Viva La Vida

Part 24

In a word, Zayn feels ridiculous.

He turns around and inspects himself in the mirror, choking back an incredulous laugh at what he sees. To be wearing this when his body still looks like that—the contrast falls somewhere between hilarious and pathetic.

Maybe this was a bad idea after all.

He considers his reflection again thoughtfully, chewing on his bottom lip and trying to sort his thoughts out. It's impossible for him to tell how much of this sudden insecurity is reasonable and how much is a product of paranoia and anxiety. But he knows there'd been a time when he could have strutted out into the bedroom and lounged on the bed until Liam got back without even once worrying if he looked ridiculous, and that, more than anything, tells him that he's being stupid and overthinking it. He's not going to let the Circle stop him from having a good time with his boyfriend—they have enough power over him already. He won't let them taint this too.

He stares at himself until he's used to the sight—until he starts to feel a bit more comfortable with what he sees—until he's no longer terrified to look at his scarred skin. His hair is growing out, and he's put on enough weight that he no longer looks like a skeleton; he's starting, in short, to look like himself again. It's a deeply comforting thought.

The door to Liam's chamber's clicks open, and Liam calls out, "Hey, you back yet? I'm home!"

Zayn has a split second to make his decision—he can take this off, waltz out there, and pretend this never happened, or he can keep it on and see where this goes. After an agonized breath where he remembers every reason why this is a bad idea, he turns away from the mirror, shimmies into his jeans, forgoes a shirt, and steps out into the bedroom just as Liam is flopping down on the bed.

"Oh, hey, you are home," Liam says. "How'd your day go?"

"It was fine," Zayn says, lying down next to him and trying to ignore how fast his heart is going. "You?"

Liam makes an inarticulate noise. "This job is going to kill me."

"You should quit."

"Very funny." Liam loosens his tie and lets out a long breath. "Honestly, the day was fine—just busy."

"You need to relax. You have a whole palace of workers for a reason—they're supposed to make your job easier. Stop acting like you have to do everything yourself."

"Yeah, yeah."

"You need to relax, Liam" Zayn repeats, but Liam just sighs and turns to face him.

"Can we not talk for a bit?"

"Can we pork for a bit?" Zayn mimics back, but leans in for a kiss anyway. "You have too many clothes on."

"Cliché."

"Arsehole."

Liam grins, sitting up and tugging his tie and jacket off at a teasingly slow pace before Zayn gets impatient and starts undoing the buttons on his shirt for him. When that's off, Liam pushes him back against the bed, fingers teasing down his chest before settling just under the waistband of his jeans. For a moment, Liam doesn't feel it, but then—he freezes when he feels the unfamiliar fabric. There's a second of silence, and then he pulls back and fumbles with the zipper on Zayn's jeans, tugging them down far enough until the fact that Zayn is wearing a pair of lace panties becomes glaringly obvious.