Fic; 'Your Words All Over Me'; X Factor 2010 RPS; Liam/Louis, Zayn/Niall, Matt/Aiden/Harry; [2/3]
iv. just for a day you were my dream
Spur-of-the-moment shopping list, written by Zayn on the bus on he way to Tesco
Niall always ends up doing their shopping, and somewhere in the back of his mind, Zayn feels sort of bad about that. So one Saturday morning he finds himself in a local Tesco, a hastily scrawled list in one hand and a basket in the other, stood in front of the Jammy Dodgers.
Early mornings don’t suit Zayn. Neither do brightly lit shops with screaming children, and he’s contemplating just leaving, but tells himself to man up. After all Niall does lots of morning bread-and-milk trips whilst Zayn lies about in bed. He feels like he should return the favour.
Liam would tell him that his subconscious guilt is manifesting itself in uncharacteristically thoughtful grocery-buying expeditions. Zayn would then tell Liam to fuck off because he’s not even taking Psychology, Harry is, but then Liam would just appeal to Harry and Harry would back Liam up. Zayn’s friends are stupidly loyal creatures.
Even so, he maintains that he doesn’t feel guilty. He maintains this after he and Niall fall asleep on the same mattress, inches apart but not really together, and even before that when Niall’s chanting in his ear and when it takes everything Zayn’s got not to answer because that feels like losing somehow. He gets a sick swooping feeling in his gut and sometimes he finds himself chewing on his thumb until it bleeds for no reason at all but that’s just exam stress. Zayn doesn’t do guilt. He’s too busy honing resentment and bitterness to do guilt.
~
Zayn never wanted to be that guy. The guy who’s known for being a dick, who uses his friends, the guy who is most likely to take everything and give nothing back. And he wasn’t always like that. He remembers the blur of fresher’s week. He’d been scared shitless. But then he’d bumped into Niall, who had just looked at him, grinned impossibly bright and flung an arm over Zayn’s shoulder. Zayn remembers thinking, If this is what it will be like, I’ll be fine. And he was, for a while.
Geneva was beautiful, confident, and for some reason, interested in Zayn. They had met when she’d almost fallen over his legs at a party, spilling vodka and giggling with Esther. Zayn was only there because of Niall, who had been pressured into it by Louis, a law-unto-himself fellow English Lit student a year above them. Geneva was two years above Zayn. She dragged him into an empty corridor by his breast pocket and let him kiss her, setting the bottle on the floor between their feet, curling her nails in the hair at the back of his neck. Zayn still thinks that must have been love.
Eighteen tumultuous months later she left as abruptly as she had arrived. She had a job now, she said, and aspirations. Niall blew off too many lectures for him in the weeks that followed. Zayn thinks that must be love, too, of some kind.
~
The first time, Zayn remembers how Niall didn’t kiss him, just let him touch and feel and try to make himself normal again. The second time there’s no excuse, and Niall kisses him, but that’s not love. That’s something else, something more like pity and Zayn doesn’t question it because he needs it too much. It’s something they don’t talk about.
‘Friends with benefits’ doesn’t really describe it. That implies consent, quick fucks organised on a regular basis, something beneficial for both people. Zayn and Niall don’t have an agreement like that. Zayn doesn’t sleep with Niall because he wants to. He needs Niall like he needs oxygen, it’s selfish, and he sort of hates himself for it.
He still wonders why Niall hasn’t told him to fuck off yet. Every time Zayn knocks on his door Niall lets him in. Zayn doesn’t really want to think about what that means.
~
Niall’s still asleep when Zayn gets back. Zayn makes him coffee and puts everything away, sitting on the draining board as he waits for the kettle to boil. He pads quietly down the hall and creeps into his room. They’d ended up on Zayn’s bed the night before. He slips past his bed to leave Niall’s mug on the dresser. He pauses without really meaning to as he doubles back. Niall’s lying on his side. The sheet is knotted in his hands, an expanse of milky shoulder jutting up in the air. His hair is tousled and yellowy, and Zayn skims his fingers through it, absently like it doesn’t mean anything.
When Niall stirs and exhales something that sounds like Zayn, hm, Zayn it’s time to go, and Zayn does, but he certainly doesn’t feel guilty about it.
v. we could close the curtains, pretend like there’s no world outside
List of things to get for Louis, written by Liam during a break at work
“I feel like shite,” Louis greets Liam in the kitchen one morning. He’s wearing both of their dressing gowns and about three pairs of pyjama bottoms, with Liam’s Homer Simpson slippers poking out.
Liam sticks the kettle on to reboil, already adding sugar to Louis’ mug. “I knew you were coming down with something. I was hoping you’d be okay till the weekend. I’ve got work in half an hour.”
“I know, s’alright.” Louis sits down at their table, palming at bleary eyes. “Can you fetch me some Strepsils or something on the way home?”
“Yeah, of course.”
“You’re the best,” Louis tells him with a small smile. Liam doesn’t answer, because he’s really not, but he’s too happy that Louis believes it to correct him.
“Are you sure you’ll be alright by yourself?” Liam asks, handing Louis his tea. “You’re not too feverish are you? I should take your temperature before I go -”
“Li, I’m fine.” Louis sips at his tea. “You’ll worry yourself stupid, it’s just a cold or something. And I’ve got essays to be getting on with anyway.” He grimaces.
Louis proofreads for University students, using the lure of his English Literature degree and very reasonable rates. Zayn and Niall got most of his work from their classmates.
“How many?”
“Eighteen. They’re all due back in like two days.”
“I’ll help you when I get back. We can finish them this weekend.” Liam moves around the kitchen, retrieving the toast and buttering it, gulping down his tea. He checks his watch and slides the plate of toast in front of Louis.
“This was yours,” Louis protests, trying to give it back. “I can make my own food.”
“You can make us both food when you’re better,” Liam retorts. “I’m late anyway, I’ve got to go. Eat, drink plenty, don’t worry about those essays too much.” He kisses Louis’ forehead, fumbling in his pocket for his keys. “I’ll see you later.”
~
Liam ends up stopping off at ASDA after work to get things for Louis. The traffic is horrendous, and when he finally gets home it’s dark and his stomach is rumbling. He manages to manhandle the bags through the door, his keys dangling from his mouth, expecting to find Louis parked on the couch where he’d left him. Instead there is a mound of tissues and about six unwashed mugs strewn about the room. Liam discards everything in the kitchen, then takes the medicine, hand gel and tissues upstairs in search of Louis.
He finds him in bed, the duvet wrapped around him and his head propped against the headboard by a pillow. He’s dozing, and Liam is tempted to just leave him, but then he stirs and mumbles “Li, that you?”
“Yeah.” Liam sits on the edge of the bed. “How’re you feeling?”
“M’alright.”
“I got you some stuff,” Liam says. “Lemsip, Strepsils... what do you feel like? Are you hungry?”
“Liam, I’m okay.” Louis raises an eyebrow at him. “I’ll just have tea or something, it’s fine.”
Liam ignores him, opens the ibuprofen, and fetches him water.
“You don’t mind, do you?” Louis asks as Liam hands him painkillers and the glass.
“Mind what?” Liam plumps up Louis’ pillows, readjusts his blankets instinctively.
“That you basically had to downgrade your career because of me.” Louis takes the pills and finishes the water, leaning back against his pillows with a grateful sigh. Liam stares at him for a moment.
“Um, what?” Liam asks finally.
“You were going to be a barrister, Liam. And now you’re an apprentice solicitor in a poky office all day.”
“It would have been poky offices for an apprentice barrister, too,” Liam points out. “Where is this coming from? You didn’t force me to change. I decided to because it made the most sense.”
“It made the most sense because we were getting a flat together and solicitors’ apprentices have more solid positions and more manageable hours, and I couldn’t find a job at all.”
Liam sighs and rubs at his temples. “There were lots of reasons I decided to switch. Yes, you were a part of it. But that isn’t necessarily a bad thing. I like my job, anyway.”
Louis stares at him glassy-eyed. “Don’t you wonder what it would be like to reach your full potential, though? You could’ve if you’d told me to take a hike.”
“You must be feverish,” Liam says firmly. To illustrate the point he places his hand on Louis’ forehead, which is indeed burning.
“But you could’ve,” Louis presses.
“No, I couldn’t’ve.” Liam takes his hand away, looking rueful. “I’d rather be working at Tesco’s and living with you than be a fantastic barrister and not. So stop talking rubbish.”
Louis looks at him for an impossibly long time, long enough for Liam to start flushing and fiddling with his watch. Finally he says, “Really?”
“You must be sicker than I thought.” Liam gets up and straightens the covers. “Get some rest, and we can finish those essays this weekend.”
“Me, too,” Louis says nonsensically as Liam pulls the door shut.
vi. you got my name, pick up my number, come undone, let’s be lovers
Shopping list, written by Niall at the kitchen table while Zayn is still asleep
The first thing Niall remembers about Zayn is the panicked look in his eyes in fresher’s week. That and the fact that he’s stupidly gorgeous. Niall knows he sort of crushes everybody and he wasn’t really worried when he started getting mad butterflies every time Zayn looked his way, because he feels the same around most people in existence. Back home, Sean would frequently tell him that he had some sort of strange chemical imbalance that made him fancy people he had no business fancying. Whatever the reason he felt compelled to speak to him, and the frank relief in Zayn’s eyes when he did so made it worth it.
“Hi,” Niall said, and pulled Zayn into a one-armed hug. “Bit overwhelming isn’t it?”
“Um, yeah. Hi.” Zayn stiffened momentarily, then relaxed as Niall grinned at him. “Erm. I’m Zayn.”
“I’m bloody terrified,” Niall responded cheerfully. “But I go by Niall most of the time.” He wasn’t that scared, not really, but Zayn cracked up and it sounded grateful, and that had been that.
~
Niall never really liked Geneva. She was too loud, too confident, too tall in her heels. He justified it to himself as best he could. Zayn was the closest thing to a best mate he had at Uni, it was natural to be a bit jealous. And he was looking out for him; Geneva wasn’t the type to stick around if it didn’t suit her.
“You need to grow a pair,” Louis told him on a night out once. “Tell him she’s no good for him, and that you think you’d be better.”
Niall was too drunk to deny any of it, and he was distracted watching Zayn and Geneva ripple against the far wall. He made a vague gesture.
“It’s your loss if you don’t.” Louis sounded worried and leaned across to squeeze Niall’s arm. “Seriously though. You could do so much better, Nialler. He’s - well, he’s a bit of a douchebag, if I’m honest. Sometimes.”
“He’s not, really.” Niall gulped the last of his beer. “He’s - he’s delicate. And, like - he puts up these barriers - these douchey barriers, to keep people from realizing.”
Louis looked doubtful. “I’ll take your word for it. You know him best.”
Niall nodded because it was true. He knew Zayn wouldn’t see it coming if Geneva left him. Niall also knew that he himself could never replace her, and no matter how much he wanted to be wrong, the way Zayn looked at Geneva told him he wasn’t.
~
When Niall gets back to their flat Zayn’s already there. Niall knows without checking that he’s camped out on the couch. He hears the rustle of a crisp packet and the burbling of the telly.
“Back,” he says to the empty kitchen. He knows Zayn can hear him. He pushes the door closed and kicks off his trainers, struggles with his earphones that have somehow tangled in his belt and his scarf simultaneously. He manages to separate everything and heaves the shopping bags onto the counter.
“Did you get my trashy magazine, bitch?” Zayn calls out in his stupid accent. It sounds like he’s saying ‘beach’, and Niall usually finds it hysterical, but he’s not really in the mood anymore.
“It’s in here,” he answers. He begins unloading the bags and banging cupboard doors, because the sharp noises help, like pinching the skin on his arm until it marks, constantly reminding himself to stay in the here and now for his own sanity.
“Ni, can you keep it down? I’m trying to watch Hollyoaks.” Niall hears the volume on the television jump.
“Yeah, sorry mate.” Niall tears open a packet of biscuits, feeling how it splits against his fingertips. He takes a digestive, breaks it up in his hands until he’s holding crumbs, then empties them into the sink. He crushes another, and another, then carefully reseals the packet and puts it away.
Zayn appears a few minutes later, when Niall has just folded the last plastic bag and is swilling the remnants of the biscuits down the drain.
“Cheers,” Zayn says, picking up his magazine and leafing through it.
“Yeah.” Niall nods and takes a swig from the milk bottle. He watches Zayn skim over a few pages. He’s wearing trackies and his hair is flat on one side, like he’s just woken up. Niall wants to run his fingers through it, mark a trail from crown to neck, but he knows that’s crossing some sort of line. He finishes the milk in silence and looks away.
“Heard from Louis lately?” Zayn asks. Niall thinks he’s trying to make conversation and that’s so fucking painful that it takes a moment to respond.
“Um, yeah. Texted me yesterday.”
“We should all meet up.” Zayn rolls up the magazine and slaps it against the counter, not really meeting Niall’s eyes. “Like old times, you know? Before we leave uni and get proper jobs like the rest of them.”
“We should,” Niall echoes, because it’s true, even if he doesn’t really agree. “Yeah.”
“I’ll text some people. You up for it?” Zayn catches Niall’s gaze for a split second.
“Sure,” Niall says.
“Cool.” Zayn unfurls the magazine and wanders off, humming to himself.
Niall stays where he is for a while, twisting mutinously at the cap of the milk bottle, not trusting himself to say anything.
vii. you are the scar on my tissue that I show all of my new friends
Last-minute list, written by Louis after Niall tells him that Zayn needs company but Niall has a paper to write and can't afford the time
“Alright, tell me everything,” Louis says straight-faced, as if to try and ignore how prepubescent and female he sounds. “I’ve got enough booze to get us through the whole episode and then some.”
Zayn and Louis are stretched out on the couch of Louis and Liam’s flat, a dozen bottles on the coffee table in front of them. When Zayn doesn’t respond, Louis plants a tub of Ben & Jerry’s on his lap and sticks a spoon in his hand.
“Eat your feelings,” Louis tells him. “And then drown your sorrows. Seriously. It’s just you, me and a Mean Girls marathon all night long so don’t even think about copping out or telling me ‘it’s all fine’ because I know it’s not.”
Zayn takes a mouthful of ice cream and swallows it whole. The sudden fierce ache in his head distracts him from how completely wrecked he feels. He’s grateful for the company, even though he’s surprised it’s Louis who offered. Louis has been shirty with him lately. When Zayn asked Niall about it Niall just mumbled something about Louis failing to mind his own business and then refused to talk about it.
“Saw Gen,” Zayn says, because he knows Louis won’t relent until he’s told him everything. “In town, with that dickhead Kalvin Lamey.”
Louis makes a clucking sound and squeezes Zayn’s arm whilst fumbling open a bottle of vodka. If Zayn didn’t feel physically ill and emotionally fragile he would admire Louis’ multitasking skills.
“And... and she was just talking to him. And then she saw me, and she came over and said hi.” Zayn takes a shuddery breath and bites at another spoonful of ice cream. “Dragged the twat with her, introduced us like I didn’t know him, started chatting about her new job and everything. Asked me if I was seeing anybody -” He cuts himself off with the spoon, scraping metal and teeth.
“Lamey is an arsehole,” Louis supplies, keeping the flow going. “Ego the size of Mars.”
“And he was looking so bloody smarmy.” Zayn feels comfortable in this territory of abusing Kalvin, who is a member of a local band that for whatever reason developed a bitter rivalry with Seven Summers. Geneva, ever contrary, began seeing him months ago but Zayn had so far managed to avoid the subject. He takes the drink Louis hands him.
“He would, wouldn’t he? Poor bloke, he won’t know what hit him when Gen dumps him.” Louis makes it sound like a promise, clinks his glass against Zayn’s. “Cheers.”
~
They’ve watched Mean Girls twice and are halfway through 10 Things I Hate About You before either of them are truly out of it. Zayn has somehow migrated down onto the floor and Louis is lying on his back with his legs on the couch, watching the on-screen romance blossom upside-down. The volume’s been turned down so they can talk.
“At least your life doesn’t suck completely,” Louis is pointing out. “You’ve got us. And Niall.”
Zayn scrubs his hand over his face. “Yeah. For how long.”
Louis frowns, only making him look more comical in his bizarre position. “What’s that mean then?”
“Well.” Zayn pauses. “Ever since... ever since Gen dumped me, I’ve been a bit of a tosser, haven’t I?”
“You mean ever since you shagged Niall?”
Zayn flinches involuntarily. Louis tuts.
“Don’t tell me you’re regretting it.”
“No. But I think maybe he does, sometimes.” Zayn fiddles with his glass. “He probably just felt sorry for me anyway. I was in a right state. He was just being a good mate, he’s always being too bloody considerate for his own good.”
“Zayn,” Louis interjects sternly, and Zayn can sense a reprimand is coming up but he just keeps talking.
“I don’t know how Niall puts up with me,” Zayn continues helplessly. “I fuck everything up. And he’s still my best mate, even though I’m probably a complete arsehole to live with, and he could be with somebody, somebody who isn’t such a needy bastard but he probably feels guilty, knowing him, and thinks he should stick with me until I’m over it. Once we’re done Uni he’ll be gone. Can’t say I blame him.”
Louis snorts. “’Course he won’t,” he says breezily. “Niall’s in love with you.”
Zayn doesn’t say anything, just swivels around to stare at Louis. Louis’ face is frozen in a half-grin, but it’s not joking, it’s a knowing look and it makes Zayn’s stomach flip. Louis coughs suddenly and struggles upright.
“You know what we should do,” Louis says. “Floats. Do we have some ice cream left?” He scrambles around uncoordinatedly, trying to assemble the things he needs. Zayn stays where he is, splayed out across the carpet.
“What did you say about Niall?” Zayn asks belatedly.
“Niall? Nialler? Nothing, mate. You’re plastered.” Louis laughs and spoons melting ice cream into a mug. “Floats? Where’s the beer?”
“Totally plastered,” Zayn agrees and forgets what he was going to say. “Floats. Beer.” He points to a corner of the room. Louis goes to retrieve the beer and Zayn lets his head fall onto his arm, trying not to think about anything at all and mostly just thinking about Niall anyway, though he doesn’t know why.
(part three)