Sandpaper

ten

It's been ten minutes. Ten fucking minutes and Niall's just standing there rocking back and forth on his heels and Charlie's standing beside him. The boy with the (dyed) blonde hair can feel her eyes on him, they're dark and black and maybe even beautiful. "Do you need a ride Nialler?" she whispers and he closes his eyes, rocks faster, balls his fist, breathes in and out. His mam didn't forget him. Not again. He smells like fear with a hint of lemon and she's wrapping her arms around his (stiff) shoulders, body moving back and forth and ribs aching.

"C'mon." She's tugging at the sleeve of his sweater, fingers hooking into the threads he always pulls at when he's nervous. And Zayn doesn't say anything, just lets the girl with the dark sides and even darker eyes push the boy with the (dyed) blonde hair into his truck. She doesn't ask where he lives just points Zayn in the direction she wants to go until they're parked in front of the small bar. The one that's got paint chipping and a boarded up window from the time Charlie smashed her fist through it.

Eleanor isn't there when Charlie walks in. She's not there and Charlie gets that fluttering of panic ruminating in her belly, heart pounding in her throat and palms sweaty because Lennon's never not been there and Charlie feels the words abandoned being stamped onto her skin. Her ribs ache and her fingers are still hooked into the threads of Niall's sweater. He's got blue eyes and blonde hair and cherry lips and his smiling is breaking as he stands in this foreign place. And Charlie keeps looking at him like she expects him to tell her the secrets of the universe but every damn time he stutters out a word she cringes.

"Where's Lennon?" Her question makes the bartender still, forces the air out of Niall's lungs and makes Zayn's fists clench. The man standing where Lennon should be shakes his head, fingers tapping on the bar top. He's got hazel eyes and dark hair falling in ringlets to his shoulders and he gives Charlie this knowing smile that makes Zayn want to grab her and run.

"You're not supposed to be here Charlotte." And the man with the long curly hair and a scraggly beard makes Zayn's blood boil, but Charlie matches his smile with one of her own.

"Promise not to drink Davie, just need a round of shots for my mates s'all. I'll be sure to make up for it later." She winks and Niall shakes his head, his smile is breaking, breaking, breaking and he has blonde hair and cherry lips and Charlie is shoving a shot into his hand. She's got that blackish-blue nail polish that Zayn kind of likes and her hand is so fucking cold when he takes the glass from her, throws it back and lets the burn of the liquor force air into his lungs. He orders another one, grips the bar top until it feels like the wood will crumble in his hand. He doesn't like how she keeps touching Niall, how Davie's presence makes her all jumpy, how she won't fucking look him in the eye.

And Charlie just kind of stands there. She keeps shaking her head at Davie, fingers tapping nervously at her side. Niall's smiling anxiously beside her. He sips his shot and almost spits the alcohol back into the small glass, bites his bottom lip and throws the rest of it back. Charlie grins at him, hand catching Niall's elbow, pulling slightly until he's sitting at the bar and tells Davie to "make sure this one gets proper drunk."

* * *

Zayn might be tipsy when Lennon walks through the door an hour later. He's (probably) tipsy, but Niall is plastered beside him rambling on about how many stars there are in the universe or some shit. And Zayn thinks he must be slightly tipsy, but he still notices how Charlie's cheeks strain to keep that smile on her face. She's sitting beside Niall, eyes flicking towards his drink as she helps him finish off another shot. And Charlie is painfully sober when she sees her friend stroll through the front door. She's got her bag thrown over her shoulder, a case of beer in one hand and her apron scrunched up in the other.