Chapter Text
Louis walks up to him wearing a fake mustache and big, round glasses. “Stealth, Tommo style,” Louis says before Zayn can make a comment.
"Always so sneaky," he agrees, and Louis winks.
The air around them is warm and promising; spring at its finest. Birds sing, bugs buzz, wind blows in gentle puffs. The bench underneath them is sun kissed and damp, April showers (or, rather, British showers) spitting on and off and doing nothing to disturb the peacefulness of the day.
Peaceful. Everything is finally so peaceful.
Louis is quiet next to him, which is strange, but not bad. Zayn would rather have him quiet than angry, and considering how angry the other boy has been lately, he'd take the silence as a good thing.
After a moment (long enough for a mom to jog by and do a double-take and for the rain to start up again) Louis shifts next to him, and Zayn feels the light pressure of a hand over his own. His jerk reaction is to flinch away from the touch, but he stops himself. Louis’ hand is warm and small and familiar and comforting; he feels a little less lonely because of it. He wills the rarity of the feeling not to make him sad.
Instead, he looks down at Louis’ hand and says, “I see you and Harry made up?”
Louis’ face lights up and he moves his hand to play with the ring on his finger, twisting the silver band and running his thumb over the showy blue gemstone set in the middle. “Yeah,” he sighs, sounding sickeningly dreamy, and then his eyebrows pinch together and he drops both of his hands to his lap. “I meant to tell you. I guess I just…you know, since I don’t see you as much anymore…”
Forgot. Louis had forgotten him. He tries not to let it hurt. He knows none of them were ignoring him on purpose. He knows that he’s the one who backed off, not Louis, not any of the other boys.
“I get it,” he says it with a smile, trying to seem like he means it, and then he moves on, “how about you and Liam? Doing alright?”
Louis shrugs and waves a dismissive hand. “What about you and Liam?”
(Truthfully, he hasn’t spoken to Liam since he left. He isn’t sure if it’s because he hasn’t tried or because Liam hasn’t tried or if it’s a little bit of both. He is sure that it doesn’t matter; either way, they haven’t talked. He hasn’t said sorry, and Liam hasn’t told him it’s okay. It isn’t okay, he knows that, but it’d be nice to hear it…)
“We’ll work it out eventually,” he says, looking at the rain clouds instead of at Louis.
Things are quiet between them for long enough for it to settle in that Zayn is lying, and that Louis has no idea what to say to be helpful. “Yeah,” is what he eventually says, “you will. You two’ll be fine.”
(He starts feeling the loneliness he’s been feeling since he left the only thing he’d ever been a part of. It’s sat in his chest day after day, spreading from his lungs to his veins to his bones and his stomach and his head. He feels it behind his eyes every time he blinks, every time he tries to sleep. He feels it in his heart.)
“Anyway,” Louis says quickly, “how’s it been going in the studio?”
(He doesn’t have the heart to tell Louis he’s paired himself with another bullshit producer, and that every song he writes ends up being about one of the boys or all of the boys, and that he loves how he sounds alone but he misses how he sounded with four other voices around him.)
“Really good. It’s been really good.”
Louis knocks his shoulder into Zayn’s gently, and Zayn tells himself to smile. “You’re going to be fine,” Louis says.
(Without us. He leaves it out, but Zayn knows he’s thinking it.)
“Yeah. You all will be too.”
(Without me, he thinks.)
(One of them is lying. They both know it.)
(They both know which one of them it is, too.)
***
A year later, Zayn wakes up to gentle kisses being pressed to his neck. He groans, shoves his face into his pillow, pushes his body against the stronger one behind him. He keeps his eyes shut tight and suppresses a smile. He mumbles a ‘good morning’ when the arm around his waist squeezes gently.
“Today’s the big day,” Liam says quietly, pressing yet another ‘wake up, please’ kiss to Zayn’s skin.
Liam’s been talking about this nonstop for weeks; not that Zayn blames him. It is exciting, he’s just been...nervous about it. Hasn’t wanted to think about it anymore than he had to. But he guesses he can’t avoid it any longer…
“Louis’ been tweeting about it all morning--everyone’s really excited…” Liam sounds hopeful (hoping that Zayn’s hard work will have paid off, hoping that this was all worth it, hoping that he won’t be disappointed), and Zayn can’t help but smile.
(Liam loves him. Liam’s always loved him so much.)
He rolls over in Liam’s arms, chest to chest, nose to nose, smile to smile.
(Liam’d shown up on his doorstep the day after promo for his and the boys’ fifth album was done, carrying a single backpack and sporting a sheepish grin.
“Can I come in?” He’d asked, as if Zayn could tell him no.)
“I just hope it does well,” Zayn mumbles, regretting it when Liam’s bottom lip juts out a bit and his eyebrows knit together.
“Of course it’ll do well...people love you. People love your voice.”
(And that was it, really. Liam moved into the guest room, and after a few nights of Zayn crawling into bed with him or Liam crawling into bed with Zayn, Liam moved into Zayn’s room. Liam started tucking his chin into Zayn’s shoulder and helping him write lyrics and Liam sat and listened while Zayn recorded. Liam told him what sounded good and what didn’t.
It was like nothing had changed, except, it had, and they could both feel it. Not in the absence of the other three, not in Zayn having to harmonize with himself instead of his ex-bandmates, not in the absolute silence in between recordings. No. They felt it in the tranquility, and the pride in Liam’s smile, and the glow in Zayn’s cheeks when the music he wanted to make was actually accepted. They felt it in Zayn’s contentment.)
“I love your voice,” Liam adds quietly after a moment, eyes fixed seriously on Zayn’s, “I love you.”
(“Thank you for coming.”
The only sound in the room had been their breath and the murmur from the TV, a dull, continuous buzz in the background. He laid snug against Liam’s side feeling warm and drowsy and safe.
“I love you,” Liam had said back. He ran a gentle hand down Zayn’s back, as if to say, how could I have stayed away?
Liam’s heart beat steady next to his ear, and Zayn found home again.)
Zayn closes his eyes and says I love you too against Liam’s mouth, lips ghosting gently over hips, breath mingling with breath.
He finds it hard to believe he ever thought that he and Liam were ruined. Thinking about it now, he realized Liam had never left his side. In five years, not once. Maybe he never will.
Liam lays a hand on Zayn’s cheek, brushes his thumb over his eyelids. He blinks his eyes open and finds Liam’s face set in hard, serious lines. Zayn pouts his lip out, silently asking what’s wrong.
“Are you happy?”
(It’s gradually become more permanent. Liam’s clothes take up half his closet, Liam’s got his own side of the medicine cabinet, Liam can find everything in the kitchen without asking. Liam’s family have been to visit. Liam hasn’t once said anything about getting his own place, or about going back to London.
Zayn thinks he’d be crushed if he ever did.)
Zayn sets his hand over Liam’s. Liam smiles at him, and then tilts his head.
(There’ve always been rumors about him and Liam. They’ve always just laughed them off, but when Zayn gets questions about it now, he finds that he can’t do that. And every time he’s asked, it hits him that he doesn’t have to pretend if he doesn’t want to.
So he answers, “Are you and Liam together?” with, “Yes, happily.”
“How’s married life?” with, “It’s great, really good.”
“We’re all so happy for the two of you,” with, “Thank you, the support means a lot.”
They’re free. They’re really, truly free.)
“Yes.”
(Lately it’s been rumored that Zayn’s wrecked Liam’s friendships with the rest of the boys; those rumors he has no problem denying. Besides working on separate projects, things are just like they used to be.
He doesn’t think anything could keep the five of them apart for very long. Regardless of whether or not they’re working together, they need each other. It’s always been that way.)
The best part about saying yes is that he means it.
(He thinks it always will be that way.)
He really, really means it.