@afirethatcannotdie sent me this photo and I swoon, and then I write...
Niall slows his bike to a stop in front of Hollow Park, balancing on one foot while he leans up against the chainlink fence. A wail of sirens pierces the early autumn evening and he looks back, a flash of nerves settling into his stomach. The basketball court is empty, no one out, crumpled fall leaves lying on the sidewalk undisturbed.
He’s waiting for the drop. Zayn said he’d be here by 8:30. Niall pulls his phone out of his pocket and glances down at the time. 8:34 means Zayn is late, and he’s never late.
Niall considers all the possibilities that could’ve happened to delay him: his sisters squabbling too long in front of the bathroom mirror, some police officer stopping him for looking shifty, waylaid by a pretty girl on the street across from the Malik’s bakery.
“Wanker, I made it,” he hears behind him, Zayn’s thick accent echoing across the empty park. Niall whips around, using the handlebars of his bike for leverage. Zayn’s got his backpack slung high on his shoulder. He skids to a stop on his bike next to Niall, not ducking quite on time when Niall punches him in the shoulder.
“Took you long enough. Thought Scotland Yard was after you,” Niall says. Zayn’s dressed head to toe in black. Typical. Every week is something different with him, and this week, he announced he wanted his clothing to match his mood. Inky black, dark, dangerous.
“Was my sister. She needed help fixing her skateboard and wouldn’t let me out the house. Nice kicks, they new?” Zayn asks, hopping off his bike and leaning it up against the fence. Niall glances down at his Nikes, glowing near-perfect white as dusk begins to fall.
“Convinced mum I needed them before we head for our backpacking adventure. You bring the stuff?” Niall asks, leaning his bike against the fence like Zayn and following him out to the court.
“It took me about three weeks to convince Mickey to give me the map. But I’ve got it, mate. Lists every possible place you can get a good weed brownie across Europe. Dad would be so proud,” Zayn says, giggling to himself. Niall watches Zayn bound off into a few bushes, returning into view with the basketball they stash there year-round. No one ever bothers it.
“Amazing. Bloody amazing. Where should we go first? Hit up Amsterdam, really do it right?” Niall asks, groaning as Zayn throws the ball at him. He catches it easily, gives it a few dribbles. Their wild trip across Europe is set to kick-off in a few more weeks. Zayn’s been talking about perfecting the perfect pot brownie recipe for ages, claims it’ll help boast the popularity of his Dad’s shop if they sell it on the down-low.
“Malik’s Bakery, after dark. We’ll just shuffle out a few flyers to friends, you know? Easy,” Zayn had said, while him and Niall had been lounging in his room fucking around on guitars and planning out their trip. With uni in full swing, and one last free holiday before they have to enter the working world, a proper Euro trip was in order.
“Definitely Amsterdam. I’ve heard there’s nothing like it,” Zayn says, attempting to block Niall as he spins around him. Niall tosses the ball easily into the basket. It makes a satisfying swoosh and he grins, motioning to Zayn’s backpack lying on the edge of the court.
“Alright. Let me see the thing. There bloody well better be a thousand bakeries on there. We’ve got to hit them all,” Niall says, jogging over to the discarded backpack. He rips it open, digging through Zayn’s art supplies and drumsticks before his fingers flutter over the map. He’s impressed when he opens it, his eyebrows ticking up high on his face. It’s bloody thorough. They’ll be baked before they reach Brussels.
19 and any pairing you want :) I know you're going to come up with a great place where the is supposed to go 😂
19. “The paint’s supposed to go where?”
Well, I’m sure you thought I would go for Ziam (and, believe me, I wanted to), but I know that who your fave ship is, so I went for that. I really hope you like this @punkrocktommo because I think I’ve stressed over this drabble more than any of the others.
xx-Joey
Zayn kicked open the door to the room, balancing the box of paints he had in his arms to keep from spilling it everywhere. He set it down next to the dropcloths he’d left there on the first trip upstairs and then started digging through his pockets to find his phone. He was supposed to have met his project partner an hour ago, but Niall had texted to say he was running late. He also said he was bringing food, so Zayn couldn’t find it in himself to be too upset.
He started spreading out the dropcloths and studied the envelope his instructor had handed him as they’d left class a couple of days before. They’d been told not to open their envelopes until they were ready to start painting. He wasn’t sure what painting had to do with a psychology class or why it had to be a partnered assignment. He looked into the box and took out the non-toxic, water soluble paints and set them to the side. He pulled out the brushes and a camera. All of the items the instructor had listed as necessary for the assignment.
He was just starting to spread out the cloths when he heard the door bang open. “Hey, Zayn!” Niall shouted. Zayn raised a hand in a wave before clipping one corner of the cloth to a stand, creating a backdrop. Once all the cloths were in place, he glanced around the room, hoping everything that needed to be covered in the studio was covered. The instructor had mentioned that this project had been know to get messy in the past.
Niall was sitting in the middle of the room with food spread out around him. He’d gotten sandwiches and there was a pile of condiment packages, wrapped plasticware, and a bottle of juice with paper cups and ice. “You thought of everything,” Zayn said, settlin down across from Niall and pulling the envelope out. “Should we look at this while we’re eating?” Niall nodded, so Zayn opened the envelope to find two smaller envelopes and a sheet of paper.
Zayn’s eyes scanned the paper and then choked a bit on the bite of sandwich he’d taken. ”The paint’s supposed to go where?” he muttered, drawing Niall’s attention.
“What was that?” he asked, taking a drink of his cola.
“According to this, we have to use the paint to either destroy the part of us we are most vain about or beautify the part we are most insecure,” Zayn said, waving the paper in frustration. “All temporarily, of course, since the paint is water soluble.”
“Do we get to choose?”
“Well, obviously. Only we know what we are most vain or most insecure about,” Zayn snapped, reaching up to touch his quiff gently.
“No, I mean, do we get to choose between the two,” Niall said, reaching for the paper.
Zayn held up the envelopes. “We choose an envelope. Whatever is written on the paper inside decides our fate.” He was still touching his hair, nervously. He looked up when Niall started laughing.
“For the sake of your hair, you better get insecure,” Niall told him, grabbing for an envelope. “On the count of three.”
They counted together and when they reached three, they tore open their envelopes. Niall’s laughter rang out again as Zayn whispered, “Fuck.”
Send me a pairing and a number and I’ll write you a drabble.
Pairing: Zayn / Niall (implied past); Niall / Harry (Established)
WC; 2600
Niall steps out of his main door walking towards the gate where the mailbox is fixed to the right, the small box brimming with white envelopes in a messy order. From where he’s standing he can see a stark green peeking out among the otherwise plain one’s, he picks them out, turning and walking back inside. He closes the door behind careful not to bang it hard, wary he might wake Harry up, and skims through the countless bills, membership update from his golf club and a hols card from the Humes. The scratch off pine with a glittery texture has a faded pine scent that greets him as he carefully scrapes of the Santa sticker.
The card is like any other Christmas one, jingle bells, merry greetings, scribbles in black ball point ink from three different people – he can tell apart Roch and Marv from Aalia’s ineligible scrawl. Smiling to himself he neatly tucks the card back into its original envelope setting it aside in the weaved basket along with the other cards he’d received earlier on in the week. Finally, after going through the miscellaneous mail, he settles on the green envelope.
The square parchment is sealed tight with a tiny black triangle with a silver dot in between. Niall feels a little strange holding a sealed envelope with odd colors; the whole no return address thing makes it uncanny as well. Despite the anomalous inclinations he opens it anyway, taking out a stiff paper and is left in awe. It’s a collage made out of different characters; a batman symbol in the top left hand corner, a Pikachu in the lower middle, a Dunkin Donuts logo, and more. He runs his fingertips over the neatly cut pictures – Niall wonders who allotted so much time to put it together and then he sees it, pictures glued tightly together to form a capital Z. Reluctantly he turns over the sheet and sees the inevitable. The invite is written in italics and precise but messy, and him.
You’re invited to celebrate Zayn’s album launch party
Friday at 10 pm.
“Niall?” a groggy voice calls out from down the hallway, Niall can see the silhouette approaching him slowly. Without a second thought he grabs hold of the card the Humes had sent and swaps it with Zayn’s invite.
Harry pads over to the living room still halfway from where Niall’s standing, “Hey, what has you up?”
The guilt rises as bile in his throat, his eyes searching the floor, and he nervously starts, “Marv sent a hols card but the scratch off pine scent is barely there. Can’t believe I’m getting the crap pile this year round, must have been long enough since I’ve known him to end up in the old cards section.”
Harry laughs softly, reaching his left hand out to see the card. Niall walks to him handing it to him, “did it come in the green envelope?”
Niall lets Harry’s words follow through, “yeah.”
–
Harry’s in the shower getting ready for a studio session that Chris Martin had booked with him ages ago, probably around the time they had officially announced they were due a break, when Niall thumbs at his iPhone tapping at his address book and pulling out Liam’s contact.
The phone rings twice before the lad picks up, “Hello. Liam here, who’s this?”
“Jesus Christ, we’ve known each other for about half a decade now Payno, putting in my number won’t be a monumental task,” Niall grumbles, the door to his bedroom open and the invite taunting him from all the way down the hallway.
Liam guffaws, the laugh coming in like a familiar feeling of relief, “there’s magic behind it that I intend on keeping. Now I know you haven’t called me to shout about not having you lots number so, what’s up?”
Niall scratches the denim of his jeans, picking at the thread knot over his knees, and says, “you didn’t happen to receive a strange green envelope by any chance?”
There’s a beat of silence, “No, why? You’re talking all weird, mate.”
Niall was desperately hoping that Liam had but now that he knows the otherwise it makes his stomach churn uncomfortably. The rest of the conversation flits between catching up and teasing Liam over his do over with Sophia. They’ve been trying again and it has Liam hopeful; somehow, Niall too.
“Not that I’m parent control but Harold’s been mia, gonna guess he’s with you?” Liam casually steers the prodding to Niall and it’s like he’s a deer in headlights where everything seems out of place.
“Reckon, lying would be pointless, no?” Niall offers instead keeping his business to a minimum. Sometimes not sharing is just as bad as oversharing but with him it’s more habitual now than anything. Besides, Liam knows without having to tell.
“Guess so.”
–
Days flick through the end of December and soon enough it is January the 12th weighing down a phantom weight on his shoulder, a guilty brick in his stomach. Harry’s out running errands, they’re out of bread and there are only three eggs left in the carton, also, he said he wanted to stop by Grimmy’s London flat to pick up the present he’d been hounding about. Funny how without even trying they’ve eased into this domestic routine. Groceries and running to Tesco and making meals catering to each’s schedule was something he hadn’t seen fore coming but maybe that’s the appeal about togetherness, it’s comfortable and assuring.
He digs his feet into the sole of his burgundy boots, the Paul Smith one’s he’d bought right before the Drag Me Down music video and had insisted on wearing. He remembers Harry complimenting them. The whole style scene was never his cup of tea but as he grew older he developed a liking towards somethings and grew out of others.
There’s a frame on the bedside table underneath the turned off lamp with a picture from when they went to Dubai. The Burj Khalifa standing tall behind them with his own thumb nimbly pressing to Harry’s hip, like. Being there with Harry in that time was good, enough. The night before they had arrived, the hell layover of 36 hours had had them beat but mostly the importance of that concert loomed over them. Zayn had been rather excited when they had put the yellow thumbtack on the map where Dubai was, jumping unceremoniously thinking he’d be able to sing somewhere he’d dreamt about but once again life ran its course and plans weren’t pulled through and he left. To have only him expecting would have been fine but even the fans who’d purchased ticket to see him were left disappointed. Again, funnily enough, Niall thought that night whether Zayn was okay. He was. He is.
He flips over the frame so he doesn’t have to look at it longer than necessary, so he doesn’t taint the better memory. But then, his phone buzzes, the tune to hotline bling that he’d set as a joke to Harry’s contact fills the room. They were counting down their least and most favorite songs of the year and of course both of them had put the song on opposing lists prompting Niall to keep the song as his ringtone for Harry as though the eye-roll and hefty pouts weren’t enough. Was funny at the time.
“Don’t tell me you forgot the list again?” Niall greets with, his pulse racing a bit. Only a bit. His eyes fall onto the face down frame when Harry says, “you’re gonna run little late tonight, no? They have the ingredients for pudding bread at the grocers was hoping to make you some?”
The tentative edge to Harry’s voice makes Niall feel like he’s gone and done something wrong, gone and given Harry a reason to be unsure. Doesn’t trust his own voice much so incoherently mumbles a ‘yeah’.
–
Zayn’s house has the same look to it as Niall remembered, the only thing changed being the Kazama statue has been moved towards the back of the garden instead the front. The front door’s been left open, white streamers hanging along the head of it as he enters, the pounding base welcoming him. The party is in full swing, people flitting around, glasses of their preferred alcohol in hand and if not a waiter proffering one readily. There are fairy light hanging across the walls and crossing in-between the ceiling forming a make-do star. Niall thinks, Harry would like the laidback atmosphere, albeit the loud music there is this groovy vibe that makes him want to sway along to the beat.
Niall tightens his fingers into a fist striding to the bar and ordering himself a drink, the bustling crowd doesn’t pay any heed to him, making it easier to down the alcohol in a solid go. Soon after he maneuvers around to the crowd peering over numerous heads to find Zayn. Efforts futile and an empty glass and someone gently touches his elbow. With a jerk of his head he faces Zayn, “Oh.”
He’s far from, slightly buzzed if anything, but the rockiness to his footing make his knees wobble, and a part of him wishes – the one that pauses to think and has for the past five years – that he’d not come, or maybe had a few words in his favor. Instead he tugs away his arm herding out of the large sliding window panels into the garden.
The soft footsteps follow him, and then the sliders are closed shut, “You didn’t invite Liam?”
About a solid year ago he’d stood on the same deck, pissed on some shit beer Zayn had promised to be good, counting stars and giggling gibberish at the papers Liam had sent over to sign, something about merchandise neither him nor Zayn gave a flying fuck about. Had been a right laugh, perrie had cooked, Zayn had cleaned the dishes and everything was different. Now though it’s like grappling on to the ghost of a past that’s not meant to belong to him. Since Zayn left a lot of things had started feeling that way. Even One Direction at times.
Zayn comes to stand shoulder to shoulder to him, his thumbs digging into the front pocket of his jeans, “Did. Called him. Said he’s off to some vacation with Sophia, yeah?”
Every time Zayn talks, or use to he supposes, it would be like a question. Like maybe he’s unsure or he’s not saying the right thing. The hesitance was endearing.
“And Lou?” he gamely tries. Zayn shakes by his side, their shoulder colliding, “Mate, that chapter ended a long time ago.” He reaches back and pulls out a cigarette, lighting it and smoking a puff into the air.
A twinge to his heart reminds him to the early days when Louis had shut down and started therapeutically drinking away, and then there was the whole blistering anger phase and just like a scab the shell of old skin wore off and the boy was left with a scar. Hearts can be broken, Niall knew, but hadn’t seen one shattered. In his case, it wasn’t even returned.
To defend the defenseless he says, “It wasn’t him who ran out of ink, Z. You left.”
“Niall, you of all know that I couldn’t do it anymore – that it was suffocating and,” and he knows and he’s been told and its right but.
Niall picks up the pieces because only known how to, “and you were tired. I know. I’ve heard. You’ve said it. Everyone knows that.” He swivels around to face Zayn now, and it’s like being on stage, standing behind Harry during his What Makes You Beautiful solo beep beep booping each other and laughing. “But Zayn,” he throws his hands in the air in an agitated huff, his voice still barely over a whisper, “You left us.”
The thing is when they were in the band, when each one of them had partitioned into these inner cliques, Niall had been the guiding compass pulling them back in. At times it could’ve been more unpleasant than fun, to see Zayn and Liam tightly knit together, to see Harry and Louis getting on right off the bat. But it wasn’t. Their friendship wasn’t ever a source of envy to him because he got it all. He didn’t get one but all four of them and somewhere along the way without even trying Zayn became the one who knew. It wasn’t about the band, it was the silent encouragements, the impromptu visits, the late night singing off-beat songs to one another.
The Polaroid camera that he used to take Zayn’s picture towards the end of Where We Are is still sitting in Niall’s left drawer of his dresser, the Polaroid themselves tucked away under it, and Niall thinks, that maybe if him holding is enough for now he will.
Zayn’s shoulders go slack, his arms hanging to his sides, the cig is still held between his fingers, and he’s looking like someone woke him to reality he hadn’t known of. He runs a hand over his face, scratching at his bearded jaw, “didn’t.” He’s stuttering, “didn’t think.”
But just like he’d cheered him tell about his childhood inspirations being Power Rangers in that one interview in Mexico, he says, “didn’t think it was an option.”
The stretch of silence is unwavering, and Niall’s not one for confrontation, he’s not one for causing a scene when the need there not be, but he’s willing to do this. To make amends. Cause like before, he’s only known how to put the pieces back together, “it’s always an option Zayn. Always is.”
Zayn looks through his eyelashes at him, sad and apologetic, and for a moment detaching himself is easy, and Zayn’s beautiful. And then he’s hearing him say over his misty eyes, “Sorry, I should’ve known.”
“I know,” he replies honestly, and Zayn’s leaning forward, the distance between them minimal. He presses his forehead to Niall’s and wrapping a hand around the nape of his neck, his grip firm giving him momentum. “I knew too, Niall. I knew too,” and it sounds like he’s answering something else. Niall doesn’t dwell.
Moment later they pull back and there’s a buzz to Niall’s phone and cue hotline bling. Niall stares at the screen debating whether he should let it go to voicemail and Zayn just says, “Haz is lucky.”
Niall thumbs the home button, “Nah, I am.”
–
Harry’s already in bed when Niall slips in. The sheets are pooled around his naked torso and Niall can’t help but splutter out a laugh at the red Santa hat he’s wearing, “is this one of your…?”
He trails off but the mock horror on Harry’s face is funny enough to have him let out another chortle, “Excuse me, Niall. I’m trying to be festive.”
Niall pulls off his trousers tossing them off onto the chair and then his shirt, he plods over to the bed, glancing over to the dresser and seeing the Dubai pic in upright position. He smiles. “Don’t think Santa appreciates grown arse men wearing nothing but a hat. Also, pet, the hols are over, yeah?”
Harry pulls closer as Niall gets under the comforter, “they’ll be over when I say they are over. Besides, the mistletoes was wilting and we had to use them one last time.”
He points to the ceiling where it’s suspended and Niall shakes his head, “don’t think you need a mistletoe for a kiss.” He gingerly presses his lips to Harry’s cheek and the boy’s left smiling, “Yeah, guess not.”
“I should’ve seen this coming” Niall whispered as he sat on the end of the bed. “All the signs were there why didn’t I say anything?” Niall couldn’t believe it, Zayn was gone. He left, he left right in the middle of tour and he didn’t even say goodbye. Niall crawled under the covers and wrapped the duvet around him. Did Zayn feel like he couldn’t talk to them, to any of them. This wasn’t how One Direction was supposed to be. They were supposed to stick together through all the odds. They were supposed to prove everyone wrong. All those times where Zayn disappeared right after a concert, or how he smoked way more than he ever did before. Niall wrapped the blanket around him tighter. Now they were gonna start performing without Zayn. How could they? How could they just start performing without Zayn. Sure they did it before but they always knew he was coming back but now he was gone forever. Niall just didn’t understand couldn’t understand why Zayn would just wanna stop this. Wasn’t this his dream the reason he went to X Factor in the first place. Sure this job wasn’t always a smooth road but it was worth it wasn’t it? All those horrible words on twitter, the completely wrong rumors, and the grabby fans going through all that was worth the nights on the stage, all the lives you’ve helped save, and all the grateful fans. The good outweighed the bad right? Niall just didn’t understand.
hi lovelies it's me again which is amazing somehow considering i never update my shit ever [nervous laughing] anyway i was hopelessly inspired by another sappy internet video that made me cry so this little drabble is based off of one of those
Pairing: Ziall
WC: 1220 words
Niall’s first clue should’ve been when Harry specifically asked him to stay in their dorm room for the next few hours then failed to give him a reason why. To be fair to Harry, he was a shit liar and any excuse he could’ve come up with would’ve made him twice as suspicious, so Harry did his job to the best of his abilities when he’d just told Niall that there would be a “surprise.”
Niall had an inkling of what the surprise could be; actually he had several. When you were roommates with a guy like Harry, who found joy in literally every single, tangible thing, a surprise could range from ordering from that really good pizza place to bringing home an actual living puppy. But there was one possibility that he just couldn’t shake and he was pretty sure it was because he wanted it to happen more than believing it actually could.
Nothing about it seemed impossible, at least, but it was definitely unlikely and Niall gently told himself to prepare for his surprise to be something different than he was hoping for so that he didn’t look too utterly heartbroken when Harry gave him his real surprise. The kid had a heart of gold, honestly, and Niall wasn’t going to spoil his good intentions by hoping for something completely unrealistic. And yet.
His second clue should’ve been when Harry’s phone pinged loudly after several minutes of him checking it over and over, obviously waiting for the message he’d just received, and him jumping nearly six feet in the air before answering it. He read whatever text he’d just received with a huge, ridiculous grin on his face and said to Niall, “Oh, nothing, just a text from Louis,” even though he didn’t ask.
His third and final clue should’ve come when Harry tried (and failed) to subtly aim his phone’s camera directly at Niall without arousing suspicion from the boy in question. He, of course, had only succeeded in making Niall more suspicious than he’d been of anything in his entire life and was about to ask what the fuck was wrong with him when a head peeked in his door and literally everything else in his mind disintegrated.
Niall didn’t even hesitate, didn’t even let his mind consider the possibility that it might not be real, that it might just be a mirage, before he was up out of his chair and leaping into Zayn’s waiting arms, which had just barely managed to drop his duffel bag onto Niall’s bed before catching him.
He heard someone screaming and babbling and it didn’t even occur to him that it was his own voice until he heard Zayn’s laugh, loud and beautiful, right in his ear, and one strong hand running up and down his shaking back, the other arm supporting most of his weight, since Niall’s legs were offering no help, being slung tightly around Zayn’s hips.
Zayn was warm and familiar underneath him, his smell surrounding him and carrying him home with every breath he spent trying to burrow deeper into Zayn’s shoulder. He felt Zayn pressing kisses into his cheek and neck and the side of his eye and he only got to see Zayn clumsily fumble through things like he was these kisses when he was really emotional about something and somehow that something was Niall.
There must have been some part of him that wasn’t allowing all five of his senses to bring Zayn into him, reacquainting themselves with something they knew so well they could major in it, because he could vaguely hear Harry laugh-crying behind him (the fucking sap.) He blinked a little bit and through the blur the world had suddenly become he could make out Liam’s shape in the doorway, grinning at him like he did when he watched the end of a Disney movie.
And because it was Niall and he couldn’t let the facade that he was anything resembling a Disney princess stand, the first thing he did as he finally detached himself from Zayn’s side was to turn to Harry behind him and say, “I knew it! You suck!” even though he really, really didn’t, in fact, he was the best, as Zayn gently let him down to the ground.
Their separation only lasted long enough for Zayn to readjust his clothes while Harry smiled at his roommate tearfully before Niall dove back in, grabbing Zayn’s cheeks and yanking him down into a kiss, one that Zayn returned so intensely that he dipped Niall back slightly with the force of it.
Kissing Zayn right now, after so long, was simultaneously like coming home but also like he’d never left. It had been months since he’d last been able to do this but it was exactly the same, they moved as perfectly in sync as if they’d been doing this a few minutes ago and not weeks and weeks and weeks ago. And just like always, the entire world disappeared as if it was in a vacuum when he was kissing Zayn. Harry’s blubbering and Liam’s laughing and Harry’s obnoxiously colorful bedspread and everything around him was silenced until his every sense was overloaded with Zayn. His cologne, his taste, the scratch of his stubble, the sound of his breathing wrapped Niall up until he couldn’t stand it anymore and he had to pull back to let out another cackle-sob. Zayn didn’t let him go far, following him as his face backed up, keeping their foreheads pressed together.
Niall wasn’t sure what he wanted to do more; to keep kissing Zayn or to asked him how the fuck he was here or throw him onto the bed and make out/grind with him, friends spectating be damned, so he just settled for pressing his face into his shoulder and wrapping his arms around him tightly.
Zayn chuckled wetly, enveloping Niall and bringing him to his chest like he always did, like he was protecting Niall from the world around them.
Later, Niall would hear the story from Harry, Liam, Louis, and Liam all separately though it all amounted to the same general story.
Despite the fact that winter break was a little more than two weeks away, Zayn literally couldn’t stand another second away from Niall, hundreds of miles away at university, and had contacted Harry through their mutual friendship with Niall on Facebook to set up this plan for Zayn to fly over and surprise Niall.
Later, Louis would tell him that he quite seriously needed to pinch Harry’s arm brutally whenever Niall brought up how much he missed Zayn or even anything at all about him because if there was anything Harry was worse at than lying, it was keeping a secret.
Later, Harry would post the video he’d taken of their reunion on YouTube and it would go damn near viral.
But right now, Niall didn’t think about anything else, just let himself weep into Zayn’s t-shirt, crying, “You’re here, you’re here,” again and again in time with the kisses Zayn continued to press into his hair and his forehead and his nose and between his eyebrows.
“I’m here,” Zayn replied, laughing, pulling Niall closer until he wasn’t sure where he ended and Zayn began. “I’m here, baby, I’m here.”
AU: 'your earbuds are so loud i can here them from here and just what crap music are you listening to', plus niall have very dangerous flailing arm and may accidentally punch zayn in the face.
Zayn takes the the subway to and from his job every day. He get's his coffee from his favorite coffee shop under his apartment and then he walks to the subway station and gets on. Zayn tries to be friendly to the people at the subway, but that morning cup of coffee is Zayn's lifesaver on the mornings, so excuse him if he's in a bad mood.
it starts off with the subway being late so Zayn had to freeze his arse off. When the subway finally arrived there was just to many people on the subway pushing and pulling each other to get on. Wich resulted with Zayn being mushed between a scruff,veiny guy and a tall scrawny kid that smelled like cheese. The stinking cheese odor was just to much for Zayn this morning, so when he saw a guy standing up from his seat, Zayn lunged.
He slumped down onto the seat, reaching for his headphones in his pockets. Zayn had learned that the best way to keep creeps from talking to him was to blast loud music in his headphones. Zayn is so caught up with his search after his earphones that he barely notices the super attractive blonde guy that sits next to him. If Zayn had payed attention to the boy he would've noticed the way the blonde guy's eyes were lingering on him. When Zayn gave up in the search and sat up straight, the blonde guy was busy rocking out to his music.
Zayn liked riding the subway on the morning. It gave him time to think and time to wake up, Zayn likes to observe how people moved, how they interacted. It was strangely calming. And usually Zayn wouldn't mind people listening to crap music, he knew that he should just stick to his own lane. But this guy just had to listen to Nicky Minaj on the highest volume, and it was getting on Zayn's nerves.
He could probably tell the stranger to go away and find himself another seat, and succeed, if he threw him the look. But in the end he decides just to be quiet, trying to block out the mantra of "You a stupid hoe, You a stupid hoe, you a stupid hoe." coming from his earphones.
Zayn was beginning to bitterly regret his desicision to ride the subway this morning when the stranger starts to mumble the lyrics, and was slowly getting louder and louder. For a moment there was a peaceful silence, before Zayn could sigh in relief, a new track started. Did the man not realise how loud he was starting to get?
The stranger is bobbing his head up and down together with the music but then the subway abruptly halts to a stop- causing the strangers head to bump into Zayn's shoulder. The stranger quickly pulls his head away and Zayn thinks he can see a bit of blush appearing on his cheeks.
''Uh, I'm sorry.'' The stranger said.
That's the first time Zayn sees him as 'the stranger who is unbelievable hot and totally my type' instead of 'the stranger who's music is the spawn of satan'. Zayn realised the hot stranger waited for a reply, so he nodded at the guy. Zayn got uncomfortably aware of how anti-social he was being. The stranger turned away and Zayn tried desperately to stop his eyes drifting back to the him.
Five minutes after their interaction, while the blonde was busy texting on his phone another man sat down next to the him. The boy poked at him and the result was almost comical. The man visibly jumped out of his seat while letting out a small shriek. When he saw who it was beside him, his face softened. He yanked out his earphones, the music still echoing from them.
Zayn wasn't proud to admit that he got jealous over someone he didn't even know when the two men started to strike up an conversation. Zayn didn't mean to eavesdrop but he couldn't help but overhear that they were talking about the newest Spiderman movie. Which made Zayn's body itch with eagerness, he loved that movie and would definitely enjoy discussing it with the blonde.
Zayn started to feel like a nolifer who was creepliy listening to cute strangers conversation, so he quickly tried to turn his attention elsewhere. That's when he noticed that the stranger forgot to pause the music, because Nicky Minaj's adenoidal voice was still blasting out from his earphones.
Now Zayn had the chance to finally put a stop to the music that had been bugging him, he was going to politely tell the stranger that he forgot to pause his music. Zayn tried to convince himself that it wasn't just an excuse to talk to the cute blonde. (Because if Zayn was honest, he couldn't care less about the music anymore)
"… And in the middle of the fight, there was this big explosion" The stranger was gesticulating wildly. His arms close to his body, hands tightly clenched before he suddenly flung his arms out, while doing explosion sounds with his mouth. And before Zayn have the time to react, there is a hand hitting Zayn right in the face.
"Oh fuck," Zayn slurred as he clutched his nose, tears burning in his eyes.
"Oh shit, fuck, I'm so sorry" he said quickly, eyes wide, completely ignoring his friend's hysterical laughter beside him.
"It's okay, I'm fine." Zayn reassured, blinking back the tears that was gathering in his eyes. "No broken bones, I'm fine. Just hurts a bit"
The stranger's face flushed bright pink and took Zayn's hands away from his face. The stranger almost had to bite down a groan. Not because Zayn got horribly disfigured by his dangerous flailing arms, not at all. The opposite in fact. Zayn was even more gorgeous up close, even though Zayn's nose was kinda swollen by his hand. Zayn had a perfectly sculptured jaw with a bit of stubble, awesome pink lips and bright brown golden eyes to match his gorgeous dark hair.
"I told you, no broken bones." Zayn chuckled, eyes meeting the stranger's. He smiled hesitantly, but genuine. "Hi"
"Hello.." he responded, smiling back at Zayn. "Uh sorry, again."
"I promise you, no hard feelings" Zayn reassured. "Musta been some explosion."
Zayn didn't know it was possible for someone to blush as much as the stranger did, not that he was complaining. Zayn would love to see how far that pink flush would spread.
"You were talking about the cliff-hanger in the end of the Spiderman movie right?" Zayn asked - before his eyes widen, looking like a deer caught in headlights. "No, wait. I wasn't like listening to your conversation or anything.."
The stranger smiled once more, biting his lip and nodded.
"I'm Niall." he said, batting his eyelashes.
"Zayn."
"I'm going to go now so I won't be in the way of all this eyefucking." Niall's friend shouted, loud enough so the entire subway could hear, running off shortly after before Niall could elbow him in the stomach.
hello everyone yes it is me after like 80 years i am back and have written something even if it's a little something. i promise i'll be putting out something bigger and AU-ier sooner i promise promise promise. thank you for being so patient with me all this time i love you guys
this is based off of karakura's art that was like what if the boys had all met after their failed dates in the night changes video. go check her shit out she's amazing
Pairing: ziall
Word Count: 2,291 words
It wasn’t the first time that Niall had had to run to a 24-hour convenience store at a little after midnight out of pure necessity and he was certain that it wouldn’t be the last. Unfortunately (or fortunately, because he probably would never have to live through this again,) he wasn’t sure he had ever or would ever have to do so under worse circumstances than this particular night.
Promptly after he’d managed to literally set himself on fire and then proceeded to spill sangria all over his date’s pretty white dress, things had gotten awkward, like, really awkward. Irreparably awkward. After Niall had managed to put himself out he’d noticed how stained her dress was and apologized profusely, and to her credit she was trying hard not to look as mad as she was, but she was clearly pretty mad and she left not long after that, but not before telling him in a roundabout, indirect way not to call her again.
Which, given the circumstances was a bit rude. He hadn’t intended to set himself on fire or spill a drink on her, she didn’t have to act so put out about it.
Speaking of, he was nursing a pretty nasty second-degree burn on his arm, which he’d wrapped gauze around (over the ruined sweater, because he couldn’t remember if he’d read somewhere something about keeping burned clothes on before treating the wound and didn’t want to chance it) after the girl had left. He wasn’t too broken up about it, really, just a little bummed and a lot humiliated and in need of some burn cream and alcohol.
He was the only one in the Minute Mart at the moment beside the bored-looking cashier who he wasn’t entirely sure was awake and he bopped his head glumly to the David Bowie song playing over the old speakers as he scoured the aisles for anti-inflammatory cream. When he found it, he started heading to the back where the refrigerators were and was floundering between buying one type of alcohol versus all of them when he heard the tiny bell over the door jingle. He wasn’t sure what compelled him to turn around but when he did, he was stunned and confused at what he found.
The man who’d just walked into the Minute Mart was gorgeous, beautiful in an otherworldly way, with a face so sculpted and sharp it looked carved from marble. He was in an all-black fitted suit and looked wildly out of place in this convenience store with flickering lights and that smelled vaguely of day-old hot dogs from the spinning rotisserie under a heat lamp. He’d look far more at home on a runway in Milan or Paris, yet here he was.
As wonderful as he looked though, there was something off about him. His dark hair was pasted onto his forehead messily, like it had been wet and dried not quite naturally, as if it was sort of sticky or crusty. He had what appeared to be some red stuff (sauce maybe?) strewn in his hair and he looked utterly miserable.
Despite all of this, he was easily one of the most breathtaking people Niall had ever seen.
Niall watched, dumbstruck, as the boy made his way into the shop (even the previously asleep attendant seemed to have woken up at this man’s arrival and was paying close attention to his journey,) amber eyes scanning the aisles and fingering along the shelves in search of something.
When he was finally able to tear his eyes away from the handsome stranger, Niall turned back around to choose a six-pack of beer from the fridge and take it up to the front.
He paid for his items, adding a chocolate bar to the mix because after the night he’d had, he deserved it. He wasn’t sure if it was because he didn’t want to go back to that empty cottage by himself just yet or if he didn’t want to leave the beautiful man all by himself, but either way, Niall didn’t leave yet, lingering by the door, not sure where to let his eyes fall.
When the man moved towards the register, he had shampoo and a box of Tide in his hands, as well as a candy bar (the same brand, in fact, as the one Niall had just bought.)
Whether it was because he was sure he didn’t have anything else to lose tonight, or if he could tell that this guy had had at least as bad a night as he’d had and he felt connected to him in that regard, something compelled Niall to open his mouth and talk to the other man.
“Rough night?” Niall asked and the guy at the register glanced up, at first not looking completely sure Niall had been talking to him. After a second, the blonde boy smiled a little, trying to let him know that he had.
“Oh,” the other grunted, looking back down to pay for his stuff, not annoyed exactly, but not exactly looking pleased to engage either. “Yeah.”
There was an awkward moment between them where Niall wasn’t sure if he should just leave and the other man seemed to be avoiding his eyes, but after a moment the dark-haired boy looked back up, gaze finding the bandages on his arm.
“What happened to you?” he asked, in a deep, rolling timbre with an accent that teetered slightly onto something he didn’t quite know.
Miraculously, Niall found himself smirking to himself. “Mate, you wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”
The boy at the counter took his receipt and walked towards him, letting out a snort. “Listen, after the night I’ve had, I’ll believe anything,” he said, smiling ruefully to himself. After a minute of them standing in a slightly more comfortable silence, as if they were both reflecting on their horrible evenings with bemused vexation, the other boy spoke again. “I’m Zayn.”
He stuck his hand out and Niall grinned, taking it and wincing when the movement stretched his burned elbow. “Niall,” he replied, shaking his head at the boy’s, Zayn’s, concerned, raised eyebrows. “I’m fine. Just a little burn.”
As they walked out together, Zayn said, “Well, Niall, I hope the rest of your night goes well.”
“You, too, Zayn. Thanks,” Niall said, waving as they turned around, walking away and towards their respective cars when Niall suddenly stopped, turning around.
“Hey,” he called and Zayn turned around and his amber eyes were sparkling in the moonlight in such a way that Niall almost forgot what he was going to say. “Uh, I… Do you… Look, after the night I had… and I assume you had… Neither of us should be alone, right?”
Zayn didn’t say anything, just watched him curiously.
“Why don’t you and I sit down and talk about our shitty nights over a few of these?” he lifted up the six-pack of beer, smiling hopefully and, after a few seconds, the other boy smiled back.
“A few beers?” he asked.
Niall smirked. “A few packs, mate.”
To his surprise, Zayn let out a loud, tinkling laugh, nose wrinkling up along with the corners of his eyes and he was lovely. After he caught his breath, he paused for a bit, thinking on it. After a minute, he shrugged, still smiling.
“Yeah, sure, bro,” he said. “Why not?”
~ ~ ~
“S-So, wait, hang on a second,” Niall giggled, feeling bubbly and warm in his chest, sitting sideways on the sofa in front of the fire that he was keeping a very safe several yards away from. He was sitting back to back with Zayn, who was more lying than sitting down, long legs hanging over the arm of the chair and snickering into his beer. “She left with him?”
They were pleasantly drunk by now, Niall having gone back into the 24/7 to buy another six-pack before telling Zayn to follow him to his aunt’s cottage in his (really nice) car. To be honest, he had been slightly surprised whenever he looked in his rearview mirror and found Zayn actually following him. They’d been talking and drinking for hours, now barely able to tell any parts of their stories without busting up laughing.
“Yep,” Zayn replied before taking a quick pull of the drink. “I don’t know, bro, when I asked her out she didn’t exactly say she was single, but she didn’t turn me down so I sort of just assumed, you know? She didn’t look that sorry, though, my guess is that it was some elaborate ploy to make the guy jealous or summat.”
Niall guffawed, shaking his head as he polished off another beer. They were getting pretty low, almost powering through one and a half six-packs and showing no signs of slowing down.
“So, tell me how exactly you caught fire?” Zayn asked, nodding down to Niall’s bandaged arm. Once they’d gotten back, Zayn told him to take the sweater off (right words, wrong context) so that they could tend to the burn and now he was in a t-shirt with more gauze wrapped around his elbow. It hurt a lot less whenever he moved now but there was still a dull heat throbbing there that kept him from repressing the whole ordeal.
While Niall was licking his wounds, he’d allowed Zayn to take a shower in his bathroom with his new shampoo and throw his soiled suit in the washer, letting him borrow a pair of his joggers and a jumper (one that hadn’t been lit aflame) to lounge and booze in.
“Mate, I haven’t the slightest idea,” Niall grumbled, chuckling. “It was that stupid Christmas sweater. Extra flammable material or whatever.”
“No, come on, man,” Zayn said, laughing. “Wasn’t stupid. S’cute.”
Niall flushed from more than just the alcohol. Niall wasn’t sure how but meeting Zayn had turned his whole night around. It had gone from the worst night of his life to maybe one of the best of his week. Zayn was cute and handsome, even with his hair not styled and hanging limply in front of his eyes and past his ears, and really funny and thoughtful (he’d brought this girl out to the nicest restaurant in town just to have her creep of an ex(?)-boyfriend pour spaghetti on him) and the buzz in his system was making him want to tell Zayn that.
“Mate, listen,” he said, reaching a hand back and patting at Zayn’s hair, hearing the other boy giggling when his fingers brushed clumsily over his nose. “Listen, bro.” He turned his head to the side, not speaking again until Zayn did the same and they could see each other out of their peripheral. “That girl is an idiot, okay? Like… any girl that would leave you for a lug-head douchebag with bad hair is not worth your time.”
They both tittered to themselves, Zayn speaking up through a hiccup, “How did you know he had bad hair?” they both laughed some more before he said, “But really, man. Thanks. That’s… After a night like tonight, that’s nice to hear.”
Niall had let his arm drop to the side until it was hanging off the couch and brushing against the floor and he nearly jumped when he felt another hand brushing against his own after a few minutes.
“No problem,” he said around the lump that had suddenly lodged in his throat. He wasn’t any more sober than before, but everything was coming to him just a little bit clearer at the moment. “It’s true.”
Zayn hummed quietly, brushing his finger over Niall’s pinky, clearly showing him that he knew what he was doing. “Same with your girl, mate,” he said off-handedly. “Any bird that leaves bitching about her dress when you’ve just had your sweater on fire is not a girl you want to have around.”
“I think you’re a girl I’d like to have around,” Niall murmured, just barely drunk enough to have an excuse for saying that but Zayn didn’t seem to mind. In fact, he didn’t mind so much that he got bolder, fully lacing their fingers together and squeezing slightly. There were several minutes of comfortable quiet before Niall said, “Listen, mate, I have a whole ‘nother pitcher of sangria in the fridge. This beer is starting to taste like arse and I promise not to spill it on you.”
He stood up and was pleasantly surprised to find Zayn’s hand still in his when he did. Zayn smiled at him. “I promise not to leave even if you did,” there was a teasing lilt to his voice but his eyes were earnest and Niall’s heart sped up a million times as he reluctantly separated their hands and walked to the kitchen.
Man, just how fast the night changes.
~ ~ ~
When Niall woke up the next morning, he found his face pressed up against Zayn’s warm chest and the other boy’s warm arms wrapped low around his waist. Memories of the night before resurfaced in a haze of his slightly pounding headache and clouds, he remembered kisses that tasted like wine and fruit and hands pressing everywhere he could reach.
He grinned, leaning up and pressing a kiss to the other boy’s chin, kiss after kiss until Zayn started to stir. As he blinked himself awake and smiled down at Niall, the night before obviously coming back to him as well, as he bent down to press a soft peck against Niall’s temple, Niall thought that maybe he should send thank-you notes to his date, Zayn’s date, and the guy who’d thrown spagbol over his head.
hiii so I wanna do like a ziall-style 12 days of Christmas where in the 12 days leading up to dec 25 I post a little holiday theme ziall fic every day can you guys send me holiday ziall prompts? :D it doesn't have to be christmassy just anything that could fit into the winter holidays and it can be AU or really whatever you want :) so yeah if anyone has any ideas and wants to send me a prompt that'd be awesome!!
