High Above in the Sky

Track conditioning is really kind of shit, and Liam will be the first person to admit it. He's never found himself particularly enthused about running when his legs are aching and it's physically painful to take in another breath, because he's not actually a masochist.

Training to the point of collapse isn't exactly something he adores, but it makes sense that the team would be driven to it after break, he supposes.

What doesn't make sense, however, is how he lets himself be dragged to some fraternity party by his roommate just hours after his teammates have to practically carry him off the track.

His jeans feel uncomfortable against his legs, and he's wearing a long-sleeved shirt from a cross country meet he's pretty sure he competed in when he was fourteen, and it barely fits anymore but the cotton is so broken in that it's probably the most comfortable thing he owns. He doesn't drink, so he doesn't have that as a distraction, and there's nothing really for him to do but sit around and sulk.

Liam's not a negative person, he never really has been, but his legs still feel heavy to the point where he's already dreading how sore they're going to be in the morning and he's really, miserably exhausted, but he makes small talk with some people he meets anyways and makes sort-of friends with a frat guy named Niall who drags him around the house, introducing him to everyone he sees. Niall is a little obviously drunk, and normally it makes Liam uncomfortable when he's more sober than the people he's with, but with Niall it just seems kind of natural and endearing.

"Sadly you haven't met any of the really cool people, yet," Niall says, and he sounds so genuinely upset that Liam has to stifle a laugh. "Tomlinson, Styles, Sheeran... Although they might all be upstairs, Malik usually doesn't like to be around the main party."

"Do you normally call people by their last names?" Liam asks.

Niall shrugs. "I dunno. Maybe. Are you one of those psychology majors who's gonna tell me what that means about my relationships?"

"Not a chance," Liam says.

"Fantastic, because those are the worst kind of people," Niall says, and then he's tugging Liam along up the stairs, introducing him to a room full of people.

"Liam, meet Harry, Louis, Ed, Danielle, Eleanor, and Zayn," he finishes with a flourish, flopping down on the couch next to the guy he introduced as Ed.

Liam isn't really thinking much about Ed, though, because sitting on the ground and leaning against the couch is Zayn, who Liam very much already knows. As a rule, Liam doesn't find smoking hot, and as a runner he hates it, but there's something strangely appealing about how the smoke from Zayn's cigarette curls around his face.

He doesn't know what to do, really, and he doesn't like feeling like he's intruding on this group of people that are already obviously close friends, and he's got the track guys he could go talk to, but something makes him stay and sit down next to Zayn.

"You smoke?" Zayn asks, tapping his cigarette against the couch and watching the little ashes fall to the ground. The ash settles into the carpet. Liam thinks about saying something. He decides that the frat house has seen worse.

"Never," Liam admits. "Runner, remember?"

Zayn nods. "Track transfer, right?" he says, turning to look at Liam for what seems to be the first time, his eyes travelling over Liam's old shirt and by default, his chest, and it makes Liam feel a little fidgety and warm.

"Yeah, you've been listening," Liam says with a tiny smile, and Zayn laughs.

"Did you think I hadn't been?" Zayn asks.

Liam shrugs. "You can be kind of... focused."

"You mean rude," Louis calls out, and Harry laughs and mumbles something along the lines of 'stop eavesdropping' into Louis's shoulder.

"Not rude," Liam says, "just thoughtful."

"Well, you're the first one, mate," Louis says, patting Liam's head in a way that suggests he's either incredibly condescending or drunk off his ass. Liam thinks it's probably the second, judging from the beer bottles splayed around the room.

Zayn's silent for a while, just finishes off his cigarette and hums the tune to a song Liam's never heard, until he says, "You're not really what I expected you to be."

Liam leans his head back against the couch. "I... alright," he says, furrowing his eyebrows. "Did I do something wrong?"

Zayn smiles, shakes his head and looks down at the cigarette he's left on the floor. "It's a good kind of unexpected."