Infectious (Ziall)

Brink.

Liam's Home.

[Where confusion lies and time stands stills].

Liam wanted to believe that his friendship with Zayn wasn't being taken advantage of. He wanted to believe that there was a reason behind Niall's accusations and, more importantly, he wanted to believe that his own best friend wasn't going around, giving his husband a reason to believe that he was untrustworthy. Liam was sure that he had always given Niall and Zayn the utmost respect and a reason to believe that he was genuinely happy for them. He knew his boundaries, he supported them fully, through the good and worst of times, and he even looked at Chad as his own nephew; however, to find out that he was potentially at fault for the downfall of not only the couple's marriage, but their family, made him feel uneasy. He sat at the kitchen island, stale crumpets and cold tea seated on the counter top as he tried to process everything that had just transpired.

Opening the door to the guest room, Liam quietly walked in on a sleeping Zayn. Even unconscious, the raven-haired man still looked distressed and tormented. Liam leaned against the wall, contemplating how to approach the situation in a way that wouldn't make matters worst. On one end, he was somewhat upset; on the other hand, the last thing he wanted to do was weigh his best friend down with more stress and conflict. For the past couple of days, he had been allowing Zayn to stay in his home, in the guest room; and perhaps him being there wasn't the best idea, now that he had an inkling of why things weren't right between the couple; however, he didn't want Zayn aimlessly roaming the streets. It wasn't within Liam's character. He approached the bed, and then knelt down; close enough to hear the small, breathy snores emitting from his mouth. Liam gently, and repeatedly, ran a hand through Zayn's hands. "He's really worried about you, Zayn," Liam muttered, continuing to run his hand through the man's hair. "Can't say I'm really sure what's going on with you myself, but . . . whatever it is, I want you to be able to speak up. Not for just Niall, but for yourself." Zayn remained asleep, snores turning into small exhales; however, Liam took notice of the way his best friend became relaxed, allowing his skin to melt into the warm fabric of the comforter.

Later that evening, Zayn descended from the stairs, finally stepping out of the room for the first time that day. Sleeping the pain had became his substitution for drinking and, despite the latter not being all that healthy either, Liam was just happy that he stopped resorting to alcohol as a coping mechanism. It was a small step, but still a step, nonetheless. He made his way into the kitchen, the warmth from the pasta's preparation reeling him. He then sat at the island, running a hand through his disheveled hair. "What time is it?" Zayn's husky tone made Liam abruptly turn around, nearly dropping the spoon filled with remnants of tomato sauce and spices.

"Didn't hear you come down." Liam let out an airy chuckle. The irony of it all was that Zayn actually felt quite dead most of the time, so walking around in silence sort of became his thing - something he couldn't quite help. "I uh . . . started on dinner; should be ready in about half an hour." Zayn nodded, running a hand through his hair again; face weary; showing signs of exhaustion, mentally. The small conversation died down, nothing but the sound of hot water cascading down the drain as Liam drained the noodles, steam arising into the air. He poured the noodles into the already-cooked sauce, mixing the two ingredients together with the stir of a spoon; and it wasn't long before Liam placed their prepared meal on the table, pouring Zayn a cup of tea rather than handing him a beer. It wasn't an ideal beverage for dinner; however, Liam didn't want to condone his best friend's drinking habit any longer. Zayn took note of that, but mumbled a 'thank you' anyway. Perhaps he was grateful, somewhat. "How are you feeling?" Liam asked, trying to break the ice.

Setting his cup down, "a little okay, but not enough," Zayn simply replied. Liam nodded in understanding.

"Niall stopped by," Liam finally confessed. Zayn came to a halt, a sense of uneasiness pouring on him. "I didn't tell him you were here," Liam continued, taking a bite of the last of his pasta before collecting his dishes and heading towards the sink. Zayn chewed slowly, becoming uncomfortable; eyes filled with agony and sorrow. A part of him wished he was awake when Niall did arrive, even if it only meant getting a glimpse; on the other hand, his pride and regrets were what kept him running. He wasn't sure if he could face the man he continuously hurt and deceived. "The funny thing is, he wasn't here for you. He actually came to see me," Liam chuckled; it was a facade; he was somewhat bitter about what happened. 

"That's weird," Zayn mumbled, continuing to act clueless as to what the reason would've been.

"I thought the same thing," Liam stated, placing the stained-dishes in the dishwasher. "Until . . . he told me why." Zayn stopped eating all-together, eyes finally meeting Liam's for the first time that evening. "According to him, you and I are having an affair. I thought, that's strange because Zayn and I have never even shared a bed, let alone touched one another. Then, he told me you were the one that informed him of this [affair]," Liam explained, back pressed against the sink. Zayn could no longer look at him, too ashamed. He should've known his lies would catch up to him eventually. "I wanted to be mad at you, but I remembered that I know you better than that, or at least I thought. So, I wanted to give you the chance to explain."

Zayn's stomach churned, but he nodded.

Dear self,

I've been spending time with my father (Niall) since I've returned home. Selfish of me to say, but finally getting that attention from him that I've been seeking, every time he's too busy withdrawn from his issues with dad, actually feels quite nice. He doesn't mention Zayn much though, probably his way of wanting to forget. I don't think he truly can; not when he's harboring too much of his pain. We've shared a few laughs, nonetheless. I was almost tempted to tell him about Harry, until I remembered that I chose to walk away from Harry. He's been calling, even left a few text messages; however, I can't bring myself to respond. Guess I'm only continuing to prove that I'm more like Zayn in ways I despise - avoiding people, avoiding my problems. In a sense, things will never be complete until every aspect of myself is. Only then will I be happy enough.

Come home soon.

Sincerely,

My father's son.

_

Author's Note: I do apologize for the near, three-week wait. Writer's block. I've been trying to get back into the mood of writing. So, Zayn's secret is about to start unfolding. How do you think the conversation with Liam will go, and what do you think Zayn's next step will be?