the boy next door « z.m.

two · /tuː/

Often in life, when you start giving up, you need to look a little closer for another moment, and maybe what you wished for will come true. And to Liam, his dreams came true. He is about to give up, but something inside of him forces him to keep on looking and keeps his feet locked in place. His breath hitches as the rustling of a door unlocking can be heard through the whole hallway. Time seems to go even slower, driving him insane. But then a tall man with jet-black hair and a slim silhouette steps outside. His hazel eyes look down the hallway each way, he then proceeds to shrug it off. Liam is stunned in a way he has never been before. The man standing in the hallway takes his breath. But Liam has never in his life thought about a man the way he does now, he has never felt like this when thinking about a man. What is even happening, he asks himself. The man's face must have been sculpted by the angels themselves. A jaw that could cut paper, cheekbones that seem to hug his face perfectly, a small smirk playing on his thin lips. What Liam would do to kiss them.
His heart is pounding in his chest, almost jumping out, his hands go cold, but sweat furiously, his mind goes blank. He feels dizzy now and the urge to throw up takes control. But deep down, he knows he won't. If someone saw him right now, they'd see him lurking through the peep hole looking paler than what he assumes a ghost would look like. A few steps are taken back, the slim man disappears behind his apartment door. Even though he just saw him for the first time, he already starts wondering when he will ever see him again. But as time goes by, he can still see the raven-haired man in the hallway. The feeling of having to empty his stomach won't leave his side either. And even though Liam is 20, he goes on to call his Mum. His mother always knew best and him being an adult won't change anything about that. So he dials her number. »Liam, dear, I'm glad you're calling!«, his mother's soothing voice rings through the phone. Right now, he feels like crying. His mind is racing, his guts are turning again and again. »Hi Mum.«, he breathes. »What's wrong, dear?«, Karen asks. »I don't know, I just feel sick. My hands are cold and sweaty, I feel dizzy and nauseous. But other moments I feel so hot.«, Liam whines. He hates being sick almost as much as whining to his mother about being sick. But he can't take it back by now, can he? »Oh, darling. That must be the flu! Did you go out without the scarf that I knit last winter?«, she asks worriedly. »But I wore your scarf and at least 20 other garments, but I don't know.«, he breathes. »Oh dear.«, his Mum sighs again.
The rest of the day is spent talking to his Mum and missing home. At the end of the evening, he almost forgot about the raven-haired man, who may or may not have his bedroom right next to his. With that thought in mind and a smile on his lips, he slips away into dreams of hazel eyes, pink lips, and raven hair. And it isn't any different the following days, he wakes up, takes a shower while fully devouring each and every note that can be heard through the wall, and goes to sleep with the thought of the angel sleeping on the other side of his bedroom wall. What happens in between is blurred in his memory, but he doesn't mind. The important things have remained in his mind, the rest doesn't matter. But with each day passing, the despair to finally be with the man on the other side of the wall grows bigger. Up until it isn't bearable anymore. It feels like something inside of him is ripped apart so slow that it almost kills him. The dreams become more vivid, the feelings he has developed, become more real. This is stupid, Liam thinks to himself. He is currently sitting on the sofa in his living room, trying to read a book. But the thought of a certain raven-haired man, won't leave him alone. With a loud huff, he closes the book again. The melody the man next door has been singing for days now is stuck in his brain. He has never heard the song before but knows the words by heart by now. And if someone had listened to him showering these days, they would have heard him humming along to the melody sung next door. It truly had something tragic within, a lover yearning for the man, who doesn't even know him, who is so close yet too far away.
The next time he is in the shower, forehead against the shower wall, his humming slowly but surely turns into singing. Both of their singing melts together perfectly until one of them stops. But this time, it's Zayn with his cheek pressed against the shower wall to listen closely to a foreign voice singing his song. Zayn is in awe, the voice is incredibly beautiful and makes his knees go weak. Who is this man knowing each and every note and word to his own song? Maybe if he presses against the shower wall a little closer, he'll melt into it and gets to listen to the man better. His heart is yearning to know who this is. His voice sounds so soft, Zayn might want to lay in it.
He has to push himself off the wall to stop himself from doing something he might regret later on. This voice is doing things to him he never imagined possible. But here he is. The water vapor combined with the voice from behind the wall, makes him feel dizzy and he has to support his body with one hand on the shower glass. Once the shower wall was fogged up, only suggesting the frame of several pieces of bathroom furniture, the shower wall now has a handprint on it, like a window to the bathroom behind.