, did you?"
Louis grins back a little hesitantly before shrugging. "I dunno, really. Seems nice. Fit, and all. Whatever. How was your day, sexy?"
Zayn holds onto his smile. "Fine, mate. The usual. You know."
Louis sighs, nods. "I can't wait to fucking get out of this town. First chance we get, Zayner, we're moving to London."
"Sounds good, Lou," Zayn says distantly. "You can play for Arsenal."
Louis lets out a sharp laugh and pinches Zayn's nipple. "Fuck off!"
*
When they're fifteen, Louis has a trial for Doncaster Rovers.
It doesn't go well.
He spends three hours hiding in his room while Zayn pounds on his door, begging to be let in.
He spends the next three days in Zayn's bed, curled up in Zayn's quilt, curled up in Zayn's arms.
He doesn't touch a football for three months. He's not quite himself for a bit longer. He drinks too much. He cries too much. He's quiet too much.
But one night when he's about to pass out after a bottle of whiskey he stole from his stepdad, he says to Zayn, "I don't know what I'd do if I lost you. You're the only thing keeping me sane."
And Zayn tries so hard not to cry because that would be so selfish. He presses kisses to Louis's hair and holds him close and resolves, finally, after everything, to be the best friend he could possibly be to Louis. He's only ever wanted to be close to him, only ever wanted to be there for him, and there's no way -- no way -- he's going to risk that for a few more shags. He can love Louis the best he knows how, and he doesn't need anything else.
*
When Zayn's sixteen, he walks into his dad's office because he forgot his lunch at home and his mum asked Zayn to bring it into him. So, he goes to his dad's office and stops at the reception desk because apparently he needs a pass to go up to his dad's floor and there's this boy sitting there.
"Hi, um. I'm here to see Yaser Malik?" Zayn gets the sentence out somehow, feels his face redden.
The boy behind the desk looks up at him and gives him this smile. He's got dark blonde hair, straightened fringe dropping down into his eyes. He kind of brushes his hair back with his fingers and Zayn can't stop looking at him. There's a birthmark on his neck. He's got... arms.
Zayn actually and actively wishes he wasn't the stupidest person alive for once.
"Cool!" the boy says. It's really not that cool, is what Zayn would normally say, dripping disdain and condescension, but if this boy thinks it's cool, then, like. Yeah, sure. Zayn can get on board with that. Cool.
Zayn's so stupid he wants to put his head under the wheels of a bus.
"Yes," Zayn says.
The boy just looks at him for awhile, and Zayn doesn't know what's going on -- what is this why is he looking at me like that did I say something out loud -- and then he says, "Oh! Oh, god, sorry." He's laughing embarrassedly, this boy is. "Third floor. Here's the elevator key. Wow. Like. Sorry."
"Right. Um. Thanks?" Zayn backs away and almost runs into a potted cactus. For fuck's sake. He wishes Louis were here. Louis would have some choice words to put Zayn in his place, because god fucking dammit.
"No problem!" the boy calls after him.
Zayn bites his tongue to keep from replying again.
When Zayn comes back down to the lobby, the boy is still there. Naturally. Obviously this is his job, so he's probably going to still going to be doing it ten minutes after Zayn saw him last.
Zayn's having a rough day.
The boy looks up again as Zayn approaches the desk, clutching the elevator key. "Um. Thanks."
He gets a smile back. "I'm Liam, by the way. Not that you care, just, like. In case you wanted to know? Or whatever."
Zayn gives him a little smile. "I'm Zayn."
Liam brightens up. "Sorry about earlier, Zayn. That was pretty embarrassing for me. It's my first day. I've just moved up here from Wolverhampton about two minutes ago for this work experience gig and I'm kind of a mess right now."
"Oh," Zayn says. Then he wants to punch himself. "I mean. Oh."
What the fuck.
He gathers himself hastily. "Do you have friends up here at all?"
Liam shakes his head slowly. "Haven't really got friends anywhere," he says, and then flushes bright red. "Oh, cool, wow, I'm just making myself sound awesome today, aren't I?"
Zayn laughs a little. "Nah, it's chill, I can relate. But, um, we could like. Exchange numbers or something? Like, you could maybe come out with me and my mates tonight or whatever? If you wanted, I mean. If not, that's, like, totally fine. Like, no problem. Doubt you want to, anyway."
Liam smiles at him with all these, like, teeth. And stuff. Mouth. "No, wow, that'd be so great. Super great. I'd love that."
Zayn just looks at him. "Super great, yeah." He writes his number on the back of a business card on the desk and slides it over to Liam. "Text me when you get off, yeah?"
Liam stares at his number for a second, as if in shock. "Yes! I will. Awesome. Love it. Great. See you later!"
"Cool. Yeah. Okay. Nice," Zayn babbles and turns to leave, turning fully this time. He'll never fall victim to a potted cactus again.
*
He rings Louis on the bus back to his house. "I'm the fucking stupidest person to walk the earth. No, wait. Not even human. I'm the fucking stupidest creature to ever, like, breathe air. No, wait. I'm the fucking stupidest creature to ever, like, I dunno. Be an organism."
"Wait, what? Orgasm, what?" Louis says back, sounding distracted.
Zayn rolls his eyes. "What are you doing?"
There's a pause. "Homework?"
"Shut up, what are you doing?"
There's another pause. "Watching One Tree Hill, okay, sorry, christ, what are you on about?"
"How stupid I am, arsehole. Pity me." Zayn presses his forehead against the window of the bus.
"Alright, Zayn, lay it on me. What's up?"
"There's this thing. This, like, boy-type-thing." Zayn sighs.
Louis audibly perks up. "Oh! Ooh! Tell me tell me tell me."
"There's this like. Receptionist at my dad's office. He's like. A boy. And stuff?"
"For chrissakes, Zayn, do I have to, like, beat this out of you?"
"I just. Oh, god. I was such an idiot, Lou, I was rambling and, like, stupid and just entirely the biggest fucking twat in the world and I gave him my number? Oh, we're going out tonight, by the way."
"You and this boy?" Louis sounds incredulous, a little shocked.
"No, Louis, do try and keep up," Zayn snaps.
Louis makes a frustrated noise. "If you were talking proper English, mate, maybe I could. Who's going out tonight, then?"
"You and me. And maybe Liam. The boy. Thing. Oh, god, Lou, what if he comes?"
Louis says slowly, "So, wait. You asked him out with me?"
Zayn opens his mouth. Then he closes it. Then he groans. "I guess?"
Louis is laughing openly now. "Oh, for fuck's sake, Malik, you are priceless. Alright, we'll go out with him. He'll probably think we're the kinkiest sixteen year olds ever, but we'll do it."
Zayn is actually contemplating throwing himself out the window of the moving bus. "Oh, my god. Louis, wait. You can't, like. No, wait, you have to be normal. And, like, nice. And not yourself. Oh, fucking hell, why is this happening, oh my god."
Louis is still laughing down the phone. "Oh, god, Zayn, you're so adorable. No, it'll be fine. We'll make him love you. We'll get you a proper boyfriend or die trying."
"Fuck off," Zayn mutters.
"Oi! No way to speak to your fairy godmother, mate, remember that."
"Fairy something, alright," Zayn says and hits end call.
Christ.
*
Liam texts him later that afternoon. Zayn doesn't look at until a half an hour later because he's pretending he's not pathetic.
hi :):) this is liam, sitll watn to go out l8r.,?.
Zayn bites back a smile, and types, yeah, mate, are you drunk already?
He gets a text back almost immediately.
omg srory sory im hopless at spellign, not drunk1!!!!
Zayn wants to actually end his life for being so endeared. What the actual, honest, legitimate fuck is going on. He calls Louis again.
"Is this about the boy?" Louis asks immediately upon answering.
"No. Fuck you. Where are we going tonight?" Zayn replies.
Louis snorts. "You made these plans, mate, shouldn't you figure it out?"
"Louis, god, please, come on. You're the fun one. Just. Where are we going?" Zayn is kind of desperate. Pathetic.
"Alright, alright. Let's go to that weird Horse Whisperer pub downtown, yeah?"
"Brilliant. Like, 8ish?"
"Sure, whatever. I'll come to yours, first. God forbid you choose an outfit without me."
"You're the best, the very very best, the best of the best. Thanks, Lou, see you soon, bye." Zayn hangs up in a rush, anxious to reply to Liam.
there's this pub that doesnt card on silver st called the horse whisperer or something twatty like that. 8ish?
Twenty seconds later, his phone vibrates.
bralliant :):) :) see u thn
*
He ends up wearing Louis's trousers and Louis's jumper. At least he's got his own trainers on.
"Alright, Zayn. Do we need to have a codeword or something? Like, if you're trying to pull, I'm not trying to hang around and, like, watch. Christ. I can't believe I'm third-wheeling for you." Louis shakes his head.
Zayn bites his lip. "You're not third-wheeling! You're. Er. Wingmanning? That's a thing?"
"Right, right. Okay. So. Codeword? Like, I have no idea what this is. Why am I even here?"
"Moral support!" Zayn grabs onto Louis's wrist. "Seriously, Lou... you know."
Louis looks at him and his eyes soften. "Hey, Zayn, come on. He'd be crazy not to love you. Anyone who gets to know you loves you."
Zayn glances at Louis from the corner of his eye. "You're the only one who knows me, mate."
"Well? My point stands." Louis shakes off Zayn's grasp on his wrist and takes his hand instead. "Just stay calm, okay? And don't shut down. And just. Be yourself. Be funny and smart and sarcastic and sweet and everything you already are, okay?"
Zayn wraps his fingers around Louis's. "Thanks, Lou," he says quietly.
Louis just squeezes his hand and gives him a small smile, shaking his head.
*
Liam's waiting outside the pub for them, looking awkward and nervous and adorable. Louis elbows Zayn as soon as they're within eyesight of him.
"That him?" Louis whispers.
"Yeah," Zayn says back.
Louis smiles. "Typical." He bounds up to Liam.
"Hi! I'm Louis! I'm the friend Zayn brings along places when he needs to look better!" Louis gives Liam his most charming smile and holds his hand out and laughs loudly and Zayn smiles too, loving Louis so much in that moment.
Liam grins at Louis. "Hey, hi! Wow. I'm Liam, I've just moved here, so I'm like. Overwhelmed, a bit."
Louis bounces up and down. "No worries! We're your new best mates, it's all good! We'll show you a good time." He throws Liam a lewd wink.
Liam laughs, a little nervously, and looks over at Zayn. "Hi," he says, a little quieter, a little shyer.
"Hi," Zayn says back. "I, um. Sorry about Lou, really. That's actually exactly how he introduced himself to me, too, when we were nine."
Louis winks again. "That's true."
Liam laughs again, a little less nervously. "Am I supposed to be reassured?"
"Yes!" Louis yells.
Zayn mouths No! from behind Louis's head. Liam laughs, again. Zayn really, really likes Liam's laugh.
*
So, Zayn has a little problem. Actually, Zayn has about 11 stone of problem. Zayn has a Louis of a problem.
Zayn's problem is that when he's had a few drinks, he sort of melts into Louis. No matter what, if Louis is around -- and Louis is always around if alcohol's around -- Zayn turns into a puddle around Louis's feet. Or Louis's lap. Or Louis's shoulder.
It's... not ideal, when Zayn's out with a boy that he might kind of like. A boy who's decidedly not Louis. For once.
So, Zayn has a problem. And maybe it wouldn't be quite so massive of a problem if Louis didn't have the exact same goddamn problem.
But, because Zayn's life never seems to turn out exactly how he wants it to, he's walking home with his arm around Louis and their hips bumping together and they're giggling madly and Liam had said goodbye kind of softly, kind of confused.
Zayn has a bigger problem than the Louis problem, it seems. It seems Zayn's problem is that he's an actual fucking idiot.
"I'm an actual fucking idiot," he says into Louis's ear.
Louis turns to him, all glassy-eyed and grinning. "Probably! Why, though?"
"D'you think Liam thinks we're together?" Zayn asks.
Louis considers this. "Well, I mean, you just met, so probably not? But ask him out again! Maybe he will next time?"
Zayn kicks at Louis's foot, but holds onto him so he doesn't fall. "No, you shithead. You and me."
"Oh." Louis looks thoughtful. "Ohhh. Yeah, I see. I see what you're saying. Oh. Yeah. Oh, that could maybe be a problem. We maybe shouldn't have drank so much."
Zayn sighs and it turns into a sort of tired moan halfway out of his lungs. "Why me, Louis? Why always me?"
Louis rolls his eyes. "Okay, Morrissey, I think you're gonna be fine. Just text him! Straighten it out! Or," Louis pauses to chuckle at his own pun, "gay it out." He chuckles again.
"You're the actual fucking worst," Zayn says, pulling him closer.
Louis cuddles into Zayn's neck. "Shh, baby, just love me."
"Yeah, yeah. How are we ever going to get laid if we go places together?"
Louis tightens his grip on Zayn's waist. "Don't think like that, because you can't leave me."
Zayn stares down the darkened streets, focusing on putting one foot in front of the other. "Couldn't ever, Lou. Couldn't ever."
*
Louis comes back to his house, as usual, and curls up under his quilt, as usual. Zayn lays down next to him, as usual, and wraps whatever limb is closest around him, as usual.
They stay there, touching, sharing heartbeats, for a few minutes, just being together.
"Zayn?"
"Yeah?"
"I think I might -- I think I might tell my parents."
Zayn's silent for a moment. Then he says, "If you ever need anything, Louis..."
"I know," Louis says back.
They're quiet again.
"I'm so scared," Louis says, barely audible.
Zayn tightens his arms around him.
"We'll make it. First Mate and Best Mate, yeah? Better than the Hulk and Iron Man."