~One Direction Oneshots & Short Stories~BoyxBoys~

Sweetness

~ Zayn and Liam get into a big fight. And Liam makes up for it in the best way he can.

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~*~

I walk to the sink and rest my hands on the edge.

We just had a fight. It was big this time.

I look up and breathe out a shaky breath. The window in front of my sink looking out into the empty street, lined with cars here and there, the sky clouded in the winter air.

I turn on the faucet, thinking about what we spat at each other. How his eyes teemed with hatred towards me. How my eyes burned with disgust towards him. How it was all so sudden. The water ran on the dirty dishes and plates, its noise being the only noise in the house after the screams and shouts that filled it just before.

I run my hands through the water slowly, the temperature still slowly rising to hotness. I let my hands sit in the water for a few minutes, thinking about where I went wrong, where we went wrong.

I thought about how he ran into our room, and slammed the door behind him. How I stood there, fuming with anger and hurt. Tears slowly blur my vision of the sink, I, trying not to let them fall. But I don't gain the satisfaction.

I can only imagine what he's doing in that bedroom right now.

It was another ten minutes before I can see clearer. My anger turned to sadness and empathy. I hurt him. It always ends up like this. And I decide what to do.

I wash my hands and dry them with a towel. I walk over to the kitchen cabinets and open them.

I know what I'll do, and I know how to make it up to him in the best way possible.

I take a few bowls out and an oven pan. I can only do what I know best. I bake.

~*~

By the time I'm done, dusk is upon us. The house smells sweet, and I know he can smell it too. I hope he's smiling. I hope he wants to see me as much as I want to see him.

I baked his favorite. He loves warm and soft sugar cookies. He always tells me to buy them from our local store, and then they'll be gone by the morning. It's beyond adorable.

I smile at the thought of him smiling at these. I know he can smell the sweetness radiating through the house. I go to the fridge and take out the milk. I pour it in a tall glass, because he loves to drink the milk with almost every bite of his cookies. I admire him and his cute little habits. He'd always get a milk mustache from it and he'd never know it until I started giggling at him.

I set several of the hot and soft cookies on a silver dish tray we rarely used along with the glass of milk, making it as picture perfect as possible for him. I couldn't help but smile.

I walk slowly and carefully down the hall, keeping my eye on the glass of milk. My hardwood floor and my black sneakers makes it impossible to not have him know I was coming up to the door. But I couldn't care.

I take a deep breath before I knock.

"Zayn?" I call out, small and quietly, trying to sound the least amount of threatening.

I look down to the door knob. I turn it slowly.

It's open so I turn it all the way and slowly step in. The hardwood creaks under me as I push the door all the way open with my shoulder.

"Baby..?" I saw as I turn to face the bed he would be on.

He is laying there, fetal position and clutching a pillow. He's fast asleep. My heart breaks, but I smile even harder. It's a sad smile, but also an adoration smile. I walk closer to him, to our bedside dresser of which I set the tray down.