Chapter 6: Rekindled Rhythms
The cafeteria buzzed with muted activity as staff and visitors milled about, yet at their table, the world seemed to shrink. It was a pocket of cautious hope, a reprieve from the storm they'd been weathering. The boys, Cheryl, and Amelia sat huddled together, their plates mostly untouched. The update from Liam's doctor—steady vitals, signs of responsiveness—had allowed them a moment to breathe, and with it, their familiar banter slowly returned.
Harry leaned back in his chair, spearing a forlorn piece of lettuce with his fork.
"This," he said, holding the green aloft, "is what Liam would want us to eat. Greens. The sustenance of responsible adults."
His attempt at a mock-serious tone drew an immediate laugh from Niall, who shook his head. "You do a terrible Liam impression, mate."
"Oh, come on," Harry countered, mimicking Liam's stern yet affectionate demeanor. "You lot would be hopeless without me. Eat your greens, boys, and no more fizzy drinks after rehearsal."
"Spot on," Louis chimed in, clapping Harry on the shoulder. "You're giving Payne a run for his money."
Niall grinned, his blue eyes twinkling. "Pretty sure he'd make us do laps around the hospital if he saw how much we've all been slacking."
Amelia, sitting between Niall and Cheryl, pointed her fork at Zayn's untouched plate. "Speaking of slacking—Zayn, seriously, you haven't eaten anything. If Liam were awake, he'd drag you by the ear for that."
Zayn smirked faintly, but his gaze drifted to the hallway leading to Liam's room. His fingers tapped absently against the edge of the table, his mind clearly elsewhere.
"Oi," Louis said, leaning forward and snapping his fingers. "Earth to Malik. You're not doing Liam any favors by starving yourself, you know."
Zayn's lips pressed into a thin line, but he didn't reply. Harry nudged him gently with his foot under the table. "Zee, mate. You okay?"
For a moment, Zayn didn't move, his shoulders taut. Then, as if compelled by some unseen force, he abruptly stood, his chair scraping loudly against the floor. "I need to see him," he said, his voice low but resolute.
The sudden shift in mood stilled the table. Cheryl exchanged a glance with Amelia, her brow furrowing with concern. Harry sighed, already rising to follow. "Bloody dramatic," he muttered under his breath, though his tone was more affectionate than exasperated.
The room was quiet, save for the steady beeping of the heart monitor and the soft hum of the hospital machinery. Zayn hadn't moved for hours, his eyes fixed on Liam's pale face, willing him to stir. His thumb brushed over Liam's knuckles in a slow, repetitive motion, a lifeline for both of them.
And then, it happened.
A faint groan broke the silence, so soft it might have been imagined. Zayn froze, his breath catching in his throat. He leaned forward, his voice trembling as he whispered, "Li? Li, can you hear me?"
Liam's eyelids fluttered, the faintest crease forming between his brows. His lips parted, and though no sound came, it was enough. Zayn's heart raced as he clutched Liam's hand tighter. "Come on, Leeum," he urged, his voice thick with emotion. "Come back to me. I'm right here."
The fluttering became more deliberate, and then, with visible effort, Liam's eyes cracked open. They were glassy and unfocused, but they were open.
"Zee?" Liam croaked, his voice barely a whisper, his lips curling into a ghost of a smile.
A sob broke from Zayn's throat as he surged forward, pressing his forehead against Liam's. "I'm here," he choked out, his tears wetting Liam's hand. "I'm here, Li. You're okay. You're okay."
Liam's gaze shifted, his brows knitting faintly as he looked around. "What…?" His voice was raspy, strained from disuse.
Before Liam could say another word, Zayn shot up, his movements frantic. "Doctor!" he shouted toward the hallway, his voice carrying urgency. "We need a doctor in here!"
Louis, who had been dozing in the corner, jerked awake, his chair screeching against the floor. "What the hell—oh my God, he's awake!" He stumbled to Liam's bedside, his grin splitting his face. "You absolute bastard, don't you ever scare us like that again!"
Niall burst in from the hallway, Harry close behind. Both froze in the doorway, their eyes widening in disbelief. "Li?" Niall breathed, his voice tinged with awe. "Is it really you, mate?"
"'S me," Liam rasped, his voice barely audible but carrying a warmth that sent a ripple of relief through the room.
Harry practically vaulted over the foot of the bed, his long arms wrapping awkwardly around both Liam and Louis. "Don't you ever do this again," he muttered, his voice shaking. "We can't handle it, Payne."
A nurse bustled in, followed by a doctor, their expressions a mix of surprise and relief. "Gentlemen," the nurse said briskly, "we need some space."
But Zayn stood firm, his hand still clutching Liam's. "What's happening? Is he okay? Is this normal?" His questions came in rapid succession, his protective instincts on overdrive.
The doctor raised a calming hand. "He's stable, Mr. Malik. Waking up is a very good sign, but we need to examine him to ensure everything is progressing as it should."
Harry looped an arm around Zayn's shoulders and gently tugged him back. "Zee, let them work. He's not going anywhere."
Zayn hesitated, his jaw tight, but finally stepped aside, his eyes never leaving Liam.
The door clicked shut behind the doctor, leaving the room in a heavy silence. For a moment, no one moved, the weight of relief mingling with the shock of seeing Liam awake and alert after so long. Then, Zayn stepped closer, dropping into the chair by Liam's bedside, his hand sliding instinctively back to Liam's.
The silence after the doctor left lingered, heavy but not oppressive. Zayn, perched on the edge of Liam's bed, kept his hand on Liam's shoulder, his thumb unconsciously brushing against the thin fabric of the hospital gown. Liam tilted his head slightly to meet Zayn's gaze, and the look they shared said more than words could.
"You're really here," Zayn said, his voice barely above a whisper, as if saying it too loudly might shatter the moment.
"I am," Liam replied softly, his lips curling into a small, reassuring smile. "You lot really think I'd leave you to your own devices?"
Louis let out a short laugh, breaking the tension. "I dunno, mate. You've got a habit of taking the hard way round."
Harry scoffed, crossing his arms as he leaned against the wall. "And we're the ones who get blamed for being dramatic?"
"You are dramatic," Liam said, his voice rasping slightly. He turned his head toward Zayn. "Not you, though. You're just... thorough."
Zayn's lips twitched into a rare smile, and his grip on Liam's hand tightened briefly. "I'll take that as a compliment."
"You should," Liam said, a flicker of amusement in his tired eyes.
"You scared us," Zayn said softly, his voice trembling. "I thought—" His voice caught, and he pressed his lips into a thin line, fighting back tears.
"I'm sorry," Liam murmured, his voice hoarse but filled with sincerity. His free hand shifted weakly, and Zayn was there in an instant, guiding it to rest over his own. "Didn't mean to put you all through that."
Louis was the first to break the silence. "Oh, shut up, Payne," he said, his voice cracking slightly despite the teasing tone. "Do you have any idea how much we've been through? Sitting around, waiting for you to wake up, with Zayn here pacing like a bloody lunatic and snapping at every nurse who dared breathe too loud?"
Zayn shot him a glare, but the tension in the room broke as Liam chuckled weakly. "Sounds about right."
"You're not allowed to do this again," Harry said firmly, his green eyes shimmering with unshed tears. He crossed his arms, but his voice softened as he added, "Not without warning, at least."
"Right," Niall chimed in, his Irish lilt warm and comforting. "If you ever decide to scare us like that again, we're putting you in a giant bubble."
Liam's smile widened, his head tipping back against the pillows as he took them all in. "You lot are ridiculous," he said, his tone affectionate.
"And you love it," Louis shot back, earning a laugh from everyone.
The group quickly shifted into their natural rhythm, their banter and laughter filling the room. Harry perched himself at the foot of Liam's bed, gesturing animatedly as he recounted a story from one of their old tours.
"And then Louis, brilliant as ever," Harry said, his dimples flashing, "decides it's a great idea to prank the entire crew by switching out the soundcheck playlist with—what was it, Lou? The theme from Jaws?"
Louis smirked. "Oh, come on, it was genius. The look on their faces when that bass line hit? Priceless."
Liam chuckled, his shoulders shaking gently. "You were a menace," he said, his voice warm with nostalgia.
Zayn shifted beside him, fluffing Liam's pillow with one hand while adjusting the blanket with the other. "You thought it was hilarious at the time," he pointed out, his tone teasing but gentle.
"I still do," Liam admitted, a flicker of mischief in his tired eyes.
Niall reached for his guitar, plucking a familiar melody. "How about a little throwback?" he said, his grin widening as he began to sing a parody version of one of their old hits.
"'You light up my world like nobody else,'" Niall crooned, dramatically over-emphasizing the words. "The way that you flip your hair gets me overwhelmed—by all your bloody hospital monitors!"
The room erupted into laughter, Liam's low chuckle blending with the louder bursts from the others. Even Zayn cracked a rare smile, his hand never leaving Liam's as he leaned into the moment.
As the laughter subsided, Liam shifted slightly, wincing as he tried to sit up higher. Before he could say anything, Zayn was already moving, adjusting the pillows behind him and steadying him with a firm but gentle grip.
"Thanks," Liam murmured, leaning into Zayn's touch without hesitation.
"You don't have to thank me, Li," Zayn replied softly. "You know that."
Liam nodded, his gaze drifting to the others. "I don't think I've ever said this," he began, his voice quiet but steady. "But I don't know what I'd do without you lot. You've always been there. Even when I didn't realize how much I needed you."
Harry reached out, squeezing Liam's ankle through the blanket. "We always will be. You're stuck with us, mate."
"And you better get used to it," Louis added. "We're not letting you out of our sight for a while."
Liam smiled, the vulnerability in his expression unguarded. "Good," he said simply.
Niall, never one to resist an opportunity for levity, pulled up a chair next to the bed. "Right, lads. I say we give Liam the full catch-up. Starting with Zayn's impromptu career as a hall monitor. You should've seen him, Li. Had every nurse terrified to breathe wrong."
Zayn rolled his eyes but didn't let go of Liam. "I was asking questions."
"You were interrogating them," Louis countered, his grin wide. "If the NHS were a country, you'd have started a diplomatic incident."
Liam chuckled, the sound weak but genuine. "Sounds about right," he murmured, glancing at Zayn. "Don't tell me you scared the nice nurses."
"They'll live," Zayn said, his tone nonchalant. "I just needed to make sure they knew what they were doing."
Louis smirked. "What he means is, he gave them the 'if anything happens to him, it's on you' speech. Twice."
"Twice?" Liam echoed, his brow raising in amusement. He turned to Zayn. "You've always been a bit intense, haven't you?"
"I call it being thorough," Zayn said, deadpan, earning a laugh from everyone in the room.
Amidst the laughter, Cheryl quietly slipped into the room, holding her phone out toward Liam. "Someone's been waiting to see you," she said softly.
The screen lit up with Bear's wide-eyed face, his grin stretching from ear to ear. "Daddy!" he squealed, his excitement audible even through the video.
Liam's entire demeanor shifted, his face lighting up despite his exhaustion. "Hey, buddy," he said, his voice warm and steady, as though the conversation erased the hospital walls around him.
Bear babbled excitedly about his day—something about dinosaurs and a very important pancake breakfast—as Liam listened, his smile never faltering. The boys leaning in quietly, their teasing falling silent as they watched the interaction.
"Can I come see you, Daddy?" Bear asked, his voice small but hopeful.
"Tomorrow," Liam promised, his tone gentle but firm. "I'll be a bit stronger then, okay?"
Bear nodded solemnly, and Cheryl took over the phone. "We'll come by first thing," she said, her eyes darting between Liam and the boys, her expression softening. "Get some rest."
The video call ended, the boys collectively, unanimously decided it was their duty to keep Liam's spirits high. Louis leaned forward, his blue eyes glinting with mischief. "Right, Payne. We've got stories to tell. Start with your favorite: all the ways we've embarrassed ourselves since you've been out of commission."
Niall grinned. "Oh, let's not forget the time Harry tried to make tea and set off the hotel fire alarm."
"That's not fair," Harry protested, his cheeks tinting pink. "I didn't know the kettle wasn't electric!"
Liam's laugh bubbled up, stronger this time. "Still the same lot, aren't you?"
"And proud of it," Louis said with a mock bow. "We're like fine wine, Payne. We just get better with age."
"Speak for yourself," Zayn muttered, though the teasing lilt in his voice betrayed him.
Harry leaned in, his green eyes narrowing. "Tell me you're not calling us old, Malik."
"Just you, Styles," Zayn shot back, his smirk widening.
The room filled with laughter again, and Liam leaned back against the pillows, his shoulders shaking gently with mirth.
As the boys continued to talk and laugh, Zayn remained close, his presence a quiet but constant comfort. When Liam's hand drifted toward his water glass, Zayn reached for it before Liam could, holding it steady as Liam drank. He rested his other hand lightly on Liam's arm, his touch casual but grounding.
"You're worse than a nurse," Liam teased, his smile soft.
Zayn smirked, unfazed. "Better looking, though."
"Debatable," Louis muttered, earning a round of laughter.
Later, as the boys continued to talk and laugh, Zayn remained close, his presence a quiet but constant comfort. When Liam's hand drifted toward his water glass, Zayn reached for it before Liam could, holding it steady as Liam drank. He rested his other hand lightly on Liam's arm, his touch casual but grounding.
"You're worse than a nurse," Liam teased, his smile soft.
Zayn smirked, unfazed. "Better looking, though."
"Debatable," Louis muttered, earning a round of laughter.
As the hours wore on, Liam's energy began to wane. Without a word, Zayn shifted closer, slipping onto the edge of the bed. He slid an arm around Liam's shoulders, easing him into a more comfortable position against his chest. Liam leaned into him without hesitation, his head resting against Zayn's collarbone.
The others didn't comment, though their fond smiles spoke volumes. It was a natural thing, Zayn's quiet care for Liam, and none of them found it surprising.
"Comfy?" Zayn asked, his voice low.
"Always," Liam replied, his eyes fluttering shut.
The room fell into a companionable silence, the group content to simply be together.
As the laughter settled into a companionable quiet, the boys sprawled across the room, their exhaustion tempered by relief. Liam, now resting comfortably against Zayn's shoulder, seemed lighter, as though the weight of the past few weeks had been momentarily lifted by the sheer force of their presence.
Standing just outside the threshold, Cheryl and Amelia exchanged a glance before slipping into the room. They hung back, letting the boys' energy fill the space, but both women found themselves caught in quiet reflection.
Amelia lingered near the doorway, her hands clasped loosely in front of her as she watched the scene inside Liam's hospital room. She had met Liam for the first time only hours ago, yet the depth of love and camaraderie in the room was unmistakable. It wasn't just between Liam and Niall, the man she was set to marry, but also among the rest of the boys.
She shifted her gaze to Niall, who was leaning over the bed, his arm slung casually around Liam's shoulder as he laughed at something Harry had said. It wasn't a performance or a carefully curated moment for the public—it was genuine. She couldn't help but marvel at how this moment contrasted with the carefully crafted image she had grown up seeing in the media.
There was a quiet strength in Niall now, a far cry from the carefree, wide-eyed boy she remembered from old interviews. His warmth and humor were the same, but his steady presence in the room spoke of someone who had been through storms and come out stronger for it.
Her eyes moved to Harry and Louis, their banter sharp and playful, yet carrying an undercurrent of deep understanding. Louis's jokes might have been biting at times, but his watchful gaze never strayed far from Liam. Harry, who carried himself with a seemingly effortless charm, had moments where the cracks showed—an unguarded glance, a fleeting hesitation—but he quickly masked them with teasing smiles and exaggerated gestures.
And then there was Zayn. He didn't banter as much as the others; instead, he lingered close to Liam, his every action deliberate. Whether it was adjusting the pillow behind Liam's head or silently handing him a water glass before Liam even asked, Zayn's care was instinctive and unspoken. Amelia couldn't help but be struck by how deeply he seemed to understand Liam's needs without a single word being exchanged.
"This is who they are," Amelia thought. "Not the icons, not the personas—but brothers. They've been through so much, and yet they still hold onto each other like this."
She was also struck by the differences in how the boys had carried themselves when she first arrived at the hospital compared to now. The weight of fear and uncertainty that had hung over them had lightened. The sharp edges of their worry had softened, replaced by relief and cautious hope. They were still protecting Liam, still fussing over him in their own ways, but there was laughter now, a shared joy in his presence.
Amelia glanced back at Niall, her chest swelling with a bittersweet warmth. She had always admired his kindness, but seeing him here, in his element, surrounded by his brothers, she realized just how much strength he carried. He wasn't just a part of the group—he was one of its foundations.
Cheryl stood a little apart from the group, her arms crossed as she watched the boys fuss over Liam. It was endearing, she thought, the way they hovered and teased, their affection woven into every word and gesture. But more than anything, it was revealing.
Liam had always been a steady presence in her life—dependable, self-sufficient, and impossibly kind. He was the kind of man who would drop everything to help someone else, even if it meant sacrificing his own needs. As Bear's father, he had been all of that and more: protective, attentive, and hyper-vigilant to ensure their son never felt the weight of the media's gaze.
But this Liam was different.
Cheryl's gaze softened as she watched Liam lean back into Zayn's touch, his head resting against Zayn's shoulder with a level of trust she hadn't seen before. He didn't try to hide his exhaustion or brush off their care with a polite smile. He let himself be looked after, his defenses down in a way that left Cheryl both surprised and deeply moved.
She thought back to the Liam she had known all those years ago, the one who had buried his struggles so deeply that even she, as his partner at the time, had only seen glimpses of them. He had always been strong for her, for their family, for everyone around him. But that strength had come at a cost, one she hadn't fully understood until now.
Seeing him with the boys, Cheryl realized that this was the version of Liam she had never been able to reach—the Liam who allowed himself to be vulnerable, to lean on someone else without fear of judgment or rejection. She felt a pang of guilt as she realized how much he had likely sacrificed for her and Bear, burying his own needs in favor of theirs.
"For the first time," Cheryl thought, her throat tightening, "he's letting himself be taken care of. And it's with them."
Her eyes lingered on Zayn, whose quiet care for Liam was nothing short of instinctive. The way he adjusted Liam's blanket or reached for his hand without hesitation spoke volumes. It was a side of their relationship she had never fully understood before, but now it seemed so obvious.
Cheryl took a deep breath, a bittersweet realization settling over her. Liam had always been a remarkable partner and father, but what she was seeing now wasn't about that. This was about him being completely himself, unguarded and safe in a way she hadn't seen before.
And as much as it hurt to admit, Cheryl felt a sense of peace. Liam was loved—not just by Bear, not just by her, but by people who understood him in a way she never fully could. People who had been through the same battles and carried the same scars.
"He's where he needs to be," she thought. "With the people who love him for everything he is."
The room had emptied slowly, the energy of earlier replaced by a softer quiet. Louis and Harry had reluctantly agreed to return to the villa, citing their mission to fetch Bear and the Paynes in the morning. Niall, Cheryl, and Amelia were scattered somewhere in the hospital—likely coordinating logistics or grabbing a late dinner.
Zayn, however, had refused to budge.
His earlier protest when Louis suggested he head back with them had been nothing short of a spectacle. "I'm not leaving," Zayn had snapped, his tone brooking no argument. "You lot can go if you want. I'm staying."
Louis had smirked but raised his hands in surrender. "Alright, Malik. Don't set the nurses on fire while we're gone."
Harry's dimpled grin lingered as he followed Louis out, his parting quip over his shoulder. "Try not to scare Liam to death with your mother hen routine."
Now, with only the faint hum of the machines filling the room, Zayn sat at Liam's bedside, his posture relaxed yet alert. His fingers traced idle circles on the edge of the blanket, his dark eyes fixed on Liam with a quiet intensity.
"You're not sleeping," Liam murmured, breaking the silence. His voice, still hoarse, carried a note of fond exasperation.
Zayn's lips quirked into a small smile. "Neither are you."
The silence between them wasn't tense—it was heavy, weighted with years of unsaid words and fractured memories. Zayn leaned forward in his chair, his elbows on his knees as he studied Liam, who lay back against the pillows, his gaze steady but tired.
"You're staring," Liam murmured, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. "What's going on in that head of yours, Zee?"
Zayn hesitated, his fingers fidgeting with the corner of the blanket. "A lot," he admitted, his voice low but steady. "There's a lot I've been wanting to say for a long time."
Liam shifted, wincing slightly as he adjusted his position. "Then say it. I'm not going anywhere."
The raw honesty in Liam's tone was enough to make Zayn's chest tighten. He drew in a shaky breath, his gaze dropping to the floor. "I never wanted to leave," he began, his voice trembling. "Not you. Never you. But it felt like… like I didn't have a choice."
Liam frowned, his brow furrowing. "What do you mean?"
Zayn rubbed a hand over his face, as though the action could clear away the lingering shadows of the past. "The band, the pressure, the constant noise… it was suffocating. And every time I tried to speak up, it felt like I was being drowned out. They—" His voice broke, and he shook his head. "They made it clear that I was a problem. That if I didn't fall in line, I'd ruin everything. For everyone."
Liam's hand twitched against the blanket, his jaw tightening. "You should've told me," he said quietly. "You should've come to me, Zee. We could've figured it out together."
"I thought about it," Zayn admitted, his eyes meeting Liam's. "But you were carrying so much already. You were always the one holding everything together, keeping us afloat. I didn't want to add to your burden."
Liam's laugh was soft, bitter. "So you thought leaving was the solution? Disappearing without a word? Do you know what that did to me?"
Zayn flinched, guilt washing over him. "I know I hurt you, Li. I know I broke your trust. But I thought—God, I thought I was doing the right thing. I convinced myself you'd be better off without me."
"You were wrong," Liam said bluntly, his voice laced with pain. "You leaving didn't make anything easier. It didn't fix anything. If anything, it broke me, Zee. It broke all of us."
Zayn's breath hitched, his hands clenching into fists. "I didn't know how to stay," he whispered. "I was scared. Scared of what they'd do to me, to us. Scared of what it meant—how much I needed you."
Liam's gaze softened, the anger ebbing away as he saw the vulnerability etched into Zayn's features. "You think I wasn't scared too?" he asked, his voice quieter now. "You think I didn't feel the same way? I spent years convincing myself I could handle it. That I could be enough for everyone, even when I was falling apart inside."
Zayn leaned forward, his voice urgent. "You don't have to be enough for everyone, Li. You don't have to carry it all."
"I know that now," Liam said, his lips twitching into a rueful smile. "But back then? Back then, I didn't know how to let go. And when you left, I didn't just lose you—I lost my anchor."
Zayn's throat tightened, the weight of Liam's words hitting him like a punch. "I should've been there for you," he murmured. "Instead, I let my fear control me. I let them win."
Liam's fingers brushed against Zayn's, a small but deliberate gesture. "We both made mistakes," he said softly. "But we're here now. That has to count for something."
Zayn nodded, his grip tightening around Liam's hand. "It does. And I'm not running anymore, Li. I promise you that."
For a moment, they sat in silence, the weight of their shared history settling between them. Then Liam broke the stillness, his voice barely above a whisper.
"I drank too much after you left," he admitted, his gaze fixed on their intertwined hands. "I thought if I could numb it, I wouldn't feel the loss. But it only made everything worse."
Zayn's breath caught, his chest aching at the confession. "I didn't know," he said, his voice cracking. "I thought you'd be okay. I told myself you'd be better without me."
"I wasn't," Liam said simply. "I spiraled, Zee. And I hated myself for it. I hated that I couldn't be the person everyone needed me to be."
"You don't have to be perfect, Li," Zayn said fiercely. "You don't have to carry the world on your shoulders. Not anymore."
Liam's eyes met Zayn's, his expression raw and unguarded. "I'm tired, Zee," he admitted. "I'm tired of trying to be everything for everyone. I just… I just want to be me."
"You can be," Zayn said, his voice firm. "You don't have to do it alone anymore. I'm here. We're all here."
Liam nodded, his grip on Zayn's hand tightening. "I know," he said softly. "And for the first time in a long time, that feels like enough."
The quiet between them wasn't heavy anymore—it was comforting, a promise of healing and hope. And for the first time in years, they both allowed themselves to believe it.
The room was quiet save for the gentle hum of the hospital machinery. Liam's head rested lightly against the pillows, his gaze fixed on Zayn, who sat beside him, their hands still entwined. The rawness of their earlier conversation lingered, but there was a sense of calm now, an unspoken understanding that had finally settled between them.
Zayn leaned back slightly, his thumb brushing over Liam's knuckles. "Do you remember the first time you knew?" he asked, his voice quiet but steady.
"Knew what?" Liam replied, though the faint quirk of his lips suggested he already knew the answer.
"That you were in love with me or atleast that I wasn't just a brother and bandmate," Zayn said, his dark eyes locking with Liam's.
Liam's breath hitched, and his smile softened. "I do," he admitted. "But you first."
Zayn exhaled, a nervous laugh escaping his lips. "Alright, but don't laugh, yeah? It's not exactly the most romantic story."
Liam raised an eyebrow, the teasing glint in his eyes returning. "You've set the bar pretty high now."
"It was during the 'Take Me Home' tour," Zayn began, his voice softening as the memory came to life in his mind. "We were in some random city, and I was... I was feeling off, you know? Tired, homesick, overwhelmed. And then you came into my room with two cups of tea and said you weren't leaving until I felt better."
Liam chuckled. "I remember that night. You'd locked yourself in your room, claiming you needed to sketch."
Zayn nodded, his lips twitching into a faint smile. "I did sketch, but it wasn't working. And then you showed up, all determined and bossy. You didn't even ask me what was wrong; you just sat there and talked about nothing and everything until I felt like I could breathe again."
"I was worried about you," Liam murmured, his voice soft.
"And that's when I knew," Zayn said, his gaze unwavering. "It wasn't a big, dramatic moment. It was just... you, sitting there, being you. And I realized I didn't want anyone else."
Liam's smile faltered, his eyes glistening. "You never told me that."
"I didn't know how," Zayn admitted. "I didn't think I was allowed to feel that way."
Liam's hand tightened around Zayn's. "You were always allowed, Zee. I just wish you'd told me sooner."
Zayn swallowed hard, nodding. "Your turn."
Liam hesitated for a moment, his gaze dropping to their joined hands. "It was the night we played Wembley for the first time," he said quietly. "We were backstage after the show, and everyone was celebrating, but you... you were sitting in the corner, sketchbook in hand, completely lost in your own world."
"I remember that," Zayn said, his voice tinged with nostalgia. "You came over and asked me what I was drawing."
"And you showed me," Liam continued, his voice soft. "It was us—me, you, the boys—all of us on stage. But the way you'd drawn it, it was like... like you were looking at us through a lens of love, not just as bandmates or friends. And I realized then that I wanted to be part of that lens for the rest of my life."
Zayn's breath caught, his hand trembling slightly against Liam's. "I didn't know it meant that much to you."
"It did," Liam said firmly. "It does."
The weight of their confessions hung in the air, both of them lost in the bittersweetness of their shared memories. Then Liam's expression darkened, and his voice dropped to a whisper.
"Do you think they knew?" he asked.
"Management?" Zayn asked, his voice hardening. "They knew. They always knew."
Liam exhaled sharply, his jaw tightening. "I had a feeling. The way they'd make comments, tell us to keep things professional..."
Zayn's eyes flickered with anger, old wounds resurfacing. "They didn't just tell me to keep it professional, Li. They threatened me. Said if I didn't back off, if I didn't stop being so obvious, they'd make sure I was the one who paid for it."
Liam's face fell, a mixture of guilt and rage flashing in his eyes. "They said the same to me," he admitted. "Told me that if I didn't keep my distance, it would ruin you. That the fans would turn on you, that the press would destroy you."
Zayn's voice cracked as he spoke. "They made it sound like it was for your sake. Like I was protecting you by staying away. And I believed them. God, I believed them."
"So did I," Liam whispered. "I thought I was keeping you safe. But all I did was push you away."
Zayn's hand tightened around Liam's, his dark eyes burning with determination. "They took so much from us, Li. But they don't get to take this. Not anymore."
Liam nodded, his voice steady despite the emotion threatening to break through. "Not anymore."
The silence that followed wasn't heavy—it was healing. A quiet, unspoken promise passed between them, one that didn't need words to be understood. They had lost so much, but they still had each other
The tension in the room began to lift, replaced by something softer—a tentative peace as Zayn and Liam leaned into the ease that only they could find in each other. The confessions had been heavy, raw, but now a flicker of humor danced in Zayn's eyes, and Liam caught it immediately.
"What's that look for?" Liam asked, tilting his head slightly, the hint of a smirk playing on his lips.
Zayn shrugged, but the corners of his mouth twitched upward. "Just... thinking about how ridiculous we've both been. All the sneaky ways I tried to keep tabs on you after I left."
Liam raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Sneaky, huh? Do tell."
Zayn exhaled a laugh, scratching the back of his neck. "Alright, but you can't get mad."
Liam's grin widened. "This sounds promising."
Zayn leaned forward slightly, his tone low and conspiratorial. "Remember that 'anonymous' donation to your boxing gym a few years back? The one that came with all the new equipment?"
Liam frowned, his brow furrowing in thought. "Yeah, I remember. That was you?"
"Maybe," Zayn said, his voice teasing, though his sheepish expression gave him away. "I just... wanted to make sure you had what you needed. You seemed really into it at the time."
Liam stared at him for a moment, then burst into laughter. "Zayn Malik, international pop star and secret philanthropist. Who'd have thought?"
Zayn grinned, his embarrassment fading under Liam's amusement. "I wasn't the only one being ridiculous, you know."
"Oh?" Liam leaned back, crossing his arms. "What did I do that could possibly top secret gym donations?"
Zayn raised an eyebrow, his smirk returning. "Don't think I didn't notice you showing up at my gallery exhibits, Payne. You thought you were being subtle, but you're about as inconspicuous as a giraffe in a room full of kittens."
Liam's face turned a deep shade of pink, and he stammered, "I—I was curious, alright? Wanted to see how you were doing."
"Curious enough to stand in the corner pretending to admire a painting for twenty minutes straight?" Zayn teased, his laughter bubbling up. "You didn't even realize it was hung upside down."
Liam groaned, burying his face in his hands. "Oh, God. That was you who fixed it, wasn't it?"
"Guilty," Zayn said, his shoulders shaking with laughter. "I was half-tempted to leave it just to see how long you'd stand there."
Liam peeked at him through his fingers, his voice muffled. "I hate you."
"No, you don't," Zayn said, his grin softening. "Admit it, you'd have done the same."
Liam dropped his hands, his expression fond. "Yeah, alright. I probably would've. But come on, Zee, a boxing gym? What's next, telling me you were the reason that music producer randomly reached out to me about that solo deal?"
Zayn's silence was answer enough, and Liam's jaw dropped. "No way. That was you too?"
"You're welcome," Zayn said with a shrug, though the twinkle in his eyes betrayed his amusement. "What can I say? I'm a fan."
Liam shook his head, his laughter echoing in the small room. "You're unbelievable."
"So are you," Zayn countered, his smile softening. "Do you know how many interviews I sat through where you'd casually drop hints about what you were up to, like I wasn't paying attention?"
Liam chuckled, leaning his head back against the pillow. "And you were the one who always said you didn't do subtle."
"Still don't," Zayn admitted. "But at least I can laugh about it now."
They fell into a comfortable silence, the weight of their shared history balanced by the lightness of their mutual amusement. It wasn't just the confessions that brought them closer—it was the absurdity of their actions, the unspoken truth that even when they were apart, they had never stopped caring.
Liam turned his head to look at Zayn, his expression soft. "We're a couple of idiots, aren't we?"
"Without a doubt," Zayn said, his voice warm. "But we're each other's idiots, so I think we're doing alright."
Liam smiled, his heart feeling lighter than it had in years. For the first time in a long time, the past didn't feel like a weight dragging them down—it felt like a bridge, one they'd finally crossed together.
"You know," Liam began, his voice low, breaking the silence. "I don't think I've ever actually told you. Not properly, anyway."
Zayn raised an eyebrow, his dark eyes soft but curious. "Told me what?"
Liam exhaled a shaky laugh, his free hand fidgeting with the blanket draped over him. "When I realized I loved you."
Zayn blinked, his posture stiffening slightly, though his thumb began a soothing motion over Liam's knuckles. "Alright," he said softly. "I'm listening."
Liam bit his lip, his gaze dropping briefly before meeting Zayn's. "It was Paris. The night we snuck out of the hotel. Do you remember?"
A small smile tugged at Zayn's lips. "How could I forget? We walked for hours, just talking about anything and everything."
"And then we stopped by the river," Liam continued, his voice growing steadier as the memory took hold. "You were sketching something—you wouldn't let me see what—and I just... I remember looking at you, the way the lights reflected in your eyes, and thinking, 'This is it. This is the person who feels like home.'" His cheeks flushed as he added, "I didn't even understand it fully back then, but I knew. I've known ever since."
Zayn swallowed hard, his throat tightening with emotion. "Li..."
Liam gave a small laugh, rubbing at his face. "Your turn, Malik. Don't leave me hanging here."
Zayn chuckled softly, leaning forward, his elbows resting on his knees. "It was Tokyo," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "We had that massive fight—God, I was so angry. And then you pulled me aside, grabbed my face, and just... told me you weren't letting me do it alone. I think that was the first time someone had ever looked at me like that, like I wasn't just a mess to deal with." He paused, his voice trembling as he added, "And I thought, 'I'd burn the world down to keep this person safe.' That's when I knew."
Liam's breath hitched, his fingers tightening around Zayn's. "You're not a mess, Zee. You never were."
Zayn shook his head, his dark eyes shimmering. "I felt like one, but you... you always made me feel like I could be more. Like I was enough."
They held each other's gaze for a long moment, the air between them thick with emotion. Then Zayn leaned forward, his hand moving to cradle Liam's cheek, his touch feather-light.
"I love you, Liam," Zayn whispered, his voice steady but laden with vulnerability. "I never stopped. I never could."
Liam's lips parted, his heart pounding as he replied, "I love you too. Always have, Zee."
It was all the permission Zayn needed. He closed the gap between them, his lips meeting Liam's in a kiss that was slow and deliberate, filled with years of unspoken words and unacknowledged longing. Liam's hand slid to the back of Zayn's neck, pulling him closer as the kiss deepened, their shared breath mingling in the quiet room.
When they finally broke apart, both were breathless, their foreheads resting together as they tried to steady themselves.
"You're ridiculous, you know that?" Liam teased, his voice hoarse but laced with affection.
"Me?" Zayn retorted, his grin soft but teasing. "You're the one who's always been impossible, Payne."
Liam laughed, though it turned into a yawn that he couldn't quite suppress. Zayn noticed immediately, his hand shifting to rest on Liam's shoulder.
"You need to rest," Zayn said firmly, though his voice held no sternness—only care.
Liam shook his head, though his eyelids were already drooping. "Only if you stay. Otherwise, I'll just keep thinking about all the ways you're gonna boss the nurses around tomorrow."
Zayn smirked, leaning back slightly. "Oh, I'm staying, alright. You're just trying to con me into being your personal pillow."
Liam's lips quirked upward in a tired smile. "Not denying it."
Zayn rolled his eyes fondly, slipping onto the edge of the bed. Carefully, he adjusted the blankets and eased himself down beside Liam, his arm slipping instinctively around his shoulders. Liam leaned into him without hesitation, his head finding its place against Zayn's chest.
"You comfy now, Payne?" Zayn murmured, his lips brushing against Liam's hair.
"Always," Liam mumbled, his voice barely audible as exhaustion finally overtook him.
Zayn stayed awake a little longer, his hand absently tracing patterns on Liam's back as he listened to the steady rhythm of his breathing. For the first time in years, everything felt right. He pressed a soft kiss to Liam's temple before letting his own eyes drift shut, their hands still clasped together.
The soft click of the door opening barely stirred the quiet in the room. Niall stepped in, his movements cautious, though his expression softened the moment his eyes landed on the scene before him. There they were—Liam, tucked into Zayn's chest, their hands still loosely clasped, both sound asleep. The sight brought a surge of warmth to Niall's chest, his lips twitching into an amused grin.
"Finally," he murmured under his breath, his Irish lilt carrying a quiet fondness.
The room was dimly lit, the soft glow from the bedside monitor casting a gentle light over the two. Zayn's brow was furrowed slightly, even in sleep, his protective instincts seemingly never fully at rest. Liam, in contrast, looked the most relaxed Niall had seen him in weeks—his face free of the pinched pained that had haunted him since his admission to the hospital.
Niall shook his head, unable to resist the temptation. Pulling his phone out, he aimed the camera and took a quick picture, careful not to disturb them. He grinned as he opened their lads' group chat and typed out a message to accompany the photo.
Niall: "Zee finally claimed his territory. Boys, we've got progress. ️"
He hit send, chuckling quietly as he imagined the reactions from Louis, Harry, Zayn and Liam when they checked their phones finally
Setting his phone down, Niall turned his attention back to the two. For a moment, he simply stood there, the weight of nostalgia washing over him. How many nights like this had there been in the past? Back on the road, in hotel rooms, backstage after grueling performances—those quiet moments when they'd all leaned on each other to keep going. It wasn't just familiarity he felt now; it was relief. Relief that after so much hurt, distance, and silence, Zayn and Liam were finally getting back to the version of themselves they were meant to be.
"About bloody time," he whispered, his grin softening into something more sentimental.
Noticing the blanket slipping slightly off Liam's shoulder, Niall stepped forward and gently adjusted it, tucking it around both of them. Zayn shifted slightly in his sleep but didn't wake, his arm tightening instinctively around Liam.
"Ah, you're hopeless," Niall muttered with a quiet laugh, shaking his head as he moved to the small couch by the wall. He eased himself down, propping his feet up on the coffee table, his arms crossed over his chest as he settled in for his own vigil.
For a while, Niall just watched them, his thoughts drifting. Despite all the chaos and heartbreak of the past decade, moments like this reminded him why it had all been worth it. The bond they shared, the love they had for one another—it wasn't just about music or fame. It was about being each other's family, no matter what.
Before long, his eyelids grew heavy, but he fought sleep, determined to be there if either of them stirred. As he leaned his head back against the couch, he smiled to himself. For the first time in a long time, everything felt like it was finally falling into place.