Drunk In Love (Ziam, Larry, Nosh)

Part 1

Zayn Malik was living his dreams, all he ever wanted was right in front of him. A microphone, a guitar in his hand and most importantly his fans cheering for him. So he did what was asked from him to do, that is, to sing. To sing like his modest had asked him to sing. To sing like the biggest popstar at the moment does.

But not like Zayn, not like that 16 year old Zayn who sang stringing guitar while sitting on the roof of his house.

Singing his own composed song, singing without being under some restriction and singing without following someone's order - granted him freedom, gave him the happiness that he couldn't express in words, there was this strange but good sense of fulfillment he felt back then.

But today, when he is here, facing a sea of people cheering for him, he is lost, he feels all alone, he feels as if he doesn't belongs here. Which, if you ask him is weird as fuck because this was all he ever dreamt of, this fucking job was his ultimate dream, and now when he is here, he is not living it.

The mere thought of it makes him falter, but he continues singing anyways.

But then this job of his, has provided him with all the luxuries of the world.

And most importantly it has helped him to add more and more bottles of Macallan, Glenfiddich, Glenfarclas and Jack and Daniel's in his ever so increasing collection of alcohols, at his personal bar sort of thing back home. (A personal bar that he had taken a very keen interest in designing it himself, and for which Louis may or may not have teased him that this is the only other time he had seen Zayn passionate about something other than singing.)

"So yeah, that’s then Wolverhampton, thanks for being ever so lovely, see you until next time. A massive thank you to the band, the crew and you lovely audience. Have a good night, bye" Zayn cheers zestfully through his mic.

With that, he ends his gig and runs backstage. He stumbles into a room assigned to him, where he is greeted by Louis who is sprawled out on the couch, has mobile in his hand and doing what Louis Tomlinson does to kill his time.

"Hey Tommo, I'm going out to explore this city and I am taking your car" Zayn informs while hurriedly collecting his beanie, his aviator and Louis's car key. "Bye" he waves and darts towards the door.

"WHOA, wait, wait there Malik" Louis shrieks while running past Zayn and closing the door behind him. He then turns to face Zayn and takes a moment to regain his breath. "Wandering alone in an unknown city is not one the wisest idea, I reckon" he says as he watches Zayn, who is already tucking his well styled quiff in a beanie and wearing his aviator "and as far as my common sense goes, one doesn't wear an aviator at what - 11 at night" he states, glancing at the wall clock behind Zayn.

"That’s to disguise myself, you idiot, C'mon now move" Zayn replies while physically forcing Louis out of his way, but soon he realizes that the boy in front of him is a fucking athlete, much more stronger than him and thrice more stubborn than what Zayn is. So he decides to emotionally blackmail the bastard in front of him.

"Louis please, all I need is few moments for myself, I am so tired" he says resting his head on Louis's chest, "so tired of this noise, this same routine. All I am asking is few moments of calmness, few moments away from this noise and that I reckon, I'll get by doing exactly what you said..." he says raising his head and looking at Louis, who now looks confused, "that is, wondering alone in an unknown city" he adds and before he knew there were tears streaming down his cheeks. Shit, from where the fuck did these tears come. This was so not how he planned it to be.