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up and wraps his arms around Liam‟s neck, smiling.

“No,” Liam says, “but now that you mention it...” He dips his head and

kisses Zayn with a surprising amount of heat, backing him up against

the kitchen counter. Zayn can‟t help but go along with it, sighing at the

slide of Liam‟s tongue against him, but forces himself to break free for

a moment.

“Good. Excellent plan. Great,” he says, a little out of breath. “Just, let

me get this cleaned up, and then, yes. That. Absolutely.”

Liam makes a little disappointed noise that has Zayn‟s toes curling

inside his shoes. “We can clean it up later,” he says, sliding a hand up

under Zayn‟s t-shirt. “Hell, I‟ll clean it up later on my own.”

Zayn slides his hands down off Liam‟s shoulders, meaning to push him

away but getting distracted by the way his broad chest feels under his

hands. “It‟ll—it‟ll stain the floorboards,” he says absently, rubbing his

thumb in circles over Liam‟s nipple through the cotton of his shirt.

Liam draws in a sharp breath and leans in to press a kiss below Zayn‟s

ear. “I‟ll tear up the floorboards and put in new ones, Zayn, I swear to

God. Just take me to bed, I‟ve been thinking about it all week.” Zayn

can‟t help the shudder that runs through him, and yeah, fuck the

floorboards.

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He pushes blindly at Liam‟s chest and grabs his hand, pulling him

through his flat. He‟s pretty sure they track wine all over his living

room carpet, but that doesn‟t seem to matter much when he has a

laughing Liam Payne grabbing him around the waist and lifting him to

carry him through the door into this bedroom.

Liam tosses him gently onto the bed and crawls on top of him before

he‟s stopped bouncing, pressing giggling kisses along his jaw. “„m in

love with you,” he mumbles happily against Zayn‟s neck. “Have I

mentioned that?” He has, of course. They‟ve said it dozens of times by

now, because neither of them are the type to feel anything halfway.

They barely made it three weeks in before they were saying it a

thousand times a day like a couple of idiot teenagers, but Zayn still

feels something squeeze around his lungs, stealing his breath when

Liam says it. He wonders if this will ever feel quite real.

“Always bears repeating,” he grins into Liam‟s hair before pulling him

up and kissing him properly. “I‟m in love with you, too,” he breaths

between kisses, barely pulling away enough to get the words out. “I‟m

in love with you.”

And maybe it‟s not perfect, or exactly like Zayn planned it. Maybe

there are no rose petals and candlelight and maybe the flat smells like

death, and Liam gets his shirt caught on one of Zayn‟s earrings and

Zayn‟s jeans get tangled up around his ankles when he tries to shimmy

out of them, and neither of them seem to know how to function for a

few seconds once they‟re both undressed. It‟s okay. If he‟s learned

anything from this whole experience with Liam, it‟s that things rarely

work out the way he plans, and a lot of the time it‟s even better the

clumsy, reckless way.

He takes his time with Liam, laying him flat on his back and going

down on him for ages. Some things don‟t stop just because they‟re

together now, and Zayn is still always going to want to kiss every inch

of him, is always going to treat it like an unbelievable privilege that he

gets to do so. Besides, he loves taking Liam apart like this. He loves

dragging it out and making him beg, because Liam is Liam, and there‟s

nothing like the sound of that sweet mouth cursing at the ceiling and

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the feeling of looking up his body to see those gentle hands white-

knuckled in the sheets.

As always, Liam is full of surprises, and as soon as he‟s finished he

rolls them over and returns the favor. The most unexpected thing about

sex with Liam is how hungry he is for it, considering this is unfamiliar

territory for him. Now that Liam knows he has permission, he doesn‟t

shy away from anything anymore, not even the stubble on Zayn‟s jaw

when he kisses him there. His hands are still careful, but they aren‟t

unsure. He may not quite know what he‟s doing when he‟s sucking

Zayn off, but he‟s not afraid of it, and when he pulls off and tells him,

“This is my favorite thing to do,” in a hoarse voice before blushing and

swallowing him down again, Zayn fucking believes it.

It‟s been a while since Zayn was with somebody so inexperienced, but

he finds that he likes it. Maybe it‟s just because it‟s Liam, but it‟s

exciting to get to introduce someone to this, to show him exactly

what‟s so good about it. Zayn‟s had a lot of sex in his life, but he can‟t

remember the last time he was so excited about it. He guesses Liam‟s

enthusiasm is infectious. He leads Liam through the prep with a hand

on his wrist, shuddering out instructions through the feeling of Liam

opening him up, and he watches Liam‟s expression of wonder when he

sees what it‟s doing to him. It‟s amazing, and it‟s his, and he‟s the first

one who gets to show Liam how this feels, and he wants to be the last

one too.

He rides Liam with his hands braced on his shoulders, his necklaces

swinging between them as he moves, and Liam holds onto his hips and

tells him he loves him about a million times, even as he drags his nails

down Zayn‟s back and makes him shiver. Zayn tries to keep it slow,

because he remembers his first time and he knows Liam isn‟t going to

last long, but it‟s too hard to look down at the man underneath him and

think about how long he‟s wanted this and not have to have it all at

once. They‟ll have other chances to make it last. They have all the time

in the world.

He leans in close and kisses Liam hard, and Liam uses the moment to

roll them over and take Zayn in hand. That‟s what does it, the change

of angle, Liam‟s body pinning him down like Zayn always knew it

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could. Zayn wraps his arms around Liam‟s neck and kisses him until

they both come, and afterwards too.

The first round is quick, but the next lasts much longer, and Zayn can

barely breathe by the time he‟s coming back down again. Always the

gentleman, Liam cleans them both up carefully, and then they just lie

together for a while, Liam‟s head on Zayn‟s chest and Zayn‟s hand

carding through Liam‟s hair. Zayn‟s tired, exhausted like he always is

after sex, but he doesn‟t want to fall asleep just yet. Not when this

moment feels so crystalline, so perfect and so breakable. The two of

them are going to sleep together plenty more times—Zayn plans on

ensuring it—but this is the only time it‟ll be the first time, and Zayn

isn‟t anywhere near tired enough to want to give up the sleepy, satisfied

look in Liam‟s eyes.

“You good?” he murmurs, lifting Liam‟s hand to his mouth and

pressing his lips to his knuckles. He thinks Liam would have told him if

he weren‟t, but this is still, you know, a pretty major event, and he‟s

going to check in anyway.

“I‟m great,” Liam says, propping his chin up on Zayn‟s chest. “Still

love you, by the way,” he says with a little grin.

“Love you too,” Zayn replies, wondering if Liam can feel the way his

sluggish heart still picks up at that even though it must be the twentieth

time he‟s heard it tonight. He can tell Liam gets a thrill out of it, out of

being able to speak so freely when they‟d both kept quiet so long. “I‟m

so glad—” he lets out in a rush, not quite sure where he‟s going, “I‟m

so glad we can tell each other things. Please don‟t ever think you can‟t

tell me things or talk to me. Even if it‟s not something I‟m going to

like.”

Liam‟s mouth purses a little, and if Zayn weren‟t melted into the bed

he‟d kiss it. “Of course. And same to you, obviously.” Worry starts to

wash over his face. “Is there something you need to talk to me about?”

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“No, no,” Zayn says, reaching his hand down to scratch between

Liam‟s shoulder blades and reassure him. “We‟re good, love, I

promise.” Mollified, Liam drops his head back down and nuzzles his

nose against Zayn‟s sternum. “It‟s just—” he doesn‟t know quite how

to express himself, but he figures Liam will know what he means. He

heaves a sigh that lifts Liam‟s head up and down as his ribcage

expands. “Louis and Harry.”

Liam hums knowingly. “We aren‟t Louis and Harry,” he mumbles

against Zayn‟s skin. “If you ever try to run off to London I‟ll buy a tent

and camp out on the pavement outside your fancy new flat. I promise.”

Zayn grins down at the man he loves. “Likewise.” There‟s still

something itching at him, though, so he presses one more time. “But

seriously, no matter what‟s going on—in our lives or in your head—I‟d

always rather have you talk to me than not, yeah?”

Tightening the arm he has around Zayn‟s waist, Liam nods. “I will.

You‟re really upset about the two of them, aren‟t you?” His voice is

getting slower and thicker with sleep, and Zayn commends him for at

least trying to stay awake. He‟s sliding that direction himself, eyelids

heavier and heavier every time he blinks.

“It‟s just hard to see them fall apart,” Zayn says. “Now that I know

what they‟re losing.” The last thing he registers before drifting off is

the feeling of Liam smiling against his chest.

At first, the only emotion Louis can really handle is anger.

That‟s what he latches on to. Anger doesn‟t make him weaker, doesn‟t

sit on his chest at night and make him want to look up train tickets to

London. He can trust anger. It doesn‟t hurt, and it doesn‟t try to fool

him into thinking he and Harry could have been anything more than

what they were. He and anger have come to an uneasy truce over the

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years, and he needs that. Louis knows where he stands with anger, and

he hasn‟t felt solid ground under his feet in what feels like months.

So he doesn‟t change the sheets and he doesn‟t scrub the smell of Harry

out of his flat. He doesn‟t take the photo Harry gave him for his

birthday down from his bedroom wall. Changing those parts of his life

would be admitting the impact Harry had on them meant something,

and it didn‟t, and he has to remember that. He needs to be able to look

at that picture and not feel a thing. That‟s when he‟ll know he‟s okay

again.

He calls Harry names in his head, comes up with reasons to hate

everything he ever did, lets all the sweet things turn sour in his mouth.

Fucking Harry, with his easy life and never anything to lose, with his

pretentious taste in music and his even more pretentious friends, with

his skill for getting people to love him without even trying when Louis

feels like he can‟t pull that off even when he works his arse off for it.

Fucking, fucking Harry.

He's got two weeks left of the last term, and he makes it through finals

and marking on instinct. He knows he‟s phoning it in, and he feels like

focusing on work might be a good distraction, but he just can‟t seem to

concentrate on anything properly and mostly he just wants it to be over.

The only worthwhile thing he manages out of all of it is printing out

and distributing flyers for a summer acting workshop. It‟s an idea that

comes to him in a moment of desperation, looking at the next six wide

open weeks on his calendar with nothing to keep him occupied.

Working with kids is the only thing that always makes sense, so he

comes up with the idea to offer one-on-one acting classes over the

summer holidays. It‟s something, at least.

The worst part is Zayn and Liam. He‟s so happy for Zayn, really, he is,

and he genuinely likes Liam, but that doesn‟t mean he‟s immune to