Behind the Scenes (One Direction Ageplay One Shots)

Reckless Behavior - (Baby Liam)

Liam: 21 (forced into 2 year old headspace)
Louis: Daddy
Harry: Dada
Zayn: Dad
Niall: Papa
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~ Prompt By: @Ilovesoccer2001
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Liam's P.O.V

  I went out tonight to have a good time with my pals Andy and Max like I do every Friday night....and Saturday night...also Sunday nights if i'm really feeling it; which is basically all the time (I mean, who can turn down clubs and some drinks with your buddies from time to time, huh?). A lot of people think I have some kind of drinking problem. I think that's absolutely ludicrous because I don't have a problem.

I'm Liam James Payne, I don't have "problems". I'm the perfect authoritative figure that everyone looks up to. I'm fine; I am perfectly okay and content and I wish people would start to actually listen to me rather than continue to make their cruel assumptions. So what if I like to down a handful of drinks like they're water when I go out? So what if my doctor says that my only functional kidney is going to start shutting down if I keep it up?

So what if I crave the buzz of the beers coursing through my veins until my brain can't produce any coherent, intruding thoughts anymore? How bad can just wanting to forget the past for a few hours possibly be for me? I don't have a problem. I've come to the conclusion that's it's actually everyone else that has a problem, but they're looking for someone else to point out so all the attention is off of them.

So be it. If everyone is too insecure about their problems to fess up to them, that's their own issue. They want to all call on me to say I have an issue? That's fine with me. Let all the attention be put on me. Me - Liam Payne - the man who doesn't have a problem. Let me be an example of what they could be like, had they just owned up to their mistakes.

My favorite song comes on in the club, and I pull Max and Andy out from the booth and drag them to the dance floor that has very minimal space left but nobody seems to care. My hips sway to the music as a familiar beat pulses through my ears and the bottoms of my feet. Andy is dancing along with a short red haired girl that he had taken a particular interest in when we came here Sunday night. I think she's a regular.

Max stays more towards the outside of the dance floor, because he has a girlfriend (Allie) and no matter how much he drinks, he knows well enough that she wouldn't be too pleased if she heard he had girls grinding against him at the club; so he finds it best to distance himself from the chaos. I on the other hand, have a tall glass of beer in my left hand, and I'm throwing my fist up in the air along to the beats of the music with the other.

My body is moving around so much that beer is splashing on the people around me, and some get a little pissed at me, the others seem too drunk to care. However, one couple that I thought was more drunk than anyone else in the club, did care. For when a little bit of my beer had splashed out of the glass and landed on this one girl's shoulder, and down onto her white cocktail dress, the guy she was with became livid.

He used his fingers to lightly hold the bottom of my glass, before tipping it, so it landed all over my face. I didn't care much (probably because I was already on my sixth glass), so I just decided to laugh it off; it was no big deal, right? Wrong. The man took my laughter as it was meant to mock him, which caused his fist to go from mid-air, to the side of my face in an instant, bringing me to the floor. I chuckled lowly to myself as I start to see small black spots. Here starts the best part of the night:

forgetting

Zayn's P.O.V