Work Text:
Liam Payne is the only person over the age of 45 living in the new yuppie condos he just moved into. He skews the median age by quite a bit, actually, at the ripe old age of 89.
Every day at 11 am he goes for a walk through the complex, chatting with the mothers out walking with their babies before lunch, patting his neighbor’s huge dogs on their way past, and sharing a sympathetic look with the teenaged dog walker being pulled along by the two monsters for $25.
Liam liked his new condo; he was the first occupant, and so far everything was quiet. He had lived in a great many homes over the years, ever since his better half had passed on. But he was always run out by strange noises, unexplained movement of furniture, and fuzzy half-formed visions out of the corner of his eye.
His nieces and nephews had sat him down to try and talk him into moving in an assisted living apartment, or a nursing home; but he had worked too hard at being ok on his own to give up his independence.
Liam used to be codependent, and happily so. He had a spouse, someone he could rely on for everything, and then they were gone too soon, with only the promises of being ‘together forever’ left to keep him warm at night.
----
Liam spends most of his time thinking about Zayn, how they met, how they fell in love, but he inevitably delves into the last days they had together. The noises become more insistent during these times, the noises that his family says aren’t happening, and sometimes Liam questions it too.
Maybe the feeling he gets when he remembers seeing Zayn for the first time - in the diner, bent over a sketchbook, coffee cup frozen halfway to his mouth, a beam of sunlight creating a halo around him - is his imagination. Zayn always made him feel warm, and the coziness that settles over him is probably just a memory.
He had been working at the diner to make a little extra money while he took classes, living in the tiny flat above the restaurant. His nights were spent singing at tiny venues with his friends Harry and Niall. Niall played drums and Harry played guitar; they weren’t great, but Liam never felt more alive than he did when he was on stage, at least before he met Zayn.
Zayn was also a student, he and Niall had shared a few classes. He was studying to be an English teacher, but his true passion was art. Zayn was always doodling, bopping his head to some tune flowing through his head, sitting at the same booth in the diner that Liam worked at.
----
They met officially at a Halloween party at Harry’s place; he had been dating some boy named Louis who just loved all things spooky. Harry had convinced them to dress up as the Ghostbusters, and Liam was feeling great in his comfortable gray jumpsuit; but seeing Zayn dressed as the Brawny paper towel man - in a tight flannel shirt, skinny jeans, and work boots - Liam wished he had gone as something hotter, or at least as a roll of paper towel.
He “accidentally” brushed arms with Zayn at the drink counter, the other boy’s eyes lit up when he took in Liam’s costume. “Killer outfit, mate! Great movie.”
“Uh, yeah, thanks. Harry, Niall, and Louis are Ghostbusters too.”
“Bet you look the best in the suit, though.” Zayn lifted his red plastic cup in salute to Liam and disappeared into the fray of the party.
----
They start dating officially a few months later; he shows up at all of Liam’s gigs, hair quiffed, his hands stuffed in the pockets of his leather jacket. He always looks so effortlessly cool that Liam would be jealous if he didn’t know how long it took Zayn to get his hair perfectly placed.
He and Louis always sat near the stage, making lewd faces while they played. Zayn would always sneak around behind the stage right before the end of their set; he would wait for Niall and Harry to pass before Liam exited the stage, always wanting to soak up as much of the crowd as he could before leaving.
Zayn would pull him to the side, shuffling him towards the wall and kissing him breathless, like he was trying to suck up Liam’s giddiness.
----
Those moments were almost enough to keep Liam going. The last time Liam had seen Zayn had been one such night, the band had gotten a record deal, Zayn and Louis joining them on their small tours when their jobs allowed.
Zayn and Louis were both teachers so they mostly planned shows during the summer holiday. It was blazing hot, even after the sun went down, and Liam had been feeling itchy all day. When Zayn tried to pull him over for a snog, like they were still teenagers, Liam had shrugged him off. It was just too warm.
The rest of the night was burned into his brain, Zayn had wanted to go out to get some food for him and Louis to have while they smoked; Liam had again shrugged him off, too tired to do anything but roll into bed.
He had woken to Harry pounding on the door, shouting something about an accident and the hospital. So seeing Zayn for the last time the night of the concert was not strictly true, but the man in the bed, hooked up to what seemed like millions of tubes, was not his Zayn.
The night that he said his final goodbyes to the most important person in his life was the night the buzzing in his head started.
----
Liam moved to a new house six months after Zayn died, telling himself that he just wanted to start fresh, the memory of Zayn was too fresh in the house and he needed out. The suddenly faulty plumbing, and the small herd of elephants that had taken up residence in the attic made a difficult situation impossible.
He had wanted to stop touring, but the only time he really left the house was for gigs, the only people he saw were Harry, Niall and Louis; and he knew Zayn wouldn’t have wanted him to become a hermit, so he continued with his life, as much as he could, without his husband.
The next few decades were a blur of fights with his family about seeing a psychologist, and then moving into a nursing home, doing a spate of shows for their aging fans, Harry and Louis adopting about a million kids and pets, Niall’s increasing number of wives with increasing age differences, a new apartment/house/condo every couple of years, and objects showing up in places that Liam is sure he didn’t put them.
But this condo is it. He’s going to stay there come hell or high water. Liam is 89 and done carrying boxes of his and Zayn’s stuff from place to place. He hasn’t had a bad life though, he’s never felt alone, the neighborhood dogs always showing up at the door of every new place, waiting for a pat.
He’s a godfather to three of Harry and Louis’ children, having them over to stay at least once a month until they went to college, and now their kids come and see their Uncle Lima Bean every other weekend since he lives closer to the city. Those are the moments when he feels the warmest.
----
His obituary runs in a big newspaper, asked for by the editor herself; it details his life with Zayn and his career as a singer. He died peacefully in his sleep, his rooms full of nieces and nephews and godchildren and great godchildren. The whole family knows the moment he dies because the whole condo seems to surge with energy and then it’s empty.
Liam falls asleep that night and dreams of Zayn, not the nightmare that runs through those terrible few days at the hospital, not even the visions of the life he could have had with Zayn had he lived longer, but it stops suddenly.
He wakes up, but he knows that he’s not really awake, because everything is muted. Liam can see his family, but he also knows that if he turned around he would see himself. Most importantly, he sees Zayn, which should be impossible. But there he is, wearing the same leather jacket he was wearing the first time Liam saw him, a charcoal pencil tucked behind his ear.
Zayn looks young, his whole face brightening when he sees Liam. Liam reaches for him, startled by the sight of his own arm; the age spots and wrinkles are gone, and his hand is smooth and strong.
“Hey, Leeyum, I’ve been waitin’ a long time for you to get here. I was getting tired of moving.”