I have waited oh, so long (please don't tell me baby I was wrong)

chapter 1

If he keeps his eyes closed he can pretend this is real.

The arm wrapped tightly around his waist, the legs tangled with his, the strong chest pressed against his back. The large hand that's curled around his bare hip and the soft lips brushing over the back of his neck, just over the tattoo stained there. He can pretend all of it is real and that it's all his.

He can pretend this is how it always was and how it always will be. He can pretend they'll wake up just like this in the morning, wrapped up in each other. He can pretend they'll kiss soft and languid, because they have all the time in the world. They'll get out of bed eventually, brush their teeth and eat breakfast, then lunch, and then dinner together. He can pretend he has a life with this man under the covers with him. Not a wrong and secretive one, but a real one. One where he doesn't have to hide. One that doesn't hurt.

He can pretend but in the end that won't actually make it real--

"She'll be here soon."

--specially when those sweet lips speak quiet words that make his heart ache.

Zayn tries to swallow but those words bring a lump so large to his throat that he thinks he could choke on it. He blinks his eyes open, hates how they're so blurry already and how his eyelashes stick together from the tears that want to pour out. He sits up, Liam's arms loosening their grip so Zayn can do so. Liam's hand lingers on his hip, his fingers moving slightly, gently, over his sharp hip bone and Zayn wants to shove it away, the anger and shame exposing itself again, washing over him just like it does every time. But he doesn't because he knows Liam's not trying to hurt him, even if his touch burns like a hot torch to his skin.

He hangs his head for a moment, sitting at the edge of the bed just so he can gather himself and not look so pathetic with tears clinging to his eyes. He breathes in, pushing down the need to cry, to tear at his hair about so many things, and leans down to grab his pants from the floor. He pulls them up to his thighs and stands up, Liam's hand falling onto the mattress with a soft thump, and pulls them the rest of the way. He refuses to turn around, to look at Liam all comfortable and bare in that big king size bed, because at this point he knows it'd just do more harm. It'd just hurt more that he can't climb back in, that Danielle is going to come back and find Liam just like this and try to join him probably while Zayn is back at his flat feeling worthless, questioning if he is enough for Liam and if he will ever be.

He grabs his sweater and pulls that over his head, then his socks and he finally turns around, expecting to find Liam still in bed but instead finding him pulling on his boxers and moving around the bed to stop in front of him. Zayn doesn't allow his eyes to linger, to take in the muscle and the little hairs on Liam's chest that Zayn loves to finger at, because now it feels wrong. His little fantasy is broken and he's back in reality, standing in the mix of a shit storm where it feels like the harsh rain is pelting down on him, the wind unforgiving.

It feels like the storm is winning too. It's overwhelming him and he's not allowed to reach out to Liam for that safety, not at this moment, not anymore. He'll stand in the downpour, drowning until the next time he sees Liam, till the next time he can reach out and breathe shallow air into his lungs.

"I'll walk you out." Liam says with a soft smile, as if everything is okay, as if he isn't watching Zayn crumble under the storm. But Zayn can see the guilt in his eyes and that helps a little because at least it shows that Liam knows what he's doing to him, to her, is wrong.

"You don't need too, I know my way out." Zayn says, a bit of sourness to his tone that he doesn't mean to include. It makes Liam wince, very slightly but still noticeable.