Red vs. Black

Chapter 14

Like always, Liam wakes up before Zayn.

His eyes continue to blink lazily as he takes in his surroundings, including the slumbering man next to him, face smashed into his pillow like he's a hungover teen. He's about to bring his hand up to push Zayn's hair off his forehead, but he stops as soon as he registers the bandana that's wrapped around his left hand. Quickly, he peeks under the cloth to make sure that the cut's healed, tightening it once his assumptions are proven correct. He'll keep the handkerchief on until he leaves; there's no believable excuse he could give for how the skin closed up in less than twelve hours if Zayn saw. The look on his face at having walked in while the cut was already practically invisible was close call enough.

Beyond Zayn's resting figure is the only window in the room. Every time he's stayed over, it's been covered by unsightly grey drapes. And while today's no different, some sunlight has managed to squeeze its way through the minimal gap where the two ends of the curtain don't perfectly meet. The yellow line runs along Zayn's skin that's become exposed from his fight with the duvet throughout the night, painting his already olive skin with an even more radiant glow.

Laying like this, he's softer than someone might think him capable when awake. Open, just like how he made himself the previous evening, entertaining Liam's engagement with his culture as if there weren't barriers around it leading up to that point. Truth be told, Liam could do without learning Urdu. It's fascinating in its appearance, but way more complicated than he could've ever imagined when broken down. It's the uncensensored freedom that comes with living your true self that Liam had been after with his boyfriend, and now that he's managed to pry open that door a little wider, he hopes that the feeling of safety he's fostered in Zayn to let that happen, grows.

But secretly, Liam's extremely grateful that Zayn speaks English as well as he does (better than him even), because even though he loves how the man wakes up in such a drowsy haze sometimes that the first few words out of his mouth are Urdu only realizing what he's done when he doesn't get a response back, Liam would rather not have to learn another language just to find out what sort of snarky comments his boyfriend's making right in front of him to others. He'll gladly settle with the instances where his full concentration is required to decipher what Tipsy Zayn is saying thanks to the man's Pakistani accent overriding his British. Even then, there have been a few mornings where Liam's been so out of it himself, that the only thing he could translate was the slowly slurred Leeyum.

At the thought of the involuntary nickname, he presses a kiss to the side of the man's temple, breaking him out of his trance.

"Sorry," Liam whispers. "You can go back to sleep, it's just me."

"Idhar aao." Patiently, Liam waits for the translation. "Come closer," Zayn mumbles, immediately drifting back to sleep after throwing an arm over Liam's broad chest carelessly.

Despite not being the deepest of sleepers, tossing and turning constantly throughout the night, Liam always finds it remarkable how quickly Zayn can conk back out after being awoken. He thanks his lucky stars for it too, because without that tendency, sneaking out of bed and replacing his body with a pillow until he got back from fighting supervillain led crime wouldn't be possible. It doesn't happen often, only when Liam deems it absolutely necessary and they're at his flat where he has a key and his bike, but it has happened over the past few weeks and as far as he's concerned, Zayn hasn't suspected a thing.

Before Liam dozes off from the serenity of the moment, he catches himself and turns his head towards his edge of the bed. Without much effort, the phone that was charging on the carpet begins to hover in the air just high enough that Liam can grab it to check the time. If he doesn't leave soon, he'll be late.

"Where are you going?"

Zayn's pillow swallows his murmur for the most part, but Liam doesn't need any clarification. It's the same thing every morning they wake up together. Liam makes a move to slip out from under the sheets, either for work or to relieve himself, and Sleepy Zayn acts like it's the end of the world.

"It's Saturday," he reminds the older man softly, smiling at the way Zayn's struggling to keep his eyes open. "You know I work on Saturdays."

"I hate work," he grumbles, shoving his face further into the green pillowcase.

If it weren't for how much the people at the centre needed him infinitely more than this innocent version of his boyfriend, Liam would feel guilty for their schedules misaligning six out of the seven days of the week.

"I know," Liam sighs, holding on to his smile. "You stay here. I can see myself out."

"I'll come with you." The arm around Liam's torso tightens as Zayn stretches, his muscles tensing in contraction and then relaxing with a satisfied exhale of breath. "Get my newspaper, so I can be with you longer."

Liam doesn't budge, "I'll probably see you tomorrow."

"Yeah, please," Zayn agrees, going against his initial words and curling up close to the body next to him. "I want that."

"Ok." A light kiss gets pressed to Zayn's messy hair. "I'll text you later."

Carefully, Liam untangles himself from the other without causing too much discomfort, replacing the covers to go over Zayn's body before he leaves him altogether. He's about to swing his right leg over the edge and slip into the restroom to change when he hears it.

"I love you."

At the same time as the sole of his foot hits the carpeting, Liam's heart starts to pound. Unlike the rest of Zayn's rough enounciations, there was no mistaking what he'd said. But Liam still looks over his shoulder and asks, "Say that again?"

"I love you," Zayn repeats, cracking open one eye to stare up at Liam, an arrogant smirk there to match his tone. "You heard me the first time."

Silence stretches out between the two. But it's Zayn's smug smile, and how he actually focuses on Liam's eyes that prove his confession isn't simply a result of his morning haze of happiness, he knows full well the magnitude of what he's just said.

Twisting around, Liam tames his huge smile in order to give Zayn a proper kiss. A slow one, that lets his thoughts speak for themselves.

"I love you too," he promises, giggling into Zayn's mouth when the man takes advantage of their lips being so dangerously close after Liam pulled away the first time.

When they're back to staring at each other, Liam with that dopey smile that he knows he can sometimes have and Zayn with as peaceful a demeanor as is possible for him, the former doesn't feel like a weight's been lifted off his chest, more like a veil of devotion's been added.

"Next weekend, I was planning on going up to Wolverhampton for my sister's birthday," he says before he can stop himself. "Do you want to come?"

"If you want me to," Zayn replies smoothly.

"I do." It takes everything in Liam not to defend himself for such a quick response and denounce the older male's eyebrow raise because of it. "We'll talk more about it tomorrow," he decides, scratching under Zayn's beard lightly before finally getting up. "Have a good day."

"I'll try," Zayn moans when he's left with an empty bed, "but I'll miss you too much, Leeyum."