Stockholm

EIGHT

Waking up with his flat all lit up and Zayn curled up next to him in bed, hogging all the covers, Liam had a sudden realization that his life had changed dramatically in more than one way. For some odd reason, in the midst of dehydration, starvation, and slowly slipping into mental instability, Liam had forgotten about how completely and entirely straight both he and Zayn were. 

In that room, all he'd known about the situation is that it felt right. He hadn't even thought to be surprised when Zayn revealed that not only were the feelings mutual, but had been a very long time coming on his end. Now, though, Liam couldn't help but begin to panic at the various reactions he'd have to soothe if anyone ever found out about what had really happened.

Not only would the fans freak out, but his parents and ex-girlfriends would probably be extremely confused. His new-found infatuation with Zayn didn't lessen his previous affection for those women in any way-- however, he worried about Perrie endlessly as he watched Zayn breathe low and soft.

Finally, unable to swallow the guilt any longer, Liam reached over and shook at Zayn's shoulder until he stirred awake. "Zee, you need to go home."

Zayn sat up and rubbed at his eyes, looking annoyed and confused. "What are you on about?"

"Perrie's probably waiting for you," Liam said coldly, peeling the sheets off of his body and walking briskly out of his bedroom, not bothering to wait for Zayn's response.

"Liam," Zayn was saying following him to the front door. "I don't--"

"You don't miss her? You don't love her? What? Just go, please. Don't need anybody making assumptions, okay?"

"A bit late for that, wouldn't you say?" Zayn asked, tugging on his shoes and jumper. "I'm going to text you."

Liam shrugged, shutting the door softly in Zayn's face and collapsing neatly onto the welcome mat, back pressed against the wood. He bit back his tears and just sat there, looking around his flat like it was a foreign country. How was he supposed to jump right back into living his life? Living this odd, dream-like life, especially after only just leaving the nightmare?

The day dragged on so slowly after that, Liam felt as though he was constantly trying to move through a room filled waist deep in honey. When all of his family crammed themselves into his flat with the obvious intention of camping out until they were satisfied that he was alright, he let his mother and father wrap him up in suffocating hugs for hours at a time, and ignored his soft ring tone from between the layers of fabric. He knew it was Zayn, and he was not going to answer.

His mother said something about she'd always been scared that this level of success would lead to bad things-- Liam wanted to point out that people all over the world are tortured, raped, and murdered every day. He was locked in an uncomfortable room for a small chunk of time, and although other members of his band had been harmed, he had not, and had instead kissed and cuddled and proclaimed his ridiculous love for a boy. A boy with a girlfriend.

He excused himself to wash his hands, turned on the sink, and cried on the bathroom floor for five minutes, letting the way his life had altered extremely resonate in his chest. His own mother touched his arm as though she feared it would shatter. Liam imagined Zayn's father holding tight to the nape of Zayn's neck and look him hard in the eyes with a watery gaze. He felt a misplaced guilt low in the pit of his stomach when he imagined Perrie kissing Zayn hard and desperate.

Eventually, Liam splashed water across his cheeks and exited the bathroom, gaze low as he crawled back into the too-gentle arms of his parents. The conversation happened entirely in the kind of calculating whispers that made his skin itch. He longed for the casual infatuated way Zayn had spoken to him for the entire time they'd known each other, without fail and unwavering, completely void of pity for Liam which he was now being fed by the spoonful.