Title: Freezing Hands and Bloodless Veins
Pairing: Liam/Zayn with side Larry because come on, it’s me. Side Larry is a given.
Word Count: this part? 6,000+
Rating: Meh. M for Mature, T for Teen, W for Wtf, I don’t know.
Warnings: Language, as always. I’m boring
Summary: The one where Liam and his host-brother Niall get dragged into the workings of some admittingly attractive werewolves.
A.K.A THE LIBRARY CHAPTER LIKE I DON’T EVEN KNOW WHAT MY OBSESSION WITH THIS GODDAMN LIBRARY IS
Title: 10 Things i Hate About You
Pairing: Ziall w/ Larry
Rating: Umm… PG-13???
Warnings: Language
Disclaimer: not even in my dreams. depressing, I know.
A/N: based off of one of my all time favorite movies, and it just kind of came to me, so bear with me. it’s a little different than the movie and/or play though ;)
Summary: How do I loathe thee? Let me count the ways…
(A/N: I don’t know what this is. I blame it on the Skins marathons, seeing the Dark Night Rises, and then to top it all off the TW yesterday. God. It’s a miracle I havent driven a car into a telephone pole yet. And 10t should be up tomorrow if the whole telephone pole thing doesn’t come true.)
/Oh, boy you need prayer/ I guess it couldn’t hurt me.
.
“So I kind of like Niall.”
There’s this strangling burn in Liam’s chest suddenly and he vaguely wonders somewhere in the back of his mind if his heart’s gone and imploded, leaving behind a trail of wildfires burning through every vein connected and all up his throat. It burns through him in a flash and leaves him charred and raw, so much so that he starts coughing up the smoke pushing against his insides. Turns out his heart is just as it always has been, tattered and in pieces but held together by a thread. It was just him choking on the water he’d been sipping.
Zayn jumps when he starts coughing and hacking, staring at him for a split second with unbelievably calm and unreadable eyes that seem to follow Liam everywhere. He winds up just shaking his head though before he goes and thumps Liam on the back. Liam sucks in a few ragged, burning breaths and stands up straight, offering up the best shaky smile he can manage in thanks and I’m okay. He circles his fingers back around his red plastic cup he’d manage to salvage on the counter before turning back around to face Zayn, not actually looking his best friend in the face.
“So…Niall huh?” he hopes that by the way he’s staring at his hands he’s playing it off so he’s just fixated on the water in his cup, maybe by the shade of pink the cup is tinting it, maybe by the ripples, who knows. all Liam is really doing is using the water as something to see right through. All he can really think about is those words. So I like Niall. Liam would shiver if not for the fires still scorching through his everything. Of course. It made sense, he guesses. Why hadn’t Liam seen it earlier? Because you didn’t want to. That’s the real reason.
The smoke starts curling again from the fire in his throat, wisps tickling the roof of his mouth. It doesn’t taste like smoke. But then again, Liam wouldn’t know what smoke tastes like, not really. He’s caught the occasional bonfire on his tongue, and the brief tinge of sparklers at new years. But it’s not the real kind of smoke, the kind that curls off of half finished cigarettes and falls from indifferent lips. Not the kind Liam wants to taste. He thinks that a taste of that would be better than a century year old scotch, or a seven layer chocolate cake, or an ancient, rich cigar- better than any luxury money could buy. He’s stayed up nights just staring at his bland ceiling, thinking about just what he would do for a taste of that smoke- the right smoke. He’s contemplated walking until his feet bleed, and jumping off cliff sides. He’s thought of selling his soul, or whatever part of it still belonged to him anyways, and of auctioning off his tinkering heart. He doesn’t think anyone would take it though. All the good parts are gone. It’s basically just scraps nowadays, springs that stick out and poke him sometimes and rusty patches that wither and fall as the months go by. He’s not quite sure where those pieces go- maybe they just die, stop existing all together- but he often finds himself wondering just how long he’s got left. Just how many seconds are left on his clock before that last spring breaks, or that last rusty patch withers and dies, and he’s left with no heart at all.
“Yeah.” Zayn’s voice brings Liam back like it always does, resuscitation to his springs and rust. “He’s just…he’s something else, you know?”
Liam chances a glance up, takes in the state of the boy who knows nothing. It’s lucky for him, he supposes, because Zayn’s gone all thoughtful on him and dropped his gaze to where his hands are fiddling languidly with his keychain, flipping keys back and forth and messing with the little knock knack attached to the ring- the fluorescent spotted rubber lizard that Liam brought him home from his cruise to Mexico when they were in eighth grade. A lot has changed since eighth grade. Liam takes advantage of one of these rare moments when Zayn’s eyes don’t follow him everywhere he goes like a trick of the light to take him all in. His eyes graze his whole body, greedily memorizing every bit of him even though he’s done it a million times.
The first thing Liam had noticed about Zayn back whether first met were his eyes; he always finds himself noticing the eyes first. Zayn has these eyelashes that’d give a girl hell, the kind that tattoo shadows across cheekbones and catch snowflakes and drip rain. And then he has these quiet, slow simmering amber eyes that take in everything and give nothing away in return. They’ve driven Liam mad many, many times. And then there’s the fact that Zayn’s all geometry. He’s angles, all angles everywhere you look. He’s sharp in his jaw, and edged in his hipbones, and all Liam ever wanted in geometry class was to draw him out for homework- take him home and measure out every single one of those damn angles until he had Zayn staring back at him from the paper. His teacher didn’t see the geometry Liam saw, though, and Liam thinks that’s why he never really excelled in geometry- never really liked it. Not that kind at least.
“Yeah,” Liam finds himself exhaling. His eyes are stuck on the ink painting Zayn’s skin, tracing the patterns with his eyes. He’s never been an artist, not like Zayn, but he definitely - without a doubt - would sell his heart for the scrap metal it is just to be able to trace those tattoos for real, fill in his sketch of Zayn’s angle measurement skeleton with all of his inky organs. “He is, isn’t he?”
Zayn looks up and Liam wonders if somewhere behind those unreadable eyes, Zayn knows that they’re talking about two different people. They’re always talking about two different people. That’s why things are the way they are, and that’s why Zayn’s heart is whole and inky, and Liam’s glints like rusty copper and is falling apart.
“It’s just-” Zayn starts, and he’s got that excited crooked smile on his face that makes his scrap metal heart ache and tremble and threaten to combust right in his rib cage. His mouth is hitched up in one corner and he jumps up on the countertop, his hands making these eager movements like he’s bursting to explain. Liam just wishes that it didn’t have to be him Zayn chose to babble his excitement out to. But that wasn’t really fair. Liam couldn’t just have the parts of Zayn that he wanted. But then again, how was it fair that Zayn got to pick out the parts of Liam he liked and throw out the rest? It wasn’t, but Liam didn’t really think fairness had a place in love anyways. Especially not the unrequited -lonely- kind. “God, he’s…he’s exceptional. He’s not like anybody else. His laugh spreads out and it fills the room with this density that crushes you, but in the way that molds you, not breaks you. And he looks at me and every time I feel this stutter in my heartbeat, like his gaze is literally cutting through me. I don’t know what it is, or how, but he’s just vibrant and explosive. He’s seeping gold instead of yellow and bleeding scarlet instead of red and- he’s not like anybody else here.” Zayn gestures around him to the scene of the party they’re at, to the couples crashed together on the couch and making out, and to the group of guys falling over themselves in laughter as they huddled around some passed out bloke and drew on his face with what looked like an expensive architect’s pen. When his gesture ends, his fingertips are pointing out at Liam. He knows it doesn’t mean anything, but god it stings. Not like anybody else here. Not like you. “I close my eyes and I see him behind my eyelids, this mess of colors and splatters and- god,” he laughs. “I should shut up before I grow a menstrual cycle.” Liam laughs breathily at that and takes a cautious sip from his water. It’s time alike these when he wishes he could just down a bottle of vodka like the next bloke. Fight fire with fire. “I just-” and then Liam physically doesn’t think he can handle this because Zayn’s voice starts to get soft and quiet, and one look at his face and Liam can tell that behind those contemplative eyes he’s thinking about Niall right now, right in front of him. “it’s hard to go to sleep at night when there’s someone painting a mural behind your eyelids, you know?”
And god, does Liam know.
…
Title: 10 Things i Hate About You
Pairing: Ziall w/ Larry
Rating: Umm… PG-13???
Warnings: Language
Disclaimer: not even in my dreams. depressing, I know.
A/N: based off of one of my all time favorite movies, and it just kind of came to me, so bear with me. it’s a little different than the movie and/or play though ;)
Summary: How do I loathe thee? Let me count the ways…
