Liam wakes up in Zayn's bed. It should be a bit disconcerting, since he can't exactly remember how he got here, but it's not. The fireplace is lit, casting flickering light and shadows over the room. The blankets are kicked down to his feet, and his head is pillowed in the crack between both of Zayn's pillows. They smell like him, spicy-sweet, and Liam inhales deeply for a moment, enjoying all of it. The warmth of the fire, Zayn's silky sheets, the quiet of the cavernous room.
When he finally sits up, he wipes at his eyes, first, and then at his mouth. There's crusted toothpaste there, even though he can't remember brushing his teeth before bed. He can't remember much at all, actually, aside from the pounding music of the concert, a confusing amount of dancing lights and one single image of Louis wiping blood from his mouth.
That's all he's got. That and alcohol. A lot of alcohol. He remembers that most strongly, the horrible burn, the lovely weightlessness. And then there's anger, too, in his memory, but not his own.
"Zayn?" Liam calls. He tugs a hand through his hair, fingers getting caught, sharp pain going through him when he pulls them through the tangled mess anyways.
The bathroom door opens. Zayn's bathroom is the nicest in the house. It's all stone floors and pure white counters and the biggest tub Liam's ever seen. Zayn's hair is wet when he walks out, shutting the door behind himself. He's dressed in Liam's clothes, Liam's sweats and t-shirt, the black one with the hole near the bottom. The shoulders of it hang off Zayn a bit, dipping low at the collar, revealing his collarbone in a way that makes him look both too-thin and extremely jumpable, at the same time.
"Morning," Zayn says, soft and unreadable. "How're you feeling?"
Liam reaches for the blanket, tugging it up to his stomach. He plucks at the material, eyes on his movements instead of Zayn's. "Scale of one to ten, how mad are you?"
"Twenty," Zayn answers, flat and emotionless. He comes over to the bed, and Liam scoots over to make room for him, even though he just perches on the edge, back to Liam. "You scared the shit out of me, Liam. I thought you ran away or something, for a while there. And then I noticed Louis gone, too, and it scared me even more. You realize he could have gotten you killed, right? Not even on purpose, either, he's just a reckless idiot."
"We just went to a concert," Liam attempts, feebly defensive. "Nothing happened."
"Just a concert," Zayn repeats. "So why were you plastered out of your mind when you got back here, then?"
Liam winces, glad Zayn isn't looking at him. "Okay, and a club. But it was fine."
"I know that," Zayn snaps. "Obviously. You're here right now, aren't you? But — fuck, one little mistake and you wouldn't have come back. The world is dangerous, Liam, and you don't get how vulnerable you are."
"But I'm not," Liam argues. "What, because I'm human? So is most of the population, Zayn! People die every day, but not everyone does! People don't just hide in their houses forever because they could get hit by a bus when they leave. The chances of something like that happening are too slim to spend your whole life hiding because of it."
"I know," Zayn grinds out. Liam can tell, just from his stance, that he's pinching the bridge of his nose. "You really don't think I get that?"
"Then... then I don't really see what the problem is," Liam admits. "I really don't. And you all say that you're worried about me spilling your secret, announcing to the world that, hey, vampires exist. But you know I wouldn't, Zayn. Don't tell me you don't, because we both know that would never happen."
"I know," Zayn says again. He leans forward, head in his hands, fingers sliding through his own wet hair.
Liam has to touch him, has to reach out and rub at his back, do anything to get that tensed set of it to relax. He rubs circles against Zayn's shoulder blade, guilty because this is his fault and he knows it, but he can't make himself back down on this. "I want to be able to leave," Liam says. "Whenever I want, and come back, too. I don't want to leave forever. I just — I want to be able to go to and from without everyone making a big deal about it. I'd like to have a life, Zayn. Maybe. Eventually."
Zayn sighs, turning around. It's so easy for him to maneuver them, to push Liam down onto his back and settle on top of him, holding him down easily with his hands on Liam's wrists, never pressing too hard. "I figured you'd ask eventually," he says, hair falling over his eyes because he's leaned forward a bit. "I mean, we all knew this was coming."
"You did?"
Zayn nods. "And — Harry and Niall have been ready to let you for years. Since you turned sixteen."
"But—"
"I didn't let them," Zayn explains. "I don't want you to leave."
Liam struggles against Zayn's hands, wanting to reach up and brush that look off his face, the pained, pinched look that mars his features. "Why not?"
"Because I'm selfish," Zayn admits. "I wanted — want to keep you here. With me. Just me. My Liam, yeah?"
"Yeah," Liam says, because he is.
"And if you leave, you won't be," Zayn says. "And one day you might not want to come back."
Liam snorts and Zayn gives him an offended look. "Sorry," he hastily adds. "It's just, like. I'll always want to come back, and I really don't know how you can't see that. You guys are my family. I'm not trying to run away, Zayn. I just want a bit of freedom. I want more than just the rooms of this house, the fenced in grounds. I need more than that."
"Louis' corrupted you," Zayn complains. "I should have seen this coming. I almost liked it better when he was hellbent on killing you."
"It's not Louis," Liam admits. "Maybe he gave me a shove in the right direction, but I'm the one who wants this. I think I have for a long time, I just didn't want to ask and be disappointed."
"And what if I say no?" Zayn asks, defiance in his eyes, in the raised set of his brows.
"Then I'll end up resenting you for it," Liam says honestly.
Zayn sighs and looks away. "Figured as much. Couldn't help but try, though." He releases Liam's hands, but doesn't move to get off him. "I just don't know what I'm going to do when you're not here all the time. When I'm not always around to make sure you're safe. That — that scares the fuck out of me."
"I'm not a toddler," Liam reminds him. "I'm more capable than you give me credit for."
"Trust me, I know that," Zayn says. "But still." He cups both sides of Liam's face. "Whole world in the palms of my hands, remember? It freaks me out, thinking about giving that away. Trusting the world with something that means everything to me."
Liam licks his lips, trying not to blush. "I mean that much to you?"
"Everything," Zayn says. "You mean everything to me."
Liam searches his eyes, expecting to find something false in them but he doesn't. "Why didn't you tell me?" he whispers. "Why didn't you let me know that you felt like that?"
Zayn laughs, sardonic and soft. "Because I'm horrible at caring for things, Liam. But I've told you I love you a million times. You just weren't listening."
"You never did," Liam protests. "You never said it."
"Not with words," Zayn admits. He trails his fingers down Liam's neck, light as a feather. "But in every other way I could think of, I did."
Kiss me, kiss me, kiss me, Liam thinks. "Kiss me," he says.
Zayn's gaze drops to Liam's lips, and there's one horrible, embarrassing moment where he thinks Zayn's going to get off him, tell him no. But then he leans down, hair tickling Liam's skin. All he does is breathe in Liam's air for a moment, a give and take between both of their parted lips before Liam surges up and kisses him first instead.
Zayn falls forward onto his hands, for once not at all cautious about crushing Liam beneath him the way he normally is. Instead he blankets Liam's body with his own, heavy and perfect as Liam grabs at his hair, clinging desperately to him.
It's the kind of painfully slow kiss that leaves Liam breathless and too hot. That has him curling his tongue against Zayn and pushing up against him, unable to get any closer but trying his best anyways. At least it's not just Liam falling apart, bit by bit. Zayn's making these lost, hungry sounds into his mouth like he can't get enough as he licks at Liam's tongue, lips, tracing the roof of his mouth with the tip of his tongue.
Liam grins into the kiss, pulling back just enough to laugh against Zayn's lips. "What?" Zayn asks.
Liam shakes his head, carding his hands through Zayn's hair. "It's just, like, incredible. This. I didn't think you'd ever — I didn't think I'd ever get to have this."
Zayn flips them over so Liam's balanced precariously on top of him, steadied by his hands. "You can have whatever you want," he says. "Anything. Everything."
"I don't want everything," Liam tells him. He presses his lips to Zayn's again. "Just you."
"You've had me for a long time," Zayn says.
Liam taps his fingers against Zayn's collarbone. "I didn't realize that."
"You should have. It was really obvious, babe."
"It would have been if you knew how to use your words," Liam teases.
Zayn tugs him down by the front of his shirt, but his lips skid by Liam's, over his jaw, teeth nipping at his ear. He didn't even know that was a place that he wanted Zayn's lips, but apparently it was. He shivers, just as Zayn says, "You want me to use my words? Want me to tell you how good you taste? How badly I've wanted to put my mouth on every inch of your skin? That I want to fucking ruin you, but I'm afraid I might actually do it?"
Liam makes an embarrassing sound, eyes falling closed.
"Or," Zayn says, fingers tracing Liam's spine, "do you want me to tell you that I know every single thing about you, and there's not one part that I'm not in love with? That sometimes I wish you really had ran that day when I held that door open and told you to go, because it's too much to handle sometimes? That I'm afraid I'll never be good enough for you because I'm not, and I'm terrified of the day you realize that?"
"What if I'm the one that's not good enough for you?" Liam counters.
Zayn smiles at him. "Impossible, sweetheart."
Liam doesn't argue, even though he thinks it's true. "I'm in love with you too, you know," he says. "Like, I don't know everything about you yet, but I want to. And there's nothing I've learnt about you that I don't — that I don't love, just so you know. For years, Zayn. God, I've had the biggest crush on you since I was fourteen and horribly awkward and you were this perfect person, right out of those old oil paintings you hang up everywhere, so gorgeous it actually hurts to look at for too long."
"You never told me either," Zayn says. "You never said it either."
"Because I thought it was stupid," Liam admits. "I never thought you'd ever look at me like that. Why tell you when it would ruin everything?"
Zayn's hands ruck up Liam's shirt, nails digging into his hips. "Everything look ruined to you right now?"
Liam's leaning on top of Zayn, hands splayed on his chest, Zayn's hair a mess, his cheeks red, his lips swollen from kissing and still a little slick. "Everything looks perfect from here, actually."