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1:
“Hey.”
“Liam?” Zayn said, surprised-sounding.
“Do you not recognise my voice anymore? It’s only been a couple of weeks.” Liam was trying for casual, and failing miserably. He drummed his knuckles against the wall.
“I was just surprised.” A pause. “It didn’t exactly - end well.”
“Yeah.” Liam couldn’t quite disagree. The last thing Zayn had heard from a member of One Direction, on his last day as a member of One Direction, was Louis’ voice, sharp, hurt: fuck you. “So.”
“So.”
Liam really wished Zayn would do something to revive this limping conversation. Zayn, for his part, seemed quite content to let it stagger along sadly. “How’ve you been doing, then?”
“Oh, um. Alright,” Zayn said. “Family time. Studio time. Did you see my hair?”
“Which day?” asked Liam. “I can’t keep up.”
“Ha,” Zayn said, the first note approximating normal in the whole conversation. “Ha. Funny guy. I think I’ll stick with the grey.”
“Just don’t try blonde again,” Liam advised.
“Everyone has an opinion,” Zayn grumbled. The silence fell again, but less uncomfortable.
“Hey, so, listen,” Liam said. “I’m going to to go. I just wanted to let you know that - I mean. They need time, and it’s all - but. I get it. I wanted to tell you that. I get it.”
“...Thanks,” Zayn said. “Thanks, Liam. I appreciate that.”
“Take care.”
“Yeah. You too.”
2:
“Let me guess,” Zayn said, “'stop being a bitch?'”
Liam sighed. “You know I’m not going to say that.”
“Good,” Zayn said, then seemed to deflate. “’cause that’s a lot of what I’ve been hearing.”
“You know better than to listen to all that,” Liam said. “I could go on to say that he shouldn't’ve, and you shouldn’t’ve either, and now the fans and PR are involved and it’s all a bit shitty, but you know all that.”
“I know all that,” Zayn agreed tightly.
“Saves me a lot of trouble then,” Liam said. “How’s Waliyha?”
“Oh,” Zayn said, sounding a bit thrown. “Waliyha?”
“Your sister? Waliyha?”
“I know who my sister is,” Zayn huffed.
“Just checking,” Liam said cheerfully. “I haven’t seen her in a while. How is she?”
“She’s fine,” Zayn said. “She’s into Guild Wars 2 now. I don’t even know what Guild Wars is. I asked her if it was a movie. She scoffed at me.”
Liam sniggered.
“You’re lame,” he said. “You’re a lame older brother trying to be cool. At least my sisters love me.”
“They tolerate you like a lost little puppy who gets in their way when he comes home,” Zayn corrected him. “Waliyha loves me anyway because I bought her a bunch of Guild War stuff online. I still don’t know what it is, but it better be good stuff because it’s stupidly expensive.”
“Buying your sister’s affections is cheating,” Liam said. “Tell her I say hi, please. And Safaa and Doniya.”
“Will do,” Zayn said. He hesitated. “Tell your family I say hi, too. They don’t, like, hate me or anything, right?”
Liam scoffed. “They probably still like you better than me,” he said. “You always charm their pants off. I’m still the lost confused puppy who gets in their way. I’ll tell them."
3:
“God,” Zayn said. “Distract me, please, before I start drinking my own piss.”
“Ugh,” Liam informed him, then, curious: “Are you fasting?”
Zayn hadn’t really, when he’d been in the band, as far as Liam knew. They’d asked him about it once, throwaway, and he’d shrugged and said he wasn’t really observant, and that had been that.
“The days I’m with my family,” Zayn told him now. “It’s just, you know - oh, nevermind.”
“Tell me,” Liam said, and Zayn sighed.
“It’s mostly about your personal relationship with God, right, Islam? But so many things within it, it’s just better and easier to do it with your family, a community, people who understand. I’m not trying to - be fake, or only do it when there are people around. It’s just, you know, easier to go hungry when your cousins are complaining too, and it’s just all around nicer, breaking fast with the fam. Yeah.”
“Oh,” Liam said. “That seems, you know, reasonable. I think I get it.”
“You don’t quite, kafir,” Zayn said, light, which Liam knew, after five years of Zayn jokingly calling him and their bandmates it, was a not very nice term for non-Muslim, but the way Zayn said it, teasingly affectionate, didn’t quite make it sound anything but fond. "But thanks for trying."
"Y'know me," Liam said, "the epitome of political correctness." He said it with a sliver of bitterness; he did actually read the tweets and tumblr posts; he did actually care.
"You try," Zayn said. He made it sound like a better thing than it was.
Liam stared out of the window, wished he could see the expression on Zayn's face. "Thanks."
4:
“Happy Eid Mubarak-”
“It’s either Happy Eid, or Eid Mubarak,” Zayn corrected. “I can’t believe you’ve known me for five years and you still haven’t got it right.”
“Still better than Niall,” Liam said. “Remember when he wished you a Merry Eid?”
“Remember when he tried to wish my dad a Merry Eid,” Zayn said. “The look on my dad’s face."
“The complete idiot,” Liam commented, and Zayn laughed.
“What are you doing for Eid?”
“My mum’s cooking korma, which is always a big deal,” Zayn said. “All my aunts and uncles and cousins came over. They all either want to berate me for leaving or praise me for finally ditching those white boys. Either way, big turnout this year.”
“Good Eid, then?”
“Interesting Eid,” Zayn said, sounding amused. “And I haven’t seen some of them since before X Factor, so.”
“I’ll leave you to it,” Liam said, smiling.
5:
“Happy birthday, Liam,” Zayn said, “hold on-” a few seconds pause, and Liam was treated to a medley of fireworks and crackers popping overlaid by what seemed to be a children’s choir singing Happy Birthday rather creepily, all of which ended with a loud celebratory honking sound.
“Youtube?” Liam guessed.
“I downloaded it specially last night,” Zayn confirmed.
“Highlight of my birthday, I’ll be honest.”
“I hoped you’d like it,” Zayn said, and Liam knew he was smiling, that smug amused half-smile that made him look very feline. “Also, your gift’s in the mail. I mean, it should arrive by tomorrow. It should have arrived today, but you know the Royal Mail.”
“I know the Royal Mail,” Liam said, grinning. “Also, aww, you got me something!”
“I always get you something.” Zayn sounded almost offended.
“I mean, I know, but we were so very often in the same place, or you gave it to me a few days later when we were in the same place. It’s really nice that you remembered to buy something and post it days ago and everything.” Liam was still grinning. It was just very nice, very something Zayn would do for someone he cared about, mindlessly thoughtful little quiet gestures that Liam hadn’t realised he’d missed until now. Zayn going out in a strange city and getting him soup because he was sniffling wasn’t quite the same as an assistant making an order from a nearby deli to have it delivered to the tour bus.
“It was nothing,” Zayn said. Also a very Zayn thing to do, play the sweetness of the gesture off. “Just send me a pic of you in it when you get it,” he ordered.
“I’ll send you a hundred,” Liam promised.
“Okay,” Zayn said, and Liam knew he was smiling, but the one with his eyes crinkled this time. “Wanna hear the birthday song again? I didn’t download it for three helluva long minutes to just play it once.”
6:
“How are you?” Zayn asked, careful-sounding.
“Mostly I just wish everyone would stop treating me like I have some kind of terminal illness,” Liam said. He stared up at the ceiling. It was very dark. He really liked the darkness right now. It felt right.
“I guess they’re just trying to be gentle with your feelings?” Zayn said. “They did that for me. To be fair, I did hate it too. So. Be bitter all you want."
Zayn had never really said much about his own break up. Just: yeah, it's true, when Liam had diplomatically enquired after things the week after he'd read about it online. Liam wouldn't have, usually, but now he asked: "Did it really, really suck for you?"
Zayn considered this for a bit. Liam could hear the soft strains of a boppy, achy beat in the background. It was 2 am for them both; Liam guessed that he wasn't with his family. "Towards the end it felt kind of inevitable," he said eventually. "So I had a bit of time to, you know. Mourn. It was a long time coming. But it did suck."
"She just - they never tell you about all the stuff you have to sacrifice, when they get you to sign a five album contract," Liam said. "And she just decided it wasn't worth it. Which is fine. She didn't sign the contract. But they never tell you about all the stuff."
"I know," Zayn agreed, quiet. "You know I know that more than anyone."
Liam knew. He hadn't said anything about it for days, but tonight, dark and silent except for the soft music coming from Zayn's end, this felt like something he could tell, that: "It feels like everything's ending. This, and the band, and. A chapter, you know? A part of my life. I'm relieved, in a way, and I'm also devastated. It's all connected, and everything's so - I don't know what I'm going to do," he admitted.
"But isn't that the beauty of it?" Zayn asked.
7:
"Have you listened to it?"
Zayn laughed. "No. God, no."
"You could at least offer your support," Liam said, then hated how petulant it had come out.
"Is it really that important to you? I would, except I'll never make myself get around to it. Why don't you play it for me like you did Drag Me Down?"
"I'm not going to play you a whole album over the phone just 'cause you're too lazy to load up Spotify," Liam sniffed.
"Don't sulk, Lee-yum." Zayn was in a soft, silly mood, probably weed influenced; he'd drawn out the Heeeeey when he'd answered the call, giggled at Liam's story of how a fan had almost made him miss a flight. If he was around people, he'd be physically affectionate: draping an arm over their shoulders, nuzzling his face into their necks, falling across their laps with lazy, cat-like abandon. Liam should know. He'd been in enough tour buses and hotel rooms with him over the years to know.
He abruptly realised he missed having Zayn to temper the rounds of media and press they had to do with the album, now four-times familiar to them but no less exhausting. It was the reason he felt more irritated at everything in general today. It was the reason, subconsciously, that he had called. Like he was reading Liam's mind, Zayn said: "You have some time off after this whole thing, right? A few days or so? You should come down. Play it for me. Tell me about each song. Please come."
"Okay," Liam said. He didn't know whether Zayn was just inviting him because he was high. He didn't care. "Okay."
8:
"Merry Christmas," Zayn said.
"Hey," Liam said. "It's not Christmas yet."
"It's so I'll be the first one. Happy Louis day, then, if you're going to be technical about it."
"Are you going to wish him?"
Zayn hummed. "I don't think so. You can pass it along if you want, though."
That evening hadn't fixed anything for Liam. It had been all beer and music and the sunset illuminating the curve of Zayn's lip, his lashes; it had been Zayn's easy physical affection, his way of showing Liam he'd been missed; it had been golden and warm and he only missed Zayn more now, or it'd drawn back the curtain and made him realise exactly how much he'd been missing him all along.
"Merry Christmas," Liam said, and then, before realising he was going to say it: "How's Gigi?"
Zayn made that humming noise again. "Fun," he replied. "A good friend."
"...oh," Liam said.
"Oh," Zayn mimicked, fond. "When are you coming over again?"
"Soon," Liam said. "Promise."
9:
"Merry actual Christmas," Liam said. The Santa hat he was wearing itched. He observed himself in the mirror. He still wanted to take selfies with it, though, so it could stay for a bit.
"Nice hat," Zayn returned. "You didn't actually give me time to text back a response. I had so many jokes lined up."
"Everyone's a wise guy," Liam said.
"What are the rest doing for Christmas?"
"You know," Liam said, "you could also ask them yourself."
"Like they'd answer," Zayn said, and there was no other word to describe his tone but bitter.
"Fuck, Zayn," Liam exhaled. "It's like - it's like say one of your little sisters ran away and got married to this horrible disreputable guy who can't support himself, much less her, has a whole other family, is on crack. The whole nine yards. Are you mad? Yes. Is it irredeemable, unforgivable? No. That's how they feel. Like their brother eloped. They were angry. They're still upset. They won't be upset forever."
Zayn said: "That's a strange metaphor." He swallowed audibly. "Are you still upset?"
"No," Liam said, and since it was Christmas, and it had been too long since he'd seen Zayn last; because it had been almost a year since Zayn left, and it'd felt like too much longer; because this was an ending of a chapter, but it also meant the start of a new one, he said: "No. I told you, remember? I get it. I was never angry at you. I was only upset at the thought of losing you."
10:
"Hey," Liam said. "Happy birthday."
"Thanks, babe," Zayn told him, a smile in his voice. A real one. "Approximation?"
"Five minutes," Liam said. "Leave the gate open."