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The call comes at almost midnight, waking him up a bit (not that Zayn was really asleep, honestly, he was close but he couldn’t quite fall asleep tonight) and startling him. He reaches for his phone, the loud bits of some Jay-Z song blaring from his iPhone and demanding attention in the dark of his room. He grabs at it from the side table, squinting his eyes as the light shines brightly into his face, making him squint to tell who’s calling.
It’s Liam– a picture of him with straws up his nose on the screen and the caller ID saying Leeyum with an green, emoji heart and puppy right next to the name telling him so. It’s past eleven– hell, it’s almost midnight. They talked earlier, when Liam was on his way to his old school with the camera crew. They had shot each other a few texts, but it’s been a day of filming for the movie and hanging out with the family– it wasn’t surprising they hadn’t talked much.
He slides the answer button holding the phone to his ear and coughing slightly, “‘lo?”
“Zayn?” Liam’s voice comes out, and Zayn can tell almost instantly something is off– it’s quieter, a little less curious that it’s Zayn and more desperate– like it has to be Zayn on the phone, please.
“Li? Whaswrong?” he clears his throat again, sitting up and trying to rinse the thick Bradford accent down to his stomach. “Liam?”
Liam’s quiet, but he’s breathing loudly– in his nose, out his mouth, in his nose, out his mouth. Zayn waits, because something has happened– nothing probably too bad, but something that’s made Liam call him in the middle of night with that shaken voice.
He speaks, after a few heartbeats and breaths, and Zayn waits patiently. “Did I wake you?”
Zayn chuckles, light and breathy and he leans his back against the headboard, the cold seeping through his thermal and onto his skin. He smiles, sleepy and dazed and tells him, “Nah, you’re alright Leeyum. I couldn’really sleep.”
There’s a sigh, small and soft and relieved, and Zayn feels his heart trip in his chest because he’s so fond of Liam, really, he is.
“Okay,” Liam says, distant and louder. “‘m sorry you can’t sleep.”
“S’alright,” Zayn says, bites back a yawn that’s triggered for no reason. “Miss you,” he tells, honest and deep in his heart.
There’s an airy chuckle, light and Zayn can almost picture Liam. Can almost see him sitting by a window, phone pushed against his ear and snapback pushed up against his head. Biting his bottom lip and smiling wide, fingers playing at the frays in his jeans. Zayn can picture it, just barely, even if it’s not right.
“Miss you too,” Liam tells him, almost a whisper. “Even if it’s only been two days.”
Zayn laughs at that, chuckles that make him shake his head and bite at his smile. “Can’t believe it’s already been two days. I feel like I’ve slept for most of it.”
Liam laughs at that one, loud and bursting out of him and Zayn’s grin stretches as far as it will go. He looks around his room, dark except for little blue lights coming from the TV and DVD player, bits of moonlight sneaking between the blinds and through the curtains. He kind of wants to see the moon– see if it’s full or barely there. He doesn’t have any socks on though, and he’s not a fan of his toes getting cold.
“Did you have a good day?” Liam asks, and there’s an edge to his words, polite and gentle. Like there’s something he needs to talk about, but he doesn’t want to be rude. He’s asking, because it’s proper and such, and Zayn thinks he might be so in love with Liam Payne every moment like this.
“Yeah,” Zayn mumbles, let’s it sit and stir for a second before asking, “What about you?”
Silence, Liam’s breathing gentle and rhythmic. Back and forth, like a steady rhyme in the sea. Zayn lets it wash over him, lets the steady inhale and exhale of Liam’s breathing soothe him, massage the bits of him that are worried for no reason and pull him back together.
“Went to my old school today,” Liam says after a while, maybe a long while, but Zayn’s not bothered. “We, uh, we went and filmed there. It was great, actually, you know. Saw my old coach– you know when I played basketball at school we only ever lost but one game?” He sounds proud, tinged with an emotion he hasn’t let slip yet, but he sounds proud. So Zayn doesn’t tell him that, yes Liam, he’s heard the story two or three times before. He just let’s Liam be proud, he can let him have that, when there’s something coming.
There’s a pause, Zayn holding the phone and staring at the curtains, waiting for Liam to let the rest of the story come out.
“And, we, well you know I always like to go to my old house when I visit,” he tells Zayn, voice hitting nostalgia and scraping the sky with it’s tone.
“Yeah,” Zayn noises needlessly. He remembers how happy Liam gets, how his eyes crinkle around the edges and his cheeks get a little red when he starts talking about going home. Seeing his stupid rabbit curtains and jumping over his fence just to see if he still can.
“Well, like I was there with the camera crew– it’s quite the shithole now, Zayn. There’s just a lamp and some junk when you walk in and the lights are all off,” he sighs, breathing heavily, and Zayn holds the phone closer. “And I went up to my room– and you know, I have those stupid bunny rabbit curtains?”
Zayn nods, murmurs a soft yeah, brow scrunching and waiting. Waiting on Liam to trust himself to tell what’s been going on his mind.
“Yeah, I,” he stops again. “Yeah, I was just thinking about how lame that was? Like I was bloody sixteen years old. I should have just went out and bought some plain white ones.” There’s a hitch, a beat, and Zayn thinks about when him and Liam first started talking at the X Factor, and how Liam would always just talk about himself in that tone. Talk about how he was there two years ago, and now he’s back but couldn’t do it by himself. He thinks about that, while Liam waits to continue.
“I never did though, just kept those bunnyrabbit ones,” he sighs, loud and empty. “And you know, I just kept thinking about my whole childhood like that. And like, how all those guys would always pick on me because I was kind of scrawny and I sang.” There’s a sigh, a rustle, and Zayn can see Liam running a hand through his hair, closing his eyes shut and Zayn aches, right in the pit of stomach.
“Leeyum,” he whispers, quiet and soothing, waiting for him to continue.
“I just–” he stops, inhales through his mouth and that’s a sharp sound in Zayn’s ear. “I just, I can’t believe this, you know? Like, I’m apart of one the most successful groups in the world– we’re about to release our third album and we’re on tour. And yet all I can think about is how much of a loser I was, how I had damn bunny rabbits on my curtains.” There’s something incredibly raw, something throaty and hoarse. Zayn wants to crawl into that, wants to be there with Liam and pull him in close and let him be sad.
“You weren’t a loser, Li,” Zayn sighs, knows it true because Liam’s always been interesting, always been the nicest, always been too good for some of the things he deals with. “Kids in your town just weren’t nice.”
“Does that matter though?” Liam whispers, hushed and quiet. “Because I feel like– like I had friends, but not really. Like there was plenty of people I knew, people I talked too and played sports with. But none of them– I feel like none of them really liked me, Zayn.” There’s a shaky tense, and god, Zayn’s never wanted to be closer to Liam than he does right now. “You ever meet a person and they’re all swell and nice, but you know when you leave they’re gonna do that thing where they look at their friends and say, ‘He’s nice’ and like–” he stops again, tongue grappling for words, and Zayn wants to know what he means, wants to help him place his sentence. Because Zayn’s always had too many words in his brain and Liam’s never had enough to say.
“It’s like, before you lads, no ones ever wanted to like me, you know? Like, I’ve always been a tag-along, not someone you initially get to know.”
Zayn slides down the headboard, under the blanket and curls up with the phone pressed to his ear, hiding Liam from the world in the only way he can.
“Liam?” Zayn whispers.
“Yeah, Zayn?” Liam asks, voice still too distant for Zayn to believe he’s listening.
“Liam,” Zayn says firmer, demanding Liam give him everything– all of his attention, at least.
“Yeah?” Liam repeats, voice closer, more next to Zayn.
“Liam, I love you,” Zayn whispers, like he has a thousand times, only with Liam right there. Right next to him. “I’m glad I know you, Liam. Glad I met you, glad you talk to me. I love you a lot, Leeyum.”
There’s just silence, no breathing, no sighs. Just silence, and Zayn and Liam are holding their breaths.
“I love you, too, Zayn.” And it comes out thick, surrounded with layers and layers of emotions and feelings that Zayn’s spent days picking through. “You’re– You’re a good person. I miss you,” and wordless Liam sighs, and Liam wants to brush his cheeks because they’re might be tears there now. There probably is, Zayn knows Liam.
“Miss you too, Leeyum,” Zayn mumbles, snuggles the phone closer. It lights up, now completely horizontal and the picture of Liam with straws up his nose glares into his eyes. He smiles. He really does miss Liam.
“Should I let you go to sleep now?” Liam asks, voice quiet and fond and Zayn smiles wide, biting his bottom lip.
“Nah, I’m okay,” Zayn whispers, and Liam chuckles, and it’s beautiful and poetic.
“Want to tell me how your day went?” Liam asks, and it’s light because this is Zayn and Liam, and Zayn could talk to Liam for hours if he didn’t get sleepy. But he’s not, not right now. He’s wide awake with Liam in his ear and heart and so he shrugs and says.
“Yeah, alright,” and tells Liam about his day.