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Honestly, Zayn liked his sleep too much to ever give it up, but, unwillingly, he always made an exception for exam week.
He had been there when the library opened, and he was going to be there until the minute it closed—thanking every higher power for extended library hours during exams.
He was confident in the fact that that he was the only person currently residing in the building (the exception to that being the librarian), given that it was ten at night. He had taken advantage and splayed his work out across multiple tables—one subject per each.
Castigating himself for not studying for his two biggest finals earlier—just his luck, they were scheduled for the same day—Zayn rested his head on the table in defeat. There was no way around it; he was screwed. As he closed his eyes, willing himself not to fall asleep, Zayn's mind was running at marathon speed.
Of fucking course History and Calculus were scheduled for the same fucking day and he was shit at both of them and why did this happen, motherfucker-
Thoughts stopping still in their tracks, Zayn sat up, startled.
He wasn't alone in the library.
It was just a small noise, barely audible, but it was consistent.
Four past ten at night and Zayn was scared shitless because he knew that he was the only person in the library, and he had been for quite some time. Periodically, Zayn had gotten up and stretched. Even walked around the library for the sake of keeping himself awake and to avoid further procrastination (once, while avoiding homework, Zayn had cleaned his entire dorm, organizing everything alphabetically and then by color).
It was a low rumbling initially, undetectable to most likely the entire human population except for Zayn, having listened to the same, static background noise for hours upon end.
Tired, famished, and grumpy, Zayn's mind wandered.
It's probably just the furnace in the basement, yeah? Or just the building settling? It's an old building—the oldest on campus. Old buildings do that, and it's perfectly normal—but oh, shit, what if it's not normal and the building is actually going to collapse? Shit, I'm screwed, I'm so dead, oh fuck this shit, the building’s probably haunted and motherfucker that's a fucking ghost, I'm fucking dead.
Help somebody, anybody, please. Shit. Does he—or she—it?—know I'm here? If they do, I'm fucking dead, why did I study Calculus as the last thing I do? I could've been doing something so much better than bloody Calculus.
Arming himself with his Calculus book (it was his biggest textbook and, on the plus side, he wouldn't mind one bit if it got a little ruined) and raising it over his right shoulder, Zayn got up in search of the source of the stupid noise. Tiptoeing around the stacks, Zayn began to feel dumb, figuring that it was just the furnace or something and that he was making a mountain out of a molehill.
The noise grew steadily in volume as Zayn made his way through the aisles.
Standing in the middle of the shelves—in the midst of the nonfiction section, call numbers 583.78 through 590.76—Zayn stopped short and prevented himself from crying out in loud, barking laughs at the sight.
It was a student—not a furnace, and certainly not a ghost. His back was to Zayn, slumped over the table in front of him, using textbooks as pillows and letting out constant, droning snores. Sighing in relief, Zayn lowered his Calculus book at the harmless sight and approached the sleeping boy cautiously, deciding to do the right thing and wake him.
"Hey," he began. "Hey, mate, get up."
The sleeping figure didn't move, so, carefully, Zayn moved closer and tapped the boy's shoulder gently. "Mate," he tried again, "you've got to get up, bro. It's late."
Zayn was now adjacent to the boy as he tried again. Grasping at his right shoulder, Zayn realized that he had never seen this boy before, this boy with ruddy cheeks and obviously dyed blond hair. This boy, that, quite frankly, Zayn found breathtaking.
"Mate," he tried for a last time, shaking his shoulder a little harder. "C'mon, get up. It's late. You can go back to your proper bed now."
The boy shot up, dazed and confused. "Hm? What... What s’it?" He rubbed at his eyes.
"You've got to get to bed, mate, it's late. Trust me, I'm in the same boat."
The boy opened his eyes fully, brows furrowing and almost meeting in the middle. Zayn took in more of his appearance, wanting to run his fingers through the boy's already rumpled hair, and stare for ages at his eyes, wanting to paint the colors that were far too complicated to ever begin to capture with words.
"Oh. Okay," the boy said, squinting and languidly blinking, obviously still adjusting and taking in his surroundings.
"You looked pretty comfortable, mate, to be honest, but you were snorin' a bit and, well, that scared the shit out of me. I'm not takin' the piss, seriously, I reckoned you were a ghost or summat. I'm just... Out of my head, that's it, really. I mean with finals and all, I don't think I've slept more than three hours a night in over a week. I'm done with this shit."
Zayn stopped and regained his thoughts. "Sorry, now I’m just ramblin' and I probably look—well, sound, and I guess look, too—so, so stupid. I don't even know your name, I'm sorry. I'll just..." Zayn gestured back to where his tables resided.
"Niall," the blonde said as an introductory statement, smiling big and it looked... inviting, almost. "'M Niall. Horan. And you are?" Zayn sighed in relief.
"Zayn. Zayn Malik."
"Zayn," he repeated. "Hi."
"Hey," Zayn said, still taking in the appearance of the blond boy in front of him (...pink cheeks, brunet roots and crystal eyes...).
"You know," Niall started, "I don't think I've ever seen you around campus. And, really, I think I'd remember you, with that face of yours and all." Zayn blushed, not at all used to blatant flirting.
"Yeah, uh, me too actually. I mean, I don't think I've seen you around either. And, same. I think I'd remember seeing your face too," he managed to stammer out, stumbling over simple words with his embarrassment.
Niall grinned, his cheeks pinking a little. "Yeah?" He asked, raising his eyebrows.
"Yeah," Zayn grinned in confirmation, confidence growing with each second the blond smiled at him (beautiful, sunny, glowing).
"Well, Zayn," Niall started, "would you like to study with me? I mean, there's only," he checked his phone, "half an hour until the library closes tonight, but we can study here for now, and then we could go back to my dorm after, yeah? We could, uh, study there too." Zayn laughed, amused at Niall's anything-but-subtle invitation.
"Any other night, mate, I'd, uh, go back to yours to study," Zayn smirked, "really, I'd love to, but I have to actually study for my History and Calculus exams tomorrow, they're going to be the death of me, and I barely know shit on either."
Zayn tried to ignore the look of disappointment that crossed Niall's face as Zayn spoke, but it was so obvious, and Niall wasn't even trying to hide it.
"Really, I'm sorry. Rain check, maybe?" Niall perked up a bit at the idea, smiling (all bright and gorgeous) and nodding a bit.
"Yeah, sounds sick." Zayn smirked back, face slowly dropping as he remembered why he was actually at the library.
"But, seriously, I've got to go and study. Calculus is killing me this semester and I don't know how I'm going to pass this test. I can't remember the simplest of anything or anything else for that matter. So, see ya around, mate," Zayn started heading back to his tables.
"Zayn, wait. You need help with Calculus?" Niall was standing up now, just about an inch or so shorter than Zayn (but broad-shouldered but lean but muscled in all the right places).
"Uh, yeah. That's what I said, innit?" He reached up and scratched the back of his neck. Niall let out a short laugh, blinding Zayn with the smile he flashed.
"Yeah, you said Calculus. But, like, I could help you with that, yeah? I mean, I'm no genius or anythin’, but I've passed it with an A before, so I could definitely help you."
The look on his face was sincere and concerned, and Zayn wanted it gone. Even from talking to Niall for only a few minutes, he seemed like the kind of person to be perpetually happy (only smiles and more glowing and sunshine), and Zayn wanted to make him nothing short of that. Always.
"Yeah, uh, okay," Zayn spluttered, "I, uh, I have to grab my stuff, and then do you want me to come over here, or do want to go over to my tables..."
"Leave your Calc book here," Niall said, gesturing at the large book in Zayn's hands that was going to be used as a murder weapon, worst case scenario. "And just grab your notes and a pencil and summat and then come on over here, yeah?" He patted the seat next to himself invitingly.
"Yeah, okay," Zayn smiled, already making his way to where he was previously seated.
He could see Niall scribbling something down on a piece of paper, then turning around and grinning slyly back at Zayn with a wink (somehow cute and adorable and seductive and plain sexy all at once). Zayn stumbled backwards into a chair, grimacing at the loud scraping sound. Niall grinned.
"Hurry up, mate."
Zayn turned and hurried, picking up his Calculus binder and a pencil and quickly headed back to where Niall was seated.
- - -
Not even ten minutes after Niall had begun to explain (re-explain, really) the basic concepts of Calculus, the overhead speakers crackled to life, the first shaky breath coming over the system scaring both boys half to death.
"The library will be closing at eleven o'clock, in fifteen minutes," the voice boomed. "If you have any materials that you would like to take out, please gather your belongings and check out at the front desk. Thank you."
"Well," Zayn shut the book, the cover clapping down loudly, "if the library can call it quits fifteen minutes early, I think we can too."
"Good idea," the blond nodded his head.
Zayn stood up, scraping his chair against the hardwood floor, and walked away, smiling and turning slightly, saying only, "I'm getting my books, don't worry," when Niall emitted a small, strangled noise of protest (high-pitched and wanting, needing).
He returned minutes later, a black backpack slung over a shoulder.
"The library will be closing at eleven o'clock, in ten minutes," the voice announced again, a little more urgent this time. "If you have any materials that you would like to take out, please gather your belongings and check out at the front desk. Thank you."
"D'ya wanna head out?" Niall asked jerking his thumb toward the door. "We, uh, we don't hav'ta go back to mine. Like. That was only a suggestion and I know you've gotta study for your test and all, so we could do that another time, yeah? Only if you wanted to, I mean."
"Yes," Zayn blurted out. "I mean, yes, I do want. But. Like you said. I do have to study and honestly passing my exams and then eventually getting through this four-year shithole is higher up on my bucket list, than uh, heading back to yours, no offense, but I'm totally, one hundred percent up for that another night."
Niall grinned (clouds gone and sunshine returned).
"None taken, man, don't worry about it. And, sounds good. Just, keep studying your Calculus, alright? I think you do need some work on that." Another smirk.
Zayn furrowed his eyebrows but nodded—mostly agreeing out of confusion as to why Niall was so adamant about Calculus.
They were outside now, crisp air biting at their exposed necks and ankles and fingertips.
"Later then, okay?" Niall asked softly, grabbing onto Zayn's wrists.
"Yeah," Zayn smiled, nodding his head slowly as his eyes grew heavy.
Niall raised his eyebrows as they made eye contact again (that pretty shade of blue meeting golden, syrupy brown) the corners of his lips curling slightly—genuinely—before dropping Zayn's wrists, sliding his fingertips down to meet Zayn's own, before separating and giving a small wave, already headed in the opposite direction of Zayn's own dorm.
"Later! I promise!" Zayn called after him, backpack weighing down his shoulders. Niall looked back over one shoulder with a goofy grin that overpowered the rest of his face.
"Yeah! Just keep studying your Calc, alright?"
Zayn turned so he walking backwards for a moment. "Yeah," he smiled, "alright," and with that, he turned around, heading back to his dorm, thoughts of sunshine and happiness and beautiful filling his mind.
- - -
It wasn't until later, when Zayn finally crashed into his cheaply made mattress (3 am and completely sober, up late with no good excuse), that he realized.
No, he didn't get Niall's number.
No, he didn't set up a time or place to meet him.
No, he didn't ask what classes he was taking and where they where.
He didn't even know where Niall's dorm was (the dorm he wanted to be in).
He sighed, face first into his pillow, breathing in mixed layers of cologne and hair products and that tangy, indescribable smell that he knew only as home.
- - -
The sun rose the next morning, much sooner than Zayn would have preferred, but soon enough, time came for him to accept his fate and take his Calculus exam. Thanks to Niall, Zayn actually felt decently confident, finishing with fifteen minutes remaining of the allotted time.
Checking his work over, he smiled, knowing that the crash-course with the cute boy was totally worth it. He remained at his desk, flipping the exam and the booklet over, resting his forehead on the stack of papers.
Eventually, the professor called for time, and each student, some frantically flipping through pages as they walked (they should've found a smart and attractive boy), brought their booklet and exam sheets to the professor, thanking him with empty words.
Each student returned to their respective seat, looking attentively at the professor, wanting to leave. When everyone was looking the professor addressed them all, congratulating them on making it through the class, and first semester as a whole.
He proceeded to ask for student's opinions on the exam, receiving only minimal feedback from the students who were far more enthusiastic about Calculus than Zayn would ever be.
With a weak smile, the professor dismissed the students, many leaving the room as fast as they could. Zayn dropped his head down on the table once more, the last time, before stooping to collect his bag and slinging it over his shoulder.
Calling a “thank you” to the professor, he grinned, knowing that Calculus was over and done with.
Closing the door to the building behind him, Zayn took a deep breath and smiled, starting off back to his dorm.
- - -
Crashing back into his bed—only for so long, before he had to head out for his History exam—Zayn's brain was fried, running at full speed, trying to process things faster than he could allow.
It was mainly thoughts about Calculus and how motherfucking stupid it was, and how History was no better. Sitting up and arranging himself so he was sitting cross-legged, Zayn closed his eyes and tried to calm himself down.
It wasn't that Zayn's anxiety attacks happened frequently, but they happened often enough so that he knew what to do with the severe ones.
(His anxiety as a whole was brutal, not allowing him to make most simple decisions without second guessing himself and thinking of five different ways to do the same thing before going through with the simple task.
On a daily basis, he questioned everything he did, wondering why he even pushed himself to go through with uni and everything else. He questioned on a semi-regular basis why he was even there, because in his mind, he never had really seemed that important to anyone. His friends were sparse and few, and when he wasn't there, they were always, able to quickly fill the Zayn-shaped gap.)
Heart still pounding in his chest, Zayn tried to slow his breathing from the wheezing that it was becoming. Coming to the realization that his efforts were only failing, Zayn's breaths came shorter and his heart still unsteadily throbbed. Eyes watering and vision blurring, he tried to swallow past the lump in his throat, only making himself more uncomfortable.
He was almost hysterical at this point, choking out small gasps and coughs with every intake of air.
Racking his brain, Zayn honestly couldn't think of anything he or someone, anyone else had done in the past to calm him or at least sooth him a little bit.
He tried clearing his brain; he thought of only positive things and things he knew would make him happy.
Flowers and art and beauty in his surroundings and his sisters and his mother and father, his whole family with smiles and laughter and jokes and sunshine and—Niall.
And Niall.
Niall, personified sunshine with an ever-present grin on his face.
And Zayn wished. He wished so badly that he had gotten Niall's number, email, dorm number, or at least something, some way he could get a hold of Niall because Zayn knew that whatever Niall did—even if it was just to sit in the same room as Zayn—everything would be okay. If Niall were there, Zayn wouldn't be stuck sitting in bed, wheezing scarily with his heart beating a mile a minute over an exam and the sheer thought of having to take a second one that same day.
Exhausted, Zayn collapsed, face first into his pillow, tears immediately soaking the soft material.
Thoughts of “failure” and “sorry excuse for a human” floated through his head, mimicking the voices of the kids who had vocalized the exact words to his face, not all that long ago.
He just cried, never stopping, for what felt like hours. It seemed impossible to have that many tears, but at the same time, Zayn had been filled with so much sadness in recent weeks, it felt like everything he was holding in just let itself out, all at once.
He just needed someone, anyone, at this point, to hold his chin up and tell him that it would be okay, wipe his tears and hold his hand, smile at him with such personality and so much love, that Zayn would physically be able to feel the positive energy and support.
There wasn't a specific image of a certain person in his mind, but there was a preferred someone.
It all hit him at the same time, that there was no person in his life at the moment that would unconditionally love and support him, no one close enough to him to stand up for him.
He was so fucking pathetic in his own mind, a weak uni kid, one with moderate to severe anxiety that was crippling most of the time. He could barely do anything for himself without second guessing his actions. He couldn't even stand up for himself, let alone find somebody that could stand up for him.
He thought about emailing his history professor, telling him that he was ill and having to reschedule his exam, but the thought of admitting to his weakness and confronting his professor hit him harder than the thought of going to class in an hour and stomaching his way through the exam.
Sitting at the edge of his bed with his head between his knees, tears rolled down Zayn's face, leaving fat, shining trails.
His roommate, Jonah, was out, leaving Zayn alone with his misery. (Jonah and Zayn were pretty close, they had to be, really, they lived with each other. But they got on well, and Zayn was thankful for that. Jonah had never seen Zayn have one of his anxiety attacks, and since they had only met at the beginning of the year when Zayn had moved in, Zayn had decided that he'd like to keep it that way.)
He just didn't know what to do with himself, is all. He wanted to cry, to suffocate himself with a pillow, to yell meaningless words as loud as he could until his voice was nothing more than a slight rasp. He wanted fucking out of uni, out of London, and out of everything.
He collapsed again, belly-up onto his mattress, sighing. Sniffling, he lay there, considering his options. Weighing each side, Zayn decided to suck it up and stomach his way through the exam. History wasn't his worst subject—not his favorite, by a long shot, but not his worst.
- - -
Zayn stayed in the same position until ten minutes before he had to be at his exam. Knowing it would take a few minutes to walk from his dorm to the class, Zayn wiped at his face in a weak attempt to dry his eyes and brighten up his appearance just a bit (he wasn't vain, he just wanted to look presentable to himself, the real critic).
Surging up suddenly with a small burst of energy, Zayn yelled one last time, lunging for his desk and grabbing his Calculus book—conveniently precariously placed, balanced at the edge of the desk’s surface. Throwing it to the ground, pages splaying out, Zayn stormed out of the room, mind fuming and ready just to get the fucking exam over and done with.
- - -
Two hours and one history exam later, Zayn's mind was scattered. He was completely worn out, exhausted, et cetera. It was only four in the afternoon, but thankfully Zayn's next exam was scheduled for Monday afternoon, and it being Thursday, he was free to sleep the whole weekend away. Dragging himself through the doorframe, Zayn was ready fall asleep the second his head hit the pillow.
"Honey, I'm home," he called out, words laced with sharp sarcasm, upon seeing the Jonah-shaped lump on the bed across from his.
Jonah grunted in reply, before sitting up proper and squinting, like he was trying to remember something.
Zayn took liberty of the silence in the room and plopped himself down on his own bed, face smushed into the pillows. Jonah made a noise of discovery and Zayn craned his neck to see what he was so excited about.
"I picked up your book," the pale boy with freckles said, excitedly. "You never told me you got a guy's number. When was it? Who is he?" Zayn laughed.
"What are you talking about, bro?” He asked.
"You know what I'm talking about, Zee, the note? With someone's number on it? And a lot of 'x-o-x-o' action? C'mon, who is it?"
"I honestly don't know what you're talking about," Zayn mumbled, wracking his brain for the last time someone gave him their number, but coming up empty handed.
Jonah scrambled up, almost tripping over his gangly legs as he reached for Zayn's desk.
"Neil wants to study? Winky face?" He asked, reading over a slip of paper and handing it off to Zayn, watching the darker boy's expression change as he skimmed over the scribbled note.
Text me so we can find a time to study ! ;)
Niall xoxoxo
His number was scrawled at the bottom, the whole note a blatant invitation for sex, basically, much like his first encounter with Niall had gone. Zayn started to panic.
"Oh god, oh god," he moaned, shoving his head into his hands. Jonah looked at him, questioning.
“What's going on, Zee? Who's this Neil guy? I've never heard of him. You should be happy, right?"
"Niall," he corrected, "and I am, happy I mean," Zayn groaned, "it's just that he was probably expecting a text from me sooner, and it took so fucking long, I mean it's only been since last night, but still, I told him I would keep studying my Calculus and—fuck. I just need to text him. Where's..." Zayn trailed off, groping his pockets for his phone, pulling it out and starting a new message, saying hi and sorry, before saving Niall into his contacts.
"Zayn," Jonah said, sincerely, "it's alright. You don't have to text a guy two seconds after he gives you his number. It's okay. You're fine. When did he give you his number anyway?" Zayn flushed in embarrassment a little, looking down.
"If it was in my book, then he put it in last night."
"What the fuck, dude?" Jonah cried, throwing his arms up. "You're fine! He sounds pretty chill, all he wants to do is study, yeah? I'm sure you two can plan to study another night."
Zayn cringed at Jonah's complete misinterpretation of the notes’ intention. The lanky boy noticed Zayn's sudden shift in attitude, brows furrowing and sliding over to sit next to the tan boy, slinging an arm across his shoulders.
"What's up, bro? If he just wants to study, what's the big deal?"
"That's the thing," Zayn sighed, nudging Jonah's arm off of himself. "He didn't want to just study. When we met at the library last night, he basically told me that he liked my face and then invited me back to his dorm to 'study.'"
Zayn made the face and everything, raising his eyebrows as high as they could go, making air quotes around his words.
Jonah paused for a moment, thinking over Zayn's implication of the word. The moment that the understanding dawned on him was painfully obvious, face contorting to a blatantly shocked expression, mouth open in disbelief, brows high on his forehead, right hand curling around his mouth.
"Yo! Zee!" He exclaimed, dragging out the first word, "Why didn't you take him up on that? You seem... I mean I've never met him, you've only talked about him for all of five minutes, but you seem pretty into this Niall kid. Why didn't you go for it?" Exasperated, Zayn raked down the sides of his face with both hands, shaking his head.
"Because it was late, I had to study, and I need sleep, too." Opening his mouth with another reason as to why he didn't comply to the blonde, Zayn's phone vibrated in his hands. Groaning, he looked down.
"Speak of the devil," he moaned out, tilting the screen so Jonah could see the name displayed on the screen.
hey mate ! its totaly fine w me ! i wasn't rlly planning on hearing from u last night anyway hahah
Zayn shoved his face into his hands, and Jonah gave a sympathetic look, rubbing his back in small circles.
"See, mate, you're fine!" Jonah said once Zayn had straightened up and unlocked his phone. "I'll bet'cha that with your face, he'd never stop wanting to get with you."
Jonah was straight, proved it by kicking Zayn out of their dorm every Saturday night—sometimes more often—to fuck his girlfriend, but he had no shame when it came to complimenting Zayn on his appearance.
Zayn's cheeks pinked a bit, as he ducked down, swiping at the dimmed screen, his two-text conversation with Niall sitting open.
yeah aha my roommate found ur note on the floor aftr i threw my calc book this morning
"He's probably going to think I'm a loser,” Zayn groaned. "What normal person chucks their calc book across the room?" Jonah chuckled a bit, getting up and going back to his own bed.
"I don't know," he shook his head. "But why did you throw the book?" Zayn sighed as his phone vibrated again. He looked down at it, seeing that Niall had essentially asked the same question, sounding a bit concerned. Typing out the same words as he spoke, Zayn sighed.
"I had an anxiety attack this morning, after my calc exam, and I guess my final way to cope with the fact that I had to take another exam was to throw my calc book." Jonah immediately furrowed his eyebrows, looking worried.
"Bro, you should have called me or something, are you okay?" Zayn shrugged, watching the three little dots that showed Niall was typing.
"Yeah, I guess," he turned his screen off, still not making eye contact with Jonah. "I mean, it happens often enough that I know what to do, so, yeah. I'm good." From his own bed, Jonah leaned in toward Zayn tipping his hand under Zayn's chin and making him look up.
"That ever happens again, and you're alone in the dorm," he said, seriously, not breaking eye contact, "you call me, okay? I don't care where, when, or whatever, alright? I want to make sure you're okay."
He stood up, dragging Zayn up too, pulling him into the stereotypical bro hug, clasped hands in the middle, the other hand clapping the other on the back.
"You’re alright, yeah?"
Zayn nodded in confirmation. "Yeah." His phone buzzed a reminder, a text from Niall two minutes ago.
"I'll leave you to that. Just remembered that I've got a study group of me own," Jonah winked. Groaning, Zayn rolled his eyes.
"Get out of here, you dog," he teased, slapping his butt as he walked past.
"Get some!" Jonah yelled back as he slammed the door shut, leaving Zayn with his phone and his thoughts.
Deciding to tackle his thoughts first, Zayn laid back in his bed, phone resting on his chest, silent. He was lucky, really. He was at uni, majoring in art, minoring in English Literature, doing things he loved, and he had a pretty kickass roommate as well.
The year before, Zayn's roommate, upon finding out that he was gay, stopped talking to him. Zayn was devastated, because he was living with the guy for another entire semester, and he wouldn't have anyone to talk to about anything. (The kid was also a genuinely nice person, so he didn't do anything to Zayn because of his homosexuality, but he just didn't talk to him, which, at some points in time, was the worst he could've done.) So, at the beginning of that year, Zayn had outright told Jonah his sexuality, and received an "alright, bro!" in return, the other boy thinking nothing of it.
It was reassuring that when Zayn was having a bad day or just generally upset about something, he didn't have to silently go back to his dorm. With Jonah, he was able to talk about his feelings, about what was wrong.
- - -
Texting Niall was actually very reassuring for Zayn. He finally got back to Niall on his anxiety attack, reassuring him that he was fine, and that everything was okay.
Niall was sly, still slipping in innuendos and suggestive comments into their texts.
sure ur ok ? i can come over n make sure ur rlly ok. i took a first aid class once u kno
u might just need to be shirtless when i check on you . it's just normal procedure i promise
Zayn was amused, still wanting to get with Niall, but knowing that he had to be a responsible uni student and study. He paused for a moment, thinking about his schedule, and how it was only Thursday night, and his next (last!) exam wasn't until Monday afternoon.
u kno what he texted, immediately reciprocated by Niall with a string of ???? .
i might just need you to check me out. don't rlly know if i'm all good yet. bsides my next exam isn't until mon
now?? Urgent and willing. Zayn smirked a bit.
yeah he replied, if u wanna aha
u crazy?? have u seen urself? and met your personality??
Moments later, his phone buzzed again: also where is ur dorm
Zayn smiled at the eagerness, and also the compliments, replying with a haha so i take it you'll be over asap? and the location of his dorm house and room number.
yup :) on my way :) u better b ready pretty boy :)
- - -
After ten minutes of frantic preparations, trying to straighten out both his and Jonah's belongings, there was a timid knock at the door. Zayn gulped, his palms sweaty, stomach churning, heart fluttering.
Slowly, as he approached the entrance, Zayn wiped his hands on his pants and opened the door cautiously. Niall stood there, as expected, smiling sheepishly and shoving his hands in his front pockets. "Hi," he grinned.
"Hey," Zayn answered back, swinging the door open wider. Niall shuffled forward a few steps but stopped when Zayn did, respecting his personal space.
"I, uh," Niall started, stumbling over his words. Then, standing up straight and seeming to gain confidence of all sorts, Niall repositioned himself and started over. "I don't know if I ever told you this at the library, but you're really beautiful. Like. Stunning. Gorgeous. I'm honestly at a loss for words right now because you're so much prettier than I remembered. And that's sayin' something."
The blond boy looked down at his shoes and blushed, entire face flaming up. Zayn was taken aback, speechless, because that was pretty much exactly how he felt about Niall.
"I-I..." Zayn stammered, only to be quickly shushed by Niall.
"Listen, it's alright," he said, taking Zayn's hand in his own, still not making eye contact. "I don't want you agreeing to have sex with me because of pity, so it's okay. I can just go, really. I mean, you seem like such a nice guy to get to know, and… shit, really. I've been thinking about you nonstop since the library. Honestly. Been thinkin'… Like. I'd really like to get to know you better if you're not about…" he gestured between them, dropping Zayn's hands, "this, then I'd love to take you out for coffee or something else relatively inexpensive. Soon. That is."
He looked up at Zayn, ocean eyes brimming with hope and… And… Zayn couldn't resist him anymore. Zayn grabbed the other boys' hands, holding any contact with him.
"Trust me," Zayn whispered, "I want this just as much as you do." Niall cracked a small smile, gentle.
"Really?" He asked, the question exposed and hanging in the open doorway, ready to go either way.
"Yeah," Zayn breathed out, smiling at the blond boy and squeezing his hands. "I want this… I want you so badly. Like, there's no doubt for me. When I had that anxiety attack earlier today, do you know what calmed me down?" Niall shook his head. "It was the thought of you, and your sunshiny smile, and your genuinely good personality. I’ve really only known you and talked to you for very short time, but you're the kind of person who I want to have as a constant in my life, y'know?" Niall bit his lower lip, smiling a little.
"Zayn…" He said hopefully, "I really, really hope that you mean that." Zayn nodded solemnly. "Good." Niall nodded once, sharp and crisp. Leaning in, the blond boy let their foreheads touch before whispering, "because you're the kind of person who I want to have as a constant in my life as well."
Zayn smiled once more before finally—finally!—leaning into Niall's lips with his own.
Both boy’s eyes were closed, but it was like a new door was being blown wide open. It was a chaste kiss at first, still in the doorway of Zayn’s dorm, but grew in intensity quickly. Hands roamed, lightly groping, Zayn’s landing on Niall’s lower back. Niall’s hands ended looped around the back of Zayn’s neck. Zayn pulled back, completely detaching himself from Niall’s grip.
“C’mon,” he said, reaching for one of Niall’s hands, pulling him into the room. “Don’t want to be putting on a show, do we?” He chuckled. Niall laughed as well.
“Not really one for that kind of stuff, so no.” He followed Zayn further into the room and toward his bed. Eagerly, Zayn detoured from his bed, pinning Niall against the empty wall. The blond boy gasped at the sudden change, but quickly adjusted to the new pace. Niall kept up with his breathing as Zayn licked into his mouth, occasionally nipping at his lower lip. Bucking his hips up involuntarily, Niall whimpered, looking for an immediate source of friction.
"Zayn," he panted out, "please."
"Yeah?" Zayn smirked, he too attempting to catch his breath.
"Yeah," Niall repeated back. "Please." Zayn nodded and grabbed Niall's hand, leading him away from the wall and closer to the bed.
"You're still going to have to check on me, y'know? Like. To make sure I'm good, yeah?" Niall laughed loudly, holding onto Zayn's hips, press in the back of his calves into the edge of the bed.
"Yeah, you're right about that. You'll have to take off your shirt first though, alright?"
"Fine with me," Zayn grinned, letting Niall take a step back so that the darker boy could pull his black shirt over his head. He heard a quiet "shit" as he looked to the side, trying to find a place to toss the shirt.
"Look all good?" Zayn teased, flexing his muscles.
"Fuck... Yes. Shit. Wow, okay, sorry. Looks more than okay. Perfect, really," Niall babbled, tracing his cool fingers over Zayn's chest. Zayn shivered as Niall outlined the pair of lips in the center of his sternum. "I didn't know—that you had tats, is all. Wow," the blond spoke softly, taking Zayn's arm into his hands, tracing the lone yin-yang symbol on his left forearm. "Like, I maybe guessed that you had one or two? Because I saw that one on your hand." He pointed. "But... I didn't expect anything like this.
Zayn fidgeted nervously. "So is that a good thing... Or bad?" He asked slowly, unsure.
"Oh, good. Definitely," Niall grabbed both of the inked boys hands. "I don't have any of my own, but on other people, I think tattoos are so fuckin' hot. And with your body—and face—and tattoos? You're really the complete ideal package." Zayn blushed and smiled shyly.
"Well, so are you." Niall's blush was far more prominent. His whole face was set aflame. The redness spread down his neck and into his chest—from what Zayn could see with his low cut top.
"Okay, then." He cracked a soft, gentle smile.
"You good?" Zayn asked, establishing and holding eye contact with the blushing boy.
"Yeah," Niall replied, surging forward and heatedly kissing Zayn, making him stumble back, stopped by the edge of the bed. Zayn licked I to the blond's mouth, needy.
Zayn let his hands roam, settling at palming Niall's ass. Niall let his fingers trace at the contours of Zayn's stomach, his other hand hooked around the back of Zayn's neck, making sure he was stable.
After messily snogging for a few minutes, Niall drew back.
"Take your jeans off, yeah?" He told the darker boy, already reaching up to take off his own t-shirt, targeting his far-too-skinny jeans after. Leaving himself in his pants, Niall clambered up onto the bed, arranging himself comfortably in the pillows against the headboard.
Zayn was past the point of caring where his clothes ended up, as long as he ended up beneath Niall, all clothes gone and hot, sweaty. Immediately, as he turned around to find Niall again, Zayn's dick showed much interest at the blond perched within the pillows, palming himself with one hand, reaching up and tweaking a nipple with the other.
In an instant, Zayn had himself laid over the pale boy, sucking a harsh mark into his neck. At the same time, Zayn moves his hips so that they were aligned with Niall's, rutting down. The newfound friction took just the edge off for both boys, but left them both hard, wanting—needing—more.
"Fuck," Niall gasped lit, as Zayn attached himself to one of the younger boys nipples, rolling his tongue in circles over the sensitive flesh. "Oh, Zayn, please," he cried out as Zayn started his way down Niall's stomach, leaving new marks along the way. After sucking a particularly deep mark beneath the pale boys navel, Zayn finally came to eye level with Niall's crotch. The tan boy mouthed at Niall's covered dick, making his squirm and beg for more.
"Zayn, c'mon now... Just a bit more, yeah? Take my pants off, I need them off."
Zayn obeyed, pulling the black material down past the blond's knees, wary of the angry red scar on one of them. He helped Niall kick the last piece of clothing on his body and onto the floor. Zayn took the blond's cock in his hand, slowly pumping him up and down.
A mantra of "please, Zayn, please," was spilling from Niall's mouth. Zayn laugher as the blond ran his fingers over Zayn's head, looking for something to grab ahold of. Zayn's head was newly shaved, still just fuzzy stubble.
Taking Niall's less than subtle hints at that he wanted Zayn to do, Zayn leaned in and let his breath brush over Niall's dick, causing the blond boy to shiver in anticipation. Zayn took the pink tip into his mouth, tongue flicking out and circling it. His eyes fluttered shut as he started to work up and down, covering what he didn't take into his mouth with his hand.
Niall gripped onto the back of Zayn's neck, guiding him up and down. The blond gasped sharply as Zayn took him deeper, the dark haired boy bracing himself with a warm hand on Niall's sharp hipbone.
"Shit, Zayn, yeah," Niall breathed out. "But if you want me to fuck you, you're gonna have to stop before I come, or else it's not going to happen."
Zayn pulled off, trailing his tongue up the shaft as his mouth worked, sloppily and wet, the beads of precome blurting out of Niall's slit and adding to the mess. "Yeah?" Zayn asked, looking up at Niall through his long, inky eyelashes, lips red and puffy, slick around the edges.
"Fuck yes," Niall nodded eagerly.
"Well you wanna open me up, then? Been a little while since I've bottomed," Zayn said, already pulling at the waistband of his briefs. He thought for a minute and then added, "Lube's in the top drawer of my dresser. Condoms, too."
Niall scrambled to get up, opening the drawer and rummaging through, coming up quickly with both items. Turning back to the bed, Niall stopped short, taking in the sight of Zayn in all his naked glory.
He was sprawled out on the bed, fist slowly working up and down his dick, looking like he'd never been happier in his life.
"Alright," Niall finally said, taking a deep breath in. "Ready?"
Zayn looked up, blinking slowly at Niall, his lovely caramel eyes seeming almost hazed as they met Niall's own. "Yeah," he whispered, like he was telling the most important secret on Earth. "Get up here, won't you?"
Niall positioned himself kneeling between Zayn's legs. Zayn closed his eyes as he heard the tell-tale clicking sound of the lube opening. Niall speed the substance over a few fingers. Niall took his index finger and traced it around Zayn's hole, teasing him as he speed the cold lube around the rim.
Niall quickly dipped his first finger past Zayn's rim, taking a minute and basking at the tightness. He imagined what Zayn's tight ass would feel like around his dick. It wasn't going to be that long before Niall found out for real, but as he worked a second finger into Zayn carefully, be couldn't help but imagine the tight, wet heat around his dick in that moment.
Zayn was squirming under the blond's touch, wanting—needing—more. He bucked his hips up, trying to thrust into Niall's fingers. Adding a bit more lube to his fingers, Niall worked a third into Zayn, making sure he was properly stretched and comfortable with what Niall's was doing.
When he vocalized his concerns, all Niall got in return was a moan, with harsh words following, telling him to "hurry the fuck up" and to just "stick it in already."
Niall chuckled at Zayn's eagerness, but compiled, tearing open the condom wrapper with his teeth and rolling it down his length. Again, Niall uncapped the lube and slicked himself up before capping and tossing the bottle elsewhere.
"Ready, Zayn?" Niall asked one last time, already lining up his dick with Zayn's hole.
"Fuck, yeah," Zayn grunted, holding his knees close to his chest, breathing rapidly. Stroking himself up and down a few more times, Niall started to push himself in, slowly. The blond paused as his tip passed Zayn's rim, relishing in the tight heat around his dick. After a moment, Niall began to move again, pressing himself in further and further until he bottomed out.
Zayn cried out at the burn of the stretch, Niall's cock wider than the boys fingers, or Zayn's own, for that matter. After a minute of just sitting, basking in the feeling on both ends, Niall moved his hips, slightly, grinding them in small circles slowly. Zayn writhed in pleasure, letting out a sound as the blond brushed his prostate.
"Fuck yeah, Niall," Zayn gasped out, voice raspy. "Start movin' a bit more now, yeah?"
Niall didn't answer audibly, but picked up the pace with his hips, pulling back slightly and thrusting in, gentle, at first. Zayn arched his back, fisting at his own dick, the need for release coming quickly. Niall snapped his hips forward, driving in hard, making Zayn moan loudly beneath him.
“Alright, yeah,” Niall panted out as Zayn bucked his hips up, off beat with Niall’s thrust, making him go deeper, harder.
They fell into a rhythm, skin against skin, not minding noises that occurred, laughing together at a few of them.
Soon enough, Niall could sense how close Zayn was, clenching around him, toes furled, the noises he was making getting louder and longer. Niall reached between their bodies and took Zayn’s dick into his hand, chasing his orgasm.
“Niall, oh, fuck!” Zayn muttered, trying to keep his voice steady.
“Yeah, babe?” Niall fucked into Zayn harder, pumping his dick in time with his thrusts.
“Fuck, Niall...I’m—fuck, gonna…” Zayn trailed off, but Niall got the idea, keeping up his rhythm.
A few seconds later, Zayn came with a shout, spattering Niall’s wonderfully toned stomach with white strands. Niall slowed his movements, but continued to thrust into Zayn, working his own orgasm out.
As he was softening Zayn hissed at the oversensitivity of Niall still fucking in and out of him.
“Zayn,” Niall cried out as he came, all his arousal washing over his body. “Fuck!”
The blond stopped his hips all together, leaving himself pressed up against Zayn, skin on skin contact everywhere.
They stayed like that for a few minutes; Niall’s head resting on Zayn’s chest, breathing deeply and listening to Zayn’s heart race. After they were both settled down a bit, Niall pulled out, Zayn wincing at the emptiness.
Turning around, Niall took off and tied up the condom, tossing it in the trash can next to Zayn’s bed. Getting up, he got his shirt and wiped off his stomach off with it, dropping back on the floor when he finished.
“Hey,” Zayn said, grinning as Niall faced him again.
“Hi,” Niall smiled, putting his briefs back on and climbing onto the bed, throwing his own pants so he could do the same.
“Thanks, I guess,” Zayn laughed nervously, glancing over at his alarm clock. “Shit,” he sat up. “Its’ already ten, did you know that?”
“Nah,” Niall yawned, contradicting himself, and then flashing a smile. “Guess I better stay the night, then? If that’s alright with you.” He sat cross-legged on the bed next to Zayn.
“Yeah,” Zayn yawned back, smiling back at the blond. “That’d be cool with me.”
“Maybe,” Niall suggested, snuggling into Zayn, becoming the big spoon as he pulled the covers over the two of them, “we could go out for breakfast in the morning, yeah? Like, on a date?”
Zayn buried his blush in the pillow, biting his top lip to stop him from smiling wider. “Yeah,” he said, muted by the bedding, “that’d be great.”
“Alright,” Niall whispered back, triumphantly. Zayn could feel his lips curling into a grin on the back of his neck.
“Alright.”