the boy next door « z.m.

five · /fʌɪv/

With one last look at the Christmas cookies, making sure they are in perfect order, he presses the doorbell shortly. Because first impressions matter, Zayn thinks to himself. If only he knew that the first impression has already been made. As he presses the doorbell, he regrets it the moment right after. What is he going to say? Is his neighbor even going to answer the door?
Millions, if not billions, of questions and thoughts, are rushing through his head as he waits for his neighbor to open the door. His head feels like New York City in the past few days, however, millions of snowflakes in a city are a lot more pleasant than millions of thoughts in your mind. There's this snowstorm swirling in his head, it's all gone as the door opens. At the sight, Zayn might have dropped the plate with the Christmas cookies, he has baked just this morning, if his hand hadn't clenched around the edge of the plate. He felt like passing out right now, this can't be possible! Is he dreaming? And that's the moment his hands involuntarily let go and the plate goes falling to the ground. It shatters into a million pieces, but Zayn won't move one bit.
»Y-you.«, Zayn says shaking. He can't believe his eyes. It takes all the strength he can muster to release the shaky breath he has been holding in. The hallway is spinning and his neighbor's arms look a little too comfortable to fall into for it to be real. In front of him, there's the tall and handsome stranger and the pieces put themselves together like a puzzle. If he was still holding the plate with the Christmas cookies on it, he might as well drop it again. The man in front of him is frozen in his spot and the longer Zayn stares at him, the nearer a distant comfort settles inside of him. He can't decide if he feels like he's been knowing the stranger in front of him or if he wants to run away because his counterpart truly is a stranger. All of a sudden, the situation becomes reality and Zayn drops to his knees in front of the man. »I- I'm so sorry. I just wanted to be nice and-«, Zayn starts to rant to his neighbor but is soon stopped by a warm hand placed on his shaking one that is holding onto one of the shards. His head snaps back up to the man kneeling in the door frame. »Hey, it's okay.«, Liam's voice rumbles making the comfort in Zayn's chest spread even further. Their eyes lock, it feels like time freezes. Liam can't believe what he is doing right now, touching Zayn's hand. Is this even real?
But yet again, reality hits them in the worst way, and Zayn jerks his hand away from under Liam's bigger one. He starts picking up the shards again hurriedly but cuts his palm as he touches the raw edge of one of the pieces. The warm and crimson red blood quickly makes its way to the surface, Zayn hisses. It slowly fills the deep cut and tickles over the edges of the cut. Liam is quick to act and grabs Zayn's hand all over again to examine the wound. »Come on in, I'll take care of it.«, Liam smiles gently and traces his thumb over Zayn's knuckles softly. Zayn looks at him surprised, he can't believe his ears. Once again his neighbor's voice sounds so familiar to his ears and makes him feel all fuzzy and warm on the inside. He can force himself to speak up, so he answers with a soft yet unsure voice: »Okay, thank you.«
Is this even real? Is this happening?
It feels like both of their dreams have come true simultaneously, which is the jackpot of life. What are the chances!
Of course, Zayn could have just gone back to his apartment, but to be fair he isn't able to coherently and logically think anymore in Liam's presence. His mind is stuffed to the top with questions. He is still in his slippers, so he doesn't need to take his shoes off, which comes in handy right now. Being led into Liam's well-decorated kitchen with his hand still holding onto his makes everything better. The pain isn't even that bad, even though the blood is slowly forming a pool of crimson red inside of his palm. »Oh god, you must have cut your palm deeply! Have a seat.«, Liam says worriedly and leads Zayn to one of his kitchen chairs. Only now, when Zayn has taken a seat, Liam lets go of his hand. With a last worried glance in Zayn's direction, Liam leaves the kitchen to grab a towel and some bandages. While searching for the bandages, he hears Zayn asking unsurely: »Hey, um, I don't know what your name is, but I also don't want to bleed on your rug-«
Liam rushes to the kitchen to press the towel into Zayn's almost overflowing cupped palm. He can hear a small hiss leave Zayn's lips and even that sounds beautiful. »I'm Liam by the way.«, Liam smiles at Zayn gently to ease the tense atmosphere. Zayn answers with the most breathtaking smile Liam has ever seen in his entire life. Liam has to try really hard to focus on the task: stop Zayn's bleeding. After another couple of minutes of pressing the towel, that slowly turned crimson red where it touches Zayn's hand, Liam tries his best to properly bandage the bleeding angle's hand. »Wow, handsome and knows how to properly take care of wounds!«, Zayn giggles cheekily. A blush creeps onto his cheeks and Liam whispers: »Thanks.«
A comfortable silence fills the room until Liam has an idea: »Wait a second.«
And with that, he's out of the kitchen leaving Zayn in the unknown. What is he going to do?
He comes back with the shards in one hand and the Christmas cookies stacked one by one in his other hand.
»It'd be a shame to not eat these. They're too pretty not to be eaten.«, Liam jokes. »Are we supposed to still eat these? They were covered in shards.«, Zayn raises one eyebrow. »I made sure there are not sticking to them, trust me.«, Liam assures him gently. Zayn just shrugs and they start eating.
The following hours are spent with laughter, comfortable silence, and chatting. They feel more in love with the other one as they absorb every little detail they can, they feel more connected with each seconds passing. So this is love, they think shamelessly and simultaneously without knowing that their counterpart feels exactly the same. At the end of the night, only 4 Christmas cookies are left and both their tummies are filled. This is probably the best Christmas he has experienced, Zayn thinks and is glad he rang his neighbor's door. And maybe, just maybe, he's also glad he cut his hand. Otherwise, they maybe wouldn't have ended up where they are now, Zayn ponders.