As He Moves

Chapter 8

Zayn bumps the door closed with his hip, already toeing off his shoes, thrumming with excitement. His last class of the day ended twenty minutes early, but that's not what's got him going. What's got him going is the tickets in his hand for the new Thor movie that he'd sort of won during a game of Jeopardy in class today.

He thought, going into uni, that it'd be all stressful amounts of work and mature people, and he was half right. It's stressful, sure, but mature? Not so much. One of his teachers actually required them to read the Harry Potter series so they could discuss symbolism and also the creation of a fictional world, and his one teacher holds a Jeopardy day every month where the winners get dumb prizes like sweets or, in this case, movie tickets.

"Liam," Zayn calls, dropping his bag to the floor with a thud. "Guess what I—"

Zayn cuts off at the loud moan that whispers through Liam's closed bedroom door. He pauses, sure he heard wrong when he hears a low, "Oh, fuck," followed by another moan.

His mind blanks for a second as he hears Liam's bedsprings creak, and his whole face heats up and his eyes narrow. "Yeah," Liam pants, and that heat coils in his stomach, too, because Liam sounds— but it's fighting with annoyance and jealousy because there's no way Liam didn't hear him come in, and he's still going at it with whoever the fuck he has in his room.

That is just bad roommate etiquette. That's why Zayn's annoyed. Not because he's – not because he cares that Liam's fucking someone. Liam can fuck whoever he wants. Whatever.

Zayn stomps towards the kitchen just as Liam lets out another loud, breathy moan, and he pulls open the fridge as violently as he can, all the jars and bottles on the door shaking and clanking together. He slams it a second later, pulling open a cupboard, banging it against the one next to it and then he starts pushing around pots and pans, making as much noise as he can just in case Liam didn't hear him come in. There's no way he doesn't know Zayn's here now.

There's one more loud, strangled sound followed by silence. Zayn stands up, kicking the cupboard door closed. He's not actually hungry, couldn't eat anything if he tried right now, and he goes to stomp to his room when Liam's door opens and he steps out.

He looks fucking wrecked. His hair is a mess, strands matted to his forehead with sweat that goes all the way down his flushed, unclothed chest. His sweatpants lay low on his hips, and his eyelids are heavy, his eyes dark and his lips swollen.

"Oh," Liam says sheepishly, eyes widening. "I didn't realize you were home."

Zayn crosses his arms over his chest and tries not to look like a petulant child. "Just got in."

"I'm gonna, uh, shower," Liam says, rubbing at the back of his neck. And then he disappears into the bathroom, water running almost immediately.

Zayn frowns, suddenly confused. He pads cautiously, quietly towards Liam's bedroom, and then he pushes the open door even wider until Liam's room is on full display, and—

There's no one inside. There's no one else here but him and Liam. Which means that—Oh. So Liam wasn't fucking someone, he was— right. Oh. Okay. That— oh. Fuck. He can practically feel his brain melting at this sudden realization, and then he ducks into his bedroom, pulling the door closed behind him. He only just leans against it before he gets a hand in his joggers, and then he's wrapping his fingers around his cock, tipping his head back and biting on his lip to muffle any sounds.

He doesn't wank to the thought of his best friend getting himself off. That'd be fucking weird. And when he comes, he doesn't bite the palm of his hand to muffle said best friend's name, either.

"Zayn?"

Zayn jumps guiltily, eyes wide, and he looks at the mess staining the front of his sweats. "Uh, yeah?" he calls, praying Liam doesn't just walk in as he hurries to his dresser, pulling out a clean pair of sweats that he replaces with the ruined ones. "Did you need something?"

He pulls open his bedroom door as soon as he's fully dressed, and he gives Liam an expectant look.

Liam blinks at him, eyes trailing down to Zayn's lips, and then his eyes suddenly widen and a smirk brightens his face. "You okay?" he asks. "You're sweaty."

Zayn nods, running a hand through his hair. "I ran home," he lies. "Won tickets to see Thor in class. Wanted to tell you about it."

"Brilliant," Liam says. "I can't wait. But do you want to help me with dinner?"

Zayn smiles tightly. "Sure. What are we burning tonight?"

Liam makes a face at him. "I'm a culinary master, Zayn. Don't question that or you'll be eating microwavable ramen noodles and pizza pops for the rest of your life."

"Is that supposed to be a bad thing?"

Liam shoves playfully at his shoulder before heading to the kitchen, and Zayn trails after him before changing course and slipping into the bathroom to wash his hands first.

o|o