The Money Maker

Chapter 8

"Close your eyes."

Zayn blinks. "Sorry?"

"I said close your eyes, you wanker." After catching Zayn's hesitant expression, Liam unwinds his hand from him, walking behind the other boy as he slowly lifts both of his hands up to cover his eyes.

"I swear, you do this to torture me," Zayn grumbles, but he stays still, not making any motions to move Liam's hands away.

"It wouldn't be any fun if you didn't hate me just a bit," Liam breathily teases into Zayn's ear as he gently presses his torso against Zayn's back, his breath lightly falling on his cheek.

Liam doesn't miss the shudder that runs down Zayn's spine.

"Ready?" Liam whispers, carefully guiding Zayn along with his arms enveloped around the boy.

It's completely dark except for the sliver of light slipping through Liam's quickly slacking fingers, and Zayn has to rely on his touch, his hearing. And he hears--and most definitely feels--the shift in the ground, almost tripping as the smooth cement turns into something more sharp. Maybe something akin to gravel. The crunching underneath his feet seems to confirm this theory as Liam snakes around once, steering from his previously straight path. There's one more twist a minute later and then Liam presses his palms lightly against Zayn's eyes.

"We're here," he says as he slowly slides his hands off of Zayn's face, letting his fingertips graze over every inch of his skin before suddenly dropping off with a gulp. He's nervous suddenly, as if he's showing Zayn a part of his soul, not just a part of his childhood.

There's a warmth coating Liam's voice at the words, rivaling the sudden brightness that floods Zayn's eyes. Zayn's lips quirk into a smile at the sudden surge of sensations surrounding him. And he can't help it. At the sight, his breath catches in his throat and all he can do is let out a contented hum.

"It's beautiful" is the only thing Zayn can find to say, leaning his head back just slightly to direct the words at Liam. The first thing his eyes fall on is the sheet of blue in front of him, sprinkled with patchy white as the lake begins its annual freezing. He finds the maple trees framing the water next, extending far beyond where his eyes can see. Then, the red at his feet as the leaves descend into autumn.

He leaves Liam for last, after he feels him bring his head down just slightly to rest his chin on Zayn's shoulder. Zayn's eyes dart down with a sly grin. But he finds that instead of looking at anything around him, Liam's trained on him.

Only able to see the top half of Liam's face, Zayn only knows he's smiling when he's pulled his face down even further. He burrows into Zayn's neck, upturned lips twitching against his bare skin.

"Do you like it?" The words come out jumbled, the syllables hitting his skin.

Zayn chuckles lowly at this. Because how could he not, especially when Liam's looking up at him with such wide eyes, the hope, the pleadingseeping clear through his pores and onto Zayn's skin.

Zayn gives a shy, half-smile as he nods. "Did you used to come here a lot as a kid?"

Liam hums in response, the sound vibrating through Zayn's chest and he has to fight the urge to card his fingers through Liam's hair, press a kiss to the top of his head, his forehead, his nose. Eventually finding his way down to his mouth.

There's a moment of silence, a contented pause, the leaves crunching under their feet as they shift ever so slightly. And somewhere far away, a bird chirps, echoing through the forest of trees.