The Way It Is ! ** Ziam

Part 7

It's easier and somehow harder with Niall than it is with Louis. Niall doesn't push; if you're not going to tell him something, he gets over it. But, at the same time, Niall has this look. It's piercing, his blue eyes narrowed, and honestly it's terrifying. It reminds Zayn so much of his father. He was never the parent who yelled; his mum did that enough. When his dad was mad, he was scary quiet. And when he wanted you to tell him something, he gave you this look that said you better own up to it, because he knows exactly what happened and the punishment is going to be a million times worse if you lie about it. It's a look that's gotten him to fess up to drinking, or sneaking out, more than a few times.

"We going to talk about it?" Niall asks over lunch.

It's just the two of them. Niall wanted to go shopping and everyone knows that, if they don't stop him, he'll buy the exact same shirt, in the exact same colour, five different times and claim that it's smart to bulk up when you like something, which is really just an excuse to wear the same white t-shirt for two weeks straight. So Zayn offered to go with him. He needed to get out anyway.

"Talk about what?" Zayn asks through a mouthful of a spicy chicken sandwich. A camera flash goes off, and he wonders how flattering that picture is, his mouth stuffed and hanging open. Great.

"I don't know," Niall says cryptically. "Do you think there's anything to talk about?"

Zayn swallows and frowns at him. "Given the fact that we spend practically every minute of every day together, I'm going to say no, probably not."

Niall shrugs and eats a bite of his salad ("I'm trying to be healthy," he said, ordering it on the side of his double bacon cheeseburger.) before saying, all casual, "Nothing about, you know, yourself. Or Liam, or something."

Zayn puts down his sandwich. "Seriously? Did Louis put you up to this? Because I told him, I don't know anything, okay?"

"Hey, whoa." Niall lifts his hands defensively. "I'm not asking like that. I know you don't know what's going on with him. I'm asking about you. How it's affecting you." He goes back to eating, like this is such a comfortable, pleasant conversation to have, even though it's taken away all of Zayn's desire to even touch the food in front of him. "I know that he spends every night we're in a hotel in your room, you know."

Zayn startles, eyes widening. "You do?"

"We shared a room together a few nights ago, remember. I wasn't as asleep as you two thought I was when he snuck out. And I didn't think it was a secret," Niall says. "Not until Li denied it. And then I was like, well why would he lie? Unless there's something to hide. So is there?"

"No," Zayn says instantly. Niall gives him that look. "No, okay?"

"So you're not —?"

"He just comes in drunk and passes out in my bed," Zayn admits with his eyes on the table and his voice lowered. He doesn't want someone somehow overhearing, though there's a window and a bunch of security between them and everyone who's trying to hear (and take pictures). "And then he leaves in the morning as soon as we get up. That's it."

"Oh."

"What'd you think was happening?"

Niall makes a face. "I don't really want to talk about butt sex while I'm eating." Zayn throws a balled up napkin at him. "I'm kidding, I'm kidding. But why is he lying about it, if you're just sleeping? I don't get it."

"I don't think anyone gets what Liam does anymore," Zayn says honestly. "I sure as fuck don't."

"Does that bother you?"

"It's just a phase," Zayn tells him. "He'll get over it soon enough."

"Do you want him to, though?" Niall questions. "I mean, you've gotta like the fact that he comes to you, not the rest of us."