a river flows so surely to the sea, pt. 1
title: a river flows so surely to the sea
rating: between r and nc-17
warning(s): none
pairing(s): liam payne/zayn malik, hefty harry styles/louis tomlinson, side niall horan/gemma styles
word count: 14,574
summary: It’s August, not a cloud in the sky, and two boys who’ve been smitten with each other for going on a decade are tying the knot.
notes: thanks times a gazillion to allie for helping me write it, cut it, and put it all back together (and deal with my neuroses), and to betsy for reading and catching my sentence fragments and cheering me on.
for the purpose of this fic, louis is 26, and the boys’ age differences are the same. lottie is 19, fizzy is 17, safaa is 16, phoebe and daisy are 11 bc cute. title from x
also on ao3
Zayn checks his bowtie in the mirror, tightening the knot and straightening it and making extra certain that it’s the right color (he’d almost picked up Onyx Dream by accident, though he luckily realized his mistake and switched it for Midnight Noir in the nick of time). The rose in his boutonniere is fresh and its petals are only slightly furled, just as requested. His jacket is hanging off a hook by the door, but he knows it fits like a dream, and his white button-up is crisp and perfectly starched. Even Mother Nature has given her blessing to the Tomlinson-Styles; it’s August, not a cloud in the sky, and two boys who’ve been smitten with each other for going on a decade are tying the knot. Everything is exactly as it should be, exactly where it should be.
Except, maybe, the rings.
Louis is perched on the edge of the couch in the groom’s parlor looking murderous. “How the fuck am I supposed to know where the rings are, I thought you gave them to Gemma last night - okay. Right, then, back to my original question - she’s your sister, how can you possibly be trying to blame this on me? Well maybe we should just call the whole thing off, you fucking absolute twat - ”
“Watch your fucking language, arsehole, this is a church,” Lottie - Charlotte, she prefers Charlotte now - hisses, looking up from her compact only to jab her mascara wand in Louis’ direction. Zayn sighs. Here we go -
Louis gasps, indignant. “Oh, fuck you - ”
“Alright, I’ll take that,” Zayn says, plucking Louis’ phone out of his fist before the fight can escalate any further.
Louis almost immediately rounds on his sister. “He lost the rings, fucking typical Harry, I hate him, he’s horrible!”
She continues brushing her eyelashes, squinting at her reflection and not sparing Louis even the slightest glance. “Yeah, but since you’re equally horrible, it all balances out.”
Louis gasps again, but this time Zayn steps out into the hallway before he has to stay and witness that particular carnage. “Harry?”
Harry is heaving into the receiver, so loud and distraught that at first, Zayn can hardly understand him. “I can’t fucking - I can’t get married, Zayn, we’re too young, we fight over the stupidest things and - and we should just break it off, or like, put it on hold, we need more time, I need more time - ”
“Might’ve thought about that before the day of the wedding, pal,” Zayn murmurs, pacing up and down the hallway with one hand stuffed in the pocket of his slacks. “Besides, you know that isn’t true.”
“But what if it is? What if we crash and burn and hate each other, like, I don’t remember ever being with anyone but Louis, I need time to live and explore - ”
“You are so full of shit, Harry Styles,” a new voice chimes in on Harry’s end. Zayn listens as a struggle ensues. “No. Give it here. I will sit on you, Harry. I will sit on you. Give me the phone.” She takes a breath before clearing her throat. “Gemma speaking.”
“Hey, Gem,” Zayn says with a faint smile, stopping to glance at his reflection. His hair looks a bit wilted, he’ll have to see if he can talk Fizzy into livening it back up. “I take it he’s been like this all afternoon.”
“And then some,” Gemma groans, “insufferable little tosser. But it’s just ‘cause he’s nervous, because he knows this is the best decision he’ll ever make.”
“Yeah, I know. I think they like the drama, to be honest. Be a bit boring otherwise.”
“People generally want weddings to be boring - the fewer dramatic declarations to call it all off, the better. They are so bloody ridiculous.”
“I don’t disagree,” Zayn laughs, looking down at his shoes and tapping them together. “But that’s probably why they work so well, too.” Gemma hums her agreement. “Want to switch off for a bit? You know you’ll only rile Harry up more, and Louis listens to you.”
Zayn knows Gemma’s only pretending to think it over. The Styles siblings have always gotten on really well despite their age gap (Louis and his sisters are the same, as well as Zayn and his sisters. Maybe it’s something in the water...); however, Gemma’s patience for Harry-mid-tantrum has waned considerably over the years. Perhaps it has something to do with the fact that Harry could (sort of) grow facial hair now. “Eh...yeah, alright, come to the bridal suite. There’ll be plenty of mirrors for you to primp in, Zaynie.”
Zayn groans, making a face. “I resent that. This is a wedding, we’re meant to look our best!” Gemma just laughs and hangs up with a wet kissing noise, and Zayn pops his head back in on Louis. He’s lying with his head in Lottie’s - Charlotte’s - lap, eyes closed and breathing steadily. It’s a major improvement from when Zayn left, and, fingers crossed, the rings will be found and the rest of the day will be smooth sailing. “Hey, me and Gemma are going to trade off, so she’ll be here in a few. Want me to send a message on to Harry?”
Louis takes a deep breath and cracks an eye open. Lottie pets his hair with one hand, tapping away at her phone with the other. “Tell him to be ready in an hour, because we’re getting married, and if he delays our nuptials for even a second, I’ll kill him.” He pauses, then adds, “And give him a kiss from me as well.”
“Got it.” Zayn nods, closing the door to the parlor and making his way up the stairs and through the sanctuary. He stops to say hello to Louis’ mum and dad, Harry’s parents close behind, congratulating them and kissing them on the cheek and assuring them that their sons are nervous and excited and, despite several claims otherwise, are very much going to be married today.
“Ooh, Zayn! By the way, I had these cleaned this morning. Wanted to make sure they looked nice on the big day!” Anne digs around in her purse for a moment before coming up with two velvet boxes. “Could you let Gem know? I bet she’s worried sick."
“Of course,” Zayn says with a grin, hugging her again and pocketing the rings. Zayn smiles and waves to some of the early guests trickling in, mostly friends of Louis’ he hasn’t seen since graduating. He vaguely recognizes some of the people Harry works with, mostly because they look just slightly better groomed and dressed than everyone else, and he nods when they raise their eyebrows in greeting.
Zayn gets to the lobby of the church, where Phoebe and Daisy are wearing matching bridesmaid’s dresses in different colors, hair and makeup making them look starry-eyed and grown. They’re standing with programs in their arms, dutifully handing them out to the arriving guests, though they abandon that with a squeal when they see Zayn. “My two favorite girls, you both look gorgeous!”
“Careful,” Phoebe says with a giggle, watching as Daisy throws her face into Zayn’s chest without a second thought. “Daze, be careful, careful! Aunty Lou and Aunty Cazza will have to redo it if you mess it up.”
“I am being careful,” Daisy whines, pulling back from Zayn with a pout.
Zayn pulls Phoebe into a full-body hug, laughing as she shrieks and tries to get out from under his hold. “Hey, hey, only one Tomlinson breakdown is allowed per wedding,” Zayn says with a mock-scowl, which instantly has both of the twins clawing at him for information.
“Louis is nervous? Why? Uncle Harry is the best, why is Lou crying? Was he crying? Zayn! Zayn!”
“How come everyone else is ‘Uncle Harry’ and ‘Aunty Lou’ and I’m just Zayn?” he asks with a wrinkle of his nose, tickling Phoebe. “You lot don’t think I’m important enough to be your uncle?”
“Don’t be silly, Zayn,” Daisy says with a roll of her eyes that makes her look startlingly like Louis. “You’re our uncle, but it just sounds weird. Uncle Zayn. Uncle Zayn.”
“Uncle Zayn,” Phoebe repeats, narrowing her eyes. “Nah, doesn’t sound right.”
Zayn tugs on one of Daisy’s springy curls and turns to take his leave, to finally go down to the bridal suite to psych Harry up and fulfill his duties as best man, when he happens to glance outside. The doors to the church are propped open because of the good weather, the sun shining through the stained glass windows leaving smatterings of color across the worn wood floors, the foliage swaying cheerily in the breeze. So Zayn sees, jogging up the front steps of the church, a boy he hasn’t seen in years. He’s wearing a dark grey suit, the cut of the jacket complementing the almost triangular shape of his torso; it draws the eye to his broad shoulders and slim waist without seeming cartoonish or overdone. His hair’s shorter than it used to be, less curly with the way it’s cropped and styled, but still a bit messy and boyish and. He looks really good.
Daisy sidles up to him shyly, proffering a program for him to take. “Hullo, welcome, hi. Styles or Tomlinson?”
He tilts his head. “Sorry?”
Phoebe joins Daisy. “Which side are you here for, Uncle Harry or Louis?”
“Oh! Well, both. Although, now I suppose...more Harry?”
“Right side,” the twins say in unison before trotting back to Zayn, who’s still staring at the man and not saying a word. “Zayn, come on, tell us about Louis’ breakdown!”
The guy, who’s musing over the second page of the program, looks up. “Zayn Malik?”
Zayn offers a little wave. He remembers Liam being a bit spacey, bit slow on the uptake. “Hey, Liam.”
“Wow, hey, Zayn!” Zayn holds out his hand for a shake, but Liam just throws his arms around him in a fierce hug. Zayn recovers quickly, patting him on the back a few times. “It’s been ages, mate, how’ve you been?”
“I’ve been doing well, thanks.” As Zayn relaxes to ease his way out of the embrace, Liam’s arms go tighter around him. Zayn is surprised. He’d always liked Liam, but they hadn’t been terribly close when they were in school, Liam always opting to go out with Harry and the lads while Zayn preferred to stay in and just be. “Alright there?”
“Yeah, yeah, I’m good, sorry,” Liam laughs, finally releasing Zayn from his grip. “Just happy to see you, is all. You and Louis and Harry still tight as ever?”
“Yeah, still really close. I’m their best man,” Zayn says with what he knows is an obnoxious preen; he can’t help it, he’s happy for his mates and proud that he gets to celebrate their wedding with them like this.
Liam looks impressed. “I figured as much, if I’m being honest. You three always seemed the likeliest to live in each other’s pockets for the rest of your lives.”
Zayn laughs at that; his mum had said something much the same when, after Zayn and Louis’d been in uni together for a semester, Harry made the decision to take his A-levels early so he could follow them. “I was actually just about to go see Harry, if you wanted to come and say hi?”
Warm and friendly Liam turns suddenly sheepish, rubbing at the back of his neck and messing with the end of his tie. “Dunno if that’s a good idea, actually. I forgot to send back my RSVP...forgot to even respond to Harry when he sent me a follow-up invite on Facebook.”
Zayn shakes his head, beckoning for Liam to follow him. “Honestly, Harry will most likely be a little upset. But this is good! He can take out his wedding day jitters on you, and you deserve it for stressing him out.”
“Harry’s got jitters, really? I figured he’d be racing down the aisle. He and Louis both.”
“Oh, trust me, they are,” Zayn says, pushing open the door to the bridal suite. “Louis and Harry both just love being difficult, you know how they are.”
“Heeeyyy,” Harry says from where he’s face down on the couch. He’s in just his waistcoat, bowtie hanging undone around his neck, and the sleeves of his button up are rolled up to the elbows. His voice comes out muffled into the cushions. “‘M not difficult. Never difficult.”
As the bridal suite was built to hold an army of bridesmaids and flower girls, half of the allotted space Harry has been given is unused. However, the used half is littered with fabric swatches, grids and spreadsheets of floral arrangements, hair products, and a department store’s supply of makeup. “Your mum had the rings, Haz, but I’ve got them now.” Harry’s laptop is sitting on the coffee table, and Zayn tilts the screen to have a look, thinking it’ll be more last minute wedding details that he’s obsessing over. “Harry Styles, why the fuck are you watching porn in a church on your wedding day.”
Harry heaves a sigh, turning his head to the side so he can be heard clearly. “Lou thought it would be, like, romantic if we waited until the night of the wedding to have sex again. So I thought I’d try to. I dunno, release some tension or something? Doesn’t matter, didn’t work without him.”
“...that’s fucked up, but sort of sweet.” Zayn looks at Liam, who just shrugs. “How long has this been going on?”
“Two months.”
“Jesus,” Liam swears, and Harry rolls off the couch with a splutter.
He stumbles to his feet and grabs Liam by the shoulders, shaking him. “Liam Payne, is that you? I thought you weren’t coming, you never responded to my many, many messages - ”
“Yeah, I know, sorry! Been busy, mate, between volunteering to teach summer courses, now trying to get the classroom set up for the new term. I finally had to tell my boss that I needed this weekend off. I’m sorry, Haz.”
Harry looks torn between wanting to throttle Liam and cuddle the frown off his face. “Fine. You’re lucky that I went ahead and included you on the guest list, anyway.” He slings an arm around Liam and tousles his hair with his other hand, Liam squawking indignantly at his newly mussed hairdo.
Zayn is looking on with a soft smile when he’s struck by inspiration, whipping out his mobile to dial Gemma’s number. “I’m not switching back already, Malik, I only just got here and I - ”
“Calm down, I’m not calling to ask you to come back. Actually, one of our old friends from university that we were close to showed up and he’s in a much better mood. And we found the rings!”
“Oh. That’s good, I suppose. Well then, what’s up?”
Zayn mills about the room, impulsively running his fingers over the brushes and bottles and tins cluttering the vanity. “I figured you could ask Lou for our friend Niall’s number? He’s probably on his way to the church already, he’s always really good about being early to important stuff. Call him up and let him know to go to the groom’s parlor, to help Louis chill out.”
Gemma snorts. “Is he short and blond and, for reasons beyond me, wearing a baseball cap? Because I think he might already be here.”
“Oi,” Zayn hears over the line, “already told you, it’s a snapback and it goes with the color theme.”
“Still a wedding,” Gemma says tartly. “Anyway, if that was all, I’ve slipped a flask in and we’re about to start doing shots, so. Talk to you in a few!”
“I don’t think alcohol is actually allowed inside the church,” Zayn says to the ended call. He half-hopes that Lottie will be the lone voice of reason in the group, but seeing as she’s a nineteen-year-old uni student...he sighs wearily. Best not tell Haz about the flask, probably. Zayn turns back to Harry and Liam who are now hunched over the laptop, Harry typing and clicking furiously. “Please tell me you aren’t trying to watch porn again.”
“I was listening to the radio on the way over, said something about a chance of thunderstorms tonight. We were just looking at the latest reports to see if the weather will still be clear for outdoor pictures after the ceremony,” Liam says, fingers tapping at his chin worriedly, as if he himself is invested in the post-wedding portraits.
“How’s Louis doing?” Harry asks, biting his lip and frantically switching back and forth between the weather report and his laminated copy of the evening’s itinerary.
“He says he loves you,” Zayn says, “told me to give you a kiss and he’ll see you at half five, not a minute later.”
“Oh, god,” Harry groans, hands reaching up automatically to twist at his hair, but stopping at the last second. “Thirty minutes. In thirty minutes, I’ll be Harry Tomlinson.”
“Oh, are you taking Louis’ name?” Liam asks, intrigued. “I’ve been to a few gay weddings and the couples’ve never chosen to take just one person’s name.”
“He’s not,” Zayn says under his breath, “he just keeps saying it for dramatic effect. Louis flits about calling himself ‘Louis Styles’ as well. Sounds like a bad porn star’s name, if you ask me.”
“Good thing nobody did, then! And we’re considering hyphenating,” Harry argues, “so ha.”
“We all know you’re both too conceited to hyphenate, you’d never be able to decide whose name goes first!”
“Portmanteaus are a thing,” Harry says with slitted eyes. “Louis and Harry Stylinson.” Zayn scoffs. “You’ll understand one day, Zayn, when you’re all loved up and ready to be married. Then you’ll know what this struggle is like. Until then, you’ll just keep being the wedding Scrooge.”
Zayn’s eyes are looking to be permanently fixed toward the back of his head. “Oh, fuck off!”
Liam laughs and stands, brushing the wrinkles out of his slacks. “I suppose I’ll go and get my seat. Leave you two to do the last minute preparations and that.” He gives a little wave and leaves, a waft of woodsy fragrance lingering after him.
After they’ve stared at the door for five minutes, Harry turns to Zayn and whistles. “He has gotten fit.”
Zayn runs a hand through his hair, officially ruining it, and sighs deeply. “I know.”
“...want me to ring Fizzy about your hair?”
“Please.”
--
In the church foyer, after all the guests have been seated and the front doors to the church have been shut, the church’s wedding coordinator erects a good-sized partition to section off the two grooms. They’d decided to both walk down the aisle with their mothers, but still wanted to keep the tradition of not seeing each other until the very last moment.
Harry, Anne, Gemma and Lux are faint shadows through the curtain, moving about and chatting to the coordinator about the turnout. The curtain doesn’t mean they can’t hear each other, and Zayn listens to the coordinator (he thinks her name is Leslie) instruct Gemma on where to walk, to make sure she walks all the way up to the steps of the altar and make a sharp right to face the sanctuary. “Zayn will follow in as soon as she gets about halfway, exact same thing, except a sharp left. Got it?”
“Got it,” Zayn says.
“After that, it’ll be Lux’s turn, just sprinkle the flowers along the aisle, right sweetheart? She’ll sit down with her parents, then we’ll give the quartet a moment to start ‘Canon in D,’ and Harry and Anne will process in. Then Louis and Jay, exact same thing, and it’ll be absolutely perfect.”
Zayn stands on Louis’ side with Jay, who’s brushing imaginary lint from his shoulders and securing the flower in his lapel. He kicks at Louis’ shin, laughing when Louis swears and Jay shoots Louis with the most withering tear-ridden glare Zayn’s ever witnessed. “Doin’ alright?”
“Yeah,” Louis croaks, clearing his throat. Jay licks her thumb and smooths his eyebrows so they’re neat and orderly. “Yeah, ‘m ready.”
“Me, too,” Harry says, four fingertips poking through the curtain that Louis touches his own fingers to. “I’ve been ready for a long time, love.”
Jay fans her face to hold back her tears and hugs Louis tight. “Sweetums, I just wanted to tell you again - I’m so, so proud of you, and so happy for both of you. I love you, darling boy.”
“Love you too, mum,” Louis whispers, fingers pressing into her back. Zayn suddenly longs for his own mother; she’s probably already sitting down with his father and maybe Safaa, if she didn’t have anything going on this weekend and wanted to hang out with Fizz. He misses his family. As though psychic, which at this point in their relationship he practically is, Louis pulls Zayn into the hug. “Come on, bad boy Zayn, come give your second mummy a hug.”
A burst of strings filters through the parted doors leading to the sanctuary. Zayn’s heart races. “Alright, Gemma, stand here - yes, Zayn, come stand behind her. You too, Lux!” Zayn squeezes Jay and Louis one last time before carefully moving through the curtain, making sure it falls closed behind him. Gemma reaches over, squeezes his hand hard, then folds her hands across her stomach. The doors swing all the way open. “Go, Gemma.”
Her dress is long and navy, her hair down and loosely curled and bouncy as she walks slowly down the aisle. Everyone’s turned to watch her. Zayn spots his parents; his dad may or may not be tearing up, though the balled-up tissues in his fist makes Zayn lean toward definitely. Niall is on the end of the second pew with Louis’ sisters, in an odd turn of events. Niall waves with a toothy smile.
He ignores the little throb in his heart when he doesn’t see Liam.
Leslie nudges him forward. “Zayn, your turn.”
He tries to go slow like Gemma did, but having everyone’s eyes on him makes him quicken his pace; he’s at the altar before he knows it. He scans the crowd quickly, recognizes a lot of faces, but is still disappointed when he can’t find Liam. Lux skips down the aisle with her basket of flowers, tossing petals to all her admirers. She giggles when she gets to the second pew and slides in to sit on Tom’s lap, still giddy with attention.
The music fades out, making the creaking of pews echo through the room as everyone bodily turns to face the doors. Zayn tries to keep his smile serene versus manic with joy, but he can’t help the swelling of his heart when Harry appears in the doorway with a grin so huge and classically Harry that the whole church titters.
The cellist saws away on her lower strings, and as soon as the violin joins in, Harry steps down the aisle. Cameras flash wildly, but Harry and Anne walk like they’re used to dozens of people taking their photo at once. They get to the front, where Zayn can see that Anne’s crying, and she kisses Harry on both cheeks before stepping into the first pew next to her husband.
The violins quiet down and the violist plucks at his strings, which is when Louis comes into view. The cameras keep going off. Louis’ smile is less all-encompassing, more mischievous than Harry’s, but no less happy. Jay walks him to the altar, kisses him twice, and takes her seat.
The minister, a silver-haired woman with round glasses and a bright white smile, steps forward and seats the congregation. Harry and Louis follow her up the steps of the altar arm-in-arm. Zayn and Gemma turn to watch as the minister first reads Louis’ favorite poem, then Harry’s, and then a little piece Zayn wrote for them. His ears are hot as his own work is read back to him; he’d been embarrassed when they’d come to him and asked him to write something for the wedding, but they’d insisted, and who was he to deny Harry and Louis on their special day?
“Now, the exchanging of the vows. Louis, if you’d repeat after me.” Louis and Harry turn to face each other, holding each other’s hands and rubbing thumbs across knuckles.
“I, Louis, take you Harry, to be my husband, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, as long as we both shall live.” Louis’ voice has a hint of a quaver in it that he grins right through.
“And Harry.”
Harry repeats his vows, having to take long pauses in between to keep it together. Zayn forces his arms to stay at his sides, resisting the urge to laugh behind his hands. He knew Harry would cry. “In sickness and in health, t-to love and...and to cherish, as long as we both shall live.” Louis wipes away a tear and knocks Harry’s chin, eyes radiating his fondness for the man in front of him.
“And now, the rings.” Zayn steps up, digging in his inner jacket pocket for the rings, white gold circles with the other’s initials inscribed in their respective bands. “These rings are a symbol of Louis and Harry’s love for each other, and with the exchange of the rings, a symbol of their commitment to one another.”
Louis holds out his left hand. Harry gently fits the ring over his finger, lacing their fingers. “With this ring, I thee wed. I love you.”
Louis grins. Harry offers his own finger, which Louis takes and slips the ring over. “With this ring, I thee wed. You’re my best friend.”
Anne and Jay are openly sobbing now, and Zayn thinks they should’ve just sat with each other for solidarity. “Rings have been exchanged, and this congregation has witnessed these two people’s vows to one another. With this knowledge, I pronounce you husbands. You may seal the vows with a kiss.” Their kiss is, shockingly, chaste and brief and they grin right through it. “It’s my privilege to present to you - the Tomlinson-Styles!”
--
Zayn and Niall are off to the side chatting and waiting for the photographer, a tiny Korean girl that Harry used to intern with, to get started. “I didn’t start crying ‘til Harry started crying, and then I just lost it.”
“Thought I could hear you back there,” Zayn says, smirking. “At first I thought it was one of Lou’s sisters. You really do sound like a girl when you cry, man.”
“Fuck yourself,” Niall says cheerily. “In that case, I won’t tell you what Liam said about you.”
Zayn perks up, just a little. His hands fly up to his bowtie almost on autopilot. “Liam? You spoke with him?”
“Maaaybe,” Niall says, slapping Zayn’s hands away so he can fiddle with the bow instead. “We were sitting together at first, ‘fore Phoebe and Daisy dragged me to go sit with them. He may have asked after you, what you’ve been up to, if you’re seeing anyone and such.”
“Seriously? I don’t believe you, little shit.”
“Ask him yourself, then. Hey, Liam! Over here!” Niall yells with a wave of his hand. “I’m gonna go bother Gemma, I think I’ve got a shot.” He moseys away before Zayn can blink twice.
“Where’s Niall going?” Liam asks, positively twinkling like a modern day Disney prince. Zayn has noticed that Liam smiles a lot, something he’d taken note of even back when they were in school together. It’s a bit like a fireplace in mid-December, when Liam turns that smile on him.
“To miserably strike-out with Harry’s sister,” Zayn says, which makes Liam slap his knee, laughter echoing off the high ceilings of the church. Liam doesn’t seem very different to the guy he was when Zayn last saw him...but there’s a certain boyishness that he used to have, a wide-eyed naïveté that’s not quite hardened, but just. Grown up, experienced.
“Yeah, he did mention that he liked her, when we talked earlier. I dunno, Niall can be very charming when he wants to be,” Liam says diplomatically.
Zayn’s just about to tell him how very wrong he is when Louis interrupts. “Hey, you lot - come on, we’re getting the family photos right now!”
“But I’m not - ”
“Zayn Malik, don’t you dare finish that sentence, just get your skinny arse over here. You too, Liam!”
They join up on the edge of Harry’s family, where Niall’s already standing next to Gemma who appears to be a firm divide between amused and annoyed. Tom and Lou are trying to convince Lux to stand in front of them, as she’s clinging to Harry’s leg and refusing to let go. “Alright everybody, squeeze in - taller people, just step behind the shorter person next to you, in, in, in - ” Zayn steps in front of Liam with a slight tint to his cheeks - “Couples, make sure you put your right hand on your partner’s waist - you two, on the end, put your hand on his waist, please.”
Zayn chokes just a little, a catch of air in his throat at the photographer’s presumption, and is about to correct her when he feels Liam’s hand come up to grip his side. He swallows, extremely aware of Liam’s body behind him, the heat of his hand. “Best just go with it, hmm?” Liam says low in his ear. Zayn nods. He’s so, so grateful that he’s never been a very noticeable blusher; he doesn’t need photographic evidence of just how quickly he’s become smitten with Liam Payne again.
“Perfect. Everybody smile!”
--
When Zayn arrives at the reception hall, it’s clear he’s one of the first people to arrive; the directions are a little confusing for first-time guests, involving a roundabout and street signs strategically hidden by trees. He goes to the bar, orders himself a Jack and Coke and walks over to where Louis’ parents are standing near the guestbook. He talks to them for a bit, gushes over the wedding play-by-play with Jay and discusses the DJ’s setlist with Mark, who thinks the current music doesn’t bode well for the evening’s festivities. Zayn assures him that although Harry had a say in the songs used before the start of the reception, Louis had firmly boxed him out when it came to the dancing music. It could be a bit of a challenge, getting wild to Bon Iver.
All of the guests seem to arrive at once, storming the bar and gift table in droves. There are a few cocktail tables near the bar, which quickly fill up with people, so Zayn finds his seat and waits for someone he knows to join him.
He’d already known who he’s meant to sit with - some mates of Harry’s that he’d thought Zayn would get along with, a few couples, and Niall - but as he slips his jacket off, he checks the seating arrangement anyway. He can’t help the extremely small bubble of irrational disappointment at not seeing Liam’s name at his table. Stupid.
Finally, finally, Niall shuffles in, zoning in on Zayn almost immediately, though first he makes a detour to the bar. He brings his drink over to Zayn. It’s halfway gone by the time Niall throws an arm around Zayn’s shoulders. “Hey, hey! Why’s the music so depressing, even I can’t shake my beautiful bum to this, this - dreary, boo-hoo music.”
“I watched you only have half a drink,” Zayn says, taking a sparse sip of his own fairly watered down drink. “How are you already tipsy?”
“Rode with Gemma, I was in charge of the flask,” Niall grins, eyebrows dancing wickedly.
“Amazing. You and Gemma, honestly?”
“Yep! She’s got, like, a thing for the schoolboy charm, I think? Like she could spank me for being naughty.” Niall actually rubs his hands together, like a wolf in an old cartoon.
“Amazing,” Zayn says again. He shakes his head, jostles Niall’s shoulder with his, and shrugs. “Alright, whatever.”
“How about you? Are you pullin’ tonight?” Niall leans into Zayn conspiratorially, making him stumble a little. “Maybe someone who’s been a long time coming?"
Zayn leans back into Niall to balance them out. “Think Louis’ firmly out of bounds now, since he’s married and all.”
“No, you dick. Liam. He’s quite fit now, you know.” Niall says matter-of-factly before finishing off his drink in a long gulp. “He was asking me about you at the wedding, did I tell you?”
“You may have mentioned that earlier, yeah,” Zayn says. He doesn’t add that he’s always thought Liam looked good.
“I think you should go for it. He fancied you back then, I bet you could work him, get him home with you.” Niall pats his shoulder like that’s that, and then it’s like his body has optimized itself for getting into Gemma’s knickers tonight, because almost as soon as she walks in with her parents, Niall is suddenly right there, hugging Anne and putting a confident arm around Gemma’s waist. Zayn is honestly impressed.
After standing around and making small talk with Stan and Will and some of the other lads, the DJ taps the microphone, telling everyone to clear off the dance floor for Harry and Louis’ first dance. The already dimmed lights are turned down even lower, and the candles in the centerpiece on each table flicker and dance in preparation for Louis and Harry’s arrival.
The room rises on tiptoe when they appear under the arch in the entryway. The photographer snaps pictures like a woman possessed, with seemingly no regard for the pillars and vases standing in her way. “Ladies and gentlemen, the grooms!”
Louis and Harry walk hand in hand to the middle of the dance floor. The piano starts up, and the couple comes together, Louis’ head tucked in Harry’s chest, Harry’s chin on Louis’ head. Their hands are clasped tight, free arms around each other’s waists, just swaying back and forth. Zayn knows they took dancing classes; he stood in for Harry once when he’d accidentally booked a job during his and Louis’ lesson. But they don’t seem to be open to the idea of not being ensconced in each other for at least their first dance, so the waltz and the tango and the cha cha are pushed onto the backburner for later. Louis’ eyes close as he tilts his head up to Harry’s, searching out a kiss, which Harry grants him sweetly. The room coos and dozens of camera flashes go off, trying to capture the moment between the newlyweds all at once.
The piano’s last few notes tinkle and fade out, and the DJ announces, “Give it up for the Tomlinson-Styles, everybody!” The crowd whoops and cheers as Louis and Harry are still kissing, though it’s gotten a little more heated and Harry’s hands are blatantly gripping Louis’ bum like it’s the only thing tethering him to this earth. “Now, the grooms and their mothers will share a dance.” Jay and Anne prise Louis and Harry apart, to the amusement of the crowd, and force the two grooms to lead them around the dancefloor.
“Hey,” a voice behind him breathes in his ear; he doesn’t even have to turn to know it’s Liam. He does anyway, and sure enough, there Liam is in all his suit-and-tie glory, shaking out his jacket and looking damp. “Got a bit lost on the way here, I only just managed to not get entirely caught in the downpour.”
“Rain’s supposed to be good luck for weddings,” Zayn says, and Liam beams at him.
“Ooh, showing off how smart you are, Mr. Show Off Malik,” he teases.
Zayn rolls his eyes, scratching at the back of his neck. “That’s some fancy wordplay you’ve got going on there, mate.”
Liam laughs and shrugs. “I’ve always been pretty shit at English.” Zayn raises his eyebrows and takes the last sip of his watery whiskey. “Do you want another drink? I can get us some drinks. Or we can go together, and you can tell me all about what you’ve been up to these past few years. You did an English degree, right?” Zayn nods and follows Liam as he leads Zayn to the bartender with the longest queue. “This way we have more time to chat.”
Zayn looks down at his toes, unsure if he should just jump right into it, or... Liam looks like a daft puppy, bright-eyed and receptive. “Well, I’m at this sort of small publishing company, Archer Comics? I’m an artist, and right now I basically just do a lot of detail work, helping other artists with their deadlines.” Zayn shrugs, and tries to resist pulling on his hair as he always does when he talks to people about his job. “They sometimes pair me up with different authors to see if we, like, share a vision for the work, but I haven’t really found anyone to click with yet.”
“That’s so fucking cool,” Liam says, jaw dropped and caterpillar eyebrows scrunched together like he can’t decide if he’s angry or awestruck. “Zayn, that’s literally. That’s absolutely amazing, seriously, that is so cool.”
“It’s really not,” Zayn says quickly, holding up his hands defensively. “I mean, I’m twenty-five now, essentially doing the work of an intern as a full-time job...it’s definitely not where I pictured myself when I was first hired.”
“I mean. Okay, that might be true,” Liam concedes, “but you’re doing something you love, and the rest will come, I know it will. Just give it a bit more time.”
Zayn remembers now why he hadn’t pursued anything with Liam; it was hard to be around such a positive person who thought the pieces would all fall into place because it was meant to be. It just isn’t a realistic outlook, and while Zayn isn’t a pessimist, he does know how crap people and situations can be, that sometimes there isn’t a magical solution to all of life’s problems.
It must show on his face because Liam speaks up. “I know what you’re thinking.” Zayn levels him with as neutral a look as he can manage. Liam’s gaze is intense, brows drawn together in a complete show of seriousness. “I’m not saying that, you know, one day you’ll wake up and suddenly love your job, or a promotion will fall into your lap. But I loved your art at uni, right, and I know that you work hard and you’re smart and so creative and talented, and you’re going to find the right person who understands and appreciates how incredible you are.”
Zayn is struck actually speechless as Liam moves up to the bar, ordering a rum and Coke and asking Zayn for his order. “Um, cranberry gin, please.” The bartender mixes their drinks and Liam sticks a few notes in the tip jar, earning him a grateful smile for his troubles.
“Do you know where you’re sitting? I don’t think anybody at my table is going to show up, I’m pretty sure it’s where Harry stuck the people who didn’t RSVP.”
“I’m near Harry and Louis, with Niall - I think he’d probably switch with you, if you wanted, since he’s with Gemma.”
“Cool. We’ll sit together then?” Liam smiles easily, as though he hadn’t made a long speech about his vision for Zayn’s future nearly apropos of nothing, so Zayn takes his cue from that and tries to shake off the intensity and conviction of Liam’s voice when he’d broken through Zayn’s self-doubt.
He feels dazed as he follows Liam back to their table, distantly introspective and a little bit vulnerable as Liam patiently waits for him to get out of his own head. They have a few more drinks, little glasses of wine from passing waiters that they wave around while admiring the sheer chiffon curtains draped along the walls and ceiling, contributing to the muted softness of the atmosphere. Liam tells Zayn about his own life after school; he’d graduated the same year as Harry and gone on to get his PGCE, and is now an assistant music teacher.
“I really love it, like, making a connection to the kids and getting to learn instruments that I would never have thought about, and it’s always fun,” Liam says happily. They’re both tipsy, but Liam is more physical with it, leaning into Zayn’s space and setting his mouth right by his ear and his voice has gotten a little deeper, a little slower. His arm is up around the back of Zayn’s chair, draped casually over it, tapping his fingers across Zayn’s back to the beat of the music. “Like, I love music and - just, imagining that my class could be the one that pushes someone to really love music too, it’s like. So incredible, you know?”
“Yeah, incredible,” Zayn says quietly, stretching out his neck. He noses at Liam’s shoulder, and Liam scratches Zayn’s back lightly. He shivers, his body loosening and melting under his touch. “Think I should stick to water from now on, maybe.”
“You at least have to have some champagne for the toasts,” Liam says.
Zayn shakes his head with a groan. “Water.”
Liam gently nudges Zayn so he’s sitting back in his own chair. “We’ll share a glass, alright? I’ll go get one, be right back.”
Zayn blinks around the room heavily, laughs when he catches sight of Niall and Gemma pressed against each other in the corner of the room just having at it, smiles when he sees his mum and dad slow dancing at the edge of the dance floor, cheers and stands when the DJ comes on and announces that one of the grooms has something he wants to say. Zayn isn’t at all surprised when Louis takes the stage, winding the cord of the microphone around one arm with a flourish. “Alright, so - I swore I wasn’t going to get tipsy and make a soppy speech, but as you all know, I can never resist a bit of storytelling.”
“Go on, Lou!” someone calls in the back, and Zayn grins. As if Louis needs any encouragement to talk about his two favorite subjects: himself and Harry.
“Okay, settle down!” Louis clears his throat, fixes his fringe. “So I suppose it was the summer before year 12 when the Styles family moved in next door? And, you know, mum and Anne hit it off right away, and she wanted me to look after their son, this lanky little kid with an outrageous mop of curls. Didn’t ask if I wanted to, mind you, or if I already had plans with Zayn - just told me to ‘be a dear, Boo, fetch the neighbor boy and show ‘im ‘round town.’”
“I don’t sound like that, you horrid boy,” Jay cries indignantly at Louis’ croaky impression of her.
Louis bulldozes on, giggling. “Anyway, so mum pushed him off on me and I took him under my wing and - well, we’ve been best mates ever since.” The low chatter in the room seems to lull even more as everyone gives their full attention to Louis, who’s staring at Harry with eyes brimming with adoration. “And even at sixteen, I knew, Haz, I knew that - that you were special, and we were special. And when I went away for uni, and you called all the time and texted and took the tram up to see me - and then when you joined me a year later, I knew that I was proper in love with you.” There are some sniffles round the room, and Zayn himself is having a hard time holding off tears. A warm hand settles on the side of his neck, squeezing lightly as Liam offers him the flute. Zayn takes it and raises it up when Louis does. “So this is for you, darling, my one and only, the love of my life, my husband. To Harry Styles!”
The room echoes, “Harry Styles!” and glasses clink and Zayn takes a sip before handing it back to Liam. Harry attempts to make a similar speech, only he’s gasping and blubbering so much that nobody can understand him, and finally Gemma stumbles up and helps him. “To Louis!”
“To Louis!”
Gemma clears her throat, gestures to where Harry has his body folded around Louis’. “My speech is short, right, because I’m a bit occupied at the moment. But basically, I am so happy for my little brothers and can’t wait to be Aunty Gem! To these two idiots!”
“Two idiots!”
Liam gives Zayn the nearly-empty glass and pushes him toward the stage. “Your turn, best man.”
Zayn makes his way to the stage and accepts the mic from Gemma. “Um. Hey. So like, I’m supposed to tell a ridiculous story or embarrass these two. But honestly, you all know pretty much everything there is to know.” He pauses, taking a deep breath to gather his thoughts. “Lou and Harry were pretty much meant to be together from the start. I love you boys, it’s been an honor to grow up with you and see the people you’ve become, separately and together. I don’t know if it was a happy coincidence that two people who complement each other so well met...maybe it was fate? Either way, best of luck, love you and congratulations!” Zayn drains the glass and pulls Harry and Louis into a hug, kissing them both on the cheek.
When Zayn lets them go and makes a move to return to his table, Louis tugs him back. “Not so fast, I want a dance.”
Zayn groans. “Why, why me? Wouldn’t you rather dance with your brand new husband?”
“Harry and I have practically been married for years, anyway,” Louis says with a shrug, though the not-so-repressed grin playing over his lips doesn’t fool Zayn for a second. He puts his hand on Zayn’s waist and leans into Zayn’s ear. “Besides, we can use the time we’re dancing to talk.”
“What about?” he asks as they shuffle along to Snow Patrol. “This music is terrible, by the way.”
“Gary Lightbody is a genius and don’t try to change the subject,” Louis snaps. “Now, back to what we were talking about: you and Liam.”
Zayn strives for casual, though he admittedly maybe misses it by a mark or two. “What. What about, er, me and Liam.”
“We all know I can be pretty up my own arse - don’t make the joke, it’s beneath you - but even I can see that you two have been acting quite cozy. Your mum asked me who he was, if you had someone you weren’t telling her about. The people want to know, Zayn!”
“Can I cut in?” And suddenly, Liam’s there, hands behind his back non-threateningly and his close-mouthed smile making his eyes tiny. “I think your sister wants to dance with you, too.”
“Come on, Lou, wanted to talk to you about something private,” Fizzy pipes up, pulling on Louis’ arm and shooting Zayn a very bizarre, intense glare. Louis lets himself be dragged away, although he’s giving Zayn a similarly threatening look and gesturing to Liam.
“I’m so confused,” Zayn says, bringing a hand up to Liam’s shoulder and ignoring the little tingle at his hip where Liam’s hand rests.
“You looked like you needed rescuing, so I thought I’d help out as best I could. What were you two talking about?”
“Nothing, just Louis being nosy.” They move back and forth slowly around the dance floor, twirling by Phoebe and Daisy, who are just spinning each other in and out theatrically and giggling, and Trisha and Yaser, who very pointedly make eyes at the pair. Zayn hurriedly turns them so Liam’s back faces his parents. “Um. Are you having a nice time tonight?”
Liam’s hand tightens on Zayn’s waist as he brings them closer together. “Yeah, really nice.” Zayn blushes at that, doesn’t know what to say, so he ducks his head and sort of rests his face in Liam’s neck. The song plays out, and then it’s time to cut the cake.
Liam stays right by Zayn’s side, brushing shoulders and fingertips and trading sly glances in between snapping pictures of Louis smearing cake across Harry’s cheek and licking it off. He’s there when Louis gets two fistfuls of cake and starts going after guests, and he’s laughing into Zayn’s shoulder when Louis is finally pinned down by Harry and all of his sisters.
Now that the newlyweds are sufficiently hyped up on sugar and champagne, the DJ decides it’s a good time for the party to really start, spinning straight into a Calvin Harris track. All the overhead lights are shut off, the candlelight from the centerpieces and the flashing colored lights on the stage. The dance floor, which had been peppered with couples while the slow music played, crowds up right away with just about everybody, even Louis’ grandad. Zayn ends up sandwiched between Liam and Caroline, with Caroline’s arm looped around his neck and Liam’s hand pressed tight across his stomach, swinging their hips together to the beat. Caroline moves off to find a new dance partner, and Liam takes the opportunity to turn Zayn around and get in his space, curling a hand around the back of his head and threading his fingers through his hair. Zayn leans into it, moves his own hands so they’re gripping Liam’s hips, and tries his best to keep in mind that his family and friends are still somewhere in the mass of people.
He loses track of that train of thought when he and Liam move further from the center of the floor, skirting to the outer edge of the crowd. Zayn takes a cursory glance around, just to see if Safaa or his parents are looking on, before he hooks both arms around Liam’s neck, shuts his eyes and just kisses him.
Liam responds instantly, mouth opening and tongue curling around Zayn’s, wrists crossing over Zayn’s lower back. Zayn tightens his hold on his neck and pushes up harder against him, desperate, not wanting to let go of him any sooner than he had to. They’re panting heavily, trying to get in gulps of air in between their mouths crashing together over and over, but Zayn’s head is spinning, he can’t really think about anything but kissing and Liam and finally kissing Liam. They keep coming together fast, teeth grazing lips and tongues, until Zayn pulls back to catch his breath.
He opens his eyes, turns his head to rest his cheek on Liam’s chest, and sees his mum and dad walking over at a fast clip. “Oh, fuck.” He pulls away, frantically dusting himself off and stepping in front of Liam, back facing his parents.
“Hi, Zayn! Didn’t see you over here, are you enjoying yourself?” His mum says, smile wide and absolutely put-upon. She hugs him and kisses both cheeks, and when she looks at Liam it’s as though she’s just noticing him for the first time. “Oh, hello! Who’s this, love?”
“Trisha, leave the boy alone,” Yaser says, slipping an arm around her waist and rolling his eyes at Zayn. “You know how your mother is. Though if you did want to introduce us, beta, I wouldn’t object to that...?”
“Oh, my god,” Zayn says, hiding his face in his hands. “Mum, abba. Please.”
“Hi, I’m Liam?” Zayn watches through his fingers as Liam shakes his parents’ hands. “Nice to meet you, I’ve heard loads about you.”
“Zayn has spent the wedding talking to you about his parents? Clearly I didn’t raise him right,” Yaser jokes, ruffling Zayn’s hair and clapping a hand on his shoulder. Zayn groans.
“Actually, we went to university together. I was a year under Zayn and good friends with Harry, so of course I got to know Louis and Zayn as well!” Liam’s eyes are scrunched at the corners, as they seem to stay at all times, which Zayn knows probably instantly charms his mum.
“Ooh, d’you know what? Honey, remember that boy Zayn used to mention sometimes...he was younger, friends with Harry, quite handsome? But I thought he had curly hair, maybe it’s a different bloke - ”
“Mum,” Zayn says, horrified that she even remembers all of that, his buzz altogether gone and humiliation settling in his bones instead. He needs another drink.
“You’ve a very good memory, Mrs. Malik,” Liam says solemnly, mouth twitching in a truly awful way. Zayn’s face burns. “My hair is still quite curly, just shows better when I grow it out.”
“Well, I don’t want to embarrass Zayn here, but as I remember, he was a bit keen on you when you lot were younger,” Yaser says with a wink, squeezing Zayn’s shoulder in - what. Comfort? Zayn is feeling the polar fucking opposite of comforted at the moment.
Liam is smiling this dopey half-grin that Zayn would likely find unattractive on anyone else. “Really? That’s very interesting.”
“Yes, yes, he’d always update us on what you were up to when he came home on holiday. Though, Liam, I’m afraid I must warn you that Trisha and I are very protective of our boy. Be good to him, got it? Don’t make that face, Zayn, I’m sure Liam’s parents would say the same thing to you. No need to feel embarrassed, mere chand.” Yaser pats his shoulder again before releasing him and, after shaking hands with Liam, takes Trisha’s hand. “Come on, jaan, let’s leave them to it.”
“Bye, love! Are you still coming to dinner next Sunday? You should bring Liam!” Damage done, they walk away, though they turn to look at Liam and Zayn over their shoulders ‘nonchalantly.’
Liam looks at him for a moment, head tilted and expression thoughtful. “You told your parents about me?” Zayn blushes, turning away and heading toward the bar. Unsurprisingly, Liam follows. “I didn’t know you even wanted me in your flat back then, let alone anything else...I thought I annoyed you, it’s the only reason I - well.” He trails off, pressing his lips together and shrugging.
The blood rushing in Zayn’s ears makes it hard for him to hear himself think, let alone speak. “You didn’t. Annoy me, that is.” Liam doesn’t say anything to that, just stares at Zayn with dark eyes, a stare that Zayn doesn’t dare look away from. “Whiskey neat for me, I think.”
“Make it two, please.”
Their drinks are poured and Zayn and Liam wander around the room, chatting to their old mates and reminiscing about the good old days. They’ve just broken away from one guy Liam used to be good friends with, a bloke called Andy who has never known how to take a hint, when they happen upon Fizzy and Safaa locked in what appears to be a small argument. Zayn debates getting involved, then remembers he hasn’t even spoken to his sister all night, and resigns himself to settling whatever silly teenage issues they’re having. “Hey, girls. Saf, Fizz, this is Liam.”
“Hi,” Safaa says, glancing at Liam for barely a second before her eyes snap back to Fizzy. “We’re kind of busy right now...”
“I hope you two aren’t fighting and spoiling your memories of the wedding,” Zayn scolds them gently, running the hand that isn’t holding his drink over Safaa’s hair. “Whatever little squabble you’re having, I’m sure you can put it aside for now.”
“No offense, but you kind of have no idea what you’re talking about, so. Could you bugger off, thanks.”
“She is in a right mood,” Zayn mutters to Liam, who chuckles and guides him away. “I’m sure whatever they’re fighting over is petty and stupid anyway.”
“I know, sisters are a pain, no need to get worked up over it,” Liam says, pushing him along back toward the dance floor. “Come on, let’s have another dance.” Zayn gives a reluctant smile when Liam spins him out, and he gets the most ridiculous feeling that he’s in a Match.com commercial as Liam pulls him back in, arms snug around his waist. Zayn shimmies just out of Liam’s reach, raising his arms and swinging his head to the beat of the Daft Punk song. Liam grabs his hands, pulls him closer and keeps their fingers twined, and Zayn lets all thoughts not centered on Liam recede to the back of his mind.
part two
rating: between r and nc-17
warning(s): none
pairing(s): liam payne/zayn malik, hefty harry styles/louis tomlinson, side niall horan/gemma styles
word count: 14,574
summary: It’s August, not a cloud in the sky, and two boys who’ve been smitten with each other for going on a decade are tying the knot.
notes: thanks times a gazillion to allie for helping me write it, cut it, and put it all back together (and deal with my neuroses), and to betsy for reading and catching my sentence fragments and cheering me on.
for the purpose of this fic, louis is 26, and the boys’ age differences are the same. lottie is 19, fizzy is 17, safaa is 16, phoebe and daisy are 11 bc cute. title from x
also on ao3
Zayn checks his bowtie in the mirror, tightening the knot and straightening it and making extra certain that it’s the right color (he’d almost picked up Onyx Dream by accident, though he luckily realized his mistake and switched it for Midnight Noir in the nick of time). The rose in his boutonniere is fresh and its petals are only slightly furled, just as requested. His jacket is hanging off a hook by the door, but he knows it fits like a dream, and his white button-up is crisp and perfectly starched. Even Mother Nature has given her blessing to the Tomlinson-Styles; it’s August, not a cloud in the sky, and two boys who’ve been smitten with each other for going on a decade are tying the knot. Everything is exactly as it should be, exactly where it should be.
Except, maybe, the rings.
Louis is perched on the edge of the couch in the groom’s parlor looking murderous. “How the fuck am I supposed to know where the rings are, I thought you gave them to Gemma last night - okay. Right, then, back to my original question - she’s your sister, how can you possibly be trying to blame this on me? Well maybe we should just call the whole thing off, you fucking absolute twat - ”
“Watch your fucking language, arsehole, this is a church,” Lottie - Charlotte, she prefers Charlotte now - hisses, looking up from her compact only to jab her mascara wand in Louis’ direction. Zayn sighs. Here we go -
Louis gasps, indignant. “Oh, fuck you - ”
“Alright, I’ll take that,” Zayn says, plucking Louis’ phone out of his fist before the fight can escalate any further.
Louis almost immediately rounds on his sister. “He lost the rings, fucking typical Harry, I hate him, he’s horrible!”
She continues brushing her eyelashes, squinting at her reflection and not sparing Louis even the slightest glance. “Yeah, but since you’re equally horrible, it all balances out.”
Louis gasps again, but this time Zayn steps out into the hallway before he has to stay and witness that particular carnage. “Harry?”
Harry is heaving into the receiver, so loud and distraught that at first, Zayn can hardly understand him. “I can’t fucking - I can’t get married, Zayn, we’re too young, we fight over the stupidest things and - and we should just break it off, or like, put it on hold, we need more time, I need more time - ”
“Might’ve thought about that before the day of the wedding, pal,” Zayn murmurs, pacing up and down the hallway with one hand stuffed in the pocket of his slacks. “Besides, you know that isn’t true.”
“But what if it is? What if we crash and burn and hate each other, like, I don’t remember ever being with anyone but Louis, I need time to live and explore - ”
“You are so full of shit, Harry Styles,” a new voice chimes in on Harry’s end. Zayn listens as a struggle ensues. “No. Give it here. I will sit on you, Harry. I will sit on you. Give me the phone.” She takes a breath before clearing her throat. “Gemma speaking.”
“Hey, Gem,” Zayn says with a faint smile, stopping to glance at his reflection. His hair looks a bit wilted, he’ll have to see if he can talk Fizzy into livening it back up. “I take it he’s been like this all afternoon.”
“And then some,” Gemma groans, “insufferable little tosser. But it’s just ‘cause he’s nervous, because he knows this is the best decision he’ll ever make.”
“Yeah, I know. I think they like the drama, to be honest. Be a bit boring otherwise.”
“People generally want weddings to be boring - the fewer dramatic declarations to call it all off, the better. They are so bloody ridiculous.”
“I don’t disagree,” Zayn laughs, looking down at his shoes and tapping them together. “But that’s probably why they work so well, too.” Gemma hums her agreement. “Want to switch off for a bit? You know you’ll only rile Harry up more, and Louis listens to you.”
Zayn knows Gemma’s only pretending to think it over. The Styles siblings have always gotten on really well despite their age gap (Louis and his sisters are the same, as well as Zayn and his sisters. Maybe it’s something in the water...); however, Gemma’s patience for Harry-mid-tantrum has waned considerably over the years. Perhaps it has something to do with the fact that Harry could (sort of) grow facial hair now. “Eh...yeah, alright, come to the bridal suite. There’ll be plenty of mirrors for you to primp in, Zaynie.”
Zayn groans, making a face. “I resent that. This is a wedding, we’re meant to look our best!” Gemma just laughs and hangs up with a wet kissing noise, and Zayn pops his head back in on Louis. He’s lying with his head in Lottie’s - Charlotte’s - lap, eyes closed and breathing steadily. It’s a major improvement from when Zayn left, and, fingers crossed, the rings will be found and the rest of the day will be smooth sailing. “Hey, me and Gemma are going to trade off, so she’ll be here in a few. Want me to send a message on to Harry?”
Louis takes a deep breath and cracks an eye open. Lottie pets his hair with one hand, tapping away at her phone with the other. “Tell him to be ready in an hour, because we’re getting married, and if he delays our nuptials for even a second, I’ll kill him.” He pauses, then adds, “And give him a kiss from me as well.”
“Got it.” Zayn nods, closing the door to the parlor and making his way up the stairs and through the sanctuary. He stops to say hello to Louis’ mum and dad, Harry’s parents close behind, congratulating them and kissing them on the cheek and assuring them that their sons are nervous and excited and, despite several claims otherwise, are very much going to be married today.
“Ooh, Zayn! By the way, I had these cleaned this morning. Wanted to make sure they looked nice on the big day!” Anne digs around in her purse for a moment before coming up with two velvet boxes. “Could you let Gem know? I bet she’s worried sick."
“Of course,” Zayn says with a grin, hugging her again and pocketing the rings. Zayn smiles and waves to some of the early guests trickling in, mostly friends of Louis’ he hasn’t seen since graduating. He vaguely recognizes some of the people Harry works with, mostly because they look just slightly better groomed and dressed than everyone else, and he nods when they raise their eyebrows in greeting.
Zayn gets to the lobby of the church, where Phoebe and Daisy are wearing matching bridesmaid’s dresses in different colors, hair and makeup making them look starry-eyed and grown. They’re standing with programs in their arms, dutifully handing them out to the arriving guests, though they abandon that with a squeal when they see Zayn. “My two favorite girls, you both look gorgeous!”
“Careful,” Phoebe says with a giggle, watching as Daisy throws her face into Zayn’s chest without a second thought. “Daze, be careful, careful! Aunty Lou and Aunty Cazza will have to redo it if you mess it up.”
“I am being careful,” Daisy whines, pulling back from Zayn with a pout.
Zayn pulls Phoebe into a full-body hug, laughing as she shrieks and tries to get out from under his hold. “Hey, hey, only one Tomlinson breakdown is allowed per wedding,” Zayn says with a mock-scowl, which instantly has both of the twins clawing at him for information.
“Louis is nervous? Why? Uncle Harry is the best, why is Lou crying? Was he crying? Zayn! Zayn!”
“How come everyone else is ‘Uncle Harry’ and ‘Aunty Lou’ and I’m just Zayn?” he asks with a wrinkle of his nose, tickling Phoebe. “You lot don’t think I’m important enough to be your uncle?”
“Don’t be silly, Zayn,” Daisy says with a roll of her eyes that makes her look startlingly like Louis. “You’re our uncle, but it just sounds weird. Uncle Zayn. Uncle Zayn.”
“Uncle Zayn,” Phoebe repeats, narrowing her eyes. “Nah, doesn’t sound right.”
Zayn tugs on one of Daisy’s springy curls and turns to take his leave, to finally go down to the bridal suite to psych Harry up and fulfill his duties as best man, when he happens to glance outside. The doors to the church are propped open because of the good weather, the sun shining through the stained glass windows leaving smatterings of color across the worn wood floors, the foliage swaying cheerily in the breeze. So Zayn sees, jogging up the front steps of the church, a boy he hasn’t seen in years. He’s wearing a dark grey suit, the cut of the jacket complementing the almost triangular shape of his torso; it draws the eye to his broad shoulders and slim waist without seeming cartoonish or overdone. His hair’s shorter than it used to be, less curly with the way it’s cropped and styled, but still a bit messy and boyish and. He looks really good.
Daisy sidles up to him shyly, proffering a program for him to take. “Hullo, welcome, hi. Styles or Tomlinson?”
He tilts his head. “Sorry?”
Phoebe joins Daisy. “Which side are you here for, Uncle Harry or Louis?”
“Oh! Well, both. Although, now I suppose...more Harry?”
“Right side,” the twins say in unison before trotting back to Zayn, who’s still staring at the man and not saying a word. “Zayn, come on, tell us about Louis’ breakdown!”
The guy, who’s musing over the second page of the program, looks up. “Zayn Malik?”
Zayn offers a little wave. He remembers Liam being a bit spacey, bit slow on the uptake. “Hey, Liam.”
“Wow, hey, Zayn!” Zayn holds out his hand for a shake, but Liam just throws his arms around him in a fierce hug. Zayn recovers quickly, patting him on the back a few times. “It’s been ages, mate, how’ve you been?”
“I’ve been doing well, thanks.” As Zayn relaxes to ease his way out of the embrace, Liam’s arms go tighter around him. Zayn is surprised. He’d always liked Liam, but they hadn’t been terribly close when they were in school, Liam always opting to go out with Harry and the lads while Zayn preferred to stay in and just be. “Alright there?”
“Yeah, yeah, I’m good, sorry,” Liam laughs, finally releasing Zayn from his grip. “Just happy to see you, is all. You and Louis and Harry still tight as ever?”
“Yeah, still really close. I’m their best man,” Zayn says with what he knows is an obnoxious preen; he can’t help it, he’s happy for his mates and proud that he gets to celebrate their wedding with them like this.
Liam looks impressed. “I figured as much, if I’m being honest. You three always seemed the likeliest to live in each other’s pockets for the rest of your lives.”
Zayn laughs at that; his mum had said something much the same when, after Zayn and Louis’d been in uni together for a semester, Harry made the decision to take his A-levels early so he could follow them. “I was actually just about to go see Harry, if you wanted to come and say hi?”
Warm and friendly Liam turns suddenly sheepish, rubbing at the back of his neck and messing with the end of his tie. “Dunno if that’s a good idea, actually. I forgot to send back my RSVP...forgot to even respond to Harry when he sent me a follow-up invite on Facebook.”
Zayn shakes his head, beckoning for Liam to follow him. “Honestly, Harry will most likely be a little upset. But this is good! He can take out his wedding day jitters on you, and you deserve it for stressing him out.”
“Harry’s got jitters, really? I figured he’d be racing down the aisle. He and Louis both.”
“Oh, trust me, they are,” Zayn says, pushing open the door to the bridal suite. “Louis and Harry both just love being difficult, you know how they are.”
“Heeeyyy,” Harry says from where he’s face down on the couch. He’s in just his waistcoat, bowtie hanging undone around his neck, and the sleeves of his button up are rolled up to the elbows. His voice comes out muffled into the cushions. “‘M not difficult. Never difficult.”
As the bridal suite was built to hold an army of bridesmaids and flower girls, half of the allotted space Harry has been given is unused. However, the used half is littered with fabric swatches, grids and spreadsheets of floral arrangements, hair products, and a department store’s supply of makeup. “Your mum had the rings, Haz, but I’ve got them now.” Harry’s laptop is sitting on the coffee table, and Zayn tilts the screen to have a look, thinking it’ll be more last minute wedding details that he’s obsessing over. “Harry Styles, why the fuck are you watching porn in a church on your wedding day.”
Harry heaves a sigh, turning his head to the side so he can be heard clearly. “Lou thought it would be, like, romantic if we waited until the night of the wedding to have sex again. So I thought I’d try to. I dunno, release some tension or something? Doesn’t matter, didn’t work without him.”
“...that’s fucked up, but sort of sweet.” Zayn looks at Liam, who just shrugs. “How long has this been going on?”
“Two months.”
“Jesus,” Liam swears, and Harry rolls off the couch with a splutter.
He stumbles to his feet and grabs Liam by the shoulders, shaking him. “Liam Payne, is that you? I thought you weren’t coming, you never responded to my many, many messages - ”
“Yeah, I know, sorry! Been busy, mate, between volunteering to teach summer courses, now trying to get the classroom set up for the new term. I finally had to tell my boss that I needed this weekend off. I’m sorry, Haz.”
Harry looks torn between wanting to throttle Liam and cuddle the frown off his face. “Fine. You’re lucky that I went ahead and included you on the guest list, anyway.” He slings an arm around Liam and tousles his hair with his other hand, Liam squawking indignantly at his newly mussed hairdo.
Zayn is looking on with a soft smile when he’s struck by inspiration, whipping out his mobile to dial Gemma’s number. “I’m not switching back already, Malik, I only just got here and I - ”
“Calm down, I’m not calling to ask you to come back. Actually, one of our old friends from university that we were close to showed up and he’s in a much better mood. And we found the rings!”
“Oh. That’s good, I suppose. Well then, what’s up?”
Zayn mills about the room, impulsively running his fingers over the brushes and bottles and tins cluttering the vanity. “I figured you could ask Lou for our friend Niall’s number? He’s probably on his way to the church already, he’s always really good about being early to important stuff. Call him up and let him know to go to the groom’s parlor, to help Louis chill out.”
Gemma snorts. “Is he short and blond and, for reasons beyond me, wearing a baseball cap? Because I think he might already be here.”
“Oi,” Zayn hears over the line, “already told you, it’s a snapback and it goes with the color theme.”
“Still a wedding,” Gemma says tartly. “Anyway, if that was all, I’ve slipped a flask in and we’re about to start doing shots, so. Talk to you in a few!”
“I don’t think alcohol is actually allowed inside the church,” Zayn says to the ended call. He half-hopes that Lottie will be the lone voice of reason in the group, but seeing as she’s a nineteen-year-old uni student...he sighs wearily. Best not tell Haz about the flask, probably. Zayn turns back to Harry and Liam who are now hunched over the laptop, Harry typing and clicking furiously. “Please tell me you aren’t trying to watch porn again.”
“I was listening to the radio on the way over, said something about a chance of thunderstorms tonight. We were just looking at the latest reports to see if the weather will still be clear for outdoor pictures after the ceremony,” Liam says, fingers tapping at his chin worriedly, as if he himself is invested in the post-wedding portraits.
“How’s Louis doing?” Harry asks, biting his lip and frantically switching back and forth between the weather report and his laminated copy of the evening’s itinerary.
“He says he loves you,” Zayn says, “told me to give you a kiss and he’ll see you at half five, not a minute later.”
“Oh, god,” Harry groans, hands reaching up automatically to twist at his hair, but stopping at the last second. “Thirty minutes. In thirty minutes, I’ll be Harry Tomlinson.”
“Oh, are you taking Louis’ name?” Liam asks, intrigued. “I’ve been to a few gay weddings and the couples’ve never chosen to take just one person’s name.”
“He’s not,” Zayn says under his breath, “he just keeps saying it for dramatic effect. Louis flits about calling himself ‘Louis Styles’ as well. Sounds like a bad porn star’s name, if you ask me.”
“Good thing nobody did, then! And we’re considering hyphenating,” Harry argues, “so ha.”
“We all know you’re both too conceited to hyphenate, you’d never be able to decide whose name goes first!”
“Portmanteaus are a thing,” Harry says with slitted eyes. “Louis and Harry Stylinson.” Zayn scoffs. “You’ll understand one day, Zayn, when you’re all loved up and ready to be married. Then you’ll know what this struggle is like. Until then, you’ll just keep being the wedding Scrooge.”
Zayn’s eyes are looking to be permanently fixed toward the back of his head. “Oh, fuck off!”
Liam laughs and stands, brushing the wrinkles out of his slacks. “I suppose I’ll go and get my seat. Leave you two to do the last minute preparations and that.” He gives a little wave and leaves, a waft of woodsy fragrance lingering after him.
After they’ve stared at the door for five minutes, Harry turns to Zayn and whistles. “He has gotten fit.”
Zayn runs a hand through his hair, officially ruining it, and sighs deeply. “I know.”
“...want me to ring Fizzy about your hair?”
“Please.”
--
In the church foyer, after all the guests have been seated and the front doors to the church have been shut, the church’s wedding coordinator erects a good-sized partition to section off the two grooms. They’d decided to both walk down the aisle with their mothers, but still wanted to keep the tradition of not seeing each other until the very last moment.
Harry, Anne, Gemma and Lux are faint shadows through the curtain, moving about and chatting to the coordinator about the turnout. The curtain doesn’t mean they can’t hear each other, and Zayn listens to the coordinator (he thinks her name is Leslie) instruct Gemma on where to walk, to make sure she walks all the way up to the steps of the altar and make a sharp right to face the sanctuary. “Zayn will follow in as soon as she gets about halfway, exact same thing, except a sharp left. Got it?”
“Got it,” Zayn says.
“After that, it’ll be Lux’s turn, just sprinkle the flowers along the aisle, right sweetheart? She’ll sit down with her parents, then we’ll give the quartet a moment to start ‘Canon in D,’ and Harry and Anne will process in. Then Louis and Jay, exact same thing, and it’ll be absolutely perfect.”
Zayn stands on Louis’ side with Jay, who’s brushing imaginary lint from his shoulders and securing the flower in his lapel. He kicks at Louis’ shin, laughing when Louis swears and Jay shoots Louis with the most withering tear-ridden glare Zayn’s ever witnessed. “Doin’ alright?”
“Yeah,” Louis croaks, clearing his throat. Jay licks her thumb and smooths his eyebrows so they’re neat and orderly. “Yeah, ‘m ready.”
“Me, too,” Harry says, four fingertips poking through the curtain that Louis touches his own fingers to. “I’ve been ready for a long time, love.”
Jay fans her face to hold back her tears and hugs Louis tight. “Sweetums, I just wanted to tell you again - I’m so, so proud of you, and so happy for both of you. I love you, darling boy.”
“Love you too, mum,” Louis whispers, fingers pressing into her back. Zayn suddenly longs for his own mother; she’s probably already sitting down with his father and maybe Safaa, if she didn’t have anything going on this weekend and wanted to hang out with Fizz. He misses his family. As though psychic, which at this point in their relationship he practically is, Louis pulls Zayn into the hug. “Come on, bad boy Zayn, come give your second mummy a hug.”
A burst of strings filters through the parted doors leading to the sanctuary. Zayn’s heart races. “Alright, Gemma, stand here - yes, Zayn, come stand behind her. You too, Lux!” Zayn squeezes Jay and Louis one last time before carefully moving through the curtain, making sure it falls closed behind him. Gemma reaches over, squeezes his hand hard, then folds her hands across her stomach. The doors swing all the way open. “Go, Gemma.”
Her dress is long and navy, her hair down and loosely curled and bouncy as she walks slowly down the aisle. Everyone’s turned to watch her. Zayn spots his parents; his dad may or may not be tearing up, though the balled-up tissues in his fist makes Zayn lean toward definitely. Niall is on the end of the second pew with Louis’ sisters, in an odd turn of events. Niall waves with a toothy smile.
He ignores the little throb in his heart when he doesn’t see Liam.
Leslie nudges him forward. “Zayn, your turn.”
He tries to go slow like Gemma did, but having everyone’s eyes on him makes him quicken his pace; he’s at the altar before he knows it. He scans the crowd quickly, recognizes a lot of faces, but is still disappointed when he can’t find Liam. Lux skips down the aisle with her basket of flowers, tossing petals to all her admirers. She giggles when she gets to the second pew and slides in to sit on Tom’s lap, still giddy with attention.
The music fades out, making the creaking of pews echo through the room as everyone bodily turns to face the doors. Zayn tries to keep his smile serene versus manic with joy, but he can’t help the swelling of his heart when Harry appears in the doorway with a grin so huge and classically Harry that the whole church titters.
The cellist saws away on her lower strings, and as soon as the violin joins in, Harry steps down the aisle. Cameras flash wildly, but Harry and Anne walk like they’re used to dozens of people taking their photo at once. They get to the front, where Zayn can see that Anne’s crying, and she kisses Harry on both cheeks before stepping into the first pew next to her husband.
The violins quiet down and the violist plucks at his strings, which is when Louis comes into view. The cameras keep going off. Louis’ smile is less all-encompassing, more mischievous than Harry’s, but no less happy. Jay walks him to the altar, kisses him twice, and takes her seat.
The minister, a silver-haired woman with round glasses and a bright white smile, steps forward and seats the congregation. Harry and Louis follow her up the steps of the altar arm-in-arm. Zayn and Gemma turn to watch as the minister first reads Louis’ favorite poem, then Harry’s, and then a little piece Zayn wrote for them. His ears are hot as his own work is read back to him; he’d been embarrassed when they’d come to him and asked him to write something for the wedding, but they’d insisted, and who was he to deny Harry and Louis on their special day?
“Now, the exchanging of the vows. Louis, if you’d repeat after me.” Louis and Harry turn to face each other, holding each other’s hands and rubbing thumbs across knuckles.
“I, Louis, take you Harry, to be my husband, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, as long as we both shall live.” Louis’ voice has a hint of a quaver in it that he grins right through.
“And Harry.”
Harry repeats his vows, having to take long pauses in between to keep it together. Zayn forces his arms to stay at his sides, resisting the urge to laugh behind his hands. He knew Harry would cry. “In sickness and in health, t-to love and...and to cherish, as long as we both shall live.” Louis wipes away a tear and knocks Harry’s chin, eyes radiating his fondness for the man in front of him.
“And now, the rings.” Zayn steps up, digging in his inner jacket pocket for the rings, white gold circles with the other’s initials inscribed in their respective bands. “These rings are a symbol of Louis and Harry’s love for each other, and with the exchange of the rings, a symbol of their commitment to one another.”
Louis holds out his left hand. Harry gently fits the ring over his finger, lacing their fingers. “With this ring, I thee wed. I love you.”
Louis grins. Harry offers his own finger, which Louis takes and slips the ring over. “With this ring, I thee wed. You’re my best friend.”
Anne and Jay are openly sobbing now, and Zayn thinks they should’ve just sat with each other for solidarity. “Rings have been exchanged, and this congregation has witnessed these two people’s vows to one another. With this knowledge, I pronounce you husbands. You may seal the vows with a kiss.” Their kiss is, shockingly, chaste and brief and they grin right through it. “It’s my privilege to present to you - the Tomlinson-Styles!”
--
Zayn and Niall are off to the side chatting and waiting for the photographer, a tiny Korean girl that Harry used to intern with, to get started. “I didn’t start crying ‘til Harry started crying, and then I just lost it.”
“Thought I could hear you back there,” Zayn says, smirking. “At first I thought it was one of Lou’s sisters. You really do sound like a girl when you cry, man.”
“Fuck yourself,” Niall says cheerily. “In that case, I won’t tell you what Liam said about you.”
Zayn perks up, just a little. His hands fly up to his bowtie almost on autopilot. “Liam? You spoke with him?”
“Maaaybe,” Niall says, slapping Zayn’s hands away so he can fiddle with the bow instead. “We were sitting together at first, ‘fore Phoebe and Daisy dragged me to go sit with them. He may have asked after you, what you’ve been up to, if you’re seeing anyone and such.”
“Seriously? I don’t believe you, little shit.”
“Ask him yourself, then. Hey, Liam! Over here!” Niall yells with a wave of his hand. “I’m gonna go bother Gemma, I think I’ve got a shot.” He moseys away before Zayn can blink twice.
“Where’s Niall going?” Liam asks, positively twinkling like a modern day Disney prince. Zayn has noticed that Liam smiles a lot, something he’d taken note of even back when they were in school together. It’s a bit like a fireplace in mid-December, when Liam turns that smile on him.
“To miserably strike-out with Harry’s sister,” Zayn says, which makes Liam slap his knee, laughter echoing off the high ceilings of the church. Liam doesn’t seem very different to the guy he was when Zayn last saw him...but there’s a certain boyishness that he used to have, a wide-eyed naïveté that’s not quite hardened, but just. Grown up, experienced.
“Yeah, he did mention that he liked her, when we talked earlier. I dunno, Niall can be very charming when he wants to be,” Liam says diplomatically.
Zayn’s just about to tell him how very wrong he is when Louis interrupts. “Hey, you lot - come on, we’re getting the family photos right now!”
“But I’m not - ”
“Zayn Malik, don’t you dare finish that sentence, just get your skinny arse over here. You too, Liam!”
They join up on the edge of Harry’s family, where Niall’s already standing next to Gemma who appears to be a firm divide between amused and annoyed. Tom and Lou are trying to convince Lux to stand in front of them, as she’s clinging to Harry’s leg and refusing to let go. “Alright everybody, squeeze in - taller people, just step behind the shorter person next to you, in, in, in - ” Zayn steps in front of Liam with a slight tint to his cheeks - “Couples, make sure you put your right hand on your partner’s waist - you two, on the end, put your hand on his waist, please.”
Zayn chokes just a little, a catch of air in his throat at the photographer’s presumption, and is about to correct her when he feels Liam’s hand come up to grip his side. He swallows, extremely aware of Liam’s body behind him, the heat of his hand. “Best just go with it, hmm?” Liam says low in his ear. Zayn nods. He’s so, so grateful that he’s never been a very noticeable blusher; he doesn’t need photographic evidence of just how quickly he’s become smitten with Liam Payne again.
“Perfect. Everybody smile!”
--
When Zayn arrives at the reception hall, it’s clear he’s one of the first people to arrive; the directions are a little confusing for first-time guests, involving a roundabout and street signs strategically hidden by trees. He goes to the bar, orders himself a Jack and Coke and walks over to where Louis’ parents are standing near the guestbook. He talks to them for a bit, gushes over the wedding play-by-play with Jay and discusses the DJ’s setlist with Mark, who thinks the current music doesn’t bode well for the evening’s festivities. Zayn assures him that although Harry had a say in the songs used before the start of the reception, Louis had firmly boxed him out when it came to the dancing music. It could be a bit of a challenge, getting wild to Bon Iver.
All of the guests seem to arrive at once, storming the bar and gift table in droves. There are a few cocktail tables near the bar, which quickly fill up with people, so Zayn finds his seat and waits for someone he knows to join him.
He’d already known who he’s meant to sit with - some mates of Harry’s that he’d thought Zayn would get along with, a few couples, and Niall - but as he slips his jacket off, he checks the seating arrangement anyway. He can’t help the extremely small bubble of irrational disappointment at not seeing Liam’s name at his table. Stupid.
Finally, finally, Niall shuffles in, zoning in on Zayn almost immediately, though first he makes a detour to the bar. He brings his drink over to Zayn. It’s halfway gone by the time Niall throws an arm around Zayn’s shoulders. “Hey, hey! Why’s the music so depressing, even I can’t shake my beautiful bum to this, this - dreary, boo-hoo music.”
“I watched you only have half a drink,” Zayn says, taking a sparse sip of his own fairly watered down drink. “How are you already tipsy?”
“Rode with Gemma, I was in charge of the flask,” Niall grins, eyebrows dancing wickedly.
“Amazing. You and Gemma, honestly?”
“Yep! She’s got, like, a thing for the schoolboy charm, I think? Like she could spank me for being naughty.” Niall actually rubs his hands together, like a wolf in an old cartoon.
“Amazing,” Zayn says again. He shakes his head, jostles Niall’s shoulder with his, and shrugs. “Alright, whatever.”
“How about you? Are you pullin’ tonight?” Niall leans into Zayn conspiratorially, making him stumble a little. “Maybe someone who’s been a long time coming?"
Zayn leans back into Niall to balance them out. “Think Louis’ firmly out of bounds now, since he’s married and all.”
“No, you dick. Liam. He’s quite fit now, you know.” Niall says matter-of-factly before finishing off his drink in a long gulp. “He was asking me about you at the wedding, did I tell you?”
“You may have mentioned that earlier, yeah,” Zayn says. He doesn’t add that he’s always thought Liam looked good.
“I think you should go for it. He fancied you back then, I bet you could work him, get him home with you.” Niall pats his shoulder like that’s that, and then it’s like his body has optimized itself for getting into Gemma’s knickers tonight, because almost as soon as she walks in with her parents, Niall is suddenly right there, hugging Anne and putting a confident arm around Gemma’s waist. Zayn is honestly impressed.
After standing around and making small talk with Stan and Will and some of the other lads, the DJ taps the microphone, telling everyone to clear off the dance floor for Harry and Louis’ first dance. The already dimmed lights are turned down even lower, and the candles in the centerpiece on each table flicker and dance in preparation for Louis and Harry’s arrival.
The room rises on tiptoe when they appear under the arch in the entryway. The photographer snaps pictures like a woman possessed, with seemingly no regard for the pillars and vases standing in her way. “Ladies and gentlemen, the grooms!”
Louis and Harry walk hand in hand to the middle of the dance floor. The piano starts up, and the couple comes together, Louis’ head tucked in Harry’s chest, Harry’s chin on Louis’ head. Their hands are clasped tight, free arms around each other’s waists, just swaying back and forth. Zayn knows they took dancing classes; he stood in for Harry once when he’d accidentally booked a job during his and Louis’ lesson. But they don’t seem to be open to the idea of not being ensconced in each other for at least their first dance, so the waltz and the tango and the cha cha are pushed onto the backburner for later. Louis’ eyes close as he tilts his head up to Harry’s, searching out a kiss, which Harry grants him sweetly. The room coos and dozens of camera flashes go off, trying to capture the moment between the newlyweds all at once.
The piano’s last few notes tinkle and fade out, and the DJ announces, “Give it up for the Tomlinson-Styles, everybody!” The crowd whoops and cheers as Louis and Harry are still kissing, though it’s gotten a little more heated and Harry’s hands are blatantly gripping Louis’ bum like it’s the only thing tethering him to this earth. “Now, the grooms and their mothers will share a dance.” Jay and Anne prise Louis and Harry apart, to the amusement of the crowd, and force the two grooms to lead them around the dancefloor.
“Hey,” a voice behind him breathes in his ear; he doesn’t even have to turn to know it’s Liam. He does anyway, and sure enough, there Liam is in all his suit-and-tie glory, shaking out his jacket and looking damp. “Got a bit lost on the way here, I only just managed to not get entirely caught in the downpour.”
“Rain’s supposed to be good luck for weddings,” Zayn says, and Liam beams at him.
“Ooh, showing off how smart you are, Mr. Show Off Malik,” he teases.
Zayn rolls his eyes, scratching at the back of his neck. “That’s some fancy wordplay you’ve got going on there, mate.”
Liam laughs and shrugs. “I’ve always been pretty shit at English.” Zayn raises his eyebrows and takes the last sip of his watery whiskey. “Do you want another drink? I can get us some drinks. Or we can go together, and you can tell me all about what you’ve been up to these past few years. You did an English degree, right?” Zayn nods and follows Liam as he leads Zayn to the bartender with the longest queue. “This way we have more time to chat.”
Zayn looks down at his toes, unsure if he should just jump right into it, or... Liam looks like a daft puppy, bright-eyed and receptive. “Well, I’m at this sort of small publishing company, Archer Comics? I’m an artist, and right now I basically just do a lot of detail work, helping other artists with their deadlines.” Zayn shrugs, and tries to resist pulling on his hair as he always does when he talks to people about his job. “They sometimes pair me up with different authors to see if we, like, share a vision for the work, but I haven’t really found anyone to click with yet.”
“That’s so fucking cool,” Liam says, jaw dropped and caterpillar eyebrows scrunched together like he can’t decide if he’s angry or awestruck. “Zayn, that’s literally. That’s absolutely amazing, seriously, that is so cool.”
“It’s really not,” Zayn says quickly, holding up his hands defensively. “I mean, I’m twenty-five now, essentially doing the work of an intern as a full-time job...it’s definitely not where I pictured myself when I was first hired.”
“I mean. Okay, that might be true,” Liam concedes, “but you’re doing something you love, and the rest will come, I know it will. Just give it a bit more time.”
Zayn remembers now why he hadn’t pursued anything with Liam; it was hard to be around such a positive person who thought the pieces would all fall into place because it was meant to be. It just isn’t a realistic outlook, and while Zayn isn’t a pessimist, he does know how crap people and situations can be, that sometimes there isn’t a magical solution to all of life’s problems.
It must show on his face because Liam speaks up. “I know what you’re thinking.” Zayn levels him with as neutral a look as he can manage. Liam’s gaze is intense, brows drawn together in a complete show of seriousness. “I’m not saying that, you know, one day you’ll wake up and suddenly love your job, or a promotion will fall into your lap. But I loved your art at uni, right, and I know that you work hard and you’re smart and so creative and talented, and you’re going to find the right person who understands and appreciates how incredible you are.”
Zayn is struck actually speechless as Liam moves up to the bar, ordering a rum and Coke and asking Zayn for his order. “Um, cranberry gin, please.” The bartender mixes their drinks and Liam sticks a few notes in the tip jar, earning him a grateful smile for his troubles.
“Do you know where you’re sitting? I don’t think anybody at my table is going to show up, I’m pretty sure it’s where Harry stuck the people who didn’t RSVP.”
“I’m near Harry and Louis, with Niall - I think he’d probably switch with you, if you wanted, since he’s with Gemma.”
“Cool. We’ll sit together then?” Liam smiles easily, as though he hadn’t made a long speech about his vision for Zayn’s future nearly apropos of nothing, so Zayn takes his cue from that and tries to shake off the intensity and conviction of Liam’s voice when he’d broken through Zayn’s self-doubt.
He feels dazed as he follows Liam back to their table, distantly introspective and a little bit vulnerable as Liam patiently waits for him to get out of his own head. They have a few more drinks, little glasses of wine from passing waiters that they wave around while admiring the sheer chiffon curtains draped along the walls and ceiling, contributing to the muted softness of the atmosphere. Liam tells Zayn about his own life after school; he’d graduated the same year as Harry and gone on to get his PGCE, and is now an assistant music teacher.
“I really love it, like, making a connection to the kids and getting to learn instruments that I would never have thought about, and it’s always fun,” Liam says happily. They’re both tipsy, but Liam is more physical with it, leaning into Zayn’s space and setting his mouth right by his ear and his voice has gotten a little deeper, a little slower. His arm is up around the back of Zayn’s chair, draped casually over it, tapping his fingers across Zayn’s back to the beat of the music. “Like, I love music and - just, imagining that my class could be the one that pushes someone to really love music too, it’s like. So incredible, you know?”
“Yeah, incredible,” Zayn says quietly, stretching out his neck. He noses at Liam’s shoulder, and Liam scratches Zayn’s back lightly. He shivers, his body loosening and melting under his touch. “Think I should stick to water from now on, maybe.”
“You at least have to have some champagne for the toasts,” Liam says.
Zayn shakes his head with a groan. “Water.”
Liam gently nudges Zayn so he’s sitting back in his own chair. “We’ll share a glass, alright? I’ll go get one, be right back.”
Zayn blinks around the room heavily, laughs when he catches sight of Niall and Gemma pressed against each other in the corner of the room just having at it, smiles when he sees his mum and dad slow dancing at the edge of the dance floor, cheers and stands when the DJ comes on and announces that one of the grooms has something he wants to say. Zayn isn’t at all surprised when Louis takes the stage, winding the cord of the microphone around one arm with a flourish. “Alright, so - I swore I wasn’t going to get tipsy and make a soppy speech, but as you all know, I can never resist a bit of storytelling.”
“Go on, Lou!” someone calls in the back, and Zayn grins. As if Louis needs any encouragement to talk about his two favorite subjects: himself and Harry.
“Okay, settle down!” Louis clears his throat, fixes his fringe. “So I suppose it was the summer before year 12 when the Styles family moved in next door? And, you know, mum and Anne hit it off right away, and she wanted me to look after their son, this lanky little kid with an outrageous mop of curls. Didn’t ask if I wanted to, mind you, or if I already had plans with Zayn - just told me to ‘be a dear, Boo, fetch the neighbor boy and show ‘im ‘round town.’”
“I don’t sound like that, you horrid boy,” Jay cries indignantly at Louis’ croaky impression of her.
Louis bulldozes on, giggling. “Anyway, so mum pushed him off on me and I took him under my wing and - well, we’ve been best mates ever since.” The low chatter in the room seems to lull even more as everyone gives their full attention to Louis, who’s staring at Harry with eyes brimming with adoration. “And even at sixteen, I knew, Haz, I knew that - that you were special, and we were special. And when I went away for uni, and you called all the time and texted and took the tram up to see me - and then when you joined me a year later, I knew that I was proper in love with you.” There are some sniffles round the room, and Zayn himself is having a hard time holding off tears. A warm hand settles on the side of his neck, squeezing lightly as Liam offers him the flute. Zayn takes it and raises it up when Louis does. “So this is for you, darling, my one and only, the love of my life, my husband. To Harry Styles!”
The room echoes, “Harry Styles!” and glasses clink and Zayn takes a sip before handing it back to Liam. Harry attempts to make a similar speech, only he’s gasping and blubbering so much that nobody can understand him, and finally Gemma stumbles up and helps him. “To Louis!”
“To Louis!”
Gemma clears her throat, gestures to where Harry has his body folded around Louis’. “My speech is short, right, because I’m a bit occupied at the moment. But basically, I am so happy for my little brothers and can’t wait to be Aunty Gem! To these two idiots!”
“Two idiots!”
Liam gives Zayn the nearly-empty glass and pushes him toward the stage. “Your turn, best man.”
Zayn makes his way to the stage and accepts the mic from Gemma. “Um. Hey. So like, I’m supposed to tell a ridiculous story or embarrass these two. But honestly, you all know pretty much everything there is to know.” He pauses, taking a deep breath to gather his thoughts. “Lou and Harry were pretty much meant to be together from the start. I love you boys, it’s been an honor to grow up with you and see the people you’ve become, separately and together. I don’t know if it was a happy coincidence that two people who complement each other so well met...maybe it was fate? Either way, best of luck, love you and congratulations!” Zayn drains the glass and pulls Harry and Louis into a hug, kissing them both on the cheek.
When Zayn lets them go and makes a move to return to his table, Louis tugs him back. “Not so fast, I want a dance.”
Zayn groans. “Why, why me? Wouldn’t you rather dance with your brand new husband?”
“Harry and I have practically been married for years, anyway,” Louis says with a shrug, though the not-so-repressed grin playing over his lips doesn’t fool Zayn for a second. He puts his hand on Zayn’s waist and leans into Zayn’s ear. “Besides, we can use the time we’re dancing to talk.”
“What about?” he asks as they shuffle along to Snow Patrol. “This music is terrible, by the way.”
“Gary Lightbody is a genius and don’t try to change the subject,” Louis snaps. “Now, back to what we were talking about: you and Liam.”
Zayn strives for casual, though he admittedly maybe misses it by a mark or two. “What. What about, er, me and Liam.”
“We all know I can be pretty up my own arse - don’t make the joke, it’s beneath you - but even I can see that you two have been acting quite cozy. Your mum asked me who he was, if you had someone you weren’t telling her about. The people want to know, Zayn!”
“Can I cut in?” And suddenly, Liam’s there, hands behind his back non-threateningly and his close-mouthed smile making his eyes tiny. “I think your sister wants to dance with you, too.”
“Come on, Lou, wanted to talk to you about something private,” Fizzy pipes up, pulling on Louis’ arm and shooting Zayn a very bizarre, intense glare. Louis lets himself be dragged away, although he’s giving Zayn a similarly threatening look and gesturing to Liam.
“I’m so confused,” Zayn says, bringing a hand up to Liam’s shoulder and ignoring the little tingle at his hip where Liam’s hand rests.
“You looked like you needed rescuing, so I thought I’d help out as best I could. What were you two talking about?”
“Nothing, just Louis being nosy.” They move back and forth slowly around the dance floor, twirling by Phoebe and Daisy, who are just spinning each other in and out theatrically and giggling, and Trisha and Yaser, who very pointedly make eyes at the pair. Zayn hurriedly turns them so Liam’s back faces his parents. “Um. Are you having a nice time tonight?”
Liam’s hand tightens on Zayn’s waist as he brings them closer together. “Yeah, really nice.” Zayn blushes at that, doesn’t know what to say, so he ducks his head and sort of rests his face in Liam’s neck. The song plays out, and then it’s time to cut the cake.
Liam stays right by Zayn’s side, brushing shoulders and fingertips and trading sly glances in between snapping pictures of Louis smearing cake across Harry’s cheek and licking it off. He’s there when Louis gets two fistfuls of cake and starts going after guests, and he’s laughing into Zayn’s shoulder when Louis is finally pinned down by Harry and all of his sisters.
Now that the newlyweds are sufficiently hyped up on sugar and champagne, the DJ decides it’s a good time for the party to really start, spinning straight into a Calvin Harris track. All the overhead lights are shut off, the candlelight from the centerpieces and the flashing colored lights on the stage. The dance floor, which had been peppered with couples while the slow music played, crowds up right away with just about everybody, even Louis’ grandad. Zayn ends up sandwiched between Liam and Caroline, with Caroline’s arm looped around his neck and Liam’s hand pressed tight across his stomach, swinging their hips together to the beat. Caroline moves off to find a new dance partner, and Liam takes the opportunity to turn Zayn around and get in his space, curling a hand around the back of his head and threading his fingers through his hair. Zayn leans into it, moves his own hands so they’re gripping Liam’s hips, and tries his best to keep in mind that his family and friends are still somewhere in the mass of people.
He loses track of that train of thought when he and Liam move further from the center of the floor, skirting to the outer edge of the crowd. Zayn takes a cursory glance around, just to see if Safaa or his parents are looking on, before he hooks both arms around Liam’s neck, shuts his eyes and just kisses him.
Liam responds instantly, mouth opening and tongue curling around Zayn’s, wrists crossing over Zayn’s lower back. Zayn tightens his hold on his neck and pushes up harder against him, desperate, not wanting to let go of him any sooner than he had to. They’re panting heavily, trying to get in gulps of air in between their mouths crashing together over and over, but Zayn’s head is spinning, he can’t really think about anything but kissing and Liam and finally kissing Liam. They keep coming together fast, teeth grazing lips and tongues, until Zayn pulls back to catch his breath.
He opens his eyes, turns his head to rest his cheek on Liam’s chest, and sees his mum and dad walking over at a fast clip. “Oh, fuck.” He pulls away, frantically dusting himself off and stepping in front of Liam, back facing his parents.
“Hi, Zayn! Didn’t see you over here, are you enjoying yourself?” His mum says, smile wide and absolutely put-upon. She hugs him and kisses both cheeks, and when she looks at Liam it’s as though she’s just noticing him for the first time. “Oh, hello! Who’s this, love?”
“Trisha, leave the boy alone,” Yaser says, slipping an arm around her waist and rolling his eyes at Zayn. “You know how your mother is. Though if you did want to introduce us, beta, I wouldn’t object to that...?”
“Oh, my god,” Zayn says, hiding his face in his hands. “Mum, abba. Please.”
“Hi, I’m Liam?” Zayn watches through his fingers as Liam shakes his parents’ hands. “Nice to meet you, I’ve heard loads about you.”
“Zayn has spent the wedding talking to you about his parents? Clearly I didn’t raise him right,” Yaser jokes, ruffling Zayn’s hair and clapping a hand on his shoulder. Zayn groans.
“Actually, we went to university together. I was a year under Zayn and good friends with Harry, so of course I got to know Louis and Zayn as well!” Liam’s eyes are scrunched at the corners, as they seem to stay at all times, which Zayn knows probably instantly charms his mum.
“Ooh, d’you know what? Honey, remember that boy Zayn used to mention sometimes...he was younger, friends with Harry, quite handsome? But I thought he had curly hair, maybe it’s a different bloke - ”
“Mum,” Zayn says, horrified that she even remembers all of that, his buzz altogether gone and humiliation settling in his bones instead. He needs another drink.
“You’ve a very good memory, Mrs. Malik,” Liam says solemnly, mouth twitching in a truly awful way. Zayn’s face burns. “My hair is still quite curly, just shows better when I grow it out.”
“Well, I don’t want to embarrass Zayn here, but as I remember, he was a bit keen on you when you lot were younger,” Yaser says with a wink, squeezing Zayn’s shoulder in - what. Comfort? Zayn is feeling the polar fucking opposite of comforted at the moment.
Liam is smiling this dopey half-grin that Zayn would likely find unattractive on anyone else. “Really? That’s very interesting.”
“Yes, yes, he’d always update us on what you were up to when he came home on holiday. Though, Liam, I’m afraid I must warn you that Trisha and I are very protective of our boy. Be good to him, got it? Don’t make that face, Zayn, I’m sure Liam’s parents would say the same thing to you. No need to feel embarrassed, mere chand.” Yaser pats his shoulder again before releasing him and, after shaking hands with Liam, takes Trisha’s hand. “Come on, jaan, let’s leave them to it.”
“Bye, love! Are you still coming to dinner next Sunday? You should bring Liam!” Damage done, they walk away, though they turn to look at Liam and Zayn over their shoulders ‘nonchalantly.’
Liam looks at him for a moment, head tilted and expression thoughtful. “You told your parents about me?” Zayn blushes, turning away and heading toward the bar. Unsurprisingly, Liam follows. “I didn’t know you even wanted me in your flat back then, let alone anything else...I thought I annoyed you, it’s the only reason I - well.” He trails off, pressing his lips together and shrugging.
The blood rushing in Zayn’s ears makes it hard for him to hear himself think, let alone speak. “You didn’t. Annoy me, that is.” Liam doesn’t say anything to that, just stares at Zayn with dark eyes, a stare that Zayn doesn’t dare look away from. “Whiskey neat for me, I think.”
“Make it two, please.”
Their drinks are poured and Zayn and Liam wander around the room, chatting to their old mates and reminiscing about the good old days. They’ve just broken away from one guy Liam used to be good friends with, a bloke called Andy who has never known how to take a hint, when they happen upon Fizzy and Safaa locked in what appears to be a small argument. Zayn debates getting involved, then remembers he hasn’t even spoken to his sister all night, and resigns himself to settling whatever silly teenage issues they’re having. “Hey, girls. Saf, Fizz, this is Liam.”
“Hi,” Safaa says, glancing at Liam for barely a second before her eyes snap back to Fizzy. “We’re kind of busy right now...”
“I hope you two aren’t fighting and spoiling your memories of the wedding,” Zayn scolds them gently, running the hand that isn’t holding his drink over Safaa’s hair. “Whatever little squabble you’re having, I’m sure you can put it aside for now.”
“No offense, but you kind of have no idea what you’re talking about, so. Could you bugger off, thanks.”
“She is in a right mood,” Zayn mutters to Liam, who chuckles and guides him away. “I’m sure whatever they’re fighting over is petty and stupid anyway.”
“I know, sisters are a pain, no need to get worked up over it,” Liam says, pushing him along back toward the dance floor. “Come on, let’s have another dance.” Zayn gives a reluctant smile when Liam spins him out, and he gets the most ridiculous feeling that he’s in a Match.com commercial as Liam pulls him back in, arms snug around his waist. Zayn shimmies just out of Liam’s reach, raising his arms and swinging his head to the beat of the Daft Punk song. Liam grabs his hands, pulls him closer and keeps their fingers twined, and Zayn lets all thoughts not centered on Liam recede to the back of his mind.
part two