Talk To Me - Ziam

Chapter 1

The sun hung lazily over campus as Zayn Malik made his way back to the apartment he shared with Louis and Niall. For him, college had always been something he could coast through—just a way to pass the time and get a degree. Classes were fine, parties were fun, but there was nothing he was truly invested in, aside from the few friends he'd somehow managed to care about. Zayn was an English major by choice, but he wasn't the type to stress over grades or assignments. He took pride in his "I don't care" attitude and felt pretty good about his low-maintenance approach to life.

As he pushed open the apartment door, he was greeted by the sight of Niall sprawled out on the couch with a slice of pizza, headphones in, blissfully unaware of anything around him. Louis was standing in the kitchen, his phone buzzing as he mixed up a drink, looking suspiciously pleased with himself.

"Oi, Niall, Louis," Zayn called out, dropping his bag on the floor as he slouched into the nearest armchair. "What's going on?"

Niall pulled out one earbud and grinned. "Louis has news. He's been smirking for the last twenty minutes."

Louis shot Niall a glare but couldn't keep the smile off his face. "I might be seeing someone. Properly this time."

Zayn raised an eyebrow, mildly curious. "Properly? What happened to casual Louis?"

Louis shrugged, trying to look indifferent but failing miserably. "Harry Styles. He's a music ed major. Tall, curly hair, bright personality—the works."

"You sound whipped already," Niall teased, flicking a piece of crust at Louis, who dodged it expertly.

"Shut up. He's brilliant," Louis shot back, unbothered. "Anyway, I invited him over tonight. Thought you guys might want to meet him."

Zayn shrugged. "Cool with me. Just don't expect me to roll out the red carpet."

Louis laughed, but Niall narrowed his eyes at Zayn. "Oh, come on. Try to look less broody, yeah? This one's special to Louis."

Zayn gave a noncommittal grunt, but inwardly, he was glad for Louis. For all his bravado, Louis was one of the softest people he knew, even if he'd never admit it. It was rare for him to genuinely care about someone.

The evening rolled around quickly, and Zayn was lounging on the couch with a textbook he was barely reading when there was a knock at the door. Louis jumped up, a grin plastered on his face, and opened it to reveal a tall, lanky guy with curls that bounced with every step. Behind him stood another guy, shorter but solidly built, with neat, sandy brown hair and a warm expression. The sight of him caught Zayn off guard.

"Everyone, this is Harry," Louis announced, smiling widely at the curly-haired guy. "And his roommate, Liam."

Harry beamed, his energy almost contagious as he stepped forward, shaking hands with Zayn and Niall before settling onto the couch next to Louis. But Zayn's gaze drifted to Liam, who hovered at the edge of the group, taking everything in with a steady, serious look.

"Hey, mate," Liam said, his handshake firm. There was something quietly confident about him, something that seemed almost unbreakable, as though he had his life figured out and wasn't in any rush to prove anything to anyone.

Zayn forced himself to nod casually. "Nice to meet you."

They all settled into an easy conversation, and Harry quickly won over both Niall and Zayn with his quick wit and contagious laugh. He was the type who could charm anyone, with that infectious enthusiasm and a habit of leaning into every conversation as if it was the most important one he'd ever had.

But Zayn's attention kept drifting back to Liam, who sat next to Harry, offering calm, thoughtful comments here and there. He didn't try to dominate the conversation, but when he spoke, people listened.

At one point, Zayn caught himself studying the way Liam's mouth curved slightly when he was lost in thought, and he quickly forced himself to look away. It was ridiculous, really. He'd seen plenty of good-looking guys before, and he didn't usually care enough to notice anyone in particular. But there was something about Liam—a subtle charisma, a kind of unspoken confidence—that caught him off guard.

Their eyes met briefly across the room, and Zayn felt an unfamiliar twinge in his stomach, which he immediately brushed off. He's just good-looking, he told himself. No big deal.

"So, Zayn," Harry chimed in suddenly, snapping Zayn out of his thoughts, "Louis tells me you're an English major?"

Zayn shrugged, trying to hide his mild annoyance at being pulled back into the conversation. "Yeah. Figured I might as well get a degree in something I don't hate."

"Translation: he reads angsty novels and writes poetry when he's bored," Louis teased, nudging Zayn with his elbow.

Zayn rolled his eyes. "One angsty novel doesn't mean I'm writing poetry in my spare time."

"Whatever you say, mate," Louis chuckled, winking at Harry.

Zayn glanced over at Liam, who was watching him with a faint smile. It wasn't mocking or judgmental—just quietly amused. For some reason, it made Zayn feel oddly self-conscious, something he wasn't used to.

"So, what about you, Liam?" Zayn asked, turning the attention back on him. "What's your story?"

Liam looked at him, that steady gaze meeting Zayn's as he answered, "I'm studying music education as well. Thought I'd end up teaching or something, but I'm still figuring it out."

There was a refreshing honesty in his words, something that seemed almost out of place in their circle, where most people were either too sure of themselves or too aloof to admit any uncertainty. Zayn found himself drawn to it, intrigued by the idea that someone like Liam could be so open about not having everything mapped out.

The night wore on, and as they talked, Zayn found himself watching Liam more closely than he intended. He took in the quiet way Liam listened, the easy way he laughed when Niall cracked a joke, the brief but steady looks he cast Zayn's way that made him wonder if Liam was equally aware of the tension between them.

Eventually, the conversation wound down, and Harry and Liam said their goodbyes. Louis walked them to the door, waving them off with a grin, and when he came back, he looked at Zayn, who was still seated, his mind elsewhere.

"Well?" Louis asked, looking pleased with himself. "What do you think?"

"About Harry? He's great," Zayn replied nonchalantly, avoiding the real question. "Seems good for you."

Louis rolled his eyes. "Not Harry, you idiot. I meant Liam."

Zayn's jaw tightened reflexively, though he tried to play it cool. "Liam's fine, I guess. Quiet. Seems serious."

"Fine, huh?" Louis asked, eyebrows raised knowingly. "You were staring at him half the night."

"Was not," Zayn retorted, a little too quickly.

Louis laughed, slapping Zayn on the back. "Mate, you're so transparent. And hey, I don't blame you. Liam's solid. Bit of a contrast to you, though."

Zayn shrugged off Louis's teasing, keeping his expression neutral. But later that night, as he lay in bed staring at the ceiling, he couldn't shake the image of Liam's calm, steady gaze or the warmth of his smile.

Just good-looking, he reminded himself, though he wasn't entirely convinced.