Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/6227764.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      One_Direction_(Band)
  Relationship:
      Zayn_Malik/Liam_Payne
  Character:
      Zayn_Malik, Liam_Payne
  Additional Tags:
      Angst, Seventeen_year_old!Zayn, Twenty_two_year_old!Liam, Alternate
      Universe, Oral_Sex, Sad_Liam, Sad_Zayn, Dysfunctional_Relationship
  Stats:
      Published: 2016-03-12 Words: 3322
****** i was born sick, but i love it ******
by zenturies
Summary
     Liam's the fire. Zayn's the fuel.
     Or, the one in which, Liam's a little misunderstood with a terrible
     habit of hiding his feelings, but Zayn — Zayn knows Liam better than
     Liam knows himself.
Notes
     I told myself I wrote this in an attempt to cure my writers block but
     truthfully? It was just an excuse to write angst, somewhat-of-a-
     dysfunctional relationship, seventeen year old!Zayn and badboy!Liam.
     Honestly, this could've easily turned into a 50k monster and took
     over my life but I didn't allow it. I'm not a hundred percent content
     with it, but I'm kinda happy with the ending? Eh.
     Dedicated to Devon, because I know how much you love dysfunctional
     relationship AUs. You've been my rock through thick and thin and I
     love you very, very much.
     P.S If there's any mistakes, I apologise in advance. Also, here in
     the UK, the legal age for sex is sixteen, so Zayn technically
     wouldn't be considered underage. However, I'm aware that it's
     different on a worldwide scale. Anyway, I hope some of you find joy
     in this 'cause I'm still searching for it.
     P.S.S Title taken from Take Me To Church by Hozier.
See the end of the work for more notes
If there's one thing that Zayn's learned over the course of dating Liam, it's
the fact that Liam's the type of bloke his mother warned him about on a
Thursday afternoon. Two days after his seventeenth birthday and four days
before he'd meet the man who'd show him that the galaxy adventure swirling
around in his brain had been at the brim of his fingertips from the moment he
was born. He just hadn't pushed timidness aside, reached far enough to grab it,
make it his own.
Liam's everything Zayn shouldn't love. He's everything Zayn should be petrified
of. He's deviously reckless, cunningly mischievous, an over thinker with a
kaleidoscope of divergent intentions. But most of all, he's a risk chaser with
an educated mouth and a wicked mind. 
It makes Zayn's blood fizz with the kind of godforsaken fear that should be
illegal in every state, every country, every town. 
( Even if it was illegal, he'd still be addicted to everything Liam is — so
much so, he'd be willing to break the law if it meant he'd get to feel Liam's
lips against his own. Because Liam's the drug Zayn can't quite find a cure for.
)
He remembers when they were gracious golden a few months ago, tucked beneath
city streetlights and too in love to notice anyone or anything else around
them. He remembers when Liam would take him out to a shabby, dimly lit pub
downtown, fake ID fooling the bouncers. He'd how him off to a couple of his
friends, make polite conversation, ramble about nothing particularly
interesting. Then Liam would get him drunk on a collection of bittersweet
alcoholic drinks because Zayn was far too focused on being innocent,
overcrowded with youthful thoughts.
And when it all became too much, when the room started twirling, swirling,
that's when Liam would step in, save him with the dizzying sensation of his
tongue flicking across the roof of Zayn's mouth, proprietorial hands
clutching his hips and the type of fanatical stare that felt like ice nipping
at his soul. He liked it. Loved it. Craved it.
Zayn hadn't known it back then, but Liam was unknowingly creeping his way into
every vein in his body. He was clinging to Zayn's heart, had ( and still has )
his fingers wrapped around it, ready to wrench it out of his chest at any given
moment. Liam has a track record of being menacingly unpredictable, but he's the
song stuck in Zayn's head, playing on repeat, going round in circles, until the
universe spins sickeningly around him. Zayn wouldn't — couldn't — have it any
other way.
Now, they're broken bronze. Cracked at the surface of dysfunctional and
skirting along the pathway of being just fine. Though, just fine's never enough
because Liam tells him little white lies from pretty lips and Zayn remains
fascinated.
He hadn't meant for Liam to become a bad habit. One that he can't rid himself
of, no matter how much he tries, not even when his blood runs cold and Liam
kisses his knuckles seconds before he skims them across Zayn's jaw, eyes
distant, abroad, isolated from reality.
Zayn wonders when Liam lost himself. He wonders how it happened and how Liam
became twenty shades darker of his former self.
He wonders a lot of things about Liam.
He never asks.
===============================================================================
Seventeen years old, wet candy coloured lips, hallowed cheeks and watery hazel
hues. There's an agonizing ache in his knees, journeying all the way up to the
the knobs of his spine, pivoting and road-tripping back down again. He's got
his mouth wrapped around Liam's cock, jaw locked, thin fingers curved around
what his mouth is unfortunately unable to reach.
The soft fabric of his — Liam's — jumper has fallen slightly, crumpled halfway
down his upper arm. It's baggy, loose on his slender torso and ends halfway
along his thighs, but hell, it feels amazingly tender against his skin and
Liam's natural scent has embedded itself into the material so he doesn't have
room to complain.
( It's like Liam's there, even when he's gone. )
That's his current state.
Above him, Liam has his legs spread, ripped-at-the-knees jeans in a wrinkled
mess at the bottom of his ankles because he'd been eager. Tumbled through the
door of their affordable studio apartment with a huff leaving his lips, along
with the cig he'd forced between Zayn's own without giving him much of a
say and then —
"You're gonna get on your knees, suck me off like the good little slut you are
for me."
And Zayn had responded with a pathetic whine.
It'd been a whirlwind after that. Zayn hadn't even bothered inhaling the
cigarette because the moisture in his throat evaporated, became dry, words long
forgotten. He'd stubbed the cigarette out in the dirty ashtray that was perched
on top of the counter before Liam had hauled him towards their worn-out sofa
that belonged to Louis months prior to them moving in. He'd managed to tug
Liam's pants down when Liam's fingers combed themselves through Zayn's hair,
lowering his head.
He's been on his knees for a little longer than fifteen minutes, but he's
desperate to get Liam off — has a quiet yearning for Liam's come dripping from
his tongue, from his lips, anywhere on his face, really. Maybe that's why he
sucks harder, licks over the slit of Liam's dick, moans around his tip at the
taste. 
"If you make me come in the next five minutes, I'll buy you that shirt from
River Island you were eyein' the other day," Liam tells him, his voice low,
deep, wobbly, like he's holding back the groans gathering in his throat. 
Zayn pulls off, peers up at Liam with a straight face as his hand tightens,
works over Liam's dick a bit faster. "You mean steal, babe?"
Liam rolls his eyes, threads his fingers through Zayn's hair and lifts his
hips. "Wrap those pretty lips around my cock 'nd get back to work, yeah?"
Zayn knows Liam's waiting for him to protest, put up a fight he'd surely lose
because the shirt he'd seen had been a fast seller. He also knows Liam won't
purchase it like the majority of their clothing or decorations around his
apartment. He'd scratch at his wit, get in touch with his wrongful ways, and
the shirt would be in Zayn's hands in no time.
( He despised Liam shoplifting at first. Told him that he'd leave if he didn't
stop. Liam had laughed in his face, hustled him against the wall and told him
he'd stay. The way Liam fucked him that night had left a burn in Zayn's bones
for days. )
Zayn envelopes his lips around Liam again, places his free hand on his thigh
and goes back to work. He bobs his head, glides his tongue along the junction
of Liam's shaft, swirls his tongue at the tip, and flat out moans at the taste
of Liam's pre-come lingering in the midst of his tongue after he swallows.
"You look perfect like this, baby," Liam coos and out of the corner of his eye,
Zayn can see Liam's left hand resting on the couch, twisting the material of
the armrest.
Zayn hums around his cock in response, forces himself to take Liam further into
his mouth. Not a lot. Just a bit. Enough to make Liam's hips rock upwards. He
reaches down, cupping himself to lessen the ache that's building, spreading
through his arteries and settling in his groin like wildfire. All because of
Liam.
"Your lips were made for suckin' me off. It's kinda mental, like, how fuckin'
good you look right now," Liam remarks, closes his eyes and by the way his
chest is moving, his breathing transforming from relaxed to heavy, Zayn can
tell he's getting close and that's what makes the movement of his head speed
up, what makes his mouth tighten, and what makes his hand tense, fingers
quivering against his cock. He wants Liam to come — needs him to come.
He shuffles closer to Liam, his legs indenting the couch in front of him, but
he doesn't care that it scratches roughly at his bare skin. Can't because
Liam's moaning, hoisting his hips, gripping onto the black strands of Zayn's
wild hair, curling his fingers.
"Pull off, wanna come on your lips, c'mon, Zayn," Liam babbles, peeking down at
him as Zayn slowly pulls off, his hand loosening for a moment or two until he's
tipping his head forward, hand going straight back to work because he needs
this. Liam needs this.
Zayn's surprised when Liam places a hand over his own because he isn't looking
at him. He's got his head tilted backwards, neck bent, adam's apple popping out
and if Zayn could, he'd crawl up, bite on his neck until a patch of his skin
was black and blue and Liam was proud of him for marking him as his own.
Liam comes with a husky moan, Zayn's name drizzling from his tongue, the
fingers of his right hand in Zayn's hair and the sharp nails of his left hand
digging into Zayn's own, breaking the skin, tempting a small amount of blood to
seep through as he spills out onto the boy's mouth.
The smirk that sneaks over the edges of Zayn's lips could be considered
sinister, if it wasn't for the childish eyes staring back at Liam, wide and
beaming with come on his lips, dribbling down his chin. His tongue pokes out,
swipes across his lower lip, groans at the familiar taste.
"Stay like that," Liam demands abruptly, grabbing his phone from the armrest.
He snaps a picture of Zayn with come on his face and happiness in his eyes. 
Zayn sees the surge of happiness sparking at Liam's features, glazing over his
eyes; the perks of being observant. It's swift, hesitant, and disappears faster
than it came. But it happened. It was there. Liam's happy.
"So." Zayn says, his tongue assembling the sticky white liquid from his lips.
He swallows, like the good boy he is, and wipes away the residue, the come his
tongue can't reach on his chin, with the sleeve of his sweater. "You gonna tell
me what's got you so fucked, Li?"
Liam reaches down, tugs his jeans back up his legs, doesn't spare Zayn a three
second glance. "Grown up stuff, Zayn. You wouldn't understand."
By that, Zayn knows Liam means something illegal.
( He loves him too much to give a damn anymore. If Liam wants to do something,
he'll do it, regardless of the consequences. )
Instead of interrogating him further, Zayn huffs at that, ignores the intense
ache of his own cock curved against his stomach. "I understand a lot more than
you think."
"Never said you didn't, babe," Liam says, raises to his feet and takes off
towards the bathroom.
"Where are you going?" Zayn questions, silently refusing to tear his gaze away
from Liam.
The bloke with a guarded heart and an obsession with driving too fast. Even
with Zayn cruising in the passenger seat.
Liam pauses, places his broad hand on the door frame, nodding in the direction
of the bathroom whilst looking over his shoulder. "I'm gonna shower— you comin'
or what, darling?"
It's stupid how bright Zayn's face lights up and it's absolutely ridiculous how
fast he darts into the bathroom, Liam's jumper on the floor within seconds,
replaced with the delicious sensation of Liam's hands floating over his skin.
Showering with Liam is his second favourite thing.
His first favourite thing? Liam.
Because Zayn doesn't fail to see the good in him behind all the various brands
of cigarettes he smokes. Behind all the ominous glares and a sloppy kiss with a
clenched fist punching the closest wall whenever Zayn takes it upon himself to
daringly provoke everything Liam thought he was doing so well at concealing.
Zayn makes Liam weak. Anyone can see that from planets away.
Liam's the fire. Zayn's the fuel.
If they want to go up in a fury of possessive flames, then so be it.
 
Liam's lips taste like sweet, sweet cherryade when they're laying in bed that
night. Probably because he'd guzzled two whole bottles an hour before.
Zayn can't get enough. He kisses Liam until black and white transforms into
lilac and dark purple and every other colour in between. Liam groans, moans,
takes it like a bad man with the good lips should.
But when Zayn wakes up, at the inhumanly hour of four o'clock in the morning,
Liam's gone.
 
Liam returns at eleven o'clock reeking of gasoline and budget beer. He shoves
Zayn against the fridge and attempts to kiss the doubts away.
They don't vanish quite so easily this time.
Zayn lets Liam bend him over the kitchen counter, anyway. Lets Liam fuck him
viciously, tenderly, softly until he's begging for Liam's lips on his neck and
his hand around his dick.
It's moments like that remind Zayn of who's in charge. Liam makes him just as
weak, despite the darkness looming around them. Though, he's positive Liam
loves the darkness just as much as he does.
===============================================================================
 "Where were you?"
A silhouette slowly comes into view, stiff shoulders and a cig between his
index and middle finger. The horrible lighting emitting from the lamp sitting
in the corner sprints shadows along the wooden floor of their makeshift living
room as Liam moves towards Zayn.
"Out," Liam mumbles, chucking the lighter down onto the coffee table. His voice
sounds disembodied, like he isn't fully there. Zayn wonders if Liam's been
smoking a lot more than the low-priced Mayfair he robs from the corner shop. He
decides against it when Liam offers a glimpse of his eyes whilst shrugging off
his jacket.
Zayn waits, picks at a loose thread hanging from his jeans. "Where?" 
Liam pauses, inhales the cancer stick between his lips before muttering out a
nearly inaudible, "Outside. Inside."
Zayn raises a brow, bites down on the inside of his cheek in order to prevent
the sigh threatening to filter from his lips. He's sick of holding back, but—
Liam's swift to cut him short after he exhales, watching the smoke float into
the air. "You don't believe me, man?"
"Do you care if I don't?" Zayn asks, cocking his head to the side. He's trying
to look devilish, something Liam's an expert at. Maybe that's because he's had
enough practice to put the real devil to shame.
Liam chuckles, sets the cig in the ashtray and flings his leather jacket onto
the empty space of the couch next to Zayn. "Do you think I do?"
Zayn's got his gaze bonded to Liam, glued to him like a dog to a bone. "I think
you care about a lot of things— me included."
Liam slants his own head to the side then. "You think you're that special,
angel?" He ponders, surveying Zayn from head to toe as the smaller male stands
from the sofa.
Zayn would feel alarmed if he wasn't used to Liam and his intense stares. If
anything, they set ablaze the adrenaline he doesn't get to feel often because
Liam's too damn protective.
"To you, yeah," Zayn nods, keeps his head held high when Liam stalks forward, a
terrorizing glint in his eyes. It escalates across his features, dancing into
something that could be related to fearless intimidation.
"What makes you think I haven't got someone else on the side?" Liam quizzes,
skates the edges of his fingers along Zayn's jaw and for a second, Zayn loses
his composure. He falls in love a little more with a single touch, a single
stare, a single beating heart. "What makes you think I'm not in between some
fucked up person's legs when I'm not in between yours, hm?"
Zayn swallows the lump rallying in his throat and suddenly, Liam's fingers
don't feel so warm anymore. "'Cause if you were, you wouldn't come back to me.
And you wouldn't look at me the way you do."
Liam's face softens as his hand retreats, lips parting to speak. "What way do I
look at you?"
"You look at me like I'm the only thing that makes sense in your life." Zayn
begins, mentally battles with his inner demons, his tears not to make an
appearance because Liam's played with his feelings more than he can count on
one hand and still, Zayn stays, stuck in Liam's insane life. Maybe he likes it.
Maybe he's the definition of an addict who doesn't want an antidote to kill the
poison. "Like I'm everything you've been waiting for 'cause everything you had—
everything you have, outside of these four walls, isn't enough. Louis isn't
enough. Niall isn't enough. The weed isn't enough. You look at me like I make
you feel liberated for hours on end. Like I'm your kind of natural high. Like I
make you feel free and comfortable. You look at me like you adore me, like I
inspire you. Guess what? You inspire me too. You look at me like you're in love
with me. You can say you don't give a fuck, but I know you do. I know."
Liam averts his gaze to the floor and Zayn's sure Liam's eyes are damp. He
gulps, points towards the bed with a trembling finger to match his tremulous
voice. "Strip. Lay on the bed— on your stomach. Spread your legs. I'm gonna
show you how fuckin' careless I truly am."
Zayn does. And every time Liam licks over his hole, the tips of his fingers
flexing against his hips to guarantee bruising, promising him that he won't be
able to walk for weeks, Zayn swears he feels love flaming against his hot, hot
skin.
Liam fucks him harder, quicker, makes him see stars that night. He fucks him
with the promise of forever, with the promise of getting high together, with
the promise of going joyriding and setting things on fire when Zayn's older. He
fucks him with the hushed promise of creating invisible wounds that'll hurt
more than gashes that bleed. He also fucks him with the promise of kissing them
better.
Zayn knows he's ignited something deep within Liam. Something he won't be able
to turn back from. Something that'll overwhelm him, drown him, make his mind
fritz and heart hammer on overdrive.
Maybe, for once, he'll be the song stuck in Liam's head because everything good
about them, battles with the elephant in the room that Liam has embracing him,
brawls until the undeniable chemistry they've had since day one overtakes their
connected souls and their lips lock in a fierce kiss. 
It doesn't matter how many times they destroy each other. It doesn't matter how
many times Liam rolls a blunt and Zayn's looking up at him, head on his lap
with a troupe of questions prodding at his brain, Liam's fingers in his hair,
absurd compliments cascading from his mouth. It doesn't matter how many times
Liam flirts with the opposite sex because Zayn knows Liam's always going to
come back to him. Liam's always going to stumble through the door with lipstick
staining his cheeks and smelling of revolting perfume. He's always going to
wrap his arms around Zayn and scatter a series apologetic kisses along his skin
when the world around them is nothing but a quiet buzz and they're drunk on
nothing but each other. Because that's where home really is. 
They work through it. They always work through it.
( It dawns on Zayn one night, when Liam's asleep next to him, that he's the
home Liam never had. He takes pride in that, yeah. )
===============================================================================
Liam's the villain and Zayn's the willing victim.
Even if Liam doesn't admit it, even if he has trouble with confessing his
feelings, Zayn sees the love in his eyes. 
It grows, intensifies, and they grow with it, months and years from the day
they met.
End Notes
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