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Liam knows it's going to be a weird day when Zayn's voice drifts towards him, sounding mildly panicked. Zayn doesn't usually panic that easily. "Liam? Liam, how's my hair look?”
He looks around the large hotel suite. He didn’t think anyone else was up yet, let alone worrying about their hair, but it is Zayn, he supposes. It’s never a bad time of day to be stressing about your hair when you’re Zayn. Liam has learned this. "Um, don't know, mate. Where are you, exactly?"
Zayn makes a weird little freaked out noise that Liam hasn't ever heard him make before. It’s quite close to his ear. "Zayn? You alright, mate?"
"No I'm not alright, I'm invisible!" Zayn’s voice goes high on the last word, still sounding really close by, and Liam has no idea how he’s doing that.
Liam frowns. “Is this about that photo shoot where you were stood in the back – ow!” He takes a step back when something flicks his forehead hard. “What – Are you really invisible? How did this happen?” His stomach plummets almost painfully.
“I don’t know, Liam.” Zayn bites back. The sofa dips slightly next to Liam. It looks really weird. “I didn’t do it on purpose; it was just like this when I woke up.” He makes another frustrated noise. Liam’s never heard him makes this many random sounds, but he supposes that may be what you do to compensate when you wake up invisible.
“Sorry,” he amends, one hand reaching out to pat Zayn’s shoulder comfortingly. His hand bumps into something in midair, so he quietly pets what turns out to be Zayn’s chest instead and wonders if this is what it feels like to lose your mind.
“Sorry, bit anxious, I guess.” Zayn’s voice is soft. “Don’t know what I did to make this happen.”
“Well, I don’t care what caused it, we have to fix it.” Liam can feel his heart stuttering in his chest, because they have a show tomorrow evening and he’s pretty sure their audience will notice Zayn’s absence. “We’re lucky we have the day off, but eventually we’ll have to leave this hotel!” Liam points in the direction of the door, and the poinsettia on the side table bursts into flames.
“Um,” Zayn says.
“Oh no. Oh no.” Liam grants himself one long second of freaking out inwardly, then he rushes over to grab the potted plant and throws the whole thing in the en suite bathroom’s shower, running the tap until there are nothing but shards and the plant’s charred remains to concern himself with. Later. Not now.
He quietly pads back into the lounge and sits down in what turns out to be Zayn’s lap. “Sorry,” he mumbles again, but he doesn’t move and Zayn just pats his shoulder quietly. It all feels familiar but there’s nothing there, he just seems to be hovering in the air a few inches above the sofa. Liam rubs his hands over his face aggressively and tries to focus on one bizarre event at a time.
“Zayn. Did I just set that plant on fire?”
“Think you did, yeah.” Zayn rubs his back. It’s comforting and his hand is warm through the fabric of Liam’s shirt even though it’s not actually there. Liam’s pretty sure he’s going to have a nervous breakdown quite soon. He laughs quietly, mostly because he’s not sure what else to do.
“Did someone set a fire in the shower?” Louis pads in, stretching his arms over his head. “Can’t leave you people alone for five fucking minutes.” He sits down in an armchair and raises an eyebrow. “Why are you sitting all strange?”
“I’m not sitting strange, I’m sitting on Zayn but he’s invisible”, Liam says, pausing. “And yes, I just heard that sentence. I also set the poinsettia on fire by pointing at it. So, yeah. That’s how our day is going.”
Louis looks at him for a long moment, leaning back in the armchair. He’s not reacting the way Liam would expect him to, and it’s making him a little nervous. Actually, a lot nervous. “Riight,” Louis drawls finally. “Well. That’s inconvenient, sure. But it’s not really a problem. Toss me an apple.” He points at one of the fruit bowls the hotel management has placed in every single room to welcome them. Together, they hold more fruit than the five of them probably eat in a year.
Liam blinks and picks one up, tossing it over in an arc. Louis catches it, and it withers and dries up in his hand. “This,” Louis says, holding it up for them to see, “is a problem.”
“Fuck,” Zayn whispers. Liam can feel the soft breath brush the shell of his ear.
“Yeah. Went through the entire bowl of fruit in my room. I finally had to eat the leftover Mars bar in my bag.” Louis wrinkles his nose, letting the shriveled apple fall to the floor.
“Poor you.” Liam smiles a bit despite himself. He feels, strangely, a little bit better knowing they’re apparently all in this mess together. “Cheer up though, mate, maybe it’s just like, fruits and vegetables?”
Louis leans forward on his knees, templing his fingers under his chin and watching Liam in that way that makes Liam feels very unnerved. “Maybe. Do you want me to grab your face and test that theory, Liam?”
“Hm. Suppose not, no…” Liam worries his lower lip. “Good point.”
“Exactly. Now the question is, how do we undo it?” Louis is scowling down at the deceased apple like it has deeply offended his honour.
“Actually, I think the first question should be, are Niall and Harry… affected?” Zayn offers. “We should go and check, maybe they need help.” Liam nods, and they all get up as one and knock on the adjoining suite’s door. There's a somewhat disconcerting thump in reply.
“Niall?”
“Lads? A little help please!” The string of very creative curses that follows sounds muffled through the door, but more than a little bit panicked. They let Zayn go in first, since he probably won’t accidentally kill their bandmate, and follow at a safe distance. “In here. Guys. I hate this, fuck.” They follow the sound of Niall’s voice to his bathroom and throw open the door.
“Ow! Up here.” Liam blinks and looks up, finding Niall drifting near the ceiling and rubbing his shoulder where the door hit him. “Lads, I hate heights, help me down from here, will you?” Liam glances at Louis and they both stick their hands in their pockets. Next to him, Zayn heaves a sigh and the next moment, they can see something taking a hold of Niall’s ankle, easing him down a bit and then calmly tugging him along like a balloon.
“This is the worst day ever... What’s going on?” Niall's eyes are wide and terrified, like nothing they've seen before.
“Zayn’s invisible.”
“Oh.”
By the time they barge into Harry’s room, they’ve both filled in Niall and worked themselves into a bit of a frenzy. In all fairness, Liam thinks, they might be used to a lot of strangeness in their lives, but if anything is still worth getting worked up about, it’s probably this.
Harry burrows under the covers when they come for him, sitting down on the bed and all talking at once.
“Please stop.” He mutters into the pillow, tugging the comforter up around his ears. “My head hurts and your problems are confusing.”
“That’s what happens when you indulge in the evils of alcohol, you little deviant,” Louis says, grinning wickedly and pulling back the covers, making sure not to touch anything but the bedspread. “So you’re fine? No weird or annoying mutation happened overnight? You're not suddenly the Hulk?” He actually looks a little disappointed.
Harry shakes his head and sits up to listen, frowning in confusion and quietly slipping into his clothes and shoes while they all talk simultaneously. He watches them all in turn, his brow furrowing just over his nose, and then he walks out.
“Rude,” Zayn says, and he must be crossing his arms because Niall drifts upward like a cursing leaf on the wind.
***
They’re all gathered in the lounge when Harry returns, Zayn perched comfortably in Niall’s lap to keep him from floating upward. Niall blinks up at Harry. “We thought you buggered off.”
“Of course I didn’t bugger off, Niall.” Harry looks deeply affronted, putting down a bag with a loud clunk. “I was helping. You know, being pro-active. It’s like none of you paid attention in that board meeting we attended last week.”
Louis rolls his eyes so hard Liam worries he might sprain something. “Pro-active?”
“Pro-active.” Harry nods, lifting a heavy looking box out of the bag and dumping it next to Niall on the sofa.
Niall blinks, lifting the lid. “You got me lead shoes? That’s gonna be hell on the old knee,” he says, but his voice sounds clear and pleased as he lifts them with a quiet grunt.
“Well, if it’s either that or floating up to the sun…” says Zayn. He moves around, coming to sit on the armrest of Liam's chair.
“Good point, that. Where did you even get lead shoes, Haz? Do you just know where to buy every fucking thing?”
Harry shrugs. “I went up to the front desk and said ‘Hi, I’m Harry from One Direction, we really, really need some lead shoes’. It took like ten minutes.” He grins. Niall cackles, tying them firmly before standing up with a relieved smile. He beams around at them, giving Harry an especially grateful look, before putting the shoes back in the box on the sofa for the time being, keeping a firm hold on it to stay grounded. He looks like he would hug the air from Harry's lungs if he wasn't unable to let go of the heavy box.
“Well, that's that sorted for now.” Louis reaches out to ruffle Niall's hair. He stops and thinks better of it at the last moment, giving Niall an awkward thumbs up instead. Liam watches him quietly. Louis's knee is already bopping up and down, a mess of nervous energy and too many held back touches. He wants to give Louis a hug, but he's not sure if he'd get hurt or worse, if he'd hurt Louis.
“What’d you get me, then?” Louis gets up abruptly, rifling through the bag. He straightens up, holding a pair of fake leather gloves and looking deeply disgusted. “Why Harold, these must have set you back at least 99p. You really shouldn’t have.”
“As long as they work, Louis,” Harry says crisply. “You didn’t kill me through the bedspread so it should be enough, I think. I got you a pair too, Liam, but I don’t know if they’ll help. I think you just have to like, stay calm? I brought up another fire extinguisher just in case.”
Liam nods and doesn't say anything, twisting his own fingers together anxiously. He can feel it crackling inside of him, itching to shoot out the moment he lets himself panic. He fidgets a moment and then goes back to sitting on his hands. He’s not a fan of this day.
“Now then.” Harry holds up another apple, waits for Louis to put on the gloves with a put-upon sigh, and then tosses him the apple. It misses the mark by roughly three feet and hits something in mid-air.
“Ow!”
“Sorry, Zayn.” Harry bites his lip, intercepting the apple as it rolls across the floor and leaving it on the table for Louis, who picks it up and tosses it from one gloved hand to the other, looking pleased.
“’S alright. What did you get me, then? Can’t fix invisibility.”
Harry grins in what appears to be Zayn’s general direction and then magics three little jars out of his bag.
There is a long moment of silence. “Body paint?” Zayn sounds surprised.
“Oh, obviously Zayn gets the cool solution. Bloody typical.” Louis throws up his hands, but he’s smiling. It’s a good solution, Liam thinks, and Louis knows it too. Besides, at least they’ll be able to see Zayn again.
“Want me to help you do it?” Liam glances up at where one of the jars is hovering in the air – Zayn’s reading the label. “I think I need to do something calming. You know, take my mind off accidental pyromania.” He tries for a carefree smile but he's not sure it fools any of them.
“Yeah, there’s bound be some places I can’t reach.” Zayn voice sounds like a grin. Louis crows. “I know you can’t see it, Tommo, but I’m flipping you off right now. Don’t be jealous.”
“Who's jealous?” Louis snorts, but Liam can feel Louis’ eyes on the back of his head as he opens the jar and carefully finds Zayn’s face with his other hand. If he closes his eyes, Liam can feel the stubble on his chin, and the slight dip where the corner of his mouth is. He tries not to think about how weird this is, and focuses instead on painting a careful stripe along Zayn’s cheek and on not setting him on fire.
Zayn's transparent skin twitches slightly under Liam's fingertips. He grins, flicking Zayn's jaw lightly. "Payback for earlier," he says in a low voice. He really wishes he could see Zayn's face right now, Liam thinks, vaguely jealous of him for a brief moment. His own emotions must be naked on his face. Liam wonders if he himself could maybe burst into flames, a human torch of pent-up feelings.
It isn’t long before Zayn’s head has at least reappeared before them. Liam’s painted his hair gold and his skin blue and gold, and he’s actually quite proud of the result as he hands Zayn a mirror.
“I look wicked.” Zayn grins at him.
“Zayn, the Amazing Floating Head. Gonna look fantastic on stage, this.” Liam can’t help but grin back.
“You look like that girl off of Avatar!” Niall laughs so hard he would no doubt topple sideways on the sofa if not for the shoebox keeping him where he is.
“You know,” Louis says thoughtfully, sprawling comfortably in his armchair. “This isn’t all bad, actually. I could take off these highly fashionable gloves and shake the hand of the next journo who asks us that fucking question about which superpower we’d like to have.” He doesn't look like he's joking.
“We still need to find a way to fix all this before tomorrow’s show. Or earlier. Earlier would be better.” Harry chews his lip.
"Not that I disagree, Haz, but I don't know what you're complaining about, you're not even affected." Louis rolls his eyes.
Harry looks down at his toes and doesn't say anything.
"Harry?" Zayn's voice floats through the room, questioning. Everything’s gone suddenly silent in the way it does before a big storm.
"I can sort of. Hear what you're thinking. All the time. It started when you woke me up earlier. I didn't wanna say anything, I just... I figured it would make things awkward."
Liam feels like something has frozen over in his stomach. He very calmly puts down the paint brush and steers Harry aside, lowering his voice. "You’ve been hearing everything we’ve been thinking and you didn’t tell us? Everything?”
“Yeah. Sorry.” Harry watches him quietly, a slow smile appearing on his face. “But I was hoping you and Zayn would do the painting thing together -”
“Bloody hell.” Liam shakes his head, cutting him off before this can get any more mortifying. “This is so meddlesome, Harry. This is even worse than that time I was watching a movie with your sister and you sat down between us and put on a Lifetime movie about multiple sclerosis!" Liam throws up his hands, setting the light fixture aflame. He barely registers the floating fire extinguisher taking care of the problem.
"It's important to be informed." Harry crosses his arms with a huff. "And I was only minding her best interests. Good thing I did, too, you could have set her on fire.”
"I heard he did." Louis grins.
“Stop saying words!” Harry grimaces. “See, this is exactly why I don’t want to know what any of you are thinking. Perverts - oh, fuck you for just imagining that thing about my sister, Niall. I’m never going to be able to unsee that.”
“Sorry,” says Niall, biting back a grin and not looking very repentant at all.
Harry sighs. “It’s not just that it’s traumatizing for me. It’s going to be like, a matter of hours before you all feel too awkward to be around me. And then you’ll start avoiding me and stuff…” He scrunches up his face a little bit, and Liam immediately feels guilty because that’s exactly the way he feels right now.
"In case you didn't notice, I can't touch anyone without sucking up their life force. Why would fucking telepathy make things more awkward than that?" Louis frowns.
Harry shrugs noncommittally. "Just now, you were wondering if you can use your gloves to make body paint handprints on Zayn's arse so you’ll know where it is at all ti-"
"Ah!" Louis stares at him with a horrified expression, then at Liam and Zayn’s quietly hovering face.
"See? Awkward." Harry slumps. Niall very briefly lets go of his box to rub Harry’s back with one hand, talking to him in a quiet voice.
"I think that would probably work though, Lou." Zayn's voice interrupts, calmly.
On the sofa, Niall blinks and then sees the baffled look on Louis’ face and laughs so hard he has to clutch his stomach, floating up to the ceiling.
“Oh for fuck’s sake, someone help me get down Mary fucking Poppins,” Louis says, but his ears are bright red.
***
It takes another day for things to go back to normal, and afterwards, Liam isn’t even quite sure if he imagined it all to begin with. It’s not important though, he thinks as he settles in more comfortably. Liam smiles. He doesn't feel like he's going to burst into flames anymore. Zayn’s got one very visible leg slung over his hip on one side, and Louis has got an arm draped over him on the other which definitely hasn’t killed him. So far.