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Liam takes a deep, shaky breath, wiping her sweating palms on her leggings and mentally telling herself to just fucking relax. Her gut’s all twisted up and her skin feels too tight and she’s nervous even though she shouldn’t be. She feels so, so stupid because she’s buzzing out of her skin and there’s no reason for it. She’s done this a hundred times, a thousand times, and this is nothing new.
Well except for the part where everything’s different now, and everything’s changed, and she doesn’t know how things will end but. Other than that, everything’s the same.
Liam bites her bottom lip and sighs. She knocks on the door.
There’s a brief moment of panic when Liam thinks that maybe she should have called, that maybe no one is home and she’s worked herself up for nothing. She wonders if she’s even welcome. For all that she’s been texting and calling Zayn, she’s not sure where it is exactly that they stand, what Zayn wants or what she needs. Liam’s so afraid of messing things up worse than they’ve already gotten.
Before Liam can psych herself out too much, there’s movement behind the door and she can hear the lock clicking. She sucks in a breath and holds it tight in her lungs.
“Liam?” Zayn says in greeting, and Liam finally breathes out.
“Zayn, hope you don’t mind me stopping by?”
Zayn looks surprised, but she smiles, lovely and beautiful with her tongue behind her teeth and crinkles at her eyes. She’s shifting from foot to foot though, the movement tense and agitated like she’s feeding off Liam’s nervous energy. For once, the tension inside Liam doesn’t subside right away.
Zayn’s always been unfairly gorgeous but, despite the unease splashed clear across her face, she looks even better than usual. It’s the first time Liam’s seen her in person since she buzzed her hair, and the effect is even more striking in person. It makes her features so, so prominent - her long lashes and doe eyes and straight nose and sharp cheekbones. The small, diamond stud in her nose stands out starkly, sparkling in the mid-afternoon sun.
“Course not, you’re always welcome,” Zayn rolls her eyes. She reaches out to wrap her hand around Liam’s wrist, a familiar gesture that Liam’s not even sure she realizes she’s making, tugging her inside before closing the door behind her.
Liam toes off her trainers and follows Zayn farther into the house and down the familiar path that leads to the kitchen.
“Do you want a cuppa?” Zayn asks. “Was just about to turn the kettle on.”
Liam nods when Zayn turns to look at her briefly. She tries not to concentrate on how Zayn’s still got a tight hold on her wrist or how the small bit of contact is making Liam feel bubbly in her tummy.
Zayn finally lets go when they reach the kitchen, leaving Liam to take a seat at the island and watch as Zayn peters around making tea. Zayn’s shoulders are stiff as she goes through the process, but it all still feels oddly domestic and familiar. Liam idly wonders how many times she’s sat right here, watching Zayn reach into the cabinet for the mug she keeps there just for Liam, trying not to stare when Zayn’s shirt rides up and reveals a strip of smooth skin that Liam’s aching to touch.
“What have you been up to today?” Zayn asks, eyes not quite meeting Liam’s as she slips into the seat across from her and passes her her tea. It’s made perfectly, as always.
“Had an interview at Capital FM,” Liam says after taking a sip. “Did you hear it?” she adds a bit nervously. She’s not sure how closely Zayn’s been following what they’ve been up to, what she’s been up to. It’s probably not nearly as close as how much she’s been keeping up with Zayn.
Zayn shakes her head, smiling sheepishly. “Just woke up not long before you got here I’m afraid,” she admits like Liam would be surprised at all.
She isn’t, of course, but she still marvels a bit at Zayn’s ability to sleep the day away. Liam’s the opposite, always needs to keep busy, especially when they’re on break and there’s not as much for her to do. It’s only noon and she’s already done the radio interview, gone for a run, called her mum, FaceTimed Harry who’s soaking up the sun in California, and scribbled in the song journal Niall had gotten her last Christmas.
Zayn on the other hand really does look like she’s just rolled out of bed. Her clothes are wrinkled, sleeping shorts sitting low on her hips and the shirt she’s cut the sleeves off of slipping down her shoulder. Liam knows that Zayn never sleeps in a bra and that she wears socks to bed but always takes them off in her sleep. She knows that when Zayn’s hair was longer she’d always put it in a bun at night and that sometimes she snores even though she’ll deny it and that she can’t fall asleep without something or someone to cuddle with.
Liam knows what Zayn looks like first thing in the morning and last thing at night. Liam knows that if Zayn was there with her, she could probably spend the whole day in bed also.
“What about you?” Liam asks, shaking herself from her thoughts. “What have you been up to other than wasting your days in bed?”
Zayn laughs, relaxing a bit as her nose crinkles adorably. “Just been chilling mostly. Hanging out with friends. Doing some writing. I’m going to the Bend It musical next month.”
“That’s ace,” Liam says, smiling earnestly. She’d already known this, of course. She still gets Zayn’s tweets sent to her phone and she sees what people are saying about her on her timeline. It’s different to hear Zayn say it though, to see the soft, happy smile on her face and the excitement in her eyes.
Liam doesn’t say this of course. She doesn’t want to admit that she regularly checks Zayn’s profile when they haven’t spoken in a few days and that she’s afraid every time Zayn tweets it’ll be the day she decides to change her twitter name or her bio. It’s all still so much, and Zayn doesn’t need to know that sometimes Liam’s forgotten what’s happened and that it starts hurting all over again when it hits her. That there are days in the studio when she writes lyrics and hears powerful riffs and five-part harmonies in her head before she finds herself crumpling up sheet music and throwing it angrily into the bin.
There’s no way of knowing how many times Liam’s repeated to herself that this is what’s best for Zayn, that after years of putting other people first, Zayn’s putting herself first. That Zayn’s been through so much more than Liam will ever understand and that Zayn is happier than she has been in a long time. Convincing herself of all this is not difficult. Liam just wishes accepting it was easier.
Across the island, Zayn is studying Liam over her tea. She looks curious, taking Liam in and categorizing any differences in her like Liam’s been doing every time a new picture of Zayn appears online. The feel of Zayn’s gaze isn’t unfamiliar to Liam, but it still makes her feel hot and squirmy, especially as Zayn’s eyes drop to her mouth for a second. Zayn licks her own lips before meeting Liam’s eyes again with a tiny, shy smile.
“Have I mentioned I really like your hair?” Liam can’t help but grin when Zayn brings a hand up to run it over her head. It’s growing out quickly, already much longer than it was when she’d stepped out on the red carpet of the Asian Awards and sent every social media outlet into a frenzy, but it’s still so much shorter than Liam would ever be brave enough to cut her own hair.
“Only in about every text you’ve sent me in the last couple weeks.” Zayn rolls her eyes, but she looks familiarly pleased and fond when Liam’s grin widens.
“Wish I could pull it off,” Liam pouts, “all this is getting out of control.”
Liam’s hair isn’t all that long either, only falling to about her shoulders these days. She’s got it pulled back in a bun this morning, because it was easier than dealing with the curly mess it turned into over night. Liam’s not sure what she ever did with it before Lou’s help, to be honest.
“You could,” Zayn says sincerely. She reaches hesitantly toward Liam’s hand where it’s lying on the counter, relaxing when Liam allows her to flip it palm up so she can trace the lines with her fingers like Liam knows she does sometimes when she’s antsy or nervous. “I, um. Well you sort of gave me the idea,” Zayn admits a bit shyly, looking up at Liam through the long sweep of lashes.
Liam swallows thickly, mouth suddenly dry. “What?”
“Like from when you cut it a few years ago, y’know?” Zayn explains, biting nervously on her bottom lip. “I wanted to do something like that, I guess. I remember how much you loved it and you seemed so, like, free? Or something like that, I don’t know. I just wanted to feel like that.”
“Took a step farther than I did, didn’t you?” Liam jokes, heart beating a bit faster than usual when Zayn laughs.
Liam remembers what Zayn’s talking about, of course, chopping off all her hair after the first time her and Dani had split. It was nothing like Zayn’s hair, however. More Emma Watson short than buzzcut short. Even then, it was still how Zayn described it. She felt free, like she was getting rid of some burden. Like she was getting a new start after something came to what, at the time, felt like a terrible end.
“Still my inspiration, aren’t you?” Zayn says, squeezing Liam’s hand. “It’s nice though, yeah? Probably one of my more unpopular decisions, but seems like I’ve been making quite a few of those lately, haven’t I?”
Zayn smiles wryly, little humor in her voice, but Liam still squeezes her hand back, almost in reassurance.
“You did what was right for you,” Liam says firmly despite the twisting in her gut and the ache in her chest. She’s not sure which of Zayn’s decisions she’s referring to, but she knows that there’s not even a bit of doubt in her words. “If nothing else, that’ll always be good enough for me.”
Zayn smiles a bit more gently, most of the tension she’s been carrying around since she opened the door slipping off her shoulders. Liam wonders if she’s been waiting to hear that just as Liam’s been waiting to hear something from her as well. Zayn’s still got her hand in Liam’s, impossibly warm where it meets her skin, and Liam never wants her to let go.
--
After tea, they move to the living room, Zayn popping in The Winter Soldier to play softly. Zayn’s sitting on one end of the couch, legs bent at the knee and sketchbook propped up on her thighs. Liam’s sprawled herself across the rest of the space, toes tucked under Zayn and head resting against the arm of the couch.
She spends more time watching Zayn than the movie, to be honest. It’s hard not to stare at the lights from the TV creating soft shadows on Zayn’s face. Her forehead is creased in concentration, a straight line set between her eyes as she doodles something that Liam can’t see from her angle.
Soft, quiet moments like these are endlessly important to Liam who feels like she’s ready to buzz out of her skin most days. No one grounds her the way Zayn does, no one else settles the storm constantly brewing inside of her. Living without Zayn isn’t impossible, but sometimes it’s so difficult and the thought of flying overseas without her makes Liam ache deep down to her bones.
“I miss you,” Liam blurts out, the words tumbling from her mouth without warning. She flushes as soon as she says them, not from embarrassment, but more from guilt because she doesn’t know if that’s something she’s allowed to say right now.
Zayn’s eyes are still glued to her sketchbook, but her hand stills, visibly tightening around the pencil she’s holding. “Liam -” she starts warily.
“Not like an ‘I want you to come back’ I miss you,” Liam interrupts, finally tearing her eyes away from Zayn. “Not that I don’t but - that’s not.” She stops, taking a shaky breath when her voice starts to waver. She’s still watching Captain America’s movements across the screen instead of looking at Zayn. She’s afraid of what she’ll see etched into Zayn’s expression. “I just -”
“Hey,” Zayn stops her, voice soft. Liam feels a hand wrapping around her ankle and she draws her gaze back to Zayn. “C’mere, yeah?”
Zayn lets her sketchbook fall to the ground as she opens her arms up. Liam scrambles into them gratefully, letting Zayn shift them around until they’re laying across the couch, knees bumping together and toes pressing into each other’s legs as Liam lays on top of her. Zayn’s arms come around her easily, the weight and feel of them reminding her unbearably of home and comfort and safety.
Liam buries her nose into Zayn’s neck, breathing in the scent of yesterday’s perfume and the bodywash Zayn likes to use when they’re not on the road. She feels the wetness in her eyes, and before she can stop it, a sob is wracking through her body, and for the first time she lets herself cry.
The day Zayn FaceTimed them from England and told them all she wasn’t coming back was miserable. Liam wasn’t sure what to do or what to feel so she did the only thing she could think of. She dealt with Louis’s fluctuating anger and sadness and provided a shoulder for her to cry on. She curled herself around Niall and tried to make her laugh when things felt like too much. She sat with Harry and brushed her hair while they reminisced and talked about the future and what they would do next.
The next few days were spent discussing their next move and rearranging vocals and re-learning choreography to make up for the extra space on stage. There was no time to be sad, and Liam went through the mad rush of the last few days of tour trying to smile and trying to be brave and trying to make sure everyone, including Zayn, was okay.
Despite her reassurances to the fans that it was okay to feel affected by all this, by the time they touched down home, Liam felt like it was too late to be upset. Liam thought she missed her window for a grieving period and that it was about time to move on. So she pushed it back and tried to fill the aching void inside her chest with time in the studio and her work with TrekStock and Youth Zone to keep herself as busy as possible.
But now, laying in Zayn’s arms, everything Liam tried to bury away is resurfacing. Zayn’s skin is damp with her tears and she can’t stop fucking crying. Liam balls her hands into the front of Zayn’s shirt, mumbling over and over again that she’s sorry because this wasn’t how the day was supposed to go. She didn’t really know what would happen when she made the split second decision to drive to Zayn’s, but it wasn’t this. Zayn didn’t need Liam to unload this overbearing, unbelievable sadness that she’s been carrying around with her for over a month now onto her. Not when she knows that Zayn is finally happy and that she should be happy for Zayn.
“It’s okay, babe,” Zayn whispers softly, hands rubbing up and down Liam’s back. “You have nothing to be sorry about.”
Liam just cries harder, not really knowing how to stop now that she’s started. Zayn continues to whisper comforting nothings into her ear, holding her tighter when the words “I’m with you ‘til the end of the line” filter from the television and her tears seem to start all over again. Liam cries thinking of promises of “right next to you” and “I’ll stay with you” and countless other things Zayn whispered to her in the backs of buses and far-off hotel rooms and she doesn’t believe that a single one of them lacked sincerity, but all those words have a new meaning now and Liam’s starting to realize that maybe she’s not ready for the change.
Eventually, the sobs subside to sniffles, and Liam’s labored breathing returns somewhat to normal. Liam’s throat feels wrecked and her chest hurts but Zayn’s still got her arms around her, rubbing circles into the small of her back. Their legs are still tangled together and it would probably feel like any other day if it wasn’t for the dried tears still streaking Liam’s face and the dampness of Zayn’s skin against her cheek.
“Liam,” Zayn starts, but Liam cuts her off with a small sound of dissent and a shake of her head.
Slowly, Liam sits up, ignoring the pain in her head that only ever forms from excessive crying. Zayn follows but doesn’t let her go, keeping an arm around her waist that Liam doesn’t push away.
“I’m sorry,” Liam says one last time, voice thick like she’s about to start crying again. She doesn’t let herself though, holding back the tears that are threatening to spill from her eyes.
“Oh, babe,” Zayn says sadly.
There’s a few strands of hair that have come loose from Liam’s bun and Zayn tucks them back gently before taking Liam’s face in her hands and kissing her softly on the forehead. Liam closes her eyes, taking in Zayn’s proximity and the familiar feel of her dry lips against her skin.
“I want you to be happy,” Liam says softly, eyes still closed. She nuzzles into the palm Zayn’s still go against her face, lacing her fingers with the hand that Zayn’s moved to her thigh. “I just wish you could be happy with us.”
Liam blinks her eyes open slowly, tracing them over the crinkle in Zayn’s brow and the slight downturn of her lips.
“I was happy with you,” Zayn sighs. “It was just everything else that was bringing me down, yeah? Never you. Never Niall or Harry or Louis. And fuck, Liam, it was so, so hard for me to make this decision like. All I could think about was what you all would say and how you’d feel. It’s a bit of weird position we’ve gotten into, isn’t it? We can’t do a single damn thing for ourselves without thinking about how deeply it will affect four other people.”
Liam’s always known this, of course. There’s no forgetting how even after almost five years, this level of codependency they’ve reached is unchangeable. But that logical, sensible part of her’s that’s trying to convince her that Zayn would never actually leave her, would never leave them, has been consumed recently. It’s hard to pay attention to her brain when it feels like her lungs have been taken away. Logic means nothing when what she really needs is to remind herself how to breathe on her own again.
“What am I gonna do without you?” Liam laughs out, shaky and hollow sounding even to her own ears. “Zayn you were - you are -”
“You’re gonna smash it, is what you’re gonna do,” Zayn says sternly. She takes Liam chin in her hand, forcing her to look Zayn in the eyes and see the conviction there.“Liam you’re so strong you don’t need me there. You’re gonna write an amazing album and you’re gonna live your dream and perform to thousands of people every night. And every time you think you need me, I’ll be there.”
Liam thinks it’s almost a bit overwhelming how close Zayn’s face seems to hers all of a sudden. She’s near enough that Liam can see the freckle in her eye and probably count every single one of her thick, long lashes. Their noses are nearly brushing and Zayn’s breath is falling warm against Liam’s skin and there’s nothing Liam wants more than to close the barely-there distance between them.
Liam would give anything to feel the warmth of Zayn’s mouth against her and hear from her that everything will be okay, that they’ll be okay.
Zayn has kissed Liam three times.
Once was when they were seventeen and still learning the ins and outs of not only each other, but of three other girls who always appeared to be so much more everything than either of them. Zayn claims it was an accident, but the way she’d goaded Liam on, smiling with her tongue pressed to her teeth and giggling out, “Come on then, Liam. Come on,” is enough for Liam to convince herself that it wasn’t.
The second time was when they were nineteen and Liam was still learning the ins and outs of herself. She was figuring out how to be comfortable in her skin again, how to live and breathe and continue without Dani by her side, while also trying to understand why it was that her stomach flipped every time Zayn smiled at her. And then Zayn had kissed her one night in a soft, comfy hotel bed and Liam finally realized what it was that she wanted and needed and why it was that even when she was with Dani, there was nothing more that she craved than Zayn’s touch and attention and affection. But they both knew it wasn’t the right time and Zayn had pulled away quickly with an apology in her smile and her knuckles brushing against Liam’s face like she was trying to say maybe not today, but someday.
The third time was a little over a month ago when Liam was still unaware how much things were going to change. They were in Bangkok, stumbling back into the hotel, tipsy but not drunk, and Zayn had pressed Liam against the door of her hotel room. She’d kissed her with purpose and it’d felt different, even from the last time it had happened. Liam had smiled against Zayn’s mouth at the time, melting against her, thinking that this was finally it. The kiss had felt like the promise of a new beginning, but now Liam wonders if, for Zayn, it felt like the end of something, like a goodbye.
They didn’t talk about it the day after though, and a few days after that Zayn was gone and it’d gotten swept up in the rush of events that followed. The kiss lay heavy in Liam’s chest for over a month though. The need to know what Zayn really thinks and what she feels is a burning desire, something all-consuming that is, at times, greater than her sadness.
Liam understands why it was important to let Zayn leave. It’s something they have discussed, something they’ve talked about at great length over the phone and through texts and once, before the decision was final, in a hotel room in a far-off country. As much as it pains Liam to know that Zayn wasn’t happy, that she felt that she had no other option than to end this chapter of her life, she accepts that Zayn did what was right for her. At the end of the day, there is nothing Liam ever wants more than for Zayn to be happy.
She knows that one day it will stop hurting that Zayn’s left, but Liam also knows that it will never stop hurting if Zayn really does want to say goodbye.
“I want to kiss you,” Liam says when she finally feels like she can’t take it anymore.
“Then do it,” Zayn says, smile playing at her lips as she runs her thumb over the curve of Liam’s cheek.
Liam does. She closes the gap, Zayn sinking down onto her as soon as she does. Zayn kisses her softly with no hurry, her tits pressing into Liam’s through her thin singlet. Liam spans her hand against Zayn’s back, tries to bring her even closer when Zayn starts licking into her mouth. She goes to run her other hand through Zayn’s hair, surprised when she’s met only with the prickly softness of Zayn’s buzzcut. Still, Liam feels warm and electric, want and need and a desperation to always, always be closer pooling in her belly.
“Is this okay?” Liam asks when Zayn’s swung a leg over so she’s sitting firm and steady in Liam’s lap. Liam rests her hands on Zayn’s hips and presses their foreheads together. “Should we be doing this right now?”
“Do you not want to anymore?” Zayn asks, sucking on her bottom lip nervously. It’s all spit-slick and swollen and god, Liam just wants to kiss her again.
More than that though Liam’s got that fear rising in her again. It’s so, so hard for her to imagine what it’ll be like without Zayn by her side. Things were rough with Dani and they were rough with Sophia and Liam’s spent too many days missing them on the road to even start to comprehend what it will be like trying this with Zayn when she’s already so used to having her there all the time at arm’s reach.
Zayn’s promised to be there when Liam needs her, but she needs to hear it again. She needs to know that Zayn isn’t leaving her and that she’s not saying goodbye, not now, not ever. She needs Zayn to keep her steady, to ground her, to support her. Liam knows she won’t ever be on her own, not with Louis and Niall and Harry always there for her, but she also knows that she can’t do this without Zayn.
“I don’t want to make this any harder than it already is,” Liam admits, chest constricting almost painfully when Zayn’s breath hitches. “I don’t think I’m as strong or as brave or anything as you think I am. I want this and I want you, god I want you so bad, Zayn, I don’t think you even realize. But I’m just scared, I suppose.”
Zayn swallows thickly, rubbing her thumb on Liam’s shoulder and frowning in that way that Liam knows means she’s gathering her thoughts and trying to find the best thing to say. Liam waits patiently, tracing over the lines of her face with her eyes, mentally cataloging every shift and change displayed there. Zayn’s always been a bit of an open book to her.
“I don’t want to hurt you anymore than I already have,” Zayn starts slowly, laying a finger on Liam’s lips like she can feel the words of protest building in the back of her throat. “I know I have, Liam, you don’t have to deny it. I see it in your face and I hear it in your voice and god it absolutely kills me but -”
She stops, resting her hand on top of Liam’s where it’s still resting on her hip before continuing again. “I want to try this though, if you do too. Leaving the band was my choice, and I’m honestly so grateful that you support me in that and that you didn’t try to stop me or hold me back. But I need you to know that I couldn’t leave you even if it was an option.”
Liam surges forward so quickly that Zayn’s caught off guard. She lets out a small yelp right before Liam starts kissing her, their noses bumping together and their teeth clacking before they find a steady rhythm, a synchronized motion that has Liam’s blood rushing in her ears.
This is what Liam needed to hear. A reassurance. A promise. Something said with certainty. The proof Zayn wasn’t ready to say goodbye. “Yes, Zayn, please.”
Zayn’s always been generous with her kisses, pressing her lips to Liam’s temple and cheek and shoulder without a care. But there’s something special about the way their mouths fit together, the way it feels to have Zayn in her arms and pressed against her and getting to touch her and knowing that Zayn wants it too. Zayn is also so, so warm, but even apart from that, she makes Liam feel warm. It’s not only the hot burn of desire, but the soft simmer of warmth that comes with comfort and love and knowing that she’s cared for.
Liam gasps when Zayn’s mouth moves from hers and starts to trail down her jaw and neck until biting at the birthmark on her throat. Zayn’s hands are toying with the bottom of Liam’s top, and fuck, Liam wants it, but more than that, she wants to do this right, to not mess things up when everything still feels so raw.
“Zayn, I want to start slow, yeah?” Liam says, giggling at the way Zayn’s fingertips are tickling at her waist.
“How slow?” Zayn teases when Liam moans at the scrape of her teeth against her skin. She stops though, raising a hesitant eyebrow at Liam like she’s afraid to push too far.
“Just, we can figure it out as we go, yeah?” Liam says, smiling when Zayn nods. She slips her hands just under Zayn’s shirt to feel the warm, bare skin of her hips and waist. “Right now, I just want to know I have you, and the rest will come in time.”
“You’ll always have me, Liam,” Zayn promises, kissing Liam softly. “I promise I’m not going anywhere.”
The last bit of tension curling in Liam’s chest subsides, and for the first time in over a month, she feels like she can breathe properly again.