As He Moves

Chapter 5

Liam walks straight past him, a blank look on his face. He takes one look at the spotlessly cleaned apartment and then ducks into his room without a word, slamming the door behind himself. Zayn stares at it, eyes wide, holding his breath.

Liam comes right back out, stomping over to him, and then he shoves Zayn until his back hits the wall. It's not a hard push, either, but he was taken so off guard by it that he didn't think to plant his feet to brace the blow.

"You wanted to know," Liam hisses. "Are you happy now?"

Explosively angry. That's what Liam is. He doesn't get mad often, but when he does....

"Liam," Zayn says.

"You just left," Liam spits. "You didn't even— you just left."

"You're a stripper!" Zayn blurts. "What the hell was I supposed to do? Sit there and watch you dance around without any clothes on?"

Liam jerks back like Zayn had returned the shove or something. "I—" He winces, looking uncertain. "I don't know. I thought you'd – I thought you'd at least wait for an explanation, but you didn't. And now you're not even meeting my eyes."

He can't. "Yeah, well, you couldn't have just fucking told me, maybe? Did you really have to give me a demonstration?"

"You wouldn't have believed me," Liam says lowly. "You know you wouldn't."

True. There's no way in hell Zayn would have bought that if Liam had just come out and told him, hey, I kind of take off my clothes and dance around practically naked for a living, how about that? But— but still. Tonight was—tonight upset the balance of everything Zayn's been trying so hard not to tip over. They can't go back from this. Whatever happens, they can't go back, and that's terrifying.

And it's all Liam's damn fault.

"And this is why I didn't tell you," Liam says quietly, anger completely dissolved. He looks almost helpless, trying to meet Zayn's eyes and failing. "It's not exactly something you go around advertising, and I knew you'd— I knew it'd change things. And it has. It already has."

Zayn winces, squeezing his eyes closed.

"Just say something," Liam pleads. "Are you mad?"

Zayn finally opens his eyes and meets Liam's gaze. "Why would I be mad?" Of all the things, Zayn isn't mad.

Liam shrugs, and this time he's the one looking away. "I don't know. Because I didn't tell you, maybe."

"No, I— I get it. I get why you didn't."

"Because I should be ashamed of it, right?" Liam guesses, sounding bitter.

"Are you saying you weren't?" Zayn counters. "You hid it for over a year. Seems like you're pretty ashamed of it."

Liam snorts at him. "I'm not," he denies. "I didn't tell you for your benefit, not mine. If I thought you could handle it, I would have told you sooner. But everyone freaks out about it. My mum nearly had a heart attack. My dad offered me money, said if I was so down on my luck that I had to resort to stripping that they could help me out. People think I should be ashamed of it, which is why I don't tell them."

Zayn pushes away from the wall, pinching the bridge of his nose. He goes and falls onto the sofa, trying to think as Liam crosses the room to sit beside him. He's sitting way too close and way too far away, all at the same time, and it's not helping.

"Just explain it to me, then," Zayn says after a while. "I'm kind of blindsided here."

"One condition," Liam counters.

"Okay."

"No judgment, no matter what I say."

Now Zayn snorts at him. "When have I ever judged you?" he asks. "Ever?"

Liam nods, accepting this. "I'm not going to give you a sob story," Liam tells him. "I'm not going to tell you that I was chasing a dream and down on my luck and this is the only option for me, and all I need is for someone to save me from my sad life of taking my clothes off for money."

Zayn can't help it; his lips tilt up a bit because he knows Liam wouldn't. The last thing Liam would ever need is someone to rescue him. He's too damn stubborn and self-sufficient for that.

"Anyways," Liam continues. "My first weeks here, I was having a pretty shitty time because I had no money and I refused to ask my parents for any. And Louis is in my musical theory class with me. He was talking about work one night, and how he had such an easy set up because he only works three times a week for a few hours, and he said the money was pretty good. So I asked him what he did, and he told me to stop by."

"Louis from the bar," Zayn clarifies.

"Yeah. So I stopped by, and I'm not gonna lie: I was pretty surprised and embarrassed but— I don't know. I stayed, and he wasn't working that night but a few of his friends were, and afterwards he introduced me to them. The woman who owns the place, Alex, she told me to take my shirt off and then said if I ever needed extra cash, she'd let me try out a night and see how it went."

Zayn can picture this so clearly; Liam, a little younger than now, probably back when his hair was still buzzed off because it only grew back a few months ago. And he can picture the red in Liam's cheeks, can imagine just how embarrassed he was walking into that damn strip club the way Zayn had tonight.

"And I liked it," Liam finishes. "I tried it out, and I was good at it. Great at it, actually. You know what my life was like before. I told you about it, how I spent years with other people picking on me and bringing me down, and this— this is different than that. I'm good at it, and it feels good to know that an entire room full of people want me, and not one of them can get me. I like that feeling."

Zayn discreetly shifts on the sofa, trying not to think about it. "I just can't wrap my head around it," Zayn admits, but that's mostly because he's trying really hard not to. "I just can't— I mean, I can't picture you getting naked in front of strangers for money. That's just—" Okay, he can picture it, but he really shouldn't. Not with Liam sitting close enough to notice how his breath hitches and he has to hide the bulge in his jeans.

"I don't get naked," Liam says. "It costs way too much money to get me completely naked. I just get mostly naked."

"Yeah, I, uh. I saw that," Zayn whispers.

"And?" Liam prompts. "This is the part where you tell me it's degrading and I should stop."

Zayn rubs awkwardly at the back of his neck. "I mean, if. Like, if you like it, then.... I'm not going to tell you to stop if you don't want to."

Liam looks a little surprised. "Really?"

"Obviously I don't think it's the most brilliant thing in the world," Zayn admits. "And it's going to take a bit to wrap my head around it, but— yeah. It's your life, Liam. If you like it, then I don't have a problem with it. But if it is only because you need the money, you know I'd—"

"Yeah, I know." Liam grins at him. "Don't worry about it. When I decide I don't want to do it anymore, I'll figure something else out. But I'm pretty content with things the way they are."

"Okay then," Zayn says. He stares straight ahead at the TV that isn't even turned on.

Liam's shoulder bumps into his, and he gives Zayn a blinding, lovely grin. "So?" he asks. "That aside, what did you think? Was I good?"

Zayn shoves him away with a laugh because that's what friends are supposed to do, right? But later, after Liam's jumped in the shower and Zayn's gone to bed, he lays there staring up at the ceiling, seeing nothing in the black room but the spotlight on Liam's unclothed body.

Fuck.

o|o