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The best way to sum the whole thing up, Liam thinks, is what Louis said on the set of Best Song Ever. He'd muttered it not long after Zayn had come out of makeup, all long, dark hair and fake boobs and perfect makeup. It had been a little surprising, honestly. Like, they all knew it was happening, but there's a big difference between hearing "Okay, Zayn, you're going to be made into a lady," and actually seeing it in real life.
He wasn't half bad, is the thing. Maybe not, like, Victoria's Secret model hot, but Liam would be lying if he said the four of them hadn't given Zayn very considering once overs once he'd gotten fully dressed, tugging at the hem of his skirt.
"I don't know how to feel," Harry had said, head cocked to the side, looking genuinely befuddled.
And Louis had scoffed, rolled his eyes, and said, "You're all acting like this is the first time Zayn's made you question your sexuality. It's Zayn. That's, like, his entire purpose on this planet."
Which — seems to be true, at least for Liam.
Really, Liam is straight. Ninety-eight percent straight, at least. He likes women. He likes soft skin and round breasts and curves. He likes flowing hair and feminine giggles and sweet perfume. His crush on Justin Timberlake, he thinks, is just an exception. He's not even sure if it is a crush. Maybe Liam's just comfortable enough with himself to be able to appreciate attractive, talented men.
And then there's Zayn and, well, that's a whole different story. That's not a celebrity crush. That's not a slight infatuation with someone he's barely met before, who he's mostly only admired (and idolized) from afar. It's completely different, and it's completely horrible.
It started, he believes, when they were on the X Factor. Liam had been extremely out of his element at the beginning, and Zayn had been so different from Louis and Niall and Harry. Sure, he could goof off like the rest of them, cause a scene, get rowdy and annoying. But there was the other side to Zayn, the calmed, softer spoken side, that had sucked Liam in. Zayn had always been Liam's favorite.
But then Zayn grew up. It's really unfair, actually, that Liam had to witness the whole thing up close. Had to watch Zayn go from a soft, round cheeked boy into a man. And that's when things started to get complicated, when Zayn thinned out a little, started growing out his facial hair. When he started dressing in tighter, edgier clothes. When he etched his skin in ink and really perfected that smoldering smirk of his.
Zayn Malik is bloody gorgeous, and anyone can see that. It's just — a fact. Common knowledge. So it really shouldn't affect Liam, it shouldn't. Because, like, they're all attractive in their own right. Harry's got the dimples and the charm; Louis has that playful, mischievous ruggedness; Niall has the frat boy thing going for him. But Liam didn't get a budding attraction to them; just Zayn, unfortunately.
Maybe it's more than attraction, though. Maybe it's more than wanting to know how that stubble would feel between his thighs; maybe it's more than wanting to kiss those lips of Zayn's until they're red and swollen. Maybe, Liam can admit, he's in love with Zayn.
Actually, that's probably a fact, too. Zayn is attractive: fact. Liam is in love with him: fact. Being in love with your best friend/bandmate is a bad idea: also fact.
Whatever. Liam's come to terms with it. Liam can handle it. He's been handling it. It's something he's pushed to the back of his mind, convinced himself isn't a big deal. He's got a girlfriend now, anyways, and Zayn's got Perrie, and Liam can honestly deal with it.
Or he thought he could. He thought he could handle it. He was handling it. He was handling it fucking brilliantly, actually, until Perrie showed up to the movie premier with that thing on her finger.
Engagement ring.
The words echoes in his mind as people talk all around him. Liam doesn't hear them anymore. Doesn't hear Niall asking him what's wrong, or the cheering and shouting from the crowd, or any of the people closest to him. There's this whooshing sound in Liam's ears as he focuses on her, so far away in the crowd yet somehow completely distinguishable.
Zayn's mum is with them, but Liam barely notices that. In fact, he barely notices Zayn, either. All he notices is the ring on Perrie's finger. Zayn leans in to kiss her, and even that doesn't register in Liam's mind, really. It's only the ring, reflecting light, somehow so noticeable even though it shouldn't be.
It's on her wedding finger. There's no doubt about what it is. They can't afford to do something like that without meaning it, not when the two of them are completely aware of what Perrie wearing a ring on that finger symbolizes, what everyone would assume it means. Which means it has to actually mean that.
Engaged. He asked her to marry him. He — he fucking did it. And Zayn hadn't thought to, oh, he doesn't know, maybe mention it to one of them?
"Can you believe this?" Louis' voice cuts through the fog in Liam's mind. "This is incredible!"
"Yeah," Liam mumbles, eyes still on the three of them in the distance. "Incredible."
Louis must follow Liam's line of sight, because the next thing Liam knows, Louis is turning him, pinching his side a little roughly. Liam lets out a yelp of surprise and Louis hugs him, whispering so no one else will be able to pick up on it, "Nothing's set in stone, babe. Just ignore it."
Liam pushes him back. "Ignore what?" he asks, plastering a bright, fake smile on his face.
"That's it," Louis says, patting his shoulder. "Just enjoy this. Forget about it."
And Liam does. He pushes all thoughts of it from his mind and instead lets himself get caught up in what really is an incredible experience.
*
Ignoring it gets really freaking hard when it's all anyone can talk about. And Liam's not bitter, he's not. He's happy for Zayn. So, so happy for him, he really is. He's just irritated (not jealous) that Zayn hadn't mentioned it beforehand. Not that Zayn owes them anything, it's not like he has to ask the rest of the group before he's allowed to get married or something, but a little warning would have been nice, since it does affect all of them.
The first time, it kind of blindsides Liam. It's been discussed, obviously. Zayn's mentioned it, quietly mumbling that, yeah, he did kind of sort of maybe ask Perrie to marry him. But when the interviewer brings it up, Liam doesn't have time to prepare his reaction.
His smile slips from his face as one slides onto Zayn's. There are congratulations, a bit of talk. Liam honestly has to force himself not to roll his eyes, but he's not entirely sure if he manages to stop himself. But everyone's making such a big deal of it, which is just annoying. Zayn gets skipped over a lot in interviews. No one ever brings up Zayn's charity work, the money he's donated to different organizations. No one brings up Zayn's art, even though it's something he's expressed being passionate about. But Zayn's getting married and suddenly that's good enough to put the spotlight on him?
It's bullshit, the whole thing is bullshit, and it's only the beginning.
The second time, Liam thinks he handles it a little better. He kind of retreats into himself, mouth clacking closed, pretending he doesn't hear the words engagement or wedding or Perrie, and eventually the subject changes and they move on.
At the VMAs it's a little easier to deal with because Zayn seems to be just as done with the whole thing as Liam feels, and he honest to god gives the interviewer a thumbs up when it's brought up, with a tight, almost sarcastic smile. Which is why, later on, Liam isn't irritated with Zayn. Which is why he doesn't pout or brood when he's sat next to Zayn most of the night. Which is why he doesn't push Zayn's hand off his thigh, which squeezes tightly when they win.
At the New York premier, Liam is somehow roped into the whole thing. The interviewer says something about ring bearers, and Liam retreats again, trying to focus on the awesome sandwich he'd had for lunch earlier instead of more engagement talk (seriously, how many times can they bring it up? Are people still interested in this? Because Liam sure as hell isn't).
But Zayn says something about Louis being reckless, and then he says Liam's name, followed with, "I reckon he'll keep it safe," and Liam has no choice but to tune into the conversation.
Oh, yeah, he would definitely keep the ring safe. He'd shove it so far up Zayn's ass that it'd be impossible to lose, if he ever managed to get it back out.
So it's fairly obvious that Liam isn't exactly jumping for joy for his best friend, but he can't help it. And it's taking its toll, he realizes. He and Zayn argue more than they ever have, which is weird. They don't fight, Zayn and Liam. That'd be like Harry and Niall fighting; it just doesn't happen. Sure, Zayn fights with Louis, and sometimes Liam fights with Louis, or gets annoyed with Harry. But Zayn and Liam, in all of their time as best friends, have only fought a handful of times, and each one was fairly serious.
This is different. This isn't a big blow up. This is small little bickering arguments over the stupidest things. Zayn smokes in the car, once, and Liam pointedly coughs in annoyance until Zayn stops, and then smirks smugly when he does. Zayn borrows Liam's favourite shirt without asking, and Liam harps on him about never packing enough, never asking before he touches all their stuff. Zayn lets it slip at an interview about the time Liam drooled on him when he'd accidentally fallen asleep during a flight, and Liam glares at him for the rest of the interview. Zayn is the only one who doesn't tweet Liam on his birthday, and Liam ignores him for three days.
It's all petty and ridiculous, and the others are starting to notice it, but Liam can't help it, he really can't. He's just so irritated by Zayn lately. Every single thing he does has Liam's jaw clenching and his teeth gritting, and the feeling seems to be mutual, if Zayn's snappy mood towards Liam is any indication.
The short, few weeks break they take before the Australian leg of the tour is probably good for them all.
*
Liam figured the time apart would make things better between them. Abstinence makes the heart grow fonder, or something like that. Or is it absence? Whatever, it doesn't matter because it didn't. Or maybe it's not the riff between him and Zayn that causes the argument. Maybe it's the impossibly long, exhausted flight from London to Australia, but whatever the reason, it still happens.
It's after they've gotten off the plane, everyone stiff and irritable, and they're climbing into the car to take them to the hotel. Harry and Niall are in a separate vehicle, and Liam, Zayn and Louis are in one of their own. Louis snags the whole back seat, putting up his legs and grumbling about the long flight, which leaves Zayn and Liam in the middle seats. And as Zayn's pulling on his seatbelt, he elbows Liam in the side.
Liam makes an annoyed sound before he can help himself, and then Zayn's turning on him, eyes narrowed, snapping, "It's not like I fucking did it on purpose, Liam."
Two months ago, Liam would have been wounded by that tone and look in Zayn's eyes. Now, all it does is make anger flare inside him. "I didn't even say anything!" he snaps right back, a little defensively.
"Whatever," Zayn grumbles, settling back into his seat. He crosses his arms over his chest, glaring at the front of the car.
Liam could let it go. He knows Zayn, knows that Zayn would be happy to leave the argument at that, brooding all the way back to the hotel. He'd give Liam the silent treatment, ignoring him for as long as he could before he broke and they both apologized. But Liam doesn't let it go. "Are you trying to pick a fight with me?" he demands. "Because it feels like you go off on me for every tiny little thing."
"Are you kidding me?" Zayn looks more than a little scandalized. "You're the one always starting shit lately! You've got something stuck so far up your ass these last few weeks that—"
"Fuck you, Zayn," Liam growls.
Zayn actually looks a little surprised by the vehemence in Liam's tone; Liam is, too. But that doesn't stop Zayn from spitting "Fuck you," right back.
"Guys." Louis leans forward, hands resting on the back of Zayn and Liam's seats. "What the hell is going on?"
Neither of them answer, for a moment. They both just sit there, turned to each other, Louis' hands acting as a separator between their bodies. That little argument was all it took to make Liam feel heated, his hands clenched into fists, his chest heaving, his breathing unsteady. He figures his face is red, too, but so is Zayn's, his cheeks flushed and his mouth a thin, angry line.
When he's mad, Zayn's a little frightening. He's not the same as the others, shouting and stomping and making a scene. Zayn is good with words, can slice into someone with a simple sentence, but it's his looks that kill. That anger etched into every line of his face, a dark, almost scary look in his eyes. Zayn would be the one to punch you, out of all of the lads. Louis might raise a hand and consider slapping someone, but you'd have to push him pretty far to make him actually do it, Liam figures. If Niall's drunk enough, Liam could see him getting physical, maybe. Harry — he doesn't want to know what it would take to get Harry to snap enough to hit someone, but it'd have to be something terrible.
Zayn, on the other hand, is like a venomous snake when he's angry. Liam's honestly waiting for him to strike.
Instead, Zayn sighs and breaks eye contact. "Nothing's going on," he mutters. "Stay out of it, Louis."
"Stay out of it," Louis repeats. "You realize that this fight between the two of you affects the band as a whole, yes? That when you two are fighting, it throws off the entire dynamic of the group and—"
"Stay out of it, Louis," Liam says this time.
Louis leans back in his seat, looking sufficiently put out. Liam would feel bad if he weren't too busy being angry at Zayn. And maybe Louis does have a point, rationally, but Liam doesn't care. This is between the two of them, not the five of them, and as much as Liam loves his boys, sometimes he can't always think with a group mentality.
There isn't a horde of fans outside the hotel when they get there, probably because they're not publicly scheduled to get to the hotel until tomorrow. This gives them a whole day (or until one of them gets spotted and hell breaks loose) of freedom. Normally Liam would take advantage of that, they'd all go out together, maybe, enjoy themselves while they can. Now, all Liam wants to do is go to his room and sleep.
When Liam receives his room key, he gets in the elevator with his carry-on bag and goes to do just that, but Louis follows him, his own key held tightly in his hands. Liam wonders if he can lock Louis out, just shut the door behind himself and ignore Louis when he inevitably pounds on the door and curses up a storm for Liam ignoring him, but he knows he can't. Having Zayn mad at him is bad enough; he doesn't want to fight with Louis, too. (Plus, if he fights with Louis then Harry will be mad at him, too, and if Harry's mad at him, Niall will inevitably take Harry's side, and then it'll be Liam against the four of them, and he needs Louis on his side too much anyways.)
Liam drops his bag on the floor by the end of the bed. He barely even takes inventory of the room. At this point, they've stayed at so many hotels that they all blur together. Most of them are near exact replicas of each other. Bed in the center, pushed against the wall, usually with a large framed picture hanging above it. Windows, sometimes floor to ceiling, sometimes not. A bathroom that may or may not have a Jacuzzi, depending on the hotel. Somewhere to put his clothes, maybe a desk or something. It's all pretty basic.
Liam sinks onto the bed and looks up at Louis, who went straight to the window, pulling back the curtain to let natural lighting into the room. "If you're going to lecture me," Liam starts, but he doesn't get to finish.
"I'm not going to lecture you," Louis promises, and Liam lets out a sigh of relief. "I'm going to give you some good, friendly advice."
Liam groans, falling back against the mattress. "How's that any different?"
"You know," Louis muses, "I miss it when you weren't a sassy little shit. I miss stuck up, reserved Liam. Bring him back to me, would you?"
Liam flips him off.
"Seriously, though." Louis sits on the bed, letting out a sigh. "I don't know what happened with the two of you, Liam, but it's…. You need to fix it. It's not just between the two of you anymore, it's between all of us. And none of us like to see either of you hurting."
"We're not hurting," Liam argues. "I'm not hurting, at least. I'm peachy, actually. Wonderful. Brilliant, even. Completely happy."
"Liam," Louis says, and Liam tilts his head to the side, raising his eyebrows. "Come on, babe. You can lie to the rest of the world, but you can't lie to me. I know you too well, idiot."
"People fight," Liam says, almost softly. "It happens, especially when they spend as much time together as we do. It's not a big deal, Louis. It'll blow over. We're just irritable, or something; I don't know. It'll be fine."
"That's the thing, though!" Louis nearly shouts. Liam had seen this coming. It's near impossible to have a quiet, soft spoken conversation with Louis. Louis is full volume, all the time. "You and Zayn don't fight, Liam! That's the point! You're not supposed to. You're supposed to have each other's backs. You're supposed to be best friends."
"Best friends fight."
"Not because one of them gets engaged," Louis snips. "At least, not male best friends. Sometimes girls do, but that's more jealousy over the fact that one of them is getting hitched before the other than anything."
Liam sits up so fast that the room goes out of focus for a second. "That's not what this is about," Liam says, dangerously quiet.
"What did I just say about you lying to me?" Louis gives him a disbelieving look. "You and I both know that this whole — riff between you two happened after the engagement, so don't try to bullshit your way out of this, Liam."
"I'm not," Liam denies. "This isn't about that."
"Then what's it about, hmm?"
It takes Liam a moment to answer that, but he refuses to give Louis the satisfaction of admitting that maybe he's right. Liam doesn't want to think about the engagement being the reason behind this, because then he'd have to open that box that he sealed away, the one he'd stuffed all his feelings for Zayn in and locked tightly. The one he refuses to ever open because it'd be the end of everything, he thinks.
Their fight is not about the engagement. "It's about Zayn being a prick," he decides.
Louis snorts. "Seriously? That the best you got? We're all pricks, 'cept maybe Niall, but you're not fighting with the rest of us."
Liam shrugs and lies back down against the bed. Not long after, Louis sighs and runs his hands through Liam's hair. It feels nice, even if it was something that used to throw him off, the touching. He's gotten used to it, over the years. Learned to like it, crave it when he doesn't get it. Louis brushing his hands though Liam's hair is just as normal as Louis laying on Harry and Niall, or Zayn falling asleep with his head on Liam's shoulder.
"You need to fix this," Louis says again, eventually. "Apologize. Tell him you're sorry for being an ass, and—"
"Me?" Liam glares at Louis without lifting his head. "He's the one who's always starting it."
"So be the bigger man and finish it," Louis snaps. "Bitter jealousy doesn't look good on anyone."
"I'm not bitter," Liam grumbles, doing his best not to pout or sound like a whiny child. "And I'm not jealous."
"Then there's no reason for the two of you to be fighting," Louis says. "So apologize."
"Why can't you tell him to apologize?"
"This is Zayn we're talking about," Louis reminds him. "He might be a ridiculous goofball, but there is some truth to his broody, angsty image. And he's stubborn as hell. You have to be the first to say it and you know it."
Yeah, Liam does. It's always been like that. Whenever they have fought (again, something that rarely happens), Liam always had to apologize first. It's annoying, and it pisses him off, but Zayn can be counted on to apologize tenfold once someone else has already done it. He just won't do it first, even if he knows he's in the wrong.
And Liam does want the fighting to stop, he realizes. As mad as he is at Zayn, Liam misses him when they're not close. Misses being able to call on Zayn in the middle of the night just to chat. Misses being able to roughhouse with him. Misses the teasing banter that isn't aimed to insult and hurt. Misses Zayn, in general, everything about him, all the time.
"Okay," Liam agrees. "I'll try."
"Good," Louis says, happy and bright. "Maybe tonight? We could all go out, do something together, like. Dinner, or a movie, maybe. 's been a while since we've all done something out together, the five of us."
Which is true, mostly because it's too much of a risk, most of the time, the five of them going out at once. But it'd be nice, actually. If they could get Zayn on board.
"Don't you worry about that," Louis says. "I'll convince Zayn. You work out your big, dramatic apology speech."
"Apology speech?" Liam repeats. "I was planning something like 'Sorry for fighting with you lately' and praying he says it back."
"Whatever." Louis climbs off the bed. "Be ready for seven, okay?"
Liam nods and Louis finally leaves him alone with his thoughts.
*
"It's the best I could do on short notice," Louis grumbles. "And we all like bowling. What's the big deal?"
"I thought we were going to a club," Zayn argues. "I didn't agree to spending my night off throwing balls down a lane with the four of you."
"I didn't even know they had bowling in Australia," Niall says, and sometimes Liam wonders if Niall talks just to feel included, because that's —
"We'll go to a club later," Louis bargains, cutting in before Zayn can snort something not so flattering at Niall for that comment. "Bowling first. All of us, like we used to. It'll be fun."
It's the 'like we used to' that gets them all. Liam sees the moment it happens, the way Harry grins, and Zayn shuffles his feet on the ground with his hands buried in his pockets, shoulders drooping. He feels it himself, too, any hesitance pushed away because it'd be nice, actually, to do something like they used to. Before they grew up, changed, got so big that doing things like this was too difficult to plan.
Zayn's gaze lifts, meeting Liam's steadily. Liam chews his bottom lip, and he refuses to be the first one to break eye contact. Zayn seems determined not to break it, either, which leaves them stuck there, in a staring match that's only occasionally paused when one of them blinks.
"Let's get our shoes." Louis claps Liam on the shoulder and Liam finally pulls his eyes away from Zayn, just as Louis nods his head in Zayn's direction. "I'll get yours and Zayn's. You two talk."
Louis pulls the others away, leaving Zayn and Liam standing there, just inside the bowling alley. There's a claw machine beside them, filled with cheap toys that you'll spend more than they're worth trying to win. The whole alley is rented out for them, the only other people inside being employees, which means it's really, really quiet. In the distance he can hear Harry and Louis arguing while Niall pulls on his bowling shoes, and he wishes it were louder because the quiet feels oppressive.
"Talk about what?" Zayn finally asks, eyebrows raised expectantly, something guarded in his eyes like he's expecting another fight, is already prepared for it.
Liam rubs at the back of his neck. "I'm supposed to apologize."
Zayn snorts. "An apology doesn't count if someone else forced you into it, Liam."
Liam hates that, the cold distance in Zayn's voice. That's not how this is supposed to be. He and Zayn should be over there with the others, laughing with each other while Zayn wrinkles his nose at the bowling shoes, and Liam nearly trips trying pulling his own on. They're supposed to ruffle each other's hair until it's a mess, playfully shove at each other's shoulders, laugh like they mean it. Not glare at each other, tensed and ready for another argument, separated from the group.
"I mean it," Liam says, honest and sincere. "I'm sorry for — everything lately."
Zayn glares at him for about two more seconds before a smile twitches at his lips, and then he gives in, full on grinning at Liam. "Really?"
"I don't like fighting with you," Liam admits. "I actually hate it. It's the worst."
"Yeah," Zayn agrees. "It sucks." He drops his gaze. "I don't even really, like, know what started it in the first place."
Liam swallows, thinking that he knows, at least. But he's not going to say it out loud, because if he says it out loud that'll make it true. And that'll ruin everything. "So, bowling?" Liam says instead.
Zayn bumps their shoulders together. "Get ready to have your ass kicked, Liam."
Liam scoffs. "You're a shit bowler, Zayn, and you know it."
Zayn sticks out his tongue and they make their way over to the others. Half an hour later and they're nearly done their first game, with Louis and Liam winning and Zayn right behind them, and Harry and Niall helplessly struggling to keep up.
It's so freaking refreshing, Liam thinks. It's so nice to laugh when Zayn gets a gutter ball, but not laugh at him. And it's nice that Zayn flips him off with a grin on his face afterwards. It's going good. It's fun. Liam's sipping his bottle of water, watching as Louis takes his turn, and then Zayn's phone rings and ruins the entire thing.
Zayn gets up, digging into his pocket as he puts a bit of distance between all of them. And Liam hears it, hears his, "Hey, babe," all soft and sweet, followed not long after by, "I miss you, too."
Liam grits his teeth, but he promises himself that he won't let it get to him. They just patched things up. He's not going to go and ruin it because he's jealous. Not that he's jealous. Shit.
"Liam," Louis says. "You're up, mate."
Liam blinks. He recaps his drink and grabs his ball, and takes a step up to the lane. It goes directly in the gutter, and Louis snickers. Liam glares at him for it and waits for his ball to come back out, and then he goes up to the line again, taking a deep breath.
Zany and Perrie's talk was short, apparently, because Liam sees him out the corner of his eyes, sinking down next to Niall, arm going around Niall's shoulders. Liam takes a deep breath, pushing Zayn from his mind, and swings his arm back.
There's a loud thump when his ball hits the lane, released a little too late. It actually bounces before going crooked. It rolls slowly into the gutter, and it takes a long, long time before it reaches the end of the lane, disappearing without knocking down a single pin.
"Nice one," Zayn teases. "Put your hands together, everyone. Liam Payne: Bowling Extraordinaire."
"I'm still beating you," Liam grits before he can stop himself.
Zayn looks taken aback only for a second. "For now," he challenges. "I'm catching up."
He does. In fact, Zayn wins, beating Louis only by a few points. Liam clenches his hands into fists, tells himself it's just the game, nothing else, that's annoying him. He doesn't like to lose, that's all. Liam's competitive, always has been. He's the type of person who has to do the best; there's no second place for Liam.
Except when it comes to Zayn, apparently.
Whatever. Louis is right; bitter jealousy doesn't look good on anyone, and he locks that box up again, adds this night to the pile of things he doesn't want to think about, and he focuses on winning the next game instead. But he loses spectacularly, and his mood gets worse.
"Smile, Liam," Louis says at one point. "It's bowling, not a visit to the dentist."
Liam smiles, completely put on until Niall pokes at his cheek, and then it gets a little more genuine. Until Zayn's up, and he completely botches his turn. Now it's completely genuine.
"Wow, Zayn," Liam says. "You know, I always thought the point was to actually hit the pins, but your way works too, I guess."
On Zayn's second go, he falters, and this time Liam only laughs at him.
"Don't be an asshole," Zayn spits as he takes his seat.
Liam feigns innocence. "It's just a game, Zayn. It's okay to suck."
Harry leans forward in his seat, nervously darting a glance between the two of them. He's sitting right beside Liam, now, and Liam's sure Harry can feel it. There might be a slightly teasing note in their voices, but there's an annoyed energy that cracks between Liam and Zayn yet again, hot and electric, ready to strike at any moment.
When Liam gets up to take his turn, Zayn shouts something just before he releases the ball, and it goes wide, actually falling into the next lane. Liam whirls, eyes wide, and Zayn cackles, looking so pleased with himself.
"What the hell was that?" Liam demands. "That's cheating!"
"It's just a game, Liam," Zayn mocks. "It's okay to suck."
"That was a nice forty minutes," Louis sighs. "God, you two are fucking ridiculous."
"He started it," Zayn grumbles, crossing his arms over his chest.
No, Liam thinks. Zayn started it. Zayn started it when he asked her to marry him without — "Whatever," Liam says, standing up. "I'm going back to the hotel."
"We might as all go," Louis snaps. "This was pointless."
"But the game's not over," Niall protests. "I reckon I could still win this."
"You've knocked over fifteen pins the whole game," Harry tells him. "Fifteen."
"'s that good?" Niall whispers. Harry shakes his head solemnly. "Oh, a'right. We can go, then."
The ride back to the hotel is quiet. Liam sits between Niall and Louis, with Zayn and Harry in front of him, whispering heatedly. Or, Zayn's fiercely saying things under his breath, gesturing animatedly while Harry looks tired and sad. Guilt floods Liam, since it's his fault and he knows it, but then Zayn's phone rings again and the guilt disappears.
This time it's Zayn who follows him to his room. Liam hears his footsteps, almost whirls around and shouts at him for it, but instead he leaves his door open when he steps inside, and Zayn comes in behind him, looking annoyed and hurt, simultaneously.
"What was the point of apologizing, then?" Zayn wonders. "You went back to being an asshole five fucking minutes later. I don't see what you were gaining there."
Liam sighs and rolls his eyes. "I wasn't trying to be an asshole," he says, because he wasn't. It just sorta happened. Like Zayn's freaking engagement.
"But you still succeeded," Zayn says.
"You were pretty fast to be an asshole right back," Liam points out. "Don't put this all on me."
"But you started it!" Zayn snaps. "Every time! And I don't know what the fuck happened, but it's getting really tiring, Liam."
"What's getting tiring?" Liam demands. "Fighting with me? Because you seem to enjoy it."
"Trying to like you anymore," Zayn answers, low and angry.
Liam winces. So that's it, then. This is what their friendship has crumbled down to. And it hurts, actually. It really freaking hurts to hear Zayn say that, but it's easier to pretend that it doesn't, to channel that annoyance inside him instead, which is why he steps up to Zayn and says, "Then stop trying."
Zayn shoves him. Just as Liam knew would eventually happen. "I fucking will, then," Zayn snaps.
Liam pushes him right back. Zayn stumbles, eyes wide, and he's grabbing at Liam to stay upright, but Liam steps back, lets Zayn nearly fall flat on his face. Zayn catches himself at the last second, though, and he gapes at Liam, equal parts angry and shocked.
"Get out of my room," Liam orders, "because I'm not stopping at pushing you next time."
"Oh, like you'd ever hit me," Zayn spits. "You don't have the fucking guts to do it, Liam. But fine." He pulls open the door. "Consider this me walking out of your life, you fucking—" He can't seem to find the right word to fit there, so he slams the door instead.
"Asshole!" Liam shouts through the door.
"Go fuck yourself!" Zayn shouts right back.
Liam makes a frustrated sound as he locks the door, and then he paces the room, furious and helpless.
Did that really happen?
Sure, they've been fighting constantly lately but — but that was different. Something broke, he realizes. Between Zayn pushing him and Liam pushing him back, something snapped and cracked and shattered. Something incredibly important.
Them, Liam realizes. Their friendship. That's what just happened, isn't it? It went from petty arguing to a real, full out blow-up. And there's this sinking in Liam's stomach, like there's no coming back from that. Like they've been broken into too many pieces to ever glue back together, and it's all because of Liam. He did start it, he knows.
But Zayn continued it, he thinks. It's just as much Zayn's fault as it is Liam's. He didn't try to apologize. At least Liam had made that last attempt to fix things; Zayn never does. Zayn's the type of person who would rather let things break if they're already cracked, never attempting to put them back together before they're ruined irreparably.
Fine. If that's what Zayn wants, fine. Liam doesn't need him, anyways.
Liam pulls off his shirt, kicks off his shoes, and undoes his jeans. He crawls into bed, tugging the blankets up high, still fuming. It takes him forever to get to sleep, but when he does he's still cursing Zayn's name, vowing to never forgive him for this. Lying in the hotel bed, too hot to get comfortable, Liam thinks that he may just hate Zayn.
At least, he hates Zayn for making him like this.
*
When Liam wakes up, it feels like he'd barely slept. And there's this heaviness, this aching in his head, the way he always feels when he'd spent the whole night crying. But he hadn't shed a single tear last night, though he almost had out of frustration.
Immediately everything from last night comes back to him, and he angrily kicks off the blankets, feeling annoyed already.
"Go back to bed."
Liam jumps at Harry's voice, eyes wide. He turns, finding Harry half asleep next to him.
When had he gotten here? Liam didn't let him in last night. In fact, Liam hadn't talked to Harry after they left the bowling alley. Not that something like this is uncommon. They all crawl into each other's beds sometimes, when they're missing home or drunk. But Harry tends to go to Zayn or Louis or Niall, most of the time. Liam's more likely to wake up to Louis or Zayn in his bed.
Frowning, Liam wipes at his eyes and shakes his head. "What are you doing here?" he asks.
"Tryin' sleep," Harry mumbles. "Please be quiet."
Liam snorts fondly. He's polite, Harry, even when he's half-unconscious. Liam shakes his head again and gets out of bed, heading for the bathroom. He has to pee bad, and he needs something for his head. Maybe fighting with Zayn has given him a headache. Wouldn't be the first time.
Something's a little off about his room, but Liam's too tired to think of what it is. It almost looks like a different room, actually. The windows are on the opposite side, and the bathroom was definitely against the left wall, he thought, but now it's against the right.
He's losing it, apparently. Or maybe he's still half asleep like Harry, he reasons. Whatever it is, he figures a shower will help.
Liam rubs at his eyes as he passes the mirror, going straight for the toilet, but he pauses, eyebrows furrowing, and backtracks. And then he kind of just gapes at himself in the mirror. Only it's not — it's not his mouth that falls open in the reflection. It's not his eyes that are wide and fucking shocked. It's not his reflection.
Liam's looked at Zayn a lot in his life (it's hard not to) and he knows what Zayn looks like, whether he's done up, hair styled and wearing a perfectly pressed suit and clean shaven, or scruffy with messy hair and dirty sweats. There is no mistaking what he's seeing in the mirror, and it's Zayn.
Cautiously, Liam lifts a hand. Zayn in the mirror lifts his hand. Liam presses it to the glass, and the reflection mirrors the action. Liam licks his lips; Zayn in the mirror licks his lips. Liam pinches himself and winces; so does Zayn in the mirror.
What the hell is happening?
Liam looks down. He'd gone to sleep in his black boxers. Now, his skinny, hairy thighs are wrapped in white briefs. And there's that wolf tattoo of Zayn's on his calf and— his arms are decorated in Zayn's tattoos, too. His own arrows and feather are gone, replace with ZAP and Zayn's bandana and, fuck, there's the Perrie tattoo, clear as day on his bicep.
Swallowing, Liam pulls the collar of the tank top he's wearing (he'd went to sleep shirtless) away, peering down at his chest. Lips and wings. Holy shit.
Liam turns, fumbling with the bathroom door as he pulls it open. He stumbles into the room, and he realizes now why it looks odd. It's not his room. It's completely different, on the opposite side of the building so everything's reversed. And that explains Harry in his bed. Zayn would have roped Harry into staying with him after their fight last night (that's what they do, trying to make the others pick sides, and Harry tends to take Zayn's).
"Harry," Liam hisses but — it's Zayn's voice. He reaches for Harry's shoulders, shaking them violently. "Get up!"
Harry rolls over, eyes blinking open slowly. "What's wrong?" he asks. "'m tired, Zayn. Stop."
"Who am I?" Liam demands.
"Excuse me?" Harry sits up, rubbing at his eyes.
"Who am I?" Liam repeats, a little shrilly. "Who am I, Harry?"
"Is this some kinky thing where I'm s'posed to call you daddy?" Harry wonders. "Because it's too early for that."
"Harry," Liam snaps. "This is serious. Who am I?"
"Zayn," Harry states. "You're Zayn. And you're acting crazy, just so you know."
Liam shakes his head, clutching at his throat for some reason. He can't breathe; he's panicking. What's happening here? Is this some kind of nightmare? Or maybe, like, someone broke into his room while he was passed out and drugged him or something. That's got to be it. This is insane.
"I'm— I'm not Zayn," Liam says. "I'm not Zayn. I'm Liam."
Harry lazily blinks at him, yawning without covering his mouth. "You're what?"
"Oh my God," Liam says, falling onto the bed. "This is really happening."
"What's really happening?" Harry demands. He sounds a little concerned now, as he sits all the way up, peering closely at Liam. "Are you drunk? Did you sneak out while I was asleep and get trashed?"
Liam shakes his head, trying to calm his panting breaths. "I went to sleep," Liam says, "and I woke up in Zayn's body, Harry. What the fuck is happening?"
"Is this a prank?" Harry asks, no longer concerned. He's starting to look annoyed, like Liam's being difficult. "You and Louis need to be stopped. This is weird, even for you. What do you mean you woke up in Zayn's body? You are Zayn."
"No, I'm not," Liam insists. "Harry, it's —" Liam frowns, trying to think of a way to prove this because he needs Harry to panic with him, to explain what the hell is happening here. "When we were on the X Factor," Liam says, "you asked me in private to give you some vocal training because you were insecure about your solo. You told me not to tell anyone, and I never did."
Harry's lips part in surprise, and Liam thinks he's convinced him until Harry says, "I can't believe Liam told you that! That was private!"
"No one had to tell me because I was there," Liam groans. "Harry. I swear I'm Liam." He reaches up to tug a hand through his hair, but it feels different. Of course it does. "I— I took care of you when you had the flu last fall. You cried while watching Titanic on my sofa. You and I went skating that one time just after the X Factor and you fell on your ass and had a giant bruise that you insisted on showing me, like, four times."
"I showed that bruise to everyone," Harry points out.
"I'm Liam!" Liam shouts, frustrated. "I'm not Zayn."
Harry lifts his hands defensively. "Okay, okay, you're Liam."
Liam sighs. "You don't believe me."
"I think," Harry says carefully, "that maybe all that crying you did last night made has made you really tired."
"I — Zayn cried last night?" Liam blurts. "Why?"
Harry frowns at him. "Because of your fight with Liam," he says, slow and punctuated. "Because you hate fighting with him, and you regretted what you said but you're too stubborn to apologize for it. Which is still dumb, by the way."
"He said that?" Liam's pulse seems to race even more. "He said he regretted it?"
"You said that you regretted it," Harry says. "Zayn, are you sure you're okay? Should I call someone?"
"No," Liam snaps, realizing there's no use. Harry's not going to believe him, and Liam can't really blame him for it. "I'm going to find Zayn. I'll… I'll figure this out."
"Zayn," Harry calls after him. "Don't—"
Liam shuts the hotel room door behind him, hurrying down the hall. Harry comes out after him, but Liam doesn't turn around. He tries the handle on the door to his own room, but it's locked, so he slams his hands on the door repeatedly.
"I'm coming, I'm coming," he hears himself groan. That's… that's just weird. It sounds almost like a recording, but it's him. Only it's not him because he's him and he's in Zayn's body and— Shit, his head hurts.
"Zayn," Harry says, catching up to him, slightly breathless, "what are you doing?"
Liam ignores him, and the door finally opens. It's not exactly like looking in a mirror, he thinks as he looks at himself. It's a little different. It's freaky, is what it is. It's like one of those cardboard cut outs he's seen, only more realistic, for obvious reasons. And he can't help but reach out for himself, just to prove that this is really true, and then Liam watches as his own mouth opens and he lets out a slightly girly shout.
"What the fuck?" Not-Liam, but whoever's in Liam's body, shouts. "What— what the fuck?"
"Zayn?" Liam asks. "Please tell me you're you because I'm freaking out and—"
The door slams shut. Liam blinks in surprise, and Harry puts a gentle but firm hand on his arm. "Let's get you back to bed," he says. "I think you're sick, Zayn."
"I'm not crazy," Liam says. He knocks rapidly on the door again. "Zayn! Open the freaking door!"
He does. Liam's not used to seeing that particular look on his face. It's wary and confused and scared, his lips parted slightly, his breath held, eyes wide with his eyebrows drawn together. "Liam?" Liam's body says.
"Zayn?" Liam says back.
Liam's body — Zayn — nods slowly. Zayn looks down at himself, then at up at Liam. He reaches out a hand and pokes Liam's cheek. "Is this seriously happening?" he whispers. "Or am I dreaming?"
"This is really starting to freak me out," Harry says quietly. "Cut it out, seriously."
They ignore him. Liam reaches out and pushes at Zayn's — his?— chest, and watches himself stumble back just a bit. "Holy crap," Liam says. "Holy crap."
"Did you slip something into my fucking drink last night?" Zayn demands of Harry.
Harry looks between the two of them for a long moment. "I'm going to get Louis," he says. "This isn't funny."
Liam doesn't even try to stop him. Instead he pushes into his room, and Zayn shuts the door behind him. And then they turn towards each other and just stare for a long moment. Does his nose actually look that big, Liam wonders? Are his eyebrows really that bushy?
Liam watches his chest rise and fall rapidly, and red spreads into his cheeks. His forehead looks slick with sweat, and he realizes that Zayn's freaking out.
"Why am I you?" Zayn asks. "How is this even possible?"
Without any warning, Zayn reaches out and pulls at the waistband of Liam's briefs, peaking inside. Liam yelps and pushes him away, flushing, and Zayn frowns at him for it. It's weird, watching his face do things like that, because the look is definitely Zayn's but it's on Liam's face and— yeah, this whole thing is just fucked up.
"It's my dick," Zayn points out. "I was just checking."
Which is true, but still. Liam steps away from him, pacing the room as he runs his hands through his hair obsessively until the thick strands stop resisting, all the knots sorted out. Zayn goes and sits on the bed, just watching him with a pinched look on his face.
"This is freaky," Zayn says. His eyes widen. "Like that Lindsay Lohan movie, when her and her mom were fighting and then they…" Zayn trails off when Liam turns to him. "They switch bodies. Holy shit."
"That's insane," Liam says, logically. "That doesn't happen in real life. That's a movie."
"I'm watching myself pace around the room," Zayn points out. "That's pretty fucking insane."
It's weird, the different afflictions Zayn puts on words. He's talking in Liam's voice, but it's his accent coming out of Liam's mouth, not Liam's. Liam is possibly going to throw up. That's a really big possibility.
Liam is pinching the bridge of his nose when Louis and Harry come into the room, Niall trailing after them. Harry frowns at the two of them, but Louis says, "Harry tells me you two are playing a prank on him, pretending that you've switched bodies or something."
"It's not a prank," Zayn says immediately.
Louis scoffs and gives Liam a look. "Seriously, Zayn, this is weak. And if you wanted to pretend to switch bodies with someone, why didn't you come to me?"
"Louis," Zayn says. "It's not a fucking prank. This is really fucking happening."
"Hmm." Louis crosses his arms over his chest. "Spell fortuitous."
Liam blinks at him. "What?"
"Spell fortuitous," Louis repeats. "Liam's practically illiterate. If you can spell it," he says, looking at Zayn, "then I'll believe you."
"That's rude," Liam says, offended. "I'm not illiterate."
"I know you're not, Zayn." Louis smirks. "Bet you didn't think this through, huh? There's so many loopholes in this, and—"
"F-O-R-T-U-I-T-O-U-S," Zayn says. "Happy?"
Niall pulls out his phone and taps away at the screen. "Google says that's right," he says after a moment.
Louis' mouth hangs open. He looks at Zayn. "Liam, you better not be fucking with me."
"I'm not," Liam says, and Louis looks up sharply at him instead of Zayn.
Louis comes over to him then, eyes narrowed. He leans down, lips nearly brushing Liam's ear as he whispers, for Liam's ears only, too quiet for anyone else to hear, "When you were drunk on your birthday last year and you called me, who did you tell me you were in love with?"
Liam knows he's blushing, but he sucks up the embarrassment and whispers, careful to keep his voice as soft as possible, "Zayn."
"Holy shit." Louis pokes his cheek, and why is everyone doing that? "Li? Is that really you?"
"That's what we've been trying to tell you," Liam says. He looks at Harry and Niall, too. "I went to bed last night, and I woke up in Zayn's body."
"It sounds insane when he puts it like that," Zayn pipes up, "but same. Went to sleep in bed with you, Harry, and I woke up alone to myself — to Liam pounding on the door in my body."
Harry still looks a little dubious, Louis keeps poking Liam all over, and Niall goes to sit next to Zayn on the bed. "Why don't I get to switch with someone?" he asks, looking a bit put out. "Why d'you two get to have all the fun?"
"D'you want to be in Liam's body, mate?" Zayn asks. "My arms weigh a ton." He lifts them, bulging the muscles, and makes a face. "I'm all bulky. It's annoying."
Liam tries, and fails, to not get offended by Zayn insulting his body. "Or you could have Zayn's," Liam counters. "I mean, he's got a lovely, giant tattoo of his girlfriend on his arm, and who wouldn't want that?"
"He's been in Zayn's body less than a day and he's already being a sarcastic twat," Louis comments. "At least now we know it's not Zayn's fault; apparently it's in his DNA."
"Was that pun intentional?" Harry asks.
Louis shrugs. "Maybe."
Liam looks between them all for a moment. Harry seems to have finally accepted this, and he looks a little confused, maybe, but no longer on the verge of admitting them all into a psychiatric hospital. Niall doesn't look fazed at all, not that Liam is really surprised. It takes a lot to ruffle Niall, honestly. Louis looks almost delighted at the whole thing, like this is wonderful and not completely fucked up. And Zayn — Zayn looks bored, which is something only Zayn could manage in this type of situation.
Liam? Liam is lost. His pulse is still racing, his head feels light and heavy, at the same time. Like he'd stood up too fast and had gotten a head rush. He groans at the feeling, at the situation, and at his bandmates. "Why are we all so calm about this? Why am I the only one freaking out?"
"Because that's your thing," Louis points out. "That's what you do."
"Yeah, and I always figured something like this would happen," Niall says casually.
"You always figured something like this would happen," Louis deadpans. "That two of us would switch bodies."
"Yeah," Niall replies, and not one of them seems surprised by this admission.
"Can you all just—" Liam cuts himself off, taking a deep breath. "Can everyone just leave for a moment, please? I need to clear my head."
Niall nods, getting off the bed, and he and Harry leave immediately, always respectful. Louis lingers back, like he wants to stay, but then he sighs and follows them out, leaving Liam and Zayn alone.
"We need to fix this," Liam says. "We need to figure out how to fix this."
Zayn is sitting on the bed still, leaning back on the palms of his hands. Palms of Liam's hands, Liam corrects. It's like he knew, without Liam having to say it, that when Liam asked everyone to leave, Zayn wasn't included in that. "How do you know there is a way to fix this?" he asks.
Liam gapes at him. What if there's not? What if they're stuck like this forever? What if he never gets his body back? What if he's stuck being Zayn for the rest of his life? How would they explain that? And — shit, they have an interview tomorrow, as well as a show that night. Oh, god. Oh, god. Oh, god.
"Li," Zayn says gently, and it throws Liam off even more because that's still Liam's voice, but it's so clearly not Liam who's talking. There's such a distinct difference in it that it makes Liam's head hurt even worse.
Liam is panicking. He's not just slightly freaking out, he's panicking. He tugs at his — fuck, Zayn's— hair, the pain of it going through him doing nothing to calm the storm brewing inside of him. And he can't breathe. He's trying, oh, he's trying, but he can't.
Zayn gets off the bed. Liam is too busy having some sort of fit to push him away, and Zayn's arms go around him, holding on a little too tightly. His arms are like a vice around Liam, muscular and almost painful, cutting off his airways more than the panic had. "I can't breathe," Liam gasps. "Zayn, you're too—"
Zayn lets him go instantly, stumbling back a step. "Do I always feel that breakable to you?" he asks.
He does, Liam thinks. That's why Liam's always so gentle with him. Sure, Zayn's been working out lately, bulking up, but he's still slim, still bony, and Liam's always, always so careful with him, even when they're roughhousing. With the others, Liam isn't like that. He'll tackle Louis to the ground, falling on top of him in a laughing heap. But with Zayn he's more conscious, always breaking the fall with his own body before flipping them over so Zayn's on his back.
"I don't know," Liam mumbles, instead of saying any of that. He can't say any of that.
Zayn's eyes brighten, a grin sliding onto his face. "You're, like, strong," he says, sounding delighted. "D'you think I could punch through a wall? Kick down a door? Have you ever tried?"
Liam frowns at him, panic momentarily pushed aside. "What? I— no. I'm not a superhero, Zayn."
Zayn shrugs, flexing Liam's arms, looking down at them in interest. "You kind of feel like one," he says. And then he wraps his arms around Liam again, and next thing Liam knows, he's being picked up off the ground, legs dangling inches above it. When Zayn puts him back down, he's still grinning and he says, "You could do some serious damage, Liam."
"Are you done?" Liam demands. "Could you stop screwing around for a second and focus on the fact that this is really, really fucked up?"
Zayn rolls his eyes, a petulant look on his face. Liam's fairly certain he's never had that particular look morph his features before, and he doesn't like it very much.
"Fine," Zayn snaps. He goes back to the bed, flopping onto it, leaning up on his elbows. "But I don't see what you plan to do here, Liam. I have no idea how we got like this, and I'm sure you don't either. Which means that we have no control over it, so trying to fix it is going to be pretty damn hard."
Liam blinks at him. Zayn has a point, but that doesn't make this any less of a reason for panic. "So what do you suggest we do?"
Zayn shrugs and yawns. "Go with it," he says. "Nothing else we can do, right? I'm sure it'll work itself out."
Normally Liam likes how chill Zayn is about everything. It's a breath of fresh air when you compare him to the others. When Louis and Niall are being crazy and loud, and Zayn's just sitting there, smiling faintly but not getting involved. When Harry and Louis bicker over something nonsensical, and Zayn rolls his eyes but doesn't get involved. Zayn always keeps Liam grounded, but right now he hates that Zayn looks so calm about this. How is he so calm about this?
"Work itself out," Liam repeats. "We have an interview in twenty-four hours! We have a show in only a few more! Do you realize what's going to happen if we don't turn back?"
There it is, the slight alarm in Zayn's face. "Shit," he says.
"Exactly," Liam says. "Exactly. What are we going to do?"
"I—" Zayn reaches up, rubbing at the back of his neck. "I don't know," he admits, looking down at himself. "Might help if we get dressed, maybe."
Liam's only just now realizes that they're both in nothing but their boxers. Somehow, in the midst of everything else, that wasn't important. "Right," he says. "We should — yeah." He goes over to his own bag, where he's left it by the end of the bed. He starts riffling through it, picking through the clothes until he finds a shirt and jeans. He hands them to Zayn, who wrinkles his nose. "What?"
"I'm not wearing that," Zayn says. "What else have you got?"
Liam looks down at the clothes. "What's wrong with this?"
Zayn rolls his eyes and pulls Liam's bag up onto the bed, going through it. He pulls out a tank top and sweater, and keeps the jeans Liam had pulled out. "You look better in tank tops," Zayn mumbles while pulling the shirt on.
Liam's not sure what to make of that.
When Zayn's dressed, he straightens the clothes and nods. "Wait here," he orders. "I'll go get my stuff from my room. I can't believe you walked down the hall in that. If there are pictures of me in just my boxers all over the internet, I'm gonna kill you."
Liam can't help the snort he gives at that. "Like there aren't already millions of them out there."
Zayn flips him off and leaves Liam alone in the room. The whole time he's gone, Liam paces the room, trying to calm himself. It feels weird, being in someone else's body. Just like Zayn had flexed Liam's muscles and tested them out, Liam does the same with Zayn's. He lifts his arms, doesn't feel much difference, and frowns to himself. He slides his hands down Zayn's stomach, feeling his ribs stick out a bit. And then he realizes what he's doing.
Does this count as groping? Is he groping Zayn's body if he's touching himself? Shit.
Zayn comes back, dropping his own bag onto the bed beside Liam's, and Liam goes through it.
"Seriously?" he demands. "There're two outfits in here." It's not an exaggeration. There's two shirts, a sweater, and a pair of jeans. "How do you plan on living off this for weeks?"
Zayn shrugs, unconcerned. "Figured I'd nick something off one of you when I ran out."
Liam isn't surprised in the slightest. Zayn always does this. With a groan, he pulls out one of the shirts and tugs it on before getting on the jeans and zipping them up. He feels marginally better when he's not mostly naked. Or he does until Zayn pulls out a pack of cigarettes, tugging one out and bringing it to his lips.
"Don't you dare," Liam hisses, pulling it out of his mouth.
"The fuck, Liam?" Zayn demands. "Give that back!"
"You're not smoking in my body," Liam says firmly. "No way."
Zayn glares at him, pulling out another cigarette. "You think I'm gonna deal with this without smoking?" he says, words muffled by the filter. "I don't think so."
Zayn lifts his lighter, ready to light the cigarette, and Liam says, "I'll shave your hair. All of it. And both your eyebrows."
Zayn's lips part, cigarette tumbling into his lap. "Liam!" he groans. "You're not the only one freaking out, alright? You think I'm not panicking as much as you are? Because I am! I am, so let me just—"
"Fine," Liam says, if only because of the stressed-out, hopelessness to Zayn's words. He may be in Liam's body, that maybe be Liam's voice, but that was all Zayn. And Liam can't see Zayn in distress and not do everything in his power to fix it. "One. That's it."
"Thank you," Zayn says. He lights up, and Liam makes a face at the way he suddenly looks. The smoke clouding around his body, the way he holds it expertly in his fingertips. It's so wrong. The way his lips wrap around the filter, the way Zayn closes Liam's eyes and blows the smoke out of his nose. "This is crazy."
"Yeah," Liam agrees, pushing everything neatly off the bed so he can sit, too. "What're we going to do?"
Zayn's eyes snap open. "I don't know," he admits. "I really don't know, Liam. I've been running it through my mind for the last half an hour, and I honestly — I don't know."
"We're so screwed," Liam groans, throwing an arm over his face. "Damn it."
Zayn leans back, too, so they're laying side-by-side, feet dangling off the bed. He holds his cigarette in one hand, and with the other he grabs Liam's, fitting their fingers together easily, squeezing tightly.
"It'll be fine, Liam," Zayn says with confidence that Liam has no doubt is completely put on, faked for Liam's benefit. He can tell because Zayn's using Liam's lying voice, the one that's a little higher pitched, a little shakier than normal. "Could be worse, yeah?"
"How could it possibly be worse?" Liam wonders.
Zayn grins, blowing out smoke on his exhale. "We could have switched with Louis," he says. "Think of all the shit he'd do in one of our bodies. Or it could be Niall. You'd weigh three hundred pounds in a week, if he kept eating the way he does but without his insane metabolism."
Liam laughs. "True enough," he says. "Or we could have switched with Harry. He'd end up getting one of us hit by a bus or something. He's a hazard to society."
"See?" Zayn lifts their hands before letting them fall back against the bed. "Could be worse. I'm glad it was you. I mean, if I had to have someone else inside of me—"
Liam giggles, lifting his free hand to smother the sound. One doesn't spend extended periods of time with Louis without finding a way to make most things an anal sex joke.
"Pervert," Zayn says, but he's laughing too. "You know what I mean. I'm glad it's you."
And, despite their recent fight, despite it all, Liam is too. "Yeah," he agrees. "I guess I don't mind having you inside my body, either."
Zayn waggles his eyebrows pointedly. "Really."
Liam flushes, and he finds another reason to be glad he's not in Niall's body. Niall's cheeks would have went bright red at that, but he's pretty sure Zayn can't see the blush in his own cheeks because of the effect that comment had on Liam.
Because, like, Liam wouldn't mind having Zayn—
He cuts that thought off instantly. Not going there. The last thing he needs is to get a boner in Zayn's body. And, shit, how are they going to deal with things like that? Or with going to the bathroom? Now Liam's certain he's made Zayn's cheeks red, even if he's not as pale as Niall and it's not as obvious. What are they going to do?
"How're we gonna…" Liam waves his hand. "Shower, and go to the bathroom. How're we going to do that?"
"Um." Zayn licks at his lips. "That's a good question, actually."
"We can't avoid it," Liam points out. "It's going to happen. Even if this thing wears off by the end of the day, we still have to, like…."
"Yeah." Zayn nods slowly. "Agree to not look?"
"Agreed."
Zayn gets up not much later, going to the bathroom to toss the butt of his cigarette in the toilet since there's not an ashtray in the room. And then he meets Liam's eyes for a long moment, standing in the doorway, before shutting the bathroom door.
Liam swallows. Zayn's in the bathroom, probably going to the bathroom. Zayn is most likely touching Liam's dick right now, and Liam doesn't even get to benefit from it. How unfair is that? And how embarrassing is that? Liam takes it back. He would rather switch bodies with anyone right now. Anyone but Zayn.
When Zayn comes back out he won't meet Liam's eyes. Liam sucks on his bottom lip nervously, a million thoughts going through his mind. "Did you look?" he blurts.
Zayn frowns at him, tugging down his shirt a little. "We agreed we wouldn't, did we?" he snaps, but his cheeks are red and Liam is very, very certain that Zayn looked. "I need to— I'm going to my room. I need a nap."
"This is your room," Liam reminds him. "I mean, it's my room, technically, but you're me so it's your room, actually, and your room is my room and—"
"I get it," Zayn says. "Do you want to leave, then?"
"Maybe I shouldn't," Liam says carefully. "What if I bump into someone? Do I have to pretend to be you? Or what if my mum calls? I can't answer the phone, I sound like you, and if I try to explain it she'll think I'm on drugs. We need to figure out what we're going to do, Zayn. Even if this isn't permanent."
"We'll sort it out later," Zayn bargains. He yawns, not covering his mouth. "I feel like I didn't sleep at all last night, and being you is exhausting."
"Maybe that's it!" Liam says, suddenly excited. "We both went to sleep as ourselves and woke up each other, right? So what if we go back to sleep? Maybe we'll wake up in our own bodies again."
Zayn doesn't seem to have much faith in this theory, but he shrugs and climbs into the bed anyways. "Sure thing, Liam," he mumbles, pillow over his head. "'m sure that'll work. I'm going to sleep. You let me know."
Liam makes a face at his back before going to switch off the light. He can't be bothered to head back to his own room, and they all sleep together anyways. He leaves Zayn's clothes on, even if it's uncomfortable, as he gets into the bed beside Zayn.
It's weird. Zayn rolls over, yawning once more before collapsing on top of Liam, the way he normally does, trying to tuck his head into the crook of Liam's neck. Liam shift, Zayn's weight a little heavy, and Zayn makes a face before sitting up. Normally they fit together just right, Zayn's head on Liam's chest, Liam's arms around Zayn's body to hold him close. Now it's just uncomfortable.
"None of you told me that I was uncomfortable to sleep with," Zayn says, looking upset by this.
"You're not," Liam assures him, because he isn't. Louis, hands down, is the worst to sleep with. He's a restless sleeper, constantly moving. Harry's not much better, taking up most of the bed, unconscious of the fact that he's not leaving room for anyone else. Niall and Liam both snore. Zayn is actually the easiest to sleep with, without a doubt. "Maybe it's because…"
Zayn raises his eyebrows expectantly, waiting for Liam to finish. Instead, Liam turns onto his side and pushes Zayn back against the bed, and then he tucks his head so it's resting half on Zayn's chest, half on his shoulder. Instinctively, Zayn's arm goes around him, holding him tightly, and Liam sighs.
"Better," Zayn comments. "Still weird, though."
"Yeah." Liam closes his eyes, finally comfortable, and Zayn starts carding his hands through Liam's hair. "What're you doing?"
"Sorry." Zayn stops immediately, but Liam sort of doesn't want him to. "I like it when you play with my hair, I just thought — since you're in my body, you might like it too."
Liam tucks that piece of information away for future reference. Zayn doesn't like anyone touching his hair, Liam thought, which is why he avoids doing it most of the time. But occasionally he can't help it, and now he knows not to hold back when he wants to.
"It feels nice," he admits.
Zayn keeps doing it, after that, and Liam tries to sleep. But he can't, since all he can think about is how nice it really does feel, Zayn's fingers grazing over his scalp, lightly tugging through any of the knots so it doesn't hurt Liam, and how weird this whole situation is. Eventually Zayn's fingers waver in their movements, though, stopping for a few seconds before picking up, like Zayn dozed off for a moment and started up when he came back to.
Finally he stops all together, breathing evening out, and Liam falls asleep.
*
Liam is still in Zayn's body when he wakes up. At first he's not sure, has convinced himself it was all a dream, but then he blinks open his eyes and tries to sit up, but he finds himself trapped under a body. Under his own body. And he's heavy; really heavy. How does Liam not crush Zayn on a daily basis? Because Liam can barely breath with the way Zayn's sprawled out half on top of him.
"Zayn," he groans, trying to push him off. "You're crushing me."
Zayn grunts, making an upset sound. Even in Liam's body, waking Zayn up is a hardship. "Shut up," he moans. "I'm sleepin'."
"Zayn," Liam repeats, a little sharper.
Slowly, Zayn sits up. He rubs at his eyes, glaring down at Liam while blinking rapidly. When his gaze finally focuses, he lets out a surprised sound and nearly rolls off the bed. "Why am I still you?" he asks. "Why didn't that work?"
"I don't know," Liam admits. "I thought it would."
Zayn sighs and sits up, too, so they're facing each other. He grabs Liam's chin, tilting it from left to right, taking a good look at himself. "I need to shave," he says. "And start plucking my eyebrows."
"There's nothing wrong with your eyebrows," Liam tells him. "There's nothing — I mean, you're perfect. Or, um, you're fine the way you are."
Zayn's face goes blank for a moment before he smiles. "You're not too bad yourself."
Liam flushes, and it's not true. Right now, looking at himself so closely, not obscured in a picture or flipped in a mirror, there's a lot wrong with him. His nose is too big, his jaw's a little uneven. His eyes are too wide, and Liam's eyebrows are much worse than Zayn's.
"Don't," Zayn scolds. "I can tell what you're thinking."
"You can read my mind now, too?" Liam jokes weakly.
Zayn continues to glare at him. "You're fine the way you are, too," Zayn says. "More than fine. Wouldn't change a thing about you, Liam. Not one damn thing. And you've got a pretty big dick, dude."
This time, Liam doesn't flush. He's pretty sure he goes white as paper. "Zayn! We agreed we weren't going to look!"
Zayn shrugs. "Couldn't help it. I was curious."
Liam buries his face in his hands. "I can't believe you."
"It was unavoidable," Zayn argues. "I was already touching it; I figured the damage was already done, might as well see what you're working with. And it's not like I stood there for five minutes checking out your dick. I just kinda glanced down and, like. Okay, this is the weirdest conversation I've ever had."
"This is the weirdest situation I've ever been in," Liam counters. "This whole thing is just — it's—"
"Fucked up," Zayn finishes for him. "It's fucked up."
Liam nods slowly, frustrated tears prickling his eyes. He hates that. He doesn't cry, Liam. Hasn't in a really long time, but sometimes, when he's really angry or frustrated, tears well in his eyes anyways. "I'm just confused," he says, quiet and low. "I don't like being confused, and this whole thing is screwing with my head."
Zayn wraps his arms tightly around Liam, Liam's head tucked into his chest. He's never realized before, just how comforting his own embrace is. Liam's arms encircle Zayn's slightly smaller frame easily, and their bodies just fit. They fit, like two parts of one whole, meant to be attached in some way at all times.
"We'll fix this," Zayn promises. "We'll get through this, Liam. We've been to hell and back, the five of us. This? This is manageable."
It's sort of true. Maybe their lives are wonderful and spectacular, but they're hard. They take their toll. And each and every one of them, Liam included, has had their own break down, at some point. But they deal with it. They deal with the times they screw up on stage and every gossip site makes fun of them for it the next day; they deal with the hateful things some people say about them, about each other. This may be in a whole different ball park from those things, but Zayn has a point. They can handle it. They can handle anything, the five of them, as long as they're together.
"Okay," Liam mumbles, pulling back.
"D'you think—" Zayn cuts off, and Liam watches a blush crawl up his neck. Liam's always hated that about himself, the way his body shows his emotions even when he's trying not to. "Maybe if we, like, kissed, we'd turn back. Like a dumb fairytale or something."
"Kissing," Liam says, eyebrows rising. "You think kissing could fix this?"
Zayn shrugs, looking away. "It might," he says. "And it's not like — it's not like we're doing it because we want to. It's just a theory. I don't know. It sounded like a better idea in my head."
"Right." Because Zayn wouldn't want to kiss him for any other reason, obviously, and Liam knows that. Liam's fine with that.
"Not like it'd be the first time, anyways," Zayn adds, meeting Liam's eyes again.
Zayn's lips are tilted up, just the barest hint of a smile. Liam's mind wanders back to that time, when they were younger and Liam's hair was curly and Zayn's cheeks were still a little round around the edges. When they were fooling around in a hotel room, with Louis and Niall on the bed, watching something on Louis' laptop, and Harry was in the bathroom. When Zayn had put Liam in a headlock, ruffling his hair, so Liam had tackled Zayn to the ground, and then he'd — he'd kissed Zayn.
It was brief and chaste and over in seconds, and then Liam was scrambling up, climbing off him, straightening his clothes and blushing up a storm. Zayn had laid there for a long time, sprawled out on the floor, propped up on his hands, lips parted in surprise. And then he'd nervously laughed, tugged a hand through his hair while he stood up.
They didn't really talk about it, much. Liam tried to avoid it, and Zayn didn't bring it up. But the one time they did let it slip into conversation, the one time neither of them avoided it, for once, they agreed that it was just an accident. A friendly accident. Not a big deal, definitely not. It didn't mean anything. They were just fooling around.
If only.
"It'd be more like kissing ourselves, too," Zayn points out. "It's not like you'd be kissing me, or I'd be kissing you. We'd be kissing ourselves."
That's … true. "Do you really think that would work?"
"No," Zayn admits. "Worth a try though, yeah?"
"I guess."
Zayn nods, a steely look on his face. He cups Liam's — his own— jaw again, and Liam stays perfectly still as Zayn tilts his chin, just a fraction, and kisses him.
It's the weirdest thing Liam's ever experienced, kissing himself. His lips are a little soft, at least. They're plump and warm and just slightly wet from Zayn licking at them. Liam fits Zayn's lips easily with his own, slotting together seamlessly. Right then, more than any other time since this happened, Liam wishes they'd switch back, while they were still kissing. So he could feel Zayn's lips against his own, so he could feel the way his hand cups Zayn's jaw, and the way Zayn's hands cling at his shoulders to keep steady.
Zayn breaks the kiss, pulling back with his eyebrows furrowed. "So, uh, that didn't work," he says. "Now what?"
Liam wipes his sweaty palms on the blanket. "I don't know. Any more bright ideas, Zayn?"
Zayn shoves at his shoulders, and Liam actually tips back, nearly falling right off the bed, but Zayn grabs him at the last second. "Sorry," he says quickly. "I guess I don't know your own strength."
"Funny," Liam deadpans.
Zayn opens his mouth to say something, but his phone ringing cuts him off. Liam and him both look at the side table, where Zayn's phone vibrates against the wood. Zayn reaches for it, peering down at the screen. "Shit," he mutters. "It's Perrie."
Liam's eyes narrow without him even consciously deciding to do that. "You going to answer that?"
Zayn looks up at him. "Can't, can I?" He chews his lip. "She'll be pissed if I ignore her, though. Do you— do you think you could, like, just answer and tell her you're busy and you'll text her instead?"
"You want me to talk to your fiancée and pretend to be you," Liam clarifies.
"Yeah," Zayn says, like this is totally rational. Which it would be, if it were any of the others. He's sure Louis wouldn't question it, or Harry or Niall. But Liam? Liam's not fucking doing it. "Could you?"
"What would I say?" Liam asks. "She'd know something was up."
"How would she know?" Zayn argues. The phone starts ringing again. "Just answer it, Liam! Tell her you're busy and you'll talk to her later."
Liam snatches the phone out of Zayn's hand, pressing talk. Instantly he's bombarded with a bright, sweet, annoyed, "Why didn't you answer me, love?" that sounds equal parts light and scolding, like she can't decide if she's irritated or not.
Liam rolls his eyes. "Hey," he says, lowering his voice a bit. Zayn makes a face at him so he tries again, but this time he can't help it. If Zayn's making him do this, Liam's not taking it seriously. "Vas happenin' babe?"
He hears Perrie's pleasant laugh, followed by, "Someone's in a good mood."
"Great mood," Liam says. "I'm talking to you, aren't I?"
The amount of sarcasm in Liam's tone is not lost on Zayn, who frowns at him, arms crossed over his chest. Liam ignores it.
"Okay," Perrie says slowly. "Are you alright?"
"I'm brilliant."
"Tell her you have to go," Zayn mouths. "Do it, Liam. Now."
"How about you, sugar pie?" Liam asks. "How you doin', babe?"
"I'm… good," Perrie says. "Are you sure you're okay? You're being weird. Are you drunk? Did you fight with Liam again?"
Liam blinks in surprise, losing the mocking tone when he asks, "What would that have to do with anything?"
"You know how you get when the two of you fight," she sighs. "You're always off afterwards. So? Did something happen? Do I need to fly out there and kick his muscular butt for upsetting you again?"
"Um." Liam looks away from Zayn, who looks ready to throttle him. "No, I'm fine. Sorry. I'm a little busy right now, though. Can I text you instead?"
"Sure," Perrie says immediately. "He's there with you, isn't he?"
"Uh— yeah."
Perrie exhales loudly. "Of course he is," she says. "You know, the two of you should really just— never mind. You know where I stand on this subject. You better text me. Love you."
"Yeah. Bye." Liam hangs up on her, not returning the sentiment.
Zayn tugs the phone back, looking livid. "What the hell was that?" he demands. "Was that you trying to be funny? Because it wasn't, Liam."
Liam rolls his eyes. "Calm down. It was just a joke."
Zayn glares at him for a beat longer, before a nervous look flashes in his eyes. "What did she, uh, say? Did she— did she say anything about, like…?"
"She asked if you were okay, and then, I don't know. We hung up right afterwards." Liam's not sure why he's lying, but that conversation with Perrie kind of threw him off. Zayn tells her about their fights? Maybe it's not that weird, Liam rationalizes, but he can't ever remember telling Danielle about his fights with Zayn. Not that he ever talked about Zayn with Danielle, because he always had this horrible, sinking suspicion that she knew, deep down, how Liam felt about him.
"Whatever," Zayn grumbles. "I'm going to see Harry."
"Are you really upset about this?" Liam asks, as Zayn climbs out of bed, trying to smooth out the wrinkles in his clothes.
Zayn chooses to ignore that question. In fact, he chooses to ignore Liam until he's out the door, shutting it between them. Liam sighs. Of course them getting along again was short lived. It's like all they do is fight anymore, and, once again, it's all Liam's fault because he can't keep his jealousy at bay.
And he hates it. He hates hurting Zayn more than anything in the world, possibly. Never wants to upset him, if he can help it. But this is the one instance where he can't help it. Where his emotions are too strong for him to control them.
Basically, when it comes to Zayn and Perrie, Liam is an asshole.
*
Adaptable. It's a good word to describe the five of them, Liam thinks. After everything, they're all adaptable. They all adapted to being put in a group. They all adapted to this life they've been thrust into, none of them having ever guessed that they could possibly be this big. And, as weird as it is, the body switch between Zayn and Liam is just another thing that they've all accepted and adapted to.
For the most part.
Liam is still kind of thrown by the whole thing, rightfully, but he's not freaking out anymore. There was a moment, yesterday, just before he'd gotten in the shower when he stopped, turning to the mirror and — He still feels guilty about that, but he didn't really look, he sort of just… grazed over Zayn's form in the mirror, completely naked, before flushing in guilt and embarrassment and climbing into the shower. But, aside from that, Liam thinks he's taking this whole thing pretty well.
That was the easy part, though. Accepting it, getting the others to realize that this has really happened, that was easy. This interview? Not so easy.
"Congratulations, by the way, Zayn," the interviewer says, "on the engagement."
She's pretty, long blonde hair, even longer legs. And she's smiling pointedly at Liam, her lips heavily glossed in a pretty pink colour. And Liam barely even registers how attractive she is. That's been an issue for a while, being able to find other people attractive. Because, yes, she's pretty. Yes, her accent is kind of hot. Is she Zayn, though? No, and honestly, no one compares to Zayn.
"Thanks," Zayn says automatically, and Liam nods along until Louis coughs. "I mean—"
"Thank you," Liam stutters. "Thanks."
"Thank you," Harry adds, probably so it doesn't seem too obvious, what just happened. "We're all very excited."
"All of you?" the interviewer says, going along with it.
"We're a package deal," Louis puts in. "Marry one of us, marry all of us. Not sure Perrie knows what she's gotten herself into."
The interviewer laughs, but it's kind of put on, like it's what she's expected to do, not because she actually found that funny. "Zayn," she says, steering the attention back to Liam, "could you tell us a bit about the engagement itself? How did you do it?"
Liam nearly rolls his eyes, but he realizes what he's about to do and represses it. But, fuck, he hates all the engagement talk normally, and now that he's Zayn he has to actively participate in talking about it. And none of them prepared for this, he thinks. They should have. They should have exchanged notes on what to say if certain questions were brought up, because Liam has no damn idea how Zayn asked Perrie to marry him.
"I just, um, asked her," Liam says. "And she said yes."
Niall snorts and Louis says, "Wow, how romantic."
"Were you nervous?" the interviewer (Liam is 70% sure her name is Deidra) asks.
"Not really," Liam says without thinking. He's irritated, and he wants this line of questioning to stop. "Don't really see why I would be," he adds. What would Zayn have to be nervous about? Is there really anyone out there who would say no if Zayn Malik asked them to marry him?
Well, maybe Beyoncé, but that's probably it.
"You weren't scared of her saying no?" Deidra asks.
"Oh, totally," Liam says, and this time the eye roll happens even though he tries not to. "That would have been horrible, right? Like, worst thing ever. I'm so glad that didn't happen."
Silence follows Liam's words, and Zayn is sitting stock straight, eyes glazed over, hands discreetly clenched. Liam winces, realizing what he's done.
"I— I mean, yeah, I was worried," Liam quickly says. "It… it would have crushed me if she said no. I love her, right, and. Yeah, it would have been the worst thing to happen to me if she said no. I don't know what I'd have done."
Zayn swallows, dropping his gaze, and Liam lets out a sigh of relief as the interviewer coos. "That's adorable," she says. "Now, I was wondering…."
Liam sinks lower in his seat, chewing on his bottom lip. The one good thing about being Zayn is that, after the engagement questions are done and over with, no one looks surprised when he silently sits there. That's how Zayn is, depending on his day, on the mood. Sometimes he'll get rowdy, get crazy and make a scene and laugh, throaty and genuine, joking with Louis and Liam. Other times he'll silently sit there, let everyone else field the questions while he sighs at some of the dumber answers and basically looks bored with everything.
That's what Liam's planning on doing, until Deidra says, "But Zayn's not the only one taken, right? Two of you also have girlfriends?"
"Right," Louis says brightly. "That would be Liam and I."
"Either of you planning on popping the question any time soon?"
Zayn chokes. Everyone but Louis turns in their seat to look at him, including Liam, who has no idea what's happening. Concern bubbles up inside him until Zayn sucks in a breath, eyes wide, and says, "Definitely not. No way in hell. Can I get a bottle of water, please?"
Oh. Payback is a bitch.
Zayn gets his bottle of water, and Liam can do nothing but sit there as Louis takes control of the interview, answering nearly every question, even the ones aimed at Zayn and Liam. And Liam tries not to get upset by what Zayn did, and he mostly succeeds. There's going to be backlash for that, though, and he has a feeling he's going to be receiving some very angry texts from his girlfriend soon, if she's watching. Even if she's not watching, actually, because chances are what Zayn just did will be all over magazines and gossip sites in the following week.
Yet he really can't find it in himself to mind all that much. She might break up with him, but… that will be more inconvenient than unpleasant.
After the interview, when they're all backstage, Liam gets a bottle of water for himself and Louis hisses, "What the fuck happened back there?"
There are people around, ones who work on the show, most of them with headsets on. Several of them look at Louis for the vehemence in his tone, and that's just what they need, isn't it? Some big article on One Direction fighting backstage after an interview.
"At the hotel," Louis says, realizing this. Liam nods, and Zayn nods, and Niall helps himself to a donut.
*
Louis is pinching the bridge of his nose, standing in the middle of Harry's hotel room, looking ready to throw something at one of them. Harry sits on his bed, one leg pulled up underneath him, Niall beside him. And Zayn and Liam are both standing, looking a bit scolded.
"One of you," Louis says, "needs to explain what the fuck happened back there."
"Don't really know what you're talking about, mate," Zayn says with a shrug. "Anyone know what he's talking about?"
Harry makes a face at him. "Zayn," he says. That's it, and Zayn's shoulders slump a bit, a pout crossing his lips.
"It wasn't that big of a deal," Liam puts in. "I don't think anyone even noticed."
"You don't think anyone noticed?" Louis snaps. "You don't think anyone noticed the fact that you made a mockery of Zayn's engagement, and then Zayn practically had a fit when the interviewer suggested that you might ask your girlfriend to marry you? You really don't think anyone noticed that? Well thank fucking god, we can all sleep easily tonight."
"Hey," Niall says. "Lighten up, Lou. Sarcasm's the lowest form of flattery."
"Wit," Zayn says. "Sarcasm is the lowest form of wit. You're thinking of imitation. Imitation is the — you know what, never mind."
"I'm not trying to go off on anyone," Louis says, which is the biggest lie ever. Louis loves to go off on them. "I just think that maybe we should all prepare for the next time we go out in public. Starting with the two of you learning not to answer to your own names."
"I've been Liam a day," Zayn says. "I've been Zayn my whole life. Kinda hard not to respond to it."
"We'll work on that," Louis says. "And Liam — when someone brings up the engagement, try not to look like you just sat on a cactus, maybe?"
"Seriously," Zayn adds. "What's your problem, Liam?"
"I don't have a problem," Liam says quickly.
"You've got a problem," Harry says.
"Yeah, it's kinda obvious," Niall contributes.
Liam crosses his arms over his chest, backing up until he hits the door. He feels ganged up on, all of a sudden, and he hates it. It's like being on the outside all over again, like he was in the beginning, when he was quiet and reserved and the others all clicked so easily. It's like the four of them are together, and Liam's not with them. He hates that feeling.
"I don't have a problem," he repeats. "I don't."
"Okay," Louis says, softening a bit. "You don't have a problem, so try to act like you don't. Maybe smile, talk about how much you like Perrie's face or something, I don't know." He turns to Zayn. "And you, maybe don't choke on your own bitterness when Liam's girlfriend is brought up."
"Bitterness?" Zayn demands. "I was just paying him back for that shit he pulled with the engagement questions!"
"It really doesn't matter what the reasoning is," Harry says, much calmer than Louis. "I think that we just have to be careful about this. So maybe, until this stops, you two should think before you talk, and try not to say anything that would show each other in a bad light. If they ask about the engagement, Liam, just smile, maybe, and politely change the subject. That's all."
"I can do that," Liam promises, hoping to end this conversation. "I will."
"That's settled, then," Niall says. "I'm going to eat and shower before the show."
"I'll come with you," Harry says. "Zayn?"
"Yeah, I'm coming."
The three of them leave once Liam's moved from in front of the door, leaving Louis and Liam alone. Liam sighs and goes to lie on Harry's bed. Louis sticks to the floor, sitting at the end, tugging off Liam's shoes for him. "How're you feeling, by the way?" he asks while he does. "I forgot to ask you that."
Liam shrugs. "I'm dealing."
Louis pauses, looking up at him with those damn blue eyes. Louis' eyes are deathly. Sometimes they're mischievous and bright, but sometimes they're narrowed and sharp as a blade carved from ice. And sometimes they seem to see through Liam better than anything else. "I don't mean just with the body swap thing," he says. "I mean, how are you feeling about switching with Zayn specifically?"
Shrugging seems like the only appropriate answer, so he does it again. "It's definitely not easy," he admits. "And it's like — I don't know. It's not helping what was already a bad situation, let's just say that."
"You're really fucked over the engagement, aren't you?"
Liam's face twists into a pained, tight lipped smile. "I think it's great, actually."
Louis snorts. "You're a horrible liar."
"What do you want me to say, then?" Liam demands. "That I want him to be happy, I want him to be happy so bad, but it destroys me that he's happy with someone else? That I love him, and the fact that he loves someone else feels like someone's reaching into my stomach and twisting everything inside?"
"Liam."
"Being in love sucks, Louis," Liam says. "It's the worst thing to ever happen to me. Is that what you wanted to hear?"
Louis sighs at him. "No, Liam, it's not."
"I just want my body back," Liam groans. He flops back against the bed, staring up at the ceiling. "And I want to be able to be happy for him without secretly hating him for doing this, but I can't."
"You can't tell him that," Louis says gently. "You know that, right? You can't do that to him. It'll kill him."
"I know that," Liam snaps.
"I know you do," Louis says. "Do you want to shave off all his hair? Would that make you feel better?"
"No." Liam defensively runs a hand through Zayn's hair. "No way."
"So the vanity is in his DNA, too, I see. It's not just his personality."
Liam sits up, rolling his eyes. "I think Zayn's shoulders are actually wider than mine," he muses. "Do they look wider than mine? My arms are bigger but I think his shoulders are —" Liam lifts his arms. "I don't know. They feel wider, but I feel thinner, too."
"Anything else of his wider than yours?" Louis asks, waggling his eyebrows suggestively. "You take a peek at what's going on down there yet, or what?"
"No." Of course Louis is the one to go there. "I haven't."
"You've thought about it, though," Louis guesses. "And you've went to the bathroom, right? So you've, like, you've touched Zayn's dick, Liam. You're living the dream, mate."
"Shut up," Liam laughs. "Christ. Do you want to touch his dick?"
"Sometimes." Louis shrugs. "Wanna go get dinner before we have to leave for the show?"
"Yeah, just let me change. This shirt is really wrinkled."
Louis takes a long look at him when he stands up. He puts a hand on his hip, eyes narrowing a little in a way that used to terrify Liam, back before he'd learned that letting loose wasn't going to kill anyone. Now, it has adrenaline thumping through him, body thrumming in anticipation.
"Screw dinner," Louis smirks. "I have a better idea."
*
"He's going to kill me," Liam states. "He's going to murder me."
"He'd be murdering himself," Louis reminds him. "And you look smashing. I don't see what the issue is."
"I look like you," Liam says while tugging down the hem of the shirt he's trying on. "Like the old you, I mean," he adds before Louis can glare at him. "These jeans are yellow."
"And the shirt is pink," Louis says. "They match."
Liam's pretty sure they don't, actually. The yellow skinny jeans hug Zayn's thighs nicely, though, and Liam is pretty sure this whole thing is a bust. Here they are, trying to make Zayn look hilarious and he still — he still looks hot, as ridiculous as that is. "Is it even possible to make him look bad?"
Louis frowns for a moment, and then a grin is splitting his face. "Wait here," he orders.
Liam nods, watching Louis disappear somewhere else in the store before he turns back to his reflection. The jeans fit him perfectly, and the pink shirt actually looks good with Zayn's skin tone. It cuts low, too, showing off his tattoos and, yeah, he looks hot. Not nearly as stupid as Liam thought he would when Louis picked out the outfit.
"I've just the thing," Louis says, coming up to him with his hands behind his back. When he reveals them, Liam's mood brightens considerable. "Uggs, or crocs?"
*
Getting back to the hotel is a little difficult. There are fans converged outside now, and it's sort of gloomy out, clouds in the sky, and the giant pink sunglasses Liam's wearing aren't helping him see at all. Blindly, he signs as many things as he can, grinning at fans, adjusting the purple fedora on his head to make sure it doesn't fall off. More than a few girls look a little thrown off by what he's wearing, and Louis laughs the whole time.
Or maybe, Liam realizes when he gets inside, it's not what he's wearing that's throwing everyone off. It could possibly be the fact that he signed everything with Liam Payne instead of Zayn Malik. That might be it. Shit.
When they finally get inside, Louis grabs Liam roughly by the shoulder and kisses his cheek. "Nice knowing you, Liam."
Liam frowns, goes to ask him why he'd say that, when Zayn stomps towards them. There's a small restaurant on the main floor of the hotel, which is where he and the others must have went to eat. That's where he comes from, crossing the lobby in long, furious strides.
"What are you wearing?" he demands. "You went out in public like that?"
Liam sheepishly pulls off the glasses and the hat. "It was just for a laugh."
"At my expense," Zayn growls. "I can't believe you actually—" He stops, shaking his head. "You want a war, babe?"
"What? No, I was just—"
"Just remember," Zayn says, leaning in close, "you started this."
If that isn't the most ominous thing Liam's ever heard, he's not sure what is. Zayn is actually grinning as he backs away from Liam, that same look in his eyes that Louis had, and Liam realizes the mistake he's made. Louis can be a crazy whirlwind, which is one of the reasons Liam (and most people) avoid upsetting him. You don't want to get on Louis' bad side, because that could mean a few harsh choice words, or waking up with a moldy sandwich in your bed three weeks after it's happened.
And Zayn is just as bad, when he wants to be. Liam forgets that, sometimes. Forgets that Louis and Zayn are like a tag team of mischief, when they want to be, and Liam just dug his own grave.
Liam doesn't have time to dwell on it, though. They have to get to the venue, and he needs to change. And, he realizes on the ride, they're so fucked. Sure, he and Zayn both know each other's parts to songs, but they've not practiced singing them. They're going to screw up so badly, he realizes. He's going to sing his own parts, and Zayn's going to sing his own parts on accident, and it's going to be a mess.
"Don't worry," Harry says. "I've already figured out how we're going to deal with that."
"You have?"
Harry nods. "We're just going to tell the crowd that you and Zayn're switching solos tonight, that's all. Everyone'll love it."
Liam isn't so sure. Can his voice even do half the things Zayn's does? And vice versa? He doesn't think so, but it's not like they've got any choice, is it?
*
It's not horrible. It's not good, either. Liam's aware of it (even if they might have the crowd fooled), the way they're all thrown off. The way Louis nervously watches Zayn and Liam the whole night, like he's expecting something bad to happen. The way the rest of them can't figure out when they're supposed to start because if, say, Harry's supposed to sing after Liam's solo, but Zayn's singing Liam's solo, Harry forgets that he's supposed to go next and there's an air of hesitance on stage that night, like they're all afraid of screwing up and that's actually making them screw up.
But they make it through, and Liam thinks they did better than expected, at least.
"I fucking love Australia," Niall says loudly when they get off stage.
Liam's breathing heavily, grabbing at a bottle of water. Zayn's body gets out of breath faster than Liam is used to. All that running around on stage has made him a sweaty, panting mess, which isn't anything new. But the aching burn in his limbs is. He hadn't done all that much, had he? But it feels like he'd overworked himself, like the few times when he worked out and pushed himself farther than he should have, and he really regretted it the next day when everything was stiff and hurting.
"D'you think we did okay?" Zayn asks him. He steals Liam's drink and downs half of it before handing it back. "Think we fooled them?"
"I don't know," Liam admits. "Maybe?"
Zayn nods, accepting this. "It's weird, you know? Like, hearing you sing but… my voice. It still sounds like you, to me. I can still tell it's you, no matter what." He looks away, biting at his bottom lip. "I think you could switch bodies with anyone and I'd still be able to tell it's you."
Liam sips his drink to hide how he feels about that, because he feels the exact same way. Zayn is still Zayn, whether he's in Liam's body or not, and Liam thinks that he'd always recognize Zayn, always. Like one of those stories where two lovers die and are reincarnated and they still manage to find each other, recognizing each other on a deeper level, more than just on the surface.
Which is cheesy as hell, so Liam pretends he didn't think that.
"We should head out," he says.
Zayn nods. "Do you want to come to my room, though? We should probably all practice, actually, get used to us singing our own parts. Everything was a mess tonight, even if we did the best we could. We need to learn each other's parts better."
"Okay," Liam agrees.
"I'm still mad at you for that outfit though," Zayn adds. "Don't think I've forgotten."
Liam groans. "I was just playing around."
"Just wait until you see what I have in store for you, Liam," Zayn says. "You're going to regret that."
But with that teasing, pleased look in Zayn's eyes, Liam doesn't think he will. He does spend the entire trip back to the hotel wondering, though. What will Zayn do? Actually, he probably doesn't want to know. He'll just stress over it. It's best to just wait and see, really. Nothing else he can do, because he knows Zayn's mind is made up. He's already got something planned now, and there's nothing Liam will be able to do to stop him, unless they change back tonight. (He sincerely hopes they do.)
When they get back to the hotel, Liam goes and showers. He's still sweaty and gross, and it needs to be done. He riffles through Zayn's bag of clothes and gives up, searching through his own that Zayn had left behind to find a pair of sweats and a clean t-shirt before he heads into the bathroom.
Just like he had earlier, Liam avoids looking in the mirror as he gets undressed, and then at the last second he looks. It's too tempting not to, the expanse of skin he can see in the mirror out the corner of his eyes. Liam's trying not to be a creep, he really is, but Zayn's so enticing. The curve of his skinny thighs; the tattoos everywhere. Liam lets his gaze drop lower than Zayn's face, over the tattoos on his chest. He lifts a hand, outlines the lips, wonders what it'd feel like to press his own flush against them.
His gaze goes a little lower. Zayn's always been thinner than him. He used to have a little belly, though, sticking out just a bit, but now that's gone. His stomach is all flat and smooth skin, marred on his hips by the dark ink. And he's got these perfect indents there, ones that Liam can't help but fit his fingers into, just because.
Lower, and Liam swallows, looking away. Only he doesn't look away fast enough. His eyes fall lower than Zayn's cock and the thick, dark hair at the base of it. He studiously avoids looking in that area as much as he can, instead focusing on what caught his attention. It was only when he moved, left leg in front of his right, that he'd seen it, and now he looks down, bending Zayn's leg so it rests on the edge of the tub so he can get a better look.
On the inside of Zayn's left thigh, high up, is a small, barely noticeable tattoo.
The first thing that goes through Liam's mind is that it must be, like, dirt or something. He licks his thumb and smudges at it, but it doesn't budge. The second thing Liam thinks is that there's no way Zayn actually got a tattoo there. It's so — it's in a really intimate spot, and he can't imagine someone touching Zayn there (he can, and it irritates him). It is a tattoo, though. Small, blocky, navy blue: L. It's an 'L'. There's no mistaking it.
Liam lets Zayn's leg drop, tearing his eyes away with reluctance as he climbs into the shower. What does it mean? An 'L'. L for what? They've all gotten a handful of seemingly random tattoos, but you don't go through the effort of getting a tattoo on the inside of your thigh, somewhere no one would ever see it, without it having some personal meaning. So what is it?
But Liam can't even ask him, is the thing. How would he bring it up? "So, Zayn, while I was checking you out in the mirror because I'm a creepy pervert who's in love with you, I noticed that you had this tattoo, and I was wondering what it meant?" Because that would definitely not be awkward.
Liam groans at himself and reaches for the soap. There's not much to think about, though, aside from the tattoo and the fact that he's currently soaping up Zayn's body. That, and Zayn's reflection in the mirror from earlier flipping through his mind, is enough to get Liam a little heated, and he can feel himself getting harder as the minutes tick by, standing under the hot stream of water. It's not like he can do anything about it, though, can he?
Liam adds that to the sealed box of things he's not going to think about. Despite that, when he gets out of the shower his problem is still a problem. Liam bites his lip, seriously considers doing something about it, but instead he avoids looking in the mirror and pulls on his sweatpants, ignoring the way the semi he's sporting tents the crotch a bit.
And since Liam's life isn't enough of a joke as it is, Zayn is on the bed when Liam comes out. He grins, sitting up, and lets out a chuckled, "Took you long enough. What were you doing in there, jerking off?
As soon as he's said it, they both freeze. Zayn goes red, while Liam's eyes widen. He has no doubt that Zayn's probably thinking about the fact that Liam could have been, and Liam's definitely thinking about the fact that he'd been considering it. That, and they're both probably painfully aware that if he had been jerking off, he'd technically jerking Zayn off and—
If Liam masturbates in Zayn's body, is that the same as giving Zayn a hand job? Liam is so confused.
"I wasn't," Liam says quickly. "I definitely wasn't, I swear."
Zayn nods, eyes on the comforter of the hotel bed instead of meeting Liam's gaze. "I know you weren't. I was just kidding."
"Why are you in my room, anyways? How'd you get in here?"
"Technically it's my room," Zayn answers. "And Louis sent me. Said he wants all of us to meet in his room so we can, like, practice or whatever." Zayn yawns. "I really don't want to, though."
Liam takes his first good look at Zayn. There are dark smudges underneath Liam's brown eyes, and he looks almost hollow and gaunt. There's a pinched, tense set to his mouth, and a flat look in his eyes. All in all, he looks the way Liam does when he's just getting better from being sick; exhausted, pale and weak.
"You okay?" Liam asks. "You look like hell, Zayn."
Zayn snorts a laugh. "Way to insult yourself," he says. "I'm fine."
"Zayn."
"What?" Zayn snaps. He rubs his hands on his thighs. "I've not had a cigarette in twenty-four hours, Liam. I'm fucking antsy, a'right?"
Liam rubs a hand over his face. "I give you permission to smoke in my body," he says. "But not excessively, okay?"
Zayn shakes his head. "Nah, I don't even want to. Like, I'd feel guilty as hell." A smile tugs at his lips. "I almost snuck one earlier, but then I looked in the mirror and all I could see was your judgmental freaking eyes and I couldn't do it."
"I don't have judgmental eyes," Liam argues.
"Yeah, you do," he says. "That's the reason the rest of us try not to fight with you. You're guilt inducing, Liam."
Liam goes and sits on the bed, too. He pulls one leg up under him, resting his hand on his ankle. Zayn's ankle. It's bony and smooth, and he brushes his thumb over it for a moment, feeling the knobs of the bones. "We should probably talk about what we can and can't do in each other's bodies," he muses. "For future reference. If we're stuck like this for a long time, it's probably best to know where the lines are."
"Like going out to get Justin Bieber's signature tattooed on ourselves or something," Zayn jokes. Liam's eyes widen. "I wouldn't do that," Zayn says quickly. "I won't do anything to permanently disfigure you."
"Okay," Liam says, relieved. "No tattoos, first rule. Of anything, anywhere."
"Deal."
"Um." Liam licks at his lips. "What else?"
This look flits over Zayn's eyes, just for a moment. It's gone before Liam can figure out what it is. "No fucking anyone in my body, Liam. Anyone. At all."
"I wasn't planning on it," Liam says, and now that he thinks about it, his stomach twists. "Same for you. No— no anything, with anyone. Please."
Zayn nods. "But what if this last for a long time?" he asks. "What if it doesn't go away in a few days? I'm just saying, we're both… we're going to, like, eventually want to… you know."
"No," Liam says honestly. "I really don't."
Zayn groans. "Are you really going to make me say it out loud?" Liam gives him a blank look. "Eventually we're gonna want to get off, Liam."
Oh. Oh. "Right."
"So." Zayn shrugs. "I don't know, I guess—"
A knock at the door interrupts him. Liam gives Zayn a look, waiting for him to answer it because it is his room, technically, but then the knocking intensifies, loud and sharp. Liam gets up, knowing exactly who it is, which is why he isn't surprised at all when Louis pushes into the room.
"We're all waiting for you two, you realize," he says, looking a little put out. "Are you coming?"
Zayn yawns, shaking his head. "I'm tired."
"You're always tired," Louis says. "Alert the fucking media. Come on, let's get this done with. I want to go out."
"Then go," Zayn suggests. He falls back against the bed, covering his face with his arm. "I'm too tired to practice. Plus, I know all of Liam's parts off by heart anyways. We'll be fine."
Louis raises his eyebrows. "Liam?"
"I think I could be okay with just winging it," Liam admits. "I know all his parts, too."
"Okay." Louis shrugs. "If you two screw up it's on your heads, not mine. You wanna come out with me?"
Liam does, actually. He could use a good, fun night out, but… "Is getting wasted on the list of things we can do or on the list of things we can't do in each other's bodies?"
Zayn doesn't even lift his head. "Go ahead," he says with a wave of his hand. "Don't do anything stupid. But if I wake up back in my own body tomorrow with a hangover, I'm going to be an asshole all day."
*
"I've been thinking," Louis says, which is never a good thing, but is made even worse by the three empty shot glasses in front of him, "about his whole body switcher thingy."
Liam reaches for his own shot. It takes a little less to get Zayn drunk, he's realizing. Right now, he'd normally be tipsy, but in Zayn's body he's already feeling foggy and unbalanced and unbelievably loose and relaxed. "And?" he prompts.
"At first I thought maybe it was because you two've been fighting a lot, right? Like that movie that— that they switch bodies, or whatever," Louis says. "Like all of the movies where that happens, actually. People are always fighting, and that's why they switch. But what if that's not it?"
"Then what would it be?" Liam asks, because he'd figured that was exactly why. He and Zayn were bickering, they switched bodies and— it already has sort of stopped the fighting, a bit. Not completely, but that's mostly because Louis was right; Liam's bitter and jealous, and he can't help it. But aside from that, he and Zayn have actually been getting on well again, and he's happy about that.
"What if it's because you're in love with him?" Louis muses. "What if it's, like, divine intervention. Fate trying to telling you both that there's, like, a connection there between you. What if this is a sign that you two're meant to be together?"
Liam looks at him blankly for a long time before reaching for another shot. It burns all the way down, and he likes it. "That's definitely not it."
"Why not?" Louis demands. "Why can't that be it?"
"Because he's getting married, Louis," Liam snaps. "There's no … fate trying to push us together. He's getting married, and there's nothing I can do about it."
"But that's the thing," Louis says, impatiently slapping his hand against Liam's thigh. "You can! You have all the power to do that! You're in his body, Liam. You could call it off! Tell Perrie you can't do it, tell the press you're not ready! You can do something about it."
Liam makes a face, eyes darting around the club. They're in a secluded, mostly blocked off area. There's security around, nervously watching everyone that gets too close. It's a little boring, Liam thinks. He wants to be out in the crowd, enjoying himself, drunk and definitely not thinking about Zayn or anyone else.
"I can't do that," Liam says. "I could never do that to him."
Louis sighs. "Yeah, I know. I figured. I just thought… I don't know." He tilts his head onto Liam's shoulder. "I just want you both to be happy at the same time. I want you both to be happy together."
Another shot for Liam. "So do I."
"Let's go dance," Louis mutters. "This is killing my buzz."
Liam lets Louis lead him out of the booth, knowing that it's only a matter of time before a member of their security carts them off to somewhere a little less threatening, like any of the people in the club are a danger to them. At the most they'll get hit on by pushy girls who can't take no for an answer, or have a few unflattering pictures taken. Liam honestly doesn't see the big deal.
But that doesn't happen, actually. He and Louis dance, they get more drinks, the lights start blurring together and Liam can't think anymore. His thoughts are blissfully muted by alcohol, and it's like a weight being lifted off his shoulders.
Until he stumbles and nearly cracks his head on the dance floor. After that they are carted off, stuffed none-too-gently into the back of a car. Liam leans against Louis this time, and Louis hums under his breath, something that sounds a lot like Twinkle Twinkle Little Star.
"He's got a tattoo," Liam says suddenly, just remembering. He sits up, looking at Louis with wide eyes. "He's got a tattoo, Louis."
"He's got, like, twenty," Louis corrects. "I can't believe you didn't notice, Liam. They're everywhere."
Liam rolls his eyes. "No, he's got a hidden one." He spreads his legs, touching the inside of his thigh. "Right here."
Louis' lips curl into a smirk. "You've been looking between his legs now, have you?"
Liam flushes. "Not— not on purpose, I just sort of noticed and couldn't help myself."
"I know, babe." Louis pats his arm consolingly. "You're far too respectful to really take advantage of the situation you're in. Now, what is it of, hmm? Another Perrie tattoo? Or maybe is it—"
"An 'L'," Liam says. "It's just an 'L'."
"Like the letter?"
"No, like the number."
"Once again, give me back not-sassy Liam, I liked him better," Louis grumbles. "An 'L'. Huh."
"What do you think it means?" Liam asks. "I've been trying to figure it out, but I don't know. Could mean anything, right? It's so random." He groans. "Why does Zayn have to be the most confusing person ever?"
"He's really not," Louis says, head cocked to the side. "Zayn is the least confusing person I've ever met, in fact."
"So then—"
"There's only two people I can think of that Zayn knows who's name starts with an 'L' that he cares about enough to get a tattoo in tribute to them," Louis says pointedly. "And it's sure as fuck not my initial tattooed on the inside of his thigh, babe."
It takes Liam a moment to get what Louis is implying. "Why?" he asks. "If that's really it, why would he do that?"
Louis shrugs, closing his eyes. "Divine intervention," he says again. "Fate. I'm telling you, it's meant to be, Liam. Now, could you be a doll and ask the driver to pull over? I'd like to throw up."
Liam does, and Louis leans out the car while Liam looks away but rubs soothingly at his back. Louis is mostly useless as they stumble into the hotel, and Liam doesn't feel much better, but at least Zayn's body holds his alcohol pretty well. He doesn't feel like throwing up, but he does feel unsteady and very, very drunk.
When they get to their floor, Louis heads off for Niall's room for some reason, probably to pass out so he doesn't have to sleep alone. Liam heads back to his own, for the exact same reason. He could go to Zayn's actual room, the one he probably should be staying at, since it is paid for and neither of them are using it. But Liam doesn't want to be alone.
Zayn is awake in bed when he gets there, which throws Liam off a little. Zayn said he was tired, didn't he? So why is he still awake?
"Wanted to make sure you got my body back in one piece," Zayn says when he walks in the door.
Liam looks down at himself. "Oh, right." He'd almost forgotten. "I'm going to bed."
Zayn chuckles. "Is that really what I look like when I'm wasted? That's embarrassing."
"No," Liam assures him while stripping off his shirt. "You look good always, promise."
He falls into bed beside Zayn, jostling him a bit, and cuddles up to him. It's annoying, though, that it's his own body he's cuddling with. He wants Zayn's thin arms around him, not his own. He wants Zayn's gentle, soft hands carding through his hair, not his own. He wants Zayn's lips on his hairline, not his own.
"Always?" Zayn prompts. "You think I always look good?"
"You know you do," Liam mumbles. "You're perfect. It's a fact."
"Yeah, you definitely need to sleep."
"Mhm," Liam agrees. He closes his eyes and sighs, nuzzling just a bit into Zayn's side to get more comfortable. "Can I ask you something, though?" he says before he falls asleep.
"Sure."
"What's with the tattoo?" he asks. "The— the one on your, uh…"
Liam thinks his breath might hitch, for just a second. He could just be imagining it, though. "Which one?" Zayn asks, steady and quiet.
"The 'L'."
"Goodnight, Liam," Zayn says firmly.
Liam sighs. "I'm going to figure it out eventually, you know," he says, a little petulant, a little defiant. "I will."
Zayn's thumb brushes his cheek. "I sincerely hope you do, babe. I really do."
What does that mean? But Liam's eyelids are too heavy, the fog in his mind is too thick, and he's too tired to stay awake any longer.
*
Liam wakes up to Zayn lying half on him again, only this time it's different. This time Zayn's a little breathless, his eyes are closed, his mouth is hanging open and he's — he's hard. Liam can feel it against his hip, unmistakable, and when Zayn's hips jerk forward, just a bit, any doubt in his mind dissipates.
Liam isn't sure what to do. If he moves, Zayn will wake up, which would be awkward. Zayn would realize why Liam had moved, he'll get embarrassed, and Liam would rather avoid that. But then his only other option is to… what? Pretend to be asleep until the problem goes away?
That's exactly what he's planning on doing, but Zayn's eyes slowly bat open and he groans. "Shit," he says. "Shit, Liam, I'm sorry."
Zayn rolls off him, falling with his back flat against the bed. He stares up at the ceiling, cheeks red, and Liam takes pity on him. "It's fine, really. Happens to everyone."
"Not when they're in their best friend's body, though," Zayn grumbles. He rubs a hand over his face, wincing. "I hate this. And I'm fucking horny, but I can't even do anything about it."
"Right," Liam says awkwardly, trying not think about it because the more he does, the more it gets to him, thinking about Zayn wrapping a hand around Liam's cock and— Liam turns his head, praying that the blankets hide the fact that Zayn's not the only one with a hard on.
"Wait." Zayn props himself up on one arm, hovering over Liam a bit. "Is wanking on the list of things we can't do in each other's bodies?"
Liam really, really misses shy Zayn. The one who barely talked during interviews because he was scared of saying the wrong thing. The one who never would have discussed something like this with him. But then at the same time he doesn't, because he loves the fact that Zayn's comfortable enough with him to not filter himself or worry about getting embarrassed. He just wishes that this kind of conversation didn't get to him the way it does.
"It'd be sort of weird, wouldn't it?" Liam says. "I mean, it'd be like — getting each other off, wouldn't it?"
"Yeah," Zayn agrees, but he doesn't fall back against the bed. He keeps looking down at Liam, face an emotionless mask. "But what if it's like the kissing thing? What if — if we do each other, it's like doing ourselves, isn't it? When we kissed, we weren't kissing each other, we were kissing ourselves. It'd be sort of the same thing."
Is he seriously suggesting what Liam thinks he's suggesting? That really shouldn't turn Liam on as much as it does. "You want us to…?" He doesn't finish that but he doesn't think he really needs to.
"Never mind." Zayn finally lies back down, looking away from Liam, embarrassed.
Liam doesn't think. He moves his hand under the blanket and searches for Zayn's thigh. Liam watches as Zayn closes his eyes, sucking in a deep breath, and he moves his hand higher up. He knows his body well enough, has done this to himself enough times over the years.
Liam carefully massages Zayn through the material of his sweatpants, and Zayn's eyes stay squeezed closed. It's a little hard to get his hand inside the sweatpants, but he manages, wrapping a hand around Zayn — himself, technically. He gives a few experimental tugs, just to see, and Zayn's lips part soundlessly.
"Liam," Zayn says, sounding almost desperate.
Liam pushes the sweatpants down just enough to get more comfortable, and then he works Zayn over easily, knowing exactly how his body likes to be touched. Tight grip, moving fast, short jerks until his body twitches. When Zayn moans, Liam slows down a little, drags it out just enough. That's how he does it to himself, teases just until he can't take it anymore, so that's what he does to Zayn. When Zayn's hips finally push him up into Liam's hand, Liam speeds up his movements again, twisting his wrist the way he likes.
When Liam pushes the blankets down, getting a little too hot, Zayn's eyes finally open, just for a second. He glances down to where Liam's got a hand around him, and then he's coming with a shudder and a muffled sound.
Liam releases him, considers wiping his hand on the blanket but thinks the better of it. He heads for the bathroom, cleaning his own come off Zayn's fingers while studiously avoiding the mirror, because he knows he's still hard and he doesn't want to look at his reflection, see Zayn a sleepy, disheveled, turned on mess because that'll only make it worse.
The bathroom door cracks, and Zayn comes in, coming right up to Liam who turns off the tap and wipes his wet hands on his sweatpants. Zayn puts his arms around Liam from behind, and Liam tenses for a second until Zayn slides a hand up, over his throat, tipping his head up to look in the mirror.
Just as he'd thought, there's a heat in his cheeks that's reflected in Zayn's face. His hair is a mess, too, standing up everywhere in dark strands, but that's not really what he focuses on. Instead he focuses on the picture the two of them make, because that might be Zayn in Liam's body, and Liam might be in Zayn's, but he still likes the way they look together. Likes the way his arms fit properly around Zayn's middle, the contrast of Zayn's sharper, thinner cheekbones and Liam's wider jaw.
Zayn snakes his hand lower, groping Liam through the sweats he's wearing, and just like when they were kissing, Liam would give anything for them to switch back right now. But apparently he doesn't get a say in it, so he bites down on his lip and focuses on enjoying the way Zayn's hand expertly pushes into his sweats, gripping him loosely.
Zayn strokes him slowly, meticulously, a kind of focused look on his face. But Liam's not watching the faces Zayn makes in the mirror. He's too busy watching his own, because Zayn looks so good with his lips bitten and swollen and parted slightly in pleasure.
Liam doesn't think before he reaches a hand down and shoves the sweatpants away until they're pooled at his ankles, and Zayn doesn't stop him, either. And this time Liam doesn't feel guilty about looking down, about watching the way his own hand slowly moves over Zayn's cock, faltering every once in a while because Zayn swipes his thumb over the head, and Liam's knees shake.
"Good?" Zayn asks, meeting his eyes in the mirror.
"Yeah," Liam admits. This is probably fucked up, on some level, but — yeah, it feels good. It feels really, really fucking good.
"I know what my body likes," Zayn says, grinning against Liam's neck. "Do you trust me?"
"You— you know I do," Liam gasps out, because Zayn speeds up a bit, just enough to make Liam feel unsteady and too hot.
Zayn's freehand comes up, thumb brushing over Liam's lips until he prods at them with his forefinger. "Suck," Zayn orders. Liam gives him a look in the mirror, confused and questioning, and Zayn adds, "I know what I like, babe, trust me. I'll make you feel good, yeah?"
So Liam parts his lips and Zayn pushes two fingers into his mouth. Liam licks at them, all while watching their reflection, thinking about how good Zayn looks with Liam's fingers in his mouth, stretching it wide, and — fuck, yeah, that's hotter than it should be.
Zayn's fingers disappear, and Liam shuts his mouth, tongue pressing against the back of his lips. They tingle, but he doesn't even notice it a moment later because Zayn's got his slick fingers down between Liam's cheeks, sliding against his hole and — oh. Liam closes his eyes for a moment, lost in it. Zayn's hand continues to work him over, but he's going slow, like he knows Liam will come if he speeds up. And he's circling Liam's entrance with a single finger before pushing it in.
And all Liam can think about is what Zayn said. I know what I like. Which means he's done this before, either to himself or had someone else. That knowledge, coupled with the fact that Zayn's brushing over something inside of him that makes Liam tremble, and the fact that he's tightened his grip and is stroking Liam fast and expertly, is all it takes. Liam comes before he even realizes it's happening, eyes locked on his face in the mirror, trapped in the way Zayn's features twist in the waves of his orgasm, mouth open in a strangled moan.
"Told you to trust me," Zayn says, smirking.
Liam grips the counter tightly, chest heaving. Liam's coming down, down, down, crashing when he hits the ground. "Fuck," he mutters. "Did we just—?"
Zayn's face goes carefully blank. He shoulders Liam out of the way as he cleans himself up. "Yeah, we did. And I thought you wanted it."
"I did," Liam says quickly. "It's just — what even was that?"
Zayn shrugs. "That was like jerking off, just with two people." He looks down. "You didn't touch me, and I didn't touch you. Technically we touched ourselves, so don't worry, Liam, I don't think this constitutes as you cheating on your girlfriend, if that's what you look so upset about."
Liam hadn't even considered that. But now that Zayn's said it, he's pretty sure it does, actually. Maybe in a really fucked up way, but he's confident that what just happened would be considered cheating. And now, more than ever, Liam is so desperately confused.
Out in the room, a phone rings. It's not his, not his ringtone, and Zayn jerks his head up. "Shit," he mumbles. "I think that's Perrie again."
"I'm not answering it for you," Liam says flatly. He's still shaky from what just happened, and now he's noticing the pain in his head, probably from what he'd had to drink last night. "I'm too tired."
"I didn't think you would," Zayn says. "You should probably…" He trails off, rolling his eyes before bending down and pulling up Liam's sweats for him. "Might not be your body, but you could try to have some common decency for my sake, maybe?"
"Sorry," Liam says automatically.
Zayn shoots him a look before disappearing out the door. Liam goes and closes it, and this time he locks it, blocking Zayn out. And then he sits on the toilet, head in his hands, and tries to figure out what the fuck is going on here.
He can't.
*
"Are you avoiding him?" Louis asks.
Liam tilts his head, looking down at Louis from his bunk. Louis is standing just between the two sets of beds, hands on his hips, looking a little peeved. Niall is beside him, eyebrows raised expectantly, and Liam's been waiting for this, waiting for them to gang up on him. Doesn't mean he's going to give up without a fight, though. "Avoiding who?" he asks, innocent as one can sound when they're in Zayn Malik's body.
"Don't pull that shit," Louis warns. "You've lost your puppy eyes, Liam. It's not as effective. You can't pout your way out of this one."
"I dunno," Niall muses. "Zayn does a good wounded animal face, too." He reaches up, pinching Liam's cheeks. "You're cute. Why the hell are you avoiding Zayn?"
Liam swats his hand away. "I'm not avoiding anyone. I'm trying to nap."
"Liar," Louis says.
What's Liam supposed to say here, though? That he's avoiding Zayn because they'd kind of gotten each other off while in each other's bodies and he'd liked watching Zayn come apart too much and he feels like a creep because every time he looks in the mirror he wants to strip off his clothes and wrap a hand around himself just to watch it again? Because he has a feeling that won't go over very well with anyone, least of all Zayn. And if he tells Niall and Louis, he might as well be saying it straight to Zayn's face. You can't keep secrets in this band; they've all got big mouths.
"I'm not avoiding him," Liam says firmly.
"You're not avoiding him," Louis mocks. "You don't have a problem with the engagement. You're not in love with him." He rolls his eyes and Niall snickers. "Babe, how many times do I have to tell you that you can't lie for shit?"
"Maybe it's got to do with Perrie coming," Niall says.
Liam and Louis both tense up. Liam's heart feels like it just plummeted into his stomach. "What did you just say?"
"She's not coming," Louis gasps. "Niall, tell me she's not coming."
"Uh." Niall shrugs sheepishly. "What? Zayn asked me not to mention it!"
No. No way is she coming. No way is Zayn doing this to him. He can't ask that of Liam. He can't expect Liam to put on a happy smile around her and pretend to be her happily devoted husband-to-be. He can't. Liam will have a breakdown. It's bad enough to have to accept the fact that they're engaged; this is— this is too much.
Liam swings his legs down, hoping off the bunk. He shoves past Louis and Niall like they're pieces of furniture. He finds Zayn on the sofa, giggling laughter with his mouth hanging open as Harry attempts to get pieces of popcorn into his mouth. Harry manages, a piece landing perfectly on Zayn's tongue, and Zayn closes his mouth, swallows, and says, "Liam's mouth is good for a lot of things, apparently."
"What else do you think it's useful for?" Harry asks. "Oh, wait, you don't have to answer that, I already know what you think it'd be good for."
Liam doesn't even try to figure out that exchange. "Zayn," he says.
Zayn slowly sits up, blinking lazily at him. "You talking to me again, then?"
It's not like Liam's really been avoiding him. He hasn't. He's just been spending as much time not looking at, talking to, or thinking about Zayn as he can. Right now, he wishes he could keep doing that, but he can't. "Niall said — Niall said Perrie is coming."
"You didn't tell him?" Harry demands. "Zayn, what the hell?"
Zayn licks his lips. Liam always thought that maybe Zayn's lips were just extra dry, since Zayn is always licking at them, wetting them with his tongue. But apparently they aren't; it's just a nervous tick. "I, um." He pauses, running a hand through his hair. "I thought I mentioned it."
"You didn't," Liam says, accusatory and flat. "How could you not have mentioned it? Do you realize what this means?"
"I didn't think I'd have to tell you!" Zayn says, getting defensive. He pushes off the sofa, arms crossed over his chest. Liam's body looks intimidating like that, he thinks. He's never thought of himself as an intimidating type of person, but with his arm muscles bulging and his mouth set like that, he kind of is. "I thought we'd change back before she got here!"
"It's been almost a week and we haven't!" Liam reminds him. "Now what the hell are we supposed to do? We can fool a crowd, but do you really think we can fool your fiancée?"
Zayn winces, like Liam slapped him. "I — I don't know," he says. "None of this was planned, Liam! I tried telling her not to come but it's a little difficult over text to explain to your girlfr— your fiancée that you don't want her to come visit you over text when you've had her visit planned for months, okay?"
"You've known for months," Liam says, "and you didn't think to warn me that it might be a possibility?"
"I'm going to go… anywhere but here," Harry says, getting up.
"I was definitely going to fit it in somewhere between switching fucking bodies with you and the— the other stuff that happened," Zayn snaps, sweat breaking out on his forehead the way it does to Liam whenever he's nervous and upset. "I didn't mean for this to happen," he adds, lower, apologetic. "But it did, and we're going to have to just deal with it."
Liam sucks in a breath, lowering his gaze. "What if I don't want to do it?"
"You don't really have a choice, Liam."
"What if I did this to you?" Liam demands. "Maybe I should, actually. I'll call my girlfriend right now, offer her a plane ticket out here—"
"Don't you fucking dare," Zayn seethes.
Liam takes a step back at the frightening tone of Zayn's voice. He wasn't actually going to do it, he's not that stupid, but he didn't expect Zayn to get so angry about it. But he looks livid, fucking furious at the idea. "I-I won't," Liam hastily says. "I wouldn't actually."
"Seriously," Zayn says. "I'll break up with her, don't even test me, Liam."
In the distance, muffled and barely audible, Louis calls "Bitter!" and Zayn's cheeks burn red.
"Whatever," Liam says. "When does she get here, so I have time to — to prepare, or whatever." Because Liam's going to need days, at least, to mentally set himself up for this. To prepare himself to pretend to be all loved-up with Zayn's girlfriend. "And I'm not kissing her."
"That probably won't be a problem," Zayn says easily. Liam has only a second to wonder why the hell that wouldn't be a problem when Zayn continues with, "She's meeting up with us in Sydney."
Liam takes a deep breath. Liam pinches the bridge of his nose. Liam thinks of how it felt when they'd released What Makes You Beautiful. Liam thinks of winning their first Brit award. Liam thinks of Zayn in the morning when his eyes are half closed and he stretches like a cat, ending in a sleepy, soft yawn. Liam thinks of every single happy memory he has just so he doesn't strangle Zayn.
"That's in five days," Liam says. "That's in five days Zayn!" He sinks down onto the couch, putting his head in his hands. "I can't believe you waited this long to tell me."
"It's not exactly as if you've been talking to me these last couple days," Zayn says. He sits himself beside Liam, nervously fidgeting. His leg jiggles, he keeps licking at his lips, and he's running his hands through his hair so often that it looks horribly messy and not flattering the way Zayn's dark, thick hair looks when he's messed it up. "Why haven't you been talking to me these last couple days?"
Silence.
"I can't deal with you shutting me out," Zayn says. "I really — I really can't, Liam. I need you too much."
He sounds so freaking hurt and broken over it, and Liam feels so guilty for doing that to him. And for liking it. For liking that Zayn needs him enough that it tears him apart when Liam isn't there for him. That makes him a horrible person, he knows, but there it is.
"I'm sorry," Liam says. "I didn't mean to shut you out."
"Mind telling me why you did?" Zayn asks.
Liam bites his lip and looks away.
"If it — if it has to do with what we did," Zayn starts, and Liam shakes his head fiercely. "Then what is it?"
"It's just… a lot," Liam lies. "All of this. And sometimes I get lost in my head, you know? I didn't mean to shut you out. I was just— I was just trying to work this whole thing out, that's all. It wasn't personal."
Zayn's arm goes around his shoulder, a hesitant smile on his lips, pushing up his cheeks, crinkling Liam's brown eyes. "Work it out with me, maybe? I mean, I can kind of relate, dude."
Liam lets out a weak laugh, and he prays Zayn can't tell the difference between it and his genuine one. "I guess you can."
*
Liam almost forgets about Perrie coming. Almost being the operative word, because they have an interview two days later, something with a big day-time television program, just before they perform Best Song Ever live and, of course, it's brought up.
"We've got it on good authority that your fiancée will be coming to spend a few days with you here," one of the interviewers (Jace, maybe? Or Jack?) asks. "Are you excited?"
Liam doesn't even get a chance to answer. That's probably a good thing, but it doesn't stop his blood from boiling, or the way his eyes narrow to slits.
"He won't stop gushing over it, actually," Zayn pipes up. "You should hear him go on about it. Bit adorable, I think."
"That's cute," the female interviewer says. "Does the time apart put a strain on your relationship?"
Liam smiles, sweet as he can, and says, "The only thing that gets strained when we're apart is my right hand, really."
Louis cracks first, snorting a laugh so hard that he has to bury his head in Niall's shoulder. Harry sucks on his bottom lip and tries to repress a laugh. Niall is a beat slow, picking it up only a moment later, and then he's laughing harder than Louis, jostling him with it. Even the interviewers let out a polite, good natured laugh. And Zayn— Zayn is smiling tightly, not looking ready to kill Liam, the way Liam expected he would.
"Okay," the female interviewer says, "moving on. Do any of you have any particular plans for Australia? Last time you all seemed to have a good time. What's in store for you during this visit?"
"Boats 'n hoes," Zayn says immediately. "Those are my plans. Boats and hoes."
"That sounds like a lovely time, Liam," Louis says, not helping at all.
"That's a bit offensive," Harry comments. "Boats and women, Liam. A hoe is a piece of gardening equipment."
Niall is red now, and Liam's almost concerned for his safety, at this point. If he laughs any harder, he might break something. And Liam's definitely going to break something if Zayn doesn't keep his mouth closed for the rest of the interview.
"Let's move on to a few of our viewer questions," Jack suggests. "We've got a few here sent in from fans. Just trying to find the best ones." He shuffles around a bunch of cue cards. "Okay, who would you say is the biggest slob out of all of you?"
"Louis," everyone says automatically. Everyone but Zayn, who says, "I'd reckon me, actually. I mean, I just—" He sweeps out his hand, knocking over the empty water bottle on the table. "What can I say, I like messes. Sometimes I don't shower for weeks. That's why my hair looks like this."
"Well it works on you," the female interviewer says, with a slightly flirty grin that has Zayn's teeth grinding, but Liam doesn't think anyone but him notices.
"Alright, next question. What's your favorite thing to do on stage? Aside from singing, of course," Jack says. "The five of you get up to some crazy things, right?"
Louis laughs and goes on to recount the story of Liam falling and knocking him over, and when he's done Liam says, "I slap all the lads' bums a lot."
It's true, too, Zayn does that a lot, but he's not done yet. "There's just — you know, like." Liam stops, trying to adopt that look Zayn sometimes gets at photoshoots, his 'brooding artist' look, like he's about to say something really deep and meaningful. "When someone walks in, you know, with an itty bitty waist? You know what I'm talking about? And a round thing in my face, I just — I get sprung. I can't help myself."
"I know what you're talking about," Niall says through his laughter. "You just—" Niall covers his face with his hands and shakes his head.
"I think more of the fun happens behind the stage," Zayn puts in. He's glaring at Liam while he says, "Like, the other day I used a tape measurer, you know, just to see how big it was. And I'm pretty pleased with the eight and a half—"
"We're going to cut to commercial," Jack says loudly. "Stay tuned for a live performance of One Direction's newest single, Best Song Ever."
Liam looks to Zayn, and Zayn looks at Liam, and something in Zayn's eyes says he's just getting started.
*
"I won't do anything to permanently disfigure you."
Liam didn't pick it up, at the time, the fact that Zayn had put emphasis on permanent for a reason. He'd thought Zayn was just agreeing to not get tattoos while in each other's body. But no, that's not really it. He was actually warning Liam, apparently. Because what he's done isn't permanent, technically, but it's —
"You did not get my lip pierced," Liam states. "You didn't. Tell me that's fake. That better be fake."
Zayn pushes out his tongue against the little silver hoop. "I kind of like it," he says. "I think it makes you look hot."
Liam opens his mouth and snaps it closed. "Zayn," he warns. "You—"
"Oh, calm down." Zayn rolls his eyes and removes the hoop. There's no hole left behind. "It's fake. D'you really think I'd get your lip pierced? While we're on tour? It'd hurt to sing if I did." He pulls the beanie he was wearing off. "So I got your eyebrow pierced instead."
The area around the piercing is slightly red, and there's no way that one's fake. "I'm going to kill you."
"What, you don't like it?" Zayn goes to waggle his eyebrows, but then he stops, face scrunching up in pain. "Okay, ouch. Note to self: Don't do that."
"Zayn," Liam snaps. "This is definitely on the list of things we're not allowed to do in each other's bodies!"
Zayn makes a face (careful not to move his eyebrows much) and says, "This is just payback for that outfit you wore. Consider us even." He shrugs and sits next to Liam on bunk. "It's not like it looks bad. I sort of like it."
Liam bites his tongue. He'd said the same thing about Liam in tank tops, and he's worn nothing but since then, except when they're doing an appearance and his outfit is chosen for him. Even right now he's in a pair of sweats and a tank top, one with a low scoop neck, and Liam wonders if Zayn likes the style, or if he genuinely likes the way Liam looks in it. If he's attracted to Liam in it.
"What?" Liam asks. "I'm not edgy enough for you?"
Zayn goes to frown before he winces in pain again, but he says, "You're enough as you are. I'm just playing around. You know I think you're the greatest the way you are."
"You do?"
Zayn makes a face at him and falls back against the bunk with a yawn. They're both staying in the bus tonight. They could have gotten hotel rooms, but Liam didn't want to bother, and Zayn likes the bus better most of the time anyways. Plus, everyone else is in the hotel, so that leaves the two of them alone, and Liam was looking forward to that. Had been, until Zayn had come in with the beanie on his head and that thing in his lip.
"You're my favorite," Zayn says easily, like it's not a big deal, although it really is. "Always have been and you know it, Liam."
Liam moves so he's lying down beside Zayn. There's really not much room for two people in one of the bunks, but that's never stopped any of them before. It just means they have to squeeze a little closer than normal (which isn't all that much closer, really. They're all weirdly comfortable being crammed together), means their limbs tangle more and their forehead almost bump together when they face each other.
"So you don't want me to get a bunch of piercings and tattoos?" Liam asks, just to be sure.
"I wouldn't be adverse to you getting more tattoos," Zayn admits. "The ones you've got already are hot enough, but you could use a few more." He grins. "I could design them for you. We could get a matching one, yeah?"
Liam tries not to flush red at that. He thinks Liam's tattoos are hot? "Like what?"
Zayn shrugs, suddenly looking closed off. "I dunno," he mumbles.
Liam narrows his eyes suspiciously. "I can tell when I'm lying," he says. He pokes Zayn's side, and Zayn squirms a little. "You already have something in mind, don't you? What is it?"
"It's nothing, Liam," Zayn says sharply. There's a beat of silence where Liam tries not to look as wounded as he feels, but he figures he mostly fails. "Sorry," Zayn whispers. He kisses Liam's forehead and brushes his hair off the skin there. "Didn't mean to get like that. Just — I do have something I'd — I mean, I might have something in mind."
"Matching tattoos for us," Liam clarifies.
"Yeah," Zayn admits. "Maybe."
"What?"
Zayn squirms again, this time from Liam's words. "I don't know," he says. "I might— I might already have mine."
"You do?" Liam tries to sit up until he remembers the low ceiling. He settles back against Zayn's side, and Zayn's arm goes tightly around him to hold him close. "Which one?" He tries to think of all Zayn's tattoos, tries to think of one that Liam could get to match, but he's not sure.
Zayn smiles down at him, shaking his head. "You know, sometimes I'm really grateful for the fact that you're the most oblivious person in the world, Liam."
Liam jerks his head back, taken by surprise. "What's that supposed to mean?" It sounds defensive, even to his own ears.
"Doesn't mean anything." Zayn sits up, planting his feet on the floor. "Want to watch a movie on your laptop?"
No. Liam wants an explanation for what Zayn meant when he called Liam oblivious. In fact, he wants an explanation for the whole conversation. How does Zayn manage to do that? How does he take Liam's questions and leave him wondering more than he had when he'd started? It's not fair and it annoys him, but he knows he won't get a better answer if he pushes. Zayn can't be pushed into talking about things if he really doesn't want to. He's not like the others, who might be hesitant to admit something but can be coerced into it, can be urged into letting it out. Zayn's too stubborn.
"Yeah, okay."
*
"Perrie wants me — wants you to meet her at the airport," Zayn says.
Liam looks up from his phone and the game of Candy Crush he was playing. "Tell her you're busy," Liam mutters. "I'm busy."
"Playing a game on your phone isn't busy," Zayn says. "I thought we talked about this."
They did, briefly, on the bus that night. Liam hadn't wanted to, and he knows he probably acted like a defiant child the whole time, pouting and snippy. "You know me better than anyone," Zayn had said. "If anyone could pull off being me, it's you." And he had a point, sure, but Liam doesn't want to. Liam doesn't want to pretend to be the happy devoted boyfriend of Perrie. He wants to play his stupid game on his stupid phone and pretend that their stupid relationship is not a thing that exists, thank you.
"Why do I have to pick her up at the airport? She's just going to get in a car to come here," Liam points out. "It'd be a waste of time. Why make the trip out there just to come back here?"
"Because it's polite," Zayn supplies. "Because she's— never mind, I'll tell her I can't."
Liam's noticed, and today is not the exception, that Zayn's been on edge the last few days. The closer and closer they got to Perrie's impending arrival, the worse Zayn got. He's been constantly pacing, tugging hands sloppily through his hair, and Liam has a feeling his lips are going to be chewed completely raw by the time he gets them back. (If he ever gets them back.)
And Liam knows it's because Zayn's worried about Liam somehow screwing this up and probably ruining his whole relationship for him.
"If you're this nervous," Liam says, "why even let her come?"
Zayn looks up from his phone. "It's not like I had a choice in it, Liam," he says, tense and annoyed. "She's fucking pushy. I told her not to, but she didn't listen, and there's only so much I can protest before she gets offended and starts asking why I don't want her to come."
"Maybe we should tell her the truth," Liam suggests. But then he imagines Zayn telling her the truth, imagines the two of them spending her whole visit together. Imagines Zayn kissing her while in Liam's body, and anger pulses through him. "Actually, that's a really bad idea."
"You think?" Zayn reaches into his pocket, pulling out a pack of cigarettes. "She'd have me committed, if she didn't just assume I was fucking around." He tugs out a cigarette, bringing it to his lips, and then he pauses. "Shit, is this okay?"
Liam nods. He doesn't exactly approve, but he figures one cigarette isn't going to kill him. And if it gets that harassed look out of Zayn's eyes, Liam can handle it.
"You gotta make sure to control the conversation," Zayn's muttering around the butt of the cigarette as he smokes, the thick, displeasing smell of it reaching Liam easily from where he sits on the bed, even as Zayn moves to the other side of the room as if he can't sit still. "Just keep talking. And if she tries to talk about anything, don't let her."
Liam frowns. "Why?"
Zayn shrug, takes another hall. "She might, like, say things," he says. "It's just banter though, yeah? We joke a lot, so don't take anything she says seriously, okay? I mean anything."
"Okay."
"Shit." Zayn stops, tilting his head to look up at the ceiling. "This is all going to blow up in my face, I just know it."
Liam gets off the bed, heading over to him. He puts a hand on Zayn's back. "It'll be fine," he says. He plasters his most genuine smile on his face. "I promise I won't screw this up. I'll do my best, okay?"
And he will, no matter how much it kills him.
Zayn's expression softens. "Course you will," he says. "You always do. That's why I love you, Liam."
"Love you, too."
"Just not the way—" Zayn shakes his head, resuming his pacing. "It'll be fine," he says, more to himself than anything. "It'll be fine."
"I'll go meet her at the airport, if that'll help," Liam says.
Zayn pauses before once again shaking his head and pacing. "No. I think the best thing to do is to keep you two as far away from each other as we can without her getting suspicious. Which isn't going to last very long, but the less time you spend together, the better."
"You have a lot of faith in me," Liam mutters.
"It's not you I'm worried about," Zayn says under his breath. "Fuck. Why can't we turn back? Is there something we're supposed to do here? I just don't fucking get it."
"We could always try kissing again," Liam suggests jokingly. "That worked really well the first time."
Zayn just sighs at him for it. "I don't want to kiss myself," he says. "I want— I want a lot of things. Fuck."
"Zayn." Liam can't take it, he really can't. When Zayn unravels, so does Liam. "It'll be fine. I don't see why you're freaking out so much. I'll make sure it's all fine. You have nothing to worry about."
"Wrong, babe," Zayn says. "I have everything to worry about."
"I thought worrying was my thing," Liam tries weakly. "And it's not like she'd leave you over a bad three day visit, Zayn."
"Would you, though?" Zayn asks. "Would you leave—" He stops, digging into his pocket and pulling out his phone. "Fuck, she's on her way here. You should go meet her downstairs, at least. Help her with her bags."
Liam nods and pulls Zayn to a stop with a gentle hand on his arm. He kisses Zayn's forehead lightly, not caring if he's technically kissing himself. It's still Zayn in there, and it's still — it still counts. "I'll be the perfect you. It'll be a brilliant performance, trust me."
Zayn smiles weakly and goes to butt out his cigarette in the ashtray before following Liam out the door. Liam doesn't ask what he's doing, doesn't point out the fact that Liam himself would never accompany Zayn to help Perrie get her bags, but that's because Liam's petty and horrible, and Zayn's probably making sure that Liam doesn't fuck things up.
They end up waiting in the lobby for almost half an hour. Either traffic is bad or something's wrong, but Zayn looks unconcerned from where he sits on the opposite side of the pristine white sofa in the lobby. He's been on his phone the whole time, though, frantically sending messages. Liam left his own phone upstairs, and he's hating himself for it now.
"You going to just sit there, then?"
Liam and Zayn both nearly jump at the voice. Liam looks up sharply into a pair of ridiculous wide, ridiculously lashed, ridiculously blue eyes. She's pretty and Liam hates her for it (bitter, Louis' voice in his mind says) but he slides a smile onto his face and stands up anyways. "Hey," he says. "I've been waiting forever."
"Not alone, though." Her eyes dart pointedly to Zayn, and she smiles brightly. "Bet you didn't mind all that much, huh? Nice to see you as well, Liam."
Liam doesn't get the suggestive tone in her voice, but then again he doesn't really know her, so that's not surprising. He just smiles tightly and nods and hugs her because he figures that's what he's supposed to do. As her arms go around him, he tries to avoid noticing the ring on her finger. He fails.
Liam offers to take her bags but she only lets him carry one, taking the other two for herself. The three of them head to the elevator, and Liam is strangled by all the things unsaid. All the things they're hiding from Perrie, like the body switch thing, like the mutual hand jobs thing. And all of his own secrets, like his burning annoyance and the even stronger need to grab Zayn's hand and assure him that it's all fine. It'll all be fine. Liam will make fucking sure of it, if it kills him or not.
"So," Perrie says when they get to their floor, "are the three of us hanging out tonight, then?"
"Four," Zayn says. "Niall's coming to dinner with us."
"He is?" Liam asks. He wasn't aware they were going to dinner in the first place, let alone that Niall was coming.
"So I'm not, like, the third wheel," Zayn explains. Liam thinks that's not all of it. Inviting Niall probably has more to do with the fact that Niall's wonderful at filling awkward silences. Louis is, too, but Louis tends to make awkward silences even more awkward conversations.
"Sounds great," Perrie says, and she sounds genuine. "I'm always trying to get Zayn to bring you out with us," she adds, with another one of those pointed looks for Liam.
She is? Why?
"I'm busy a lot," Zayn says. "Sorry."
They get to the room, and Liam unlocks the door before pushing it open. Perrie looks a little confused when Zayn follows them inside, and rightfully so. Liam wouldn't ever voluntarily spend extended periods of time with the two of them together, so it's out of character for him to follow them into the room. But thankfully she doesn't comment on it, and Liam definitely doesn't.
"You all get way better rooms than we do," Perrie says, looking around as she drops her bags onto the floor. "Is there a Jacuzzi in the bathroom?" She disappears to check.
"I didn't know she wanted me to spend time with the two of you," Liam says to Zayn, pitching his voice low.
Zayn shifts, frowning, and it tugs at the piercing in Liam's eyebrow. He still not used to it, and he's taking it out as soon as he gets his body back, first thing. Even if it does look kind of cool. Liam isn't really into that kind of thing.
"I didn't think you'd want to," Zayn explains. "You've never really seemed to like her."
It's true, so why does it make Liam feel guilty?
"No Jacuzzi," Perrie sighs, coming out of the bathroom. "But I found bubble bath. I know what I'm doing after dinner."
Liam's eyes widen. What if she expects Zayn to join her? Liam might be able to force himself into kissing her, but he's not comfortable with anything else, and he's pretty sure Zayn would actually kill him if he did. Or punch him, at the very least.
"Now what?" Perrie asks as she sits on the end of the bed.
"We could go sightseeing," Zayn suggests. Liam shoots him a look, but Zayn just shrugs and when Perrie goes through her bags, searching for something, he whispers, "If we keep busy then you two won't have any time to talk."
Is he really that worried that Liam's going to say something wrong? What could he really say that would be that bad? Liam can't figure it out, but he nods anyways. Anything to avoid some sort of awkward night with the three of them piled into one room. And maybe if they do enough they'll all get tired and maybe Liam can sleep through all of tomorrow until their show.
*
Perrie is not what Liam expected. Sure, he's known her for years, but he's not ever gotten to know her. And she's not the evil, horrid bitch who stole the love of his life, like Liam wishes she were. She's nice and she's funny and she's sweet and she loves Zayn horribly. It's so obvious in the way she squeezes Liam's hand and looks at him like he shines brighter than the sun when they leave the hotel.
Liam has to constantly remind himself not to throw up. It'd be easier if she were horrible. It'd make Liam feel a lot better about how he feels, about how many times he's prayed for Zayn to leave her. But he's painfully aware that the only horrible person in this situation is him.
But there's this moment, this one really confusing moment when they're heading back to the hotel after hours of traveling around the city, trying to find something interesting to do, and people are cheering and cameras are flashing, that Perrie leans in close and whispers, "There's cameras. Kiss me, quick."
Liam blinks at her, pulling back just a fraction, confusion flashing in his eyes. Perrie rolls her own. "Just pretend I'm him, if it'll make it easier," she says. "Come on, Zayn."
So Liam kisses her, but he's so confused that he barely even registers any of it except the way her lipgloss sticks to his lips afterwards, and the annoyed look on Zayn's face when they break apart, and the people screaming. He lets her drag him inside by their joined hands, which she releases as soon as they're out of the line of sight.
"Can we do dinner now?" she asks, batting her eyelashes. "I'm starving."
Liam feels like he's missing pieces. Important puzzle pieces that reveal the whole picture, and Zayn's standing just to the right of them, hands stuffed in a pair of Liam's jeans, a look on his face that says he's praying with everything he has that Liam doesn't figure them out.
*
"I'll sit with Niall," Perrie says at dinner. They're at some cheap restaurant with low lighting and booths with holes in the seats that look like they've been around much longer than Liam has. But it smells great, it's nearly empty, and it's not the kind of place anyone would expect them to be, so it's the perfect place for them to be.
"Okay," Liam says slowly, sliding into the booth beside Zayn. Zayn, who doesn't look even slightly fazed that his fiancée would chose to sit with their bandmate instead of him. She's not even sitting across from Liam, in fact. Liam's on the outside seat, she's on the inside with Niall across from him. At the most, Zayn looks a little pinched, maybe, and he's excessively jiggling his leg, but he's definitely not surprised.
A waiter comes over to them, a guy with floppy reddish blond curls and the most bored expression on his face Liam's ever seen. He hands them all menus, asks if they'd like to start with drinks, and then slouches off without batting an eyelash.
"We should tip him very well," Perrie comments. Liam almost snorts a laugh until he drops his gaze to her hand, and suddenly any and all laughter dies in his throat as the low light glints off the ring.
While his eyes scan the menu, and Niall (as always) reads out every possible option, like he's fishing for input on what to get, Zayn barely even looks at his own. He's still vibrating, nervously licking his lips and shaking, and Liam hates it. So, as discreetly as he can, he puts a stilling, comforting hand on Zayn's thigh, fingers squeezing in just a bit until Zayn sighs and sort of leans towards him.
"— just one, though," Niall is saying. "That's why I hate restaurants. What if I get one thing and it sucks, and there's like fifty other things I could have gotten that are probably awesome? It's just too much pressure, man. I need an adult."
"Niall," Perrie says, gentle and solemn, "I hate to break this to you, but you are an adult."
"Let's just get two appetizers to share for now," Liam suggests. "Z— Liam?"
Zayn looks up at him, and Liam sort of gets now what everyone says about the puppy-look. That look hurts. "Yeah?"
"That sound good to you?" Liam prompts.
"Oh, yeah, sure. Whatever." Zayn shuts his menu and folds his arms on the table in front of him, eyes downcast.
When Liam lifts his gaze, Perrie nods her head in Zayn's direction and mouths, "He okay?" Liam nods back at her, even though he's fairly certain Zayn's not okay. And why would she care? Even Niall's not worrying at all about Zayn, too busy picking out something to eat, but Perrie is. Perrie's worried about Liam, technically, because she thinks that's him.
The waiter comes back with their drinks and there's a moment of playful bickering between Niall and Perrie over what they're ordering, and then he slouches off again. Without the need to talk about food, Niall looks around the table once, darts his gaze between Liam and Zayn, and then goes off on a long story about a drunken adventure where he and a few friends accidentally stole some guy's pet rabbit from a party that leaves Perrie in a fit of giggles and Zayn's lips finally tugging up in something resembling a smile.
All in all, it's one of the most uncomfortable dinners of Liam's life, but Liam's dreading it ending. What happens then? What happens when there aren't any more excuses for Zayn to stay with them? What happens when Liam is left alone with Perrie and —
"Any chance I could get something a little stronger to drink?" Liam asks the waiter when he comes by with their appetizers.
"What are you doing?" Zayn demands.
Liam shrugs and sips at his water while he waits for his other drink to come.
"So what's it like being engaged?" Niall asks. Everyone else at the table tenses, but Niall doesn't seem to notice as he slips the straw of his drink into his mouth. "'s no one gonna answer that, then?"
"Uh," Liam says eloquently, while Perrie gives him an expectant look, like she's waiting for his input.
"It's not much different than anything else we've done," she finally answers. "I mean, he's my best friend. I love him with my whole heart, and it doesn't really change much, a ring or a promise of something more one day."
Zayn sighs and Liam wants to cry. "Yeah," he says, because that's what's expected. Because that's what Zayn would do, isn't it? Agree to what she said. Of course, Zayn would find something to add, something that meant something. Liam doesn't know how to do that, how to put what he feels into words, not without stumbling over them and ruining everything. "I have to go to the bathroom."
Liam practically runs from the table, nearly bumping into their waiter on his way to the bathroom. It's dingy inside, two red coloured stalls, two sinks, two mirrors in need of a scrub down, two urinals. Liam goes straight over to the sinks, turning one on, cupping his hands under the spray and leaning down to splash it over his face. He feels clammy, sick, like he has the flu and he's burning up with a fever.
A hand slowly rubs at his back, and Liam squeezes his eyes closed for a moment before meeting Zayn's eyes in the mirror. "You sick?" Zayn asks, worry etched into the words. "You should have said if you weren't feeling well, Liam."
"I'm fine," Liam says. Zayn raises an eyebrow, clearly not believing that. "Fine. My stomach's killing me. It's probably just the drink."
"Do you want to go back to the hotel?"
Fuck no. "No." Definitely not. "I'll be fine."
"No more alcohol though," Zayn says. "Okay?"
That's probably for the best. As much as Liam doesn't want to do this sober, getting drunk right now would only worsen the situation. "Yeah, okay."
When they get back to the table, Niall and Perrie are caught up in an animated conversation, both of them laughing. Neither of them stop as Zayn and Liam retake their seats.
Zayn reaches for a nacho off the plate they'd ordered and a foot hooks around Liam's ankle. He jumps, startled, and finds Perrie looking at him with her eyebrows pointedly raised. She's asking something with her eyes, sliding them over to Zayn for a second, but Liam doesn't know what it is. He doesn't know her the way Zayn apparently does, can't pick up on her unspoken words, so he just shrugs and grabs a nacho too.
Liam's stomach has mostly settled by the time they pay they check. He spent most of the night eating to avoid talking, and holding Zayn's hand under the table. He can't remember who initiated that, if it was him who grabbed Zayn's hand, seeking assurance himself or looking to assure Zayn that everything was fine, or if it had been Zayn. All he knows is that their hands, like their lips and their bodies, fit perfectly together.
Getting back to the hotel, though, has him feeling sick all over again. They all pile into the elevator while Niall talks about plans to go out with Louis for a bit, take advantage of their night off while they can. "What about you three?" Niall asks.
"We're going to stay in, probably watch whatever trashy TV we can find like we normally do," Perrie answers for them. "Right, Zayn?"
"Uh." Liam looks at Zayn, panicked. "I guess?"
"Liam's more than welcome, too," she adds. "If you'd like, Liam."
"Sounds great, yeah," Zayn says immediately. "Thanks."
Once again, Zayn follows them to the room. Liam wishes he had his own; wishes he weren't expected to share with her, because all he wants is to crawl under the blankets, pull them high over his head, and pretend like this isn't happening. Any of it. He doesn't want any of it. He doesn't want to be Zayn; he doesn't want Zayn to be Perrie's; he doesn't want to feel anything for Zayn but friendship, because that would be so much easier. That would make his whole life so, so much simpler. And it'd make his heart hurt a lot less, too.
"I'm going to take a quick shower," Perrie says once the door is closed. "That alright with you two?"
Zayn shrugs and falls onto the bed, spreading out, head tipped back against the pillows. Liam goes and sits on the other side, tense and straight, nodding only once. Perrie gives Liam another one of those confusing, secretive looks before ducking into the bathroom with one of her bags. As soon as she's gone, Liam lets out a sigh of relief, and Zayn falls onto his side, reaching over to pull Liam down next to him.
"We're doing good," he says, "right?" He nervously bites at his pinky nail. "Right, Li?"
"Yeah." Liam nods stiffly. "I don't think she suspects anything."
Liam hears the shower in the bathroom turned on, soon followed by Perrie's soft, melodic singing. He reaches blindly for the remote and turns on the TV, flicking through the basic channels for something, anything to watch. Eventually Zayn tugs it away from him, check the guide, and puts on some random sitcom that does little to hold Liam's attention.
That's more because of Zayn's fingers tracing patterns on the inside of his wrist than the quality of the show, though. "Zayn?" Liam blurts, moving his hand up to capture Zayn's. "Can I ask you something?"
"Yeah?" Zayn doesn't look away from the screen, only squeezes Liam's hand in acknowledgement.
Liam sucks in a breath, looks far away from Zayn's eyes, and asks, "Is she really what you want? For the rest of your life?"
He can feel Zayn looking at him, his gaze like the sun on a cloudless day, the kind where you stay indoors or seek shade if you can't ignore it: too hot and too much to handle. "That's a really dumb question, Liam," Zayn says lowly.
It is, Liam thinks. "Sorry."
Zayn sighs. "It's fine." He curls up against Liam's side. "Why do you ask?"
Liam shrugs. "Just wondering," Liam lies. "What are we watching, anyways?"
"Fuck if I know," Zayn admits. "I don't recognize any of these channels." He goes back to the guide, skipping past show after show. "That's one thing I really hate about being in other countries; I never know what channels anything good is on."
"I can get my laptop," Liam suggests. "We can watch something on that."
"Nah." Zayn sits up, covering his mouth to hide a yawn. "I think I'm gonna go to my room. Today was exhausting."
Liam's eyes widen. "You can't leave me alone with her!" he hisses. "Zayn—"
"Just go to sleep," Zayn says. "I pass out on her all the time. She won't even care."
"Wow," Liam says. "You must be a great boyfriend, Zayn."
Zayn grins at him, reaching down to cup Liam's cheek. "I would be, you know," he says before his hand slips away and he climbs off the bed. "Goodnight, Liam. See you in the morning."
Liam stares after him, a little dumbstruck, too flabbergasted to move. What did that even mean? What the hell just happened? He doesn't even get a moment to try to figure it out, because the shower turns off and he can hear Perrie moving around in the bathroom.
Liam quickly climbs under the covers, pulling them up, and faces away from the door, pretending to be asleep as he listens to Perrie bustling around in the bathroom. A few minutes later the door opens, releasing a cloud of sweet, cherry smelling steam that Liam wrinkles his nose at.
"Seriously?" Perrie groans. "Every time with you, Zayn," she mutters. Liam keeps his eyes clamped shut as the bed dips behind him. "I know you're not sleeping, you shit. You snore."
Liam winces, guilty, and rolls over. She's not under the comforter, at least, and they're not even close to touching. She's dressed in a pair of worn, loose sweats, her hair piled up on top of her head in that messy bun thing that everyone does, her face wiped clean of makeup. It makes her look a lot younger, a lot softer, as does the way she smiles down at him. "Where'd Liam go?"
"To bed," Liam says. "He, uh, told me to tell you goodnight, and that he was too tired to stay."
"I'm sorry, babe," she says.
Liam frowns. "For what?"
Perrie playfully pokes his side. "You know what," she teases. "You're pathetic, Malik. Completely pathetic."
"I am?" Is this what Zayn meant about banter that he wasn't supposed to listen to?
"Absolutely," she says, sounding delighted as she snags the TV remote. "I've never met a bigger lovestruck idiot in my life. But it's okay, I still love you." She bends down, her lips falling against his cheek, instead of his lips the way he'd expected them to. "You can go to bed. I'll just watch TV and order myself something to eat."
"We just got back from dinner," Liam reminds her. And she'd eaten a whole plate of food, fought with Niall over the last of the nachos they'd had, and how could she possibly consider eating again? There's no way.
"And?" Perrie shoots him a look. "I'm hungry. Don't give me that judgmental look. I want cheesecake."
"Okay," Liam drags out. "Night, then."
"Night, babe."
Liam rolls over, turning his back to her, laying at the very edge of the bed, as much distance between them as possible. But he can't sleep. The TV is distracting, as is the way Perrie laughs at even the most terrible jokes. She orders food, just like she said, and Liam hears her fork scraping against the plate as her phone beeps and beeps, all night long.
But he's not looking forward to the moment it ends, because when it does, she finally climbs under the covers. Liam waits for it, stomach knotting as he anxiously waits for her to cuddle up to him, wrap her arms around his waist. But she doesn't. The entire night she stays on the other side of the bed, far, far away from him.
What the hell? Liam's done the whole long distance relationship thing before, and Danielle hadn't even been his fiancée at the time. He knows what it was like, finally being back with each other (when things were good between them, anyways), the way they'd go at it for hours until they were breathless and exhausted, and then curl up tangled in each other, trying to make up for lost time. But, actually, Perrie's barely made any effort to touch him, except when they'd been shouldering their way past the cameras and screaming fans.
Something, Liam thinks, is going on here. But whatever it is, he really doesn't want to know.
*
"You've been sleeping for ages," wakes him up, a faint whine in Perrie's voice. "Get up, Zayn. I want to do something. I want to shop."
Liam groans, turning over. "Sleeping," he mumbles, trying to keep his eyes shut. "Shh."
"Don't you shush me," she warns. "I'll push you right out of that bed, so help me—"
"Okay, okay." Liam sits up, running a hand through his hair. "I'm up."
"Good. Now out of bed." She drops a pile of clothing on top of him. "I've already got a car ready for us, and I checked out the directions to a few shops I really want to go to." She pauses, a winning grin on her face as she holds out her arms. "How do I look, by the way?"
Liam frowns and tries to focus his eyes. She's in some pair of extremely short shorts and a tank topish, flowy shirt that nearly passes the hemline of them. "Uh, great," Liam mumbles. "You look — yeah. Good." He lifts up his thumb and wipes at his eyes with his freehand.
Perrie makes a tisking sound with her tongue. "Oh, whatever," she sighs. "Just get out of bed, yeah? I've already got you an outfit ready. Hurry up."
"What time is it?" Liam asks as he gets out of bed.
"Eleven."
Damn. Apparently sleeping in is something Liam inherited when he inhabited Zayn's body. He never sleeps in this late, not unless he's sick or seriously hung over.
Liam reaches for the pile of clothing on the bed, finding an assortment of clothes that belong to everyone. There's a pair of Zayn's jeans, those socks definitely belong to Harry, Niall's t-shirt, and one of Louis' beanies. He doesn't remember stealing all those things from the others, but he figures he must have. Zayn ran out of clothes days ago, and he hasn't had time (or energy) to go shopping to get something proper to wear.
Liam sighs and starts undressing, until Perrie lets out a squawk. "What're you doing?" she demands, covering her eyes. "No one wants to see that, you sicko."
He just— "What?"
"Ugh, penises," Perrie groans. "I really don't understand the way the male anatomy works. They're like those little breakfast sausages when they're all limp and uncut and— ew." She shudders. "Go in the bathroom if you're taking everything off."
Liam gathers up the clothes in confusion, heading into the bathroom. He frowns at the mirror, as if Zayn's reflection can give him some sort of explanation, because Zayn himself definitely hadn't, and Perrie isn't going to. But, just like the real Zayn, he's absolutely silent in the wake of Liam's confusion, so Liam sighs again and starts undressing. (And he sneaks a peak, just to see, but Zayn is cut and it doesn't look anything like a breakfast sausage, okay?)
But why would she protest to him changing in front of her? That doesn't make any sense. A lot of things don't make any sense.
Liam dresses slowly, dragging it out, splashing water onto his face and brushing his teeth when he's done. When he comes out, Perrie's perched on the freshly made bed, adjusting the headband in her hair as she flips through her phone. "Took you long enough," she complains. "The car's been here for five minutes."
"Sorry," Liam says. "Um. Should we ask the others if they want to come?"
"No," Perrie says as she stands. "Just us for now, yeah? Let me have just an hour or two alone with my best friend, please."
She's pouting, is the thing. It's fairly effective, what with the perfectly pink lips and the wide blue eyes and the batting of her heavy eyelashes. "Okay."
Liam throws a single, stressed look at his phone, desperate to grab it and send Zayn a text to come with them, but Perrie's grabbing his arm, tugging him out of the room, and he doesn't have time. She keeps her arm linked firmly in his the whole way down to the lobby, like she's expecting him to run, and she doesn't drop it to link their fingers together until they're in view of the large glass entrance and the people waiting out front.
A member of their security is waiting for them in the vehicle, unsurprisingly. Liam slides into his seat, Perrie climbing in after him, and does up his seatbelt before looking out the window, watching the people outside through the tinted glass. That's how he spends the whole drive, while Perrie happily chats up the driver and their security guy. She's ridiculously bubbly and cheerful to everyone, and Liam's never met anyone (aside from Niall) who can befriend anyone, at any time, so easily.
"Come on," she says half an hour later, shoving a few pieces of clothing at him. They're in some small, local clothing shop with more manikins than Liam's ever seen in such a small place, and ridiculously high prices for clothes almost identical to something he could buy for a fraction of their cost anywhere less private. "Go try it on."
Liam groans. They've only just started shopping, technically, but it feels like they've been at it for hours. "I don't—"
"Liam would like it," Perrie teases, waggling her eyebrows. "So go try it on."
"What— what does that have to do with anything?" Why would him liking it persuade Zayn into trying something on?
Perrie shoves him forcibly into a changing stall. "Just try it on," she orders. "Stop complaining."
So Liam does, with the hopes that obeying will get her to back off, and maybe they can head back to the hotel soon. He's hungry, bored, irritated, and he wants to be with Zayn, not with her. So he pulls off his own shirt, tugs on the one she'd handed to him. He's not sure what's so special about it, it's just a simple black printed t-shirt, but.
"Happy?" Liam asks as he comes out.
"Oh, that looks great on you," Perrie compliments. "Definitely get it."
"Okay." Liam goes back inside the change room and works on getting back into his own clothes.
"Speaking of Liam," she says as he does, door of the change room between them, and Liam pauses, tensing a little. "How are you two, by the way? You didn't really say last time we chatted."
"Uh. We're good?"
"I take that to mean you're both still completely stupid," she sighs.
"Um." What? The more she talks, the more confused Liam gets. It's starting to really bother him. "I guess."
"Boys," Perrie scoffs. "Boys and their stupid inability to talk about or own up to their stupid feelings. You're both annoyingly daft."
Liam comes out of the change room, door banging loudly against the wall. "Can we go?" he snaps. He wants to be back at the hotel. He wants to pull Zayn aside and demand answers to all the questions he has. "I don't want to shop."
Perrie looks marginally taken back by the heat in his words. "Okay," she says. "Yes, we can — Sorry. I know I shouldn't have brought it up." She lowers her gaze, scuffs the sole of her hightops against the ground. "I know how you are about it, and I shouldn't have pushed. I apologize."
And now Liam feels guilty. "No, it's not you," he says quickly, and it's not, or not completely anyways. "I'm just tired and cranky."
Her happy smile is back so fast Liam nearly gets whiplash. "I know," she says. "Just give me ten minutes to pick something out, yeah? You can wait in the car. I'll be fast." She tugs the shirt from his grip. "And I'll get this one for you."
"Alright." Liam lets her wave him off, heading for the car, where he sits for the next half hour, impatience growing by the second. Finally she comes out, weighed down by bag after bag. How had she had time to try all that on? Fucking Christ, Liam will never understand women. "Ready to go?"
"Yep," she says pleasantly. "I'll show you what I got when we get back. You should see this pair of shorts I got. They're gorgeous. And this pair of wedges that—"
Liam tunes it out.
*
Liam doesn't get a chance to corner Zayn that day. He's busy, out with Harry and Niall on their own shopping excursion, and they nearly have to leave for the venue by the time they all get back. Which means Liam is stuck all day in the hotel with Perrie, which she actually seems okay with. She changes back into her sweats after subjecting Liam to a long, long fashion show of everything she'd bought (so many clothes, Liam has no idea how she'll have time to wear them all) and spends the day on the bed, ordering room service over and over, chowing down on everything from salad to onion rings. How she manages to fit all of it in there, Liam has no idea. She's like a bottomless pit, could give Niall a run for his money.
She comes to the show that night, too, and Zayn nudges him at one point until Liam gives her a shoutout with gritted teeth and tight lips. And then Zayn follows them back to their room, curling up on the bed to watch TV with him again while Perrie showers, until she gets up and crawls between them, resting her head on Liam's chest.
The next day is much of the same. They play their final show there, they pack up their stuff, and Perrie plans on heading back home. It was such a short, weird visit, and Liam's forced to accompany her to the airport, where they have the most dramatic goodbye kiss ever. Liam tries not to wrinkle his nose when he pulls back, rubbing at his mouth as camera after camera flash nearly blinds him.
"I'll miss you," she whispers in his ear. "You call me, okay?"
"Okay."
"And let me know if anything happens with your boy," she adds, pointing a stern finger at him. "I want all the details. Or— not all of them, actually, but I want to know if anything happens, yeah? He seemed really happy to be near you the whole time I was there. It's nice to see you both getting along again."
"Right." Liam's too numb to say anything else.
"I love you!" she says loudly as she back away. "I'll miss you!"
"You too."
When Liam thinks he can do so without seeming disrespectful, he walks away, heading back for the car to take him to the hotel so he can grab his bags and get on the tour bus. He's silent the whole way, too cold and aching to keep his eyes open.
The thing is, Liam doesn't hate her. Liam doesn't hate her at all. Those three days only proved to him something he'd been avoiding for so long: Perrie is wonderful and she loves Zayn and she seems to make him incredibly happy.
He always imagined in his head, bitterly, that they didn't work. That they weren't really paired well together. That Zayn and Perrie didn't click, didn't really have anything in common. He was wrong. They're both similarly lazy and bubbly when they want to be; they both like the same dumb TV shows and laugh at the same dumb things. She's sickeningly sweet with him, seems to want nothing but the very best for him, from what Liam could tell.
And he's… he's happy for them. For the first time, he's happy for them. He'd accepted it, last night when she'd kissed his forehead before climbing under the blankets and passing out. Maybe he can't have Zayn, and that's okay. Maybe he's okay with Zayn being with someone else, if she genuinely lights up his world.
It kills Liam inside. It's worse than everything else that's happened. It's worse than the day they'd made their relationship official. It's worse than all those times she'd called him when they were together and Zayn had ducked away with a grin on his face. It's worse than that day when he'd spotted the ring on her finger, and the hundreds of interview questions about it. It was like there was a part of him, before, that had convinced himself that there was still a chance, but now he knows there isn't.
Zayn is happy with Perrie, and Liam wants Zayn to be happy. He'd rather Zayn be happy with him, but if that's not an option — he's glad Zayn has someone who seems to genuinely love and care about him. He really is.
He throws up when he gets back to the hotel, hugging the toilet bowl and heaving up everything he's eaten in the last two days. He brushes his teeth and packs away his things with shaking hands, and he weakly carries his things to the bus. He ignores the inquiring looks from the others, gets into his bunk and pulls down the curtains to block everyone else out.
Only it's impossible to really avoid the others, even when he desperately wants to, and Zayn climbs into his bunk without warning — and without asking.
"What's wrong?" he wonders, laying down beside Liam so their bodies are parallel. "Why'd you just ignore us all?"
"I'm not in the mood right now," Liam says softly.
Zayn's eyebrows draw together, concerned. "What happened?" he demands. "Talk to me, Liam, don't block me out."
So Liam does. He closes his eyes, takes a steadying breath, and says, "I'm really happy for you, Zayn. I know I've never said it before, but — about the engagement, I'm really happy for you." He blinks open his eyes, praying his tears aren't obvious to Zayn even as they obstruct his vision. "She's really lovely, and I'm glad you two are happy together. Congratulations."
Zayn's eyes dart between both of his. "What? What—"
"She's really great," Liam emphasizes. "I'm really happy for both of you. I think you'll— I think you'll make a great husband, Zayn."
"Where is this coming from?" Zayn demands. "Did she — did Perrie say something?"
"She said a lot of things," Liam mumbles. He sighs, tilting his head towards the wall so he doesn't have to look at Zayn. "She really loves you, yeah? Don't think you could ask for much more. I'm really, really, truly happy for you. You deserve someone that makes you happy."
He feels the tears slipping down his face, wetting his pillow, but he knows Zayn can't see them. "Liam," he says. "Why are you—?"
"Can I sleep, please?" Liam begs. Maybe Zayn can't see it, but Liam can hear it, the fact that he's crying clear as day in his voice. "I didn't get much sleep last night, and I'd like to nap before we arrive."
"Liam," Zayn tries again, and there's something watery in his words, too, thick and quiet.
Liam tugs his blankets up. "Please go away."
Zayn makes a lost, strangled sound before he jumps down from Liam's bed. He sharply tugs the curtains closed, and Liam can hear him stomp away, far from him. "What's wrong?" he hears Harry ask. "Zayn, what—"
"Leave me alone," Zayn snaps, and Liam pulls his pillow over his head, too, for good measure.
He doesn't fall asleep, though. He lays on his side, facing the wall, and cries until it feels like he has nothing left inside him anymore. He feels pathetic. He doesn't cry, ever, and this is what breaks him? But that's the reason, isn't it? He's broken. Heartbroken. He's been dumped. He's been dumped by people he's loved, and people he hasn't, but he doesn't think he's ever been truly heartbroken before. Not like this. It feels like he's shattered.
No, not shattered, actually. He's not in a bunch of little pieces, that's not what it feels like. It feels like someone has reaches inside him and ripped out something vital. He may still be alive, but he's missing an important piece of himself. That's what it feels like: like he's incomplete. Like he's lost something that he needed, and he'll never get it back.
He feels the bus come to a stop a while later. He's not sure how long it's been, exactly. Crying takes everything out of him, makes him feel like he hasn't slept properly in weeks.
"Come on, babe," Louis says gently. "We're here."
"I'm staying on the bus tonight," Liam mumbles. "I don't want to get up."
"What happened?" Louis presses. "Zayn stormed out of here the second we arrived, and you sound like you've been—"
"I'm fine," Liam cuts him off, not turning around. "I'm just exhausted. Don't worry about me."
"I always worry about you," Louis protests. "Liam, babe, come on. Get out of the bed."
"No." Liam pulls his blankets up a little higher. "I'll be fine, Louis, I promise. I just — I need to be alone right now."
Silence follows that, and for a while there's nothing but Liam's slightly labored breathing, filling the hollow confines of his small bunk. "Alright," Louis eventfully relents. "If you change your mind, Zayn and I are in room 309."
"You're sharing with him?" Liam blurts, unable to help himself.
"You're sharing with him," Louis corrects. "I was planning on staying in here for the night. But if you want to be alone, I guess I'll room with him instead."
"Thanks, Louis," Liam mumbles. "I really appreciate it."
"Yeah." Louis reaches up and brushes his hair off his forehead. "Call me if you need me, okay?"
Liam nods, but he doesn't plan on it. Louis looks like he knows this, too, but he knows Liam enough not to push, not to prod right now. Louis can be overbearing a lot of the time, but he always seems to know just when to tone it down. This is one of those times, and he nods once more to Liam before leaving.
*
Liam wakes up feeling horrible. His head is heavy, like he'd cried all night which — oh, right, he had. He rolls over, rubbing at his eyes, finding them crusty and gross. They sting when he blinks them open, and his whole body feels weak. He could use another three, four hours of sleep, he thinks, but he can't spend his whole life feeling sorry for himself. At some point he has to start moving on, and the sooner he does the better. The sooner he gets over this (if he can) the better.
Beside him, someone groans and rolls over. "I can show you the world," Louis mumbles. "Shining, shimmering…" He sighs and goes silent again.
Liam blinks down at him. And then blinks some more. And then he stands up, looking down at his legs. No tattoos, no anything. They're his legs, hairy, thin, with muscular calves and — they're not Zayn's. Liam stumbles towards the bathroom, eyes wide. He grips the sink with tight hands, knuckles turning white, and —
It's Liam looking back at him. Brown eyes, short hair, dressed in a loose t-shirt and boxers. It's him. He lifts a hand, pokes at his own cheeks. He makes a face, just to see, and his reflection in the mirror does the same.
"Louis!" Liam practically runs from the room, nearly tripping over the carpeted floor. Louis barely stirs, clutching the blanket closer to himself while mumbling something about Jasmine needing to shut the hell up because he's trying to sing to her right now. "Louis, get up."
"Zayn," Louis whines. "Fuck off you dick."
Liam shakes him. "Louis."
Louis finally wakes, glaring at Liam like he's trying to kill him with his stare. "What?" he demands. "What the hell are you—?"
"I'm Liam," Liam says. "Louis, I'm me again."
Louis blinks at him. "Me as in…?"
"Liam," Liam says. "We switched back!"
"About fucking time," Louis grumbles. "Now shut up and go back to sleep, you psycho. It's like six in the morning, you freak."
Liam makes a face at him, but Louis ignores it in favor of rolling back over. With a sigh, Liam lets him be, heading back for the bathroom. He grins at himself in the mirror, and he's never been so happy in his life to be himself again.
And then last night comes crashing down around him again, and he remembers why he'd woken up feeling like he'd barely slept. His joy dissipates a bit, but he forces a smile back onto his face anyways. At least he's him again, he rationalizes. This will all be so much easier to deal with now that he's not Zayn, even if he feels a little twinge when he looks in the mirror again.
He rubs a hand down his face, trying to clear his head. He's still tired, though, and he feels gross, like he'd spent the night sweating. He shrugs out of his shirt, tossing it onto the floor, and turns on the shower, praying it'll make him feel better.
But as he's pulling down his boxers, he eyes himself in the mirror. Something had caught his eye. Something dark and small and familiar.
Liam frowns as he lifts one leg onto the toilet seat, bent at the knee, exposing the inside of his thigh. There, in small, neat writing, is a simple 'Z'. Just like Zayn's, only — Liam licks at his thumb and wipes at it, and his heart sinks when it smudges. Not a tattoo, then. Just pen, or something.
But why? Why in the world would Zayn do that?
"And it's sure as fuck not my initial tattooed on the inside of his thigh, babe," he remembers Louis saying. And he hadn't really believed it at the time, hadn't thought it was true, but — if the 'L' on Zayn's leg isn't for Liam, then why would Zayn put a matching 'Z' on Liam's leg?
Liam chews the inside of his lip as he climbs into the shower, and he watches with a detached sense of sadness as the 'Z' washes away with the water. As soon as he's dried and dressed, he goes out into the room, finding Louis back asleep, taking up the whole bed, practically. Liam rolls his eyes fondly as he heads for the door, checking only once to make sure Louis is fast asleep.
The bus is dark when he climbs onto it. It's nearly dark outside, too, the low, faded light of early morning shining down on him. He loves this time of day, really. When the stars still pinprick the sky, and the orange of the sun chases away the black of the night. When it's cool and damp, and the only sounds are from birds and insects.
Liam heads straight for his bunk, pulling back the curtain. Zayn, inside, shifts a little, pouting in that way he does when he's asleep, hands curled tightly around the blanket. Liam shoves at his shoulders.
"Zayn," he says. "Zayn."
"Shh," Zayn pleads. "Shh."
"Wake up," Liam says, loud and sharp.
"No," Zayn groans. "Never."
"Do you want me to pull you out of the bunk?" Liam warns. "Because I will."
"Liam," Zayn whines. "Liam—" And then his eyes slowly open. "Liam?"
"We changed back," Liam says. It sounds sort of anticlimactic, but Zayn's eyes widen anyways and he nearly slips out of the bunk. Liam puts his hands up, blocking the edge, and he grins. "You're you again."
Zayn looks a little dazed as he sits up, rubbing at his eyes. He hops down from the bunk, landing unsteadily on his socked feet. As soon as Liam's put a hand on his arm to keep him upright, Zayn reach up, cupping Liam's cheek with a soft, gentle hand. "You're you," he says, just as Liam had, but there's something different in the way he says it. "Liam."
"Yeah," Liam keeps grinning, "I am. And so are you."
And then Zayn kisses him. It's a desperate sort of kiss, one that catches him completely off guard. Zayn's lips are bitter-tasting and chapped from sleep, but Liam doesn't even care. He clings at Zayn, desperately holding on as Zayn's lips press hard and insistent against his own, tongue pushing out, making a low sound in the back of his throat.
He pulls back abruptly, leaving Liam dumbstruck, swaying on his feet. "Sorry," Zayn gasps out, clutching hard at his arm. "Sorry, I couldn't — I had to. I'm sorry."
"Why did you do that?" Liam asks, carefully taking a step back, then another, because the closer he is the Zayn the more he wants to return the favor, wants to capture his lips and push him back against the nearest bunk, not stopping until Zayn's a mess of bitten lips and sweaty skin with love-bites covering his throat and maybe his thighs, too.
"I'm sorry," Zayn says again, instead of supplying an explanation.
"Zayn—"
"I'm just glad to have you back," Zayn says, and Liam can see them, the watery tears in his eyes. "I'm just really happy to—" He cups Liam's cheek again, thumb sliding over his stubble. "I'm so fucking happy to touch you again. Not— not you in my body."
"Why did you kiss me?" Liam asks, pulling Zayn's hand down, breaking contact. "Why did you do that?"
"Liam," Zayn says. Nothing else, just his name.
"Why did you do that?" Liam demands, a little louder. "And why — why do you have an 'L' tattooed on the inside of your leg? Why was there a 'Z' on mine when I woke up?" And now he's on a roll, firing questions off at random. "Why did your girlfriend barely touch you when she was here? Why did she only kiss you in front of cameras? Why did she seem so happy that you and I weren't fighting anymore? Why, Zayn? Tell me, because I'm so freaking lost over this whole thing!"
"Don't," Zayn pleads. "Some questions are better left unanswered, yeah?"
"No, they're not." Liam crosses his arms over his chest, eyes narrowed. "I've been really fucking confused these last few days, Zayn, and I want answers."
"Why do you want to ruin everything?" Zayn snaps. "Can't you just let it go?"
"I can't," Liam says. "I can't let it go, Zayn."
"Fuck," Zayn groans. He tugs a hand through his hair, collapsing onto the nearest bunk. He nearly hits his head, too, only just misses the bunk above him by an inch or so. "If I say it, everything'll change. Don't you get that? That as soon as it's out there, this is all — this is all ruined."
Liam sits next to him, but he doesn't touch Zayn. Touching right now won't help things, it'll only distract them both. "What will all be ruined?"
Zayn waves a hand between them. "This. Us. You'll look at me different. You won't touch me the same. It'll — it'll all change, Liam."
Screw not touching him. Liam grabs Zayn's hand, holding on tightly, probably crushing Zayn's fingers by accident while trying to tell him without words that nothing could ever — "Nothing could change this, okay?" Liam promises. "I just need to know, Zayn. I'm confused and I hate it. I hate that there's clearly something that you're hiding, and you don't trust me enough to tell me."
Which is hypocritical and he knows it, since he's hiding something too.
"Fine." Zayn pulls his hand away, looking at the floor as he mumbles, "We're not getting married, alright?"
Liam frowns. "Who?"
"Perrie and I," Zayn says, a little snappish. "We're not engaged. We're not getting married. Fuck, we're not even really dating, Liam."
Answers are supposed to clear things up, not make them more confusing. "What?"
"I know," Zayn groans. "I know I shouldn't have lied but— it was a lot easier, for me. For both of us. We're — we're good friends, yeah, Perrie and I. Have been for years. But that's just it, we're just friends. But we agreed that it'd be easier on us both if we pretended it was more than that. It'd stop the constant rumors on who we were both hooking up with. It's just a lot easier, when an interviewer asks who's single and who's taken, if I can lift my hand and says, yeah, I've got a girlfriend."
No. No way. There's no possible way. "But — but you asked her to marry you!"
"Yeah." Zayn winces, looking guilty. "Wasn't the smartest move, but, like, with all the cheating rumors, and the shit I get every time I even look at — We both figured it'd put an end to that shit, right, if they thought we were getting married. And I knew it was a dumb idea, but it's — do you know what it's like? You don't have the same issues, Liam. You're seen as the level-headed one, you're the responsible one. There's not a thousand articles out there of people arguing that you're a bad person. So I just — I lied, and I know it's wrong, but I won't say I regret it because I don't."
He's got a point and Liam knows it. Zayn does get more flack, almost more than any of them, except maybe Harry. But it's for different reasons, bad reasons, and Liam knows that it's hard on Zayn, that's one of the reasons Liam constantly wants to wrap his arms around Zayn and whisk him off somewhere remote and warm where he can keep him safe from the rest of the world.
"But — but why not just get a girlfriend?" Liam wonders. "A real one?"
Zayn snorts, bitter and self-deprecating. "I don't want a girlfriend, Liam."
Okay. Liam's head is whirling, his ears are ringing. He's trying to piece it all together in his mind.
So Zayn and Perrie aren't engaged. They're not together. It was all for show, which explains a lot, actually, so much that Liam kicks himself for not realizing it. The kissing only when people were around, the way she barely touched him once they were alone. The way she talked to him, more like he was her best guy friend, less like he was her soon-to-be husband.
It leaves a lot of questions still, though. "Why didn't you ever tell me?" He tries not to sound wounded, but he is. He thought he and Zayn shared everything, their most important secrets. He thought Zayn trusted him enough that he'd tell Liam something like this. Apparently he doesn't.
"Because I figured—" Zayn cuts off, falling back against the bunk, legs hanging off. He stares up at the top of it, hands folded on his stomach. "Because I figured you wouldn't realize how I felt about you if you thought I was in love with someone else."
Outside, a car honks. It's so loud in the quiet of the bus that it makes Liam jump, and this time it's him who nearly hits his head on the ceiling. But he doesn't, and instead he turns, looking down at Zayn who won't look up to him. "What do you mean by that?" he whispers. "How — how do you feel, exactly?"
Zayn finally does look at him, with narrowed eyes and pursed lips. "I've got the first letter of your name tattooed on the inside of my thigh, Liam. Put the pieces together."
He can. He has. They've been together since the moment he saw the penned in letter there. But he doesn't want to get his hopes up, doesn't want to find out he was wrong, jumping to conclusions, interpreting things that weren't meant to be interpreted that way. "I need to hear you say it," he says. "I need to hear you say it out loud, Zayn."
Zayn closes his eyes. "You know when something really good happens to you, and you just want to share it with everyone? I don't. I just want to share it with you. You drive me crazy all the time, Liam, but in the best way. Like — when you smile sometimes, and I know it's not meant for anyone else, it's mine. It's my smile. And when you laugh at something I've said even if it's isn't funny, I just want to kiss you. And you always listen to everything I say, even when it's stupid or irrelevant you act like it's the most important thing in the world." He sucks in a breath. "I've been in love with you for so long that I can't even remember what it's like to not — to not be in love with you. I can't remember what it's like to not want to call you in the middle of the night when I can't breathe because everything feels like it's too much. I don't remember how to find something funny and not look to you to make sure you find it funny, too.
Zayn is looking up at him again, with wide, sad eyes. "I tried not to, I swear I did, but I couldn't help it. If I could have, I would have, because not being in love with you would be so much easier, Liam. Loving you the way I'm supposed to, like a best friend and not someone I want to spend the rest of my life waking up to, falling asleep to, would be so much fucking easier." He looks away again. "I'm sorry."
"You're sorry?" Liam demands. He feels like crying. "Why are you sorry?"
"Because I want something I shouldn't," Zayn explains. "Because I try so hard for what we have to be enough, but it's not. I always want more than — more than this, you know? But I can't, and I shouldn't."
Liam bites his tongue until tears sting at his eyes. "Zayn," he says. "Can you just — can you look at me for a second?"
Zayn throws an arm over his face. "I really don't want to. I just fucking bared my heart to you, Liam. Fuck. Can you just leave and let me wallow in embarrassment and self-pity for a few hours? Or days, even."
"I can't," Liam says. "I'm too mad at you. God, I want to strangle you right now, you have no idea."
Zayn moves his arm, frowning up at him. "You're mad?"
"Furious," Liam corrects. "I'm fucking pissed, Zayn."
Zayn grimaces, licking at his lips as he always does. "I guess I deserve that."
"Yeah, you do," Liam snaps. "I can't believe you didn't just — you didn't just tell me. I can't believe you pretended to be engaged to someone else without telling me! And I really can't believe that we've both been this stupid."
"You're not stupid," Zayn says quietly. "Just me."
Liam shakes his head, leaning down over Zayn, propped up on both his arms. "I was the one who's been insanely jealous for the last few months," Liam argues. "I'm the one who's been throwing a hissy fit because his best friend got engaged to someone else."
"You've been jealous?" Zayn asks, hesitant and almost timid. "Why would you be jealous?"
"Because I want it to be me," Liam answers. "Because I want people to ask you about me in interviews, not her. Because I want to be the one you get down on your knee for. Because I want to be the one that gets to keep you for the rest of my life, only mine, as selfish and horrible as that is. Because I've been so freaking in love with you for so long that it killed me to imagine that someone else was going to get the only person I've ever desperately needed."
"You need me?"
"More than anything," Liam admits. "So much it makes me sick, sometimes."
"If you're fucking with me," Zayn warns.
"I'm not," Liam promises. "I swear I'm not."
"But… but that means…" Zayn trails off, making an aborted hand gesture.
"It means we're both idiots," Liam confirms. He grins, in spite of it all. "It means that we've both been pretending that we weren't in love with each other because we were both too stupid to realize that we felt the same way."
Zayn groans. "You've got to be kidding me."
Liam shakes his head. "Nope."
Zayn reaches up, tracing Liam's lips with the tips of his fingers. "It's a hell of a lot easier to accept that we switched bodies than it is to believe that you're in love with me," he admits. "Can you just — could you say it, one more time?"
"I love you," Liam says easily. "I'm in love with you."
Zayn fists a hand in the front of his shirt, pulling him down. "Once more."
"Love you," Liam mumbles, almost against Zayn's lips. "I love you."
"Yeah." Zayn grins. "I love you, too."
He kisses Liam then, gentle and hesitant, and Liam kisses him back, so grateful that it's Zayn's lips against his own, that it's Zayn kissing him, in his own body. That it's Zayn's ribs he ghosts over with his fingertips; that it's Zayn stomach he scratches his nails against, and Zayn's hips that he grinds his own into. That it's Zayn's moan that has him pulling back, just to make sure it's real, he's real, this is real.
"Again?" Zayn prompts.
Liam laughs and kisses him, pressing whispering 'I love you's to every inch of Zayn's skin he can get his lips on.
*
Liam glances down as he lets the warm water glide over him. It flattens his hair, obscures his vision, but he can still see it, faint and small but clearly there, just on the inside of his thigh. It'd hurt like a bitch, in such a sensitive spot, and it was definitely the most awkward experience he'd ever had at a tattoo shop, especially with Louis right there, laughing the whole time the bulky, heavily tattooed man had spent between his legs. But he doesn't regret it for a single second.
He hears the bathroom door crack but he doesn't even blink. Living with Zayn has made him used to that, as well as the fact that he can never find the shirt he's planning on wearing because Zayn's stolen it at some point, and the line-up of hair products on his counter, and the sketchpad on the bedside table that Zayn takes out sometimes and writes in, when he's sleepy and yawning, pen clutched loosely in his hand.
"Morning, babe," Zayn calls through the frosted glass. "Just brushing m' teeth."
"Morning," Liam calls back while reaching for the shampoo. He lathers his hair, closes his eye, and turns so he's under the water completely as he washes it out.
When he rubs at his eyes and opens them again, Zayn's grinning at him, totally naked. "I lied," he admits. "Woke up for shower sex."
Liam laughs, wrapping his arms around Zayn's waist, turning him so he's under the spray of water instead. Zayn makes an upset sound, trying to blow the water out of his mouth as Liam pinches his sides, gliding his hands down Zayn's slick skin. "We nearly cracked your head open last time," he reminds Zayn.
Zayn shrugs, pushing forward until Liam's trapped against the damp wall. "Practice makes perfect," he says, leaning in for a kiss.
But then he pulls back, eyes moving down Liam's body. He frowns, hand moving down to Liam's thigh. It brushes lightly over the tattoo, tracing the small 'Z' with his nail. "Liam," he says, husky and quiet. "When did you get that?"
"Few days ago," Liam admits, which is why it's healed enough for Zayn to touch it without irritating it. "When you went to visit your friends."
Last night was their first night together in almost two weeks, and the lights had been off when Zayn had come home to find Liam asleep, since he wasn't scheduled to get back until Friday.
"Do you like it?" Liam asks.
Zayn kisses him hard, his hair dripping onto Liam's forehead. Liam kisses him back, scratching lightly at his skin, no desperation in it, just warmth and a simmering happiness that has his toes curling and his lips tilting up against Zayn's.
He wonders, all the time, how long the honeymoon period lasts. It's been months since Zayn called off his engagement with Perrie. It's been exactly eight weeks since they announced their relationship to the world. It's been almost a year since Liam woke up to Louis sleeping beside him and a neat little 'Z' penned onto his thigh. And it doesn't ever lessen. It hasn't went away. Zayn still makes his stomach twist and his skin feel like it's on fire. He still makes Liam smile like he's the greatest thing in the world, because he sort of is, to Liam at least.
And he doesn't want that to end, nor does he think it ever will, at this point.
"I love you," he says.
Zayn grins at him. "One more time?"