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They've been married for five years. Their fifth anniversary is next Friday, actually.
They'd booked a reservation for two at Cecily's, a new French restaurant in the city, four months ago. They'd both gone out a month ago to buy proper outfits for the special night (rather, he'd gone out and bought both of their outfits, but … that detail is irrelevant). They'd even managed to get Louis and Nick to agree to watching Olivia for the night.
Which is why it's so fucked up that Zayn is standing by their bed right now, a week before their anniversary, haphazardly folding random articles of clothing and tossing them into an open suitcase. The suitcase he'd taken on their honeymoon to Tokyo, as a matter of fact. Zayn had scoffed at the idea of spending a week in beautiful Barcelona or historic Rome or sunny Tahiti, and had insisted that they go to fast-paced, loud, chaotic Tokyo.
Zayn had wanted to hear the blaring noises and see the flashing lights and the people dressed up in wild costumes parading around in public. He'd looked so excited at the idea of them getting lost in a completely foreign place that Liam had swallowed down his concerns (we can't speak the language, shellfish makes me break out in hives, what if we don't follow proper cultural etiquette, I don't even know how to use chopsticks...) and had said yes.
The suitcase is still as Liam remembers it – a heinous mustard color, banged up by careless airport employees and covered in witty bumper stickers, with a red handkerchief still tied around its handle. Now, instead of being filled with mini-shampoos and carefully rolled rows of boxer briefs, it's filled with well-worn t-shirts and a couple pairs of jeans. The clothing that Zayn likes best and wears most often.
“Why can't you just wait until Monday?” Liam asks from the door, gripping the wooden frame so hard his nails leave marks. “We should talk this out a little bit more.”
The look Zayn shoots his way says enough. Ah, there's my Liam. Always wanting to talk, talk, talk when everything goes to shit and it's too late. He shuts the suitcase and latches it closed with a snap that echoes with finality. Liam is taken back to the times he'd sat on top of that straining suitcase, laughing, as Zayn struggled to close it. It seems too empty now, too devoid of everything Zayn needs. That suitcase doesn't hold enough for him to survive. Liam's brain ends that thought with: without you. He ignores it.
“I'll come by next week to grab more,” Zayn says as he lowers his luggage from the bed onto the hardwood floor.
The little plastic wheels slam down onto the flooring and Liam winces because those floors were expensive. Zayn should know better. He should know how it grates on Liam's nerves when he disrespects the furniture.
“What am I supposed to tell Olivia?” Liam asks, casting his very last lifeline. Their daughter.
“Tell her Daddy is staying over at Uncle Harry's,” Zayn replies easily, as if he'd been anticipating that exact question for ages. He probably had.
“Oh, and I just keep telling her that even after you leave for good?” He sounds nastier than he means to. Keep calm, Liam. Play it cool. Don't sound so desperate. So clingy.
“We'll cross that bridge when we come to it.”
Liam wants to scream, wants to tear his own hair out. He hates it when Zayn does this, resorts to cliché lines that make total sense yet resolve nothing. He steps aside as Zayn drags the suitcase past him and out into the hall. He glances around the room, takes it in and tries to pick out the changes now that Zayn's taken some of his stuff out. It doesn't look any different. He wonders how it'll look once Zayn takes everything of his.
“She's going to figure it out,” Liam says as he follows Zayn down the stairs. “She's going to notice something's off.”
“I'll sit down and explain it to her eventually,” Zayn says, still collected. “It'll be fine.”
“No. No, it won't.”
Liam reaches out with one arm and blocks Zayn from leaving through the open front door. Their eyes meet and brown matches brown. Liam shivers under Zayn's gaze, that flat and unreadable look. He loves it when Zayn's eyes fill up with emotion, even if it's anger or sadness or happiness. He hates it when Zayn's eyes shut down and betray nothing, like right now. He's come to expect it, over the years, but it doesn't mean he's come to accept it. It unsettles him every time.
“This will destroy her,” Liam hisses.
“She's four years old, Liam,” Zayn says, pushing Liam's arm out of his way. “She will get over it. Children all over the world deal with it every single day.”
Liam stands in the front entrance and watches as Zayn carries the suitcase down the walkway, through the gate, and out onto the sidewalk. He sets it down next to his car, a tiny black box that Liam has always hated – resented, almost. He has always found it to be too unreasonable, too illogical given the fact that they have a young child to transport on a daily basis. One collision could flatten the car, could kill everybody inside of it. Liam's car, an SUV, is much more practical.
As Zayn drives away, Liam instinctively raises his arm and waves, then quickly lowers it, feeling like an idiot.
How is he supposed to deal with this?
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This is how it happened.
Liam and Zayn met at uni during their second year.
Liam's best friend since the womb, Louis, had met Zayn's best friend, Harry, in a class and had introduced the two. Well, maybe not introduced them, exactly, but they'd been the reason for the two ever meeting. It'd been a bit awkward at first; they'd kept stealing glances at each other, pointedly ignoring their two best friends who were practically giggling and fawning over each other. Not exactly love at first sight. But definitely something.
Liam had been out since the age of fifteen, always needing to be in control of his life and honest about absolutely everything. His parents had been supportive from the beginning, even though his mum was certain she'd never see him have children that had his warm brown eyes or his sandy blonde hair. He'd been impatient even back then, waving off her woe and telling her that science made wild things possible. Not ever being a father had never crossed his mind.
On the other hand, Zayn's sexuality had been at a strange point by the time they met, hanging somewhere in between bisexual and straight. As he'd explained then, he found himself mostly attracted to women but there were exceptions that would throw him for a loop. Like Liam. Liam, uncomfortable with ambiguity in general, had forced himself to shrug and say, “Maybe you're pansexual?” Because there was nothing else to say.
They started dating two months after first meeting. Liam had maybe rushed it a bit, desperate for a clean, definitive label. He'd seen the hesitance in Zayn's eyes as he rolled the choice over in his head but he'd also seen how love had won out in the end, despite that reluctance. Yes, this is my boyfriend. Boyfriend. Being able to say 'boyfriend' felt like freedom. Like liberation cloaked within another word.
The night they graduated from uni, Liam proposed. Bended knee, platinum ring that his dad had bought him for the occasion, bright lights of the city underneath them as they rode the London Eye. Louis and Harry had been in the carriage below them, trying to snap photos as they laughed and stole kisses. A different love story that Liam couldn't wrap his mind around then, can't wrap his mind around now.
Their wedding had been spectacular because Liam wouldn't have it any other way. As Louis had pointed out, they could've gotten married in a mud bog and it wouldn't have mattered because Liam would've made it look like the bloody Irish countryside. The guests had been evenly divided between them, family and friends and a handful of plus ones that they didn't know. Liam had never felt so happy yet so pressured as he had felt that day. Only Zayn had been able to calm him down with a soft smile and a warm hand on his back.
They had Olivia through a surrogate a year later. They'd used Zayn's sperm, planning to use Liam's for the next child. Their surrogate, Katie, had almost been able to pass as Liam's sister, anyway, so it quieted any anxiety they might've had. Zayn had been a mess from the moment Liam had brought up the topic of children until the day they brought Olivia home. He'd settled down a bit after that but there were still days Liam would find him in the nursery with the wailing baby in his arms, hair tousled and eyes wide, as he repeated, “I can't do this, I'm not meant to be a dad, Li.”
Then Harry and Louis broke up two years ago over infidelity rumors, and that's when everything went to shit. Harry moved to New York City to do God knows what while Louis moved on and secured a job as a hairstylist at a posh salon in the heart of London. Where he met Nick Grimshaw, radio host. Liam has never been able to figure out when Harry and Louis' issues because his and Zayn's, but they had. Zayn would argue that Louis had moved on too fast, that Nick was just a rebound while Liam would reply that Louis could do whatever he bloody well pleased because for all they knew Harry really had cheated on him.
As time wore on, Zayn grew more distant. He detached himself from Liam and even from Olivia, his own child, which was the part that Liam couldn't forgive him for. It's one thing to take out life's hardships on your partner, but it's another to take them out on your child. Liam still fumes over Olivia's fourth birthday party, when Zayn and Harry had shown up an hour after the starting time, both holding hastily wrapped gifts and smiling sheepishly as they slunk in. It had been embarrassing, humiliating for Liam. Olivia had just been happy to see them, but Liam had been the one fielding questions about where his husband was and why he was late to his child's birthday.
He's not sure when he'd started expecting things to fall apart, but somewhere in the dark corners of his mind he'd known it was coming before it arrived. He'd assumed it would happen after a huge, explosive fight but instead, it had been a gentle fading out, the slow sway that came to a complete stop. Zayn started spending more time at his art gallery or at Harry's place, while Liam devoted all of his time not spent at the office on Olivia. He knew Zayn loved their daughter but not even she was enough.
So now he's here, standing at the front door of their too-big house, just staring off down the street.
This is how it happened.
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Danielle drops Olivia off after Liam calls her and tells her that he's in no state to come by himself. Something in his voice must've tipped Dani off because she'd agreed immediately, no questions asked. He's lucky to be such close friends with his daughter's nursery teacher, honestly.
Olivia bounds through the door with her usual energy, dark braid flopping behind her as she races to the kitchen. It's like she has a mental GPS tracker on Zayn and Liam. She can find them anywhere in the house. Liam's leaning against the counter when she skids in, his lips turning up into a smile as he bends down to embrace her. He lifts her up and swirls her through the air as she shrieks, arms securely wrapped around his neck and small face nestled in his neck. He puts her down after a few moments of hectic twirling and then just looks at her.
She looks a lot like Zayn, so much that it had surprised everyone at first. She's all tan skin and dark hair and wide eyes that are a thousand times more expressive than her father's will ever be. She's built like Zayn too, slender limbs and delicate bones. If Liam didn't love her so damn much, she'd probably cause him all sorts of bitterness and resentment. But all he can think right now is that even if Zayn leaves him for good, at least he left something beautiful behind for him to hold on to.
“Can I have my snack?” Olivia asks, batting her lashes in a way that Liam knows she picked up from Zayn.
He sighs, nods. “Alright. But we're talking fruit, not sweets.”
The girl sighs heavily but doesn't argue. It's a conversation they have nearly every day. She just watches with receptive eyes as Liam cuts up an apple and spreads the slices out on a plate, dabbing some peanut butter in the middle. He's always the one who makes her after-nursery snack. If he left it up to Zayn, Olivia would be stuffed full of cookies and crisps by dinner time.
“Where's Daddy?” Olivia asks as she gnaws on a chunk of apple, distracted.
Liam hesitates, trying to remember Zayn's exact words. “He's over at Uncle Harry's.”
“Will he bring food?”
It's something Zayn would do often. Go to Harry's, then come back with take-out that Liam would begrudgingly serve up for them, sliding whatever healthy meal he'd made into the fridge for the next night.
Something in Liam's chest twists painfully. “Um, he's staying there for a bit, love.”
Olivia nods as she licks a glob of peanut butter off one finger. “Okay.”
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Louis and Nick come over the next night. Louis is carrying a casserole dish covered with foil and Nick is carrying two bottles – one of wine and one of sparkling cider that Liam assumes is for Olivia.
“Thanks for bringing stuff, you didn't have to,” Liam says as he leads the two into the kitchen.
Louis scoffs. “Uh, yeah, we did. You're rubbish at cooking.”
Nick laughs, his ridiculous quiff bobbing as he nods. “He's right, mate. Sat on the loo for days after you made us dinner the last time.”
Liam grimaces and shoots them both a dirty look. “I'm offended.”
There are a few minutes of amiable silence as Nick struggles to uncork the wine with a steak knife and Liam sets the table. Louis disappears into the living room to say hello to Olivia, who's busy drawing. It's another thing that she'd inherited from Zayn – her love of art. In the past, Zayn had spent innumerable hours with baby Olivia on his lap, flipping through a coffee table book filled with photos of famous art pieces. He used to say to Liam that Olivia was the only baby in all of the U.K. that had an appreciation for Dali by the age of two.
Once dinner is ready to be eaten, the four of them sit down at the table like a strange, mismatched family. Liam and Louis sit on one side as Nick, who'd come to surprise Liam with his child-caring skills, cuts up pieces of chicken for Olivia. She chugs down half of her sparkling cider before getting a morsel of food into her mouth, which concerns Liam greatly, but he keeps his mouth shut because it's a Saturday night and they have guests over. He can be more lenient.
They chitchat about little things, like awful customers Louis' been forced to deal with in the past week, and the course that Liam's teaching at King's Uni on juvenile delinquency. Nick has the most exciting job, they always seem to complain, but he never has any interesting stories. He sits in a tiny little room playing music and making some clever quips here and there, Nick always counters. Not a lot happens. Sometimes he gets to prank call celebs.
They don't acknowledge the elephant in the room until Olivia excuses herself to resume drawing.
“So,” Louis begins. “Did he say when he was coming back?”
“Monday. To grab more of his stuff.”
Nick and Louis both wince.
“Has he not thought about Livy?” Nick asks, voice low as he swirls his wine around a bit longer than necessary.
“He says he'll explain to her eventually and that she'll get over it.” There's a tone of bitterness in Liam's voice, he's quite aware of it.
Louis looks outraged. “What? That arsehole. That's his child he's talking about!”
Liam prepares himself for what he's going to say next because if he doesn't keep his voice neutral, he'll come off sounding like a real twat.
“He's always been a bit distant with her, hasn't he? He never felt comfortable raising a child.”
“Doesn't matter,” Louis grumbles.
“No, but it is what it is,” Liam replies, bringing his wine glass to his lips to keep himself distracted from his own thoughts.
“Oh, for bloody's sake, Li,” Louis erupts. “Stop being so calm about this! Zayn is abandoning you and your child for no good fucking reason! He's being a child!”
Liam stiffens, glass still clenched between his fingers. “I can't force him to stay. If he wants to go then he can go.”
Of course he wishes he could make Zayn stay. He'd do just about anything short of jump into a shark-infested pool if it meant his husband wouldn't leave. But Liam is sensible if nothing else, and knows how this story plays out. Too much begging, too much whining and the other person is driven away. Weakness is never attractive and Liam knows for a fact that Zayn has always admired him for his infallible grit.
“That makes sense, but...” Nick trails off, not sure what to say for once. He glances over at Louis, who always seems to pick up wherever Nick leaves off.
“Li.” Louis puts his hand over Liam's. “You know what this means, right?”
Liam stares at the deep burgundy liquid in his glass. He doesn't think that he does know what it means. Not quite yet, anyway. He knows that it's nothing good and that there is a promise of heartbreak on the horizon, but he is still in that state of disbelief, suspended between denial and the assurance that everything will work itself out.
“It means fighting over Olivia and arguing over who gets what and seeing him with other people and -”
“Lou.” Nick silences Louis with a sharp shake of the head.
“Are you just going to let him go, then?” Louis asks fiercely, refusing to back down.
Liam looks up and meets his best friend's eyes. He can see Louis' own pain in the blue depths. He can read Louis easily. He's thinking about Harry, Liam knows it. Two whole years, a boyfriend he adores and Louis is still hung up on Harry. Maybe he will be forever. Liam doesn't want that. He doesn't like longing, doesn't like aching for things he can't have. He is a born achiever, the type that doesn't rest until he succeeds and obtains. The thought of pining over someone until the day he dies is almost as scary as the thought of death itself.
“What am I supposed to do?” Liam asks.
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As he'd said he would, Zayn stops by on Monday while Olivia is at daycare and Liam is at work.
He takes all of his clothing, his books, and his art supplies but leaves everything else. The only things he takes that don't actually belong to him are a beige cable knit sweater of Liam's and an antique end table from the living room. Liam decides to let it go because in the bigger scheme of things, those items mean nothing. He walks around the house for a full hour, searching for holes and obvious absences before he has to go and pick Olivia up.
He doesn't say anything to his daughter at first, terrified at the thought of bringing it up. He can already imagine how that conversation will go. “Love, Daddy's left Dad because their marriage has become a sham” will automatically come off as “Love, Daddy left you because you're not good enough, you're not worth sticking around for.” He refuses to do that. He refuses to let Zayn off so easily.
The only reason Olivia figures it out is because the art book is missing from the coffee table. That book has sat in the same place for all of her life and that fact that it's gone is like a yowling, flashing alarm. Liam watches her as she stands by the table, head tilted as the cogs turn in her mind. When she looks up at him, her eyes are filled with confusion. She's smart, so bloody smart, and although Liam will always cherish her intelligence, in that moment he sort of wishes she wasn't so observant.
“Dad, where's Daddy's art book?”
Liam fiddles with the car keys in his hand, stalling for time. He can feel her impatience growing thicker, choking him.
“Love -”
“Where is Daddy?” Olivia's voice has already risen to a slightly panicked tone.
“Let's sit down for a second, yeah?” Liam asks, reaching out for his child.
Olivia darts away from him, looking distrustful. She can smell his anxiety, Liam's sure of it. He sighs and runs a hand through his hair. What does he say? Does he just tell her? What does he tell her? That he and Daddy are getting divorced? Are they? He's not even sure himself. He wants to minimize his daughter's pain and protect her, but she's going to figure it out sooner than later when Daddy doesn't come home.
In that moment, Liam hates Zayn.
“Olivia, Dad and Daddy are … fighting right now,” Liam stammers out.
A little crease forms in between Olivia's brows. “Fighting? About what?”
“I – I can't really explain that. But Daddy is staying at Uncle Harry's for a while. Until the fight's over.”
“For how long?” Olivia's bottom lip begins to quiver and Liam immediately sinks down to his knees so he's eye level with her.
“I don't know, love. I'm so sorry.”
A fat tear slips down Olivia's cheek and her eyes are like saucers, staring back at Liam with disbelief. “W-why can't Daddy stay here, though? Why does he have to – to go?”
“Come here,” Liam says, voice choked as he opens his arms.
After a moment of hesitation, Olivia darts into them and Liam curls his arms around her tightly. He rocks her back and forth as she cries into his shoulder, heaving sobs that make her small body quake. He bites down on his lip to hold in his own tears, cursing Zayn for his utter selfishness.
Liam has to deal with this. He has to pick up the pieces and keep their daughter together. He's been left with this job now.
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Olivia asks every day when Zayn will come home.
She keeps asking until six months go by and Zayn still hasn't returned.
Around then, she stops.
By that time the divorce has been finalized.
The two of them settle into a new life of sorts. Liam drops Olivia off at nursery each morning and then drives to the uni, where he teaches sociology courses. Then he picks Olivia up, makes them dinner, makes sure she gets a bath, then tucks her in. He sings her to sleep before getting ready for bed himself. He reads until he dozes off, invariably waking up at midnight, dazed and foggy-minded. Louis and Nick come over every Saturday with dinner in hand. Olivia only ever laughs when Nick cracks corny jokes or Louis makes faces at her, and those are also the times when Liam feels like he's failed her as a father.
The terms of the divorce state that Zayn will have visitation rights and that it will be decided between him and Liam when and how frequently. Over the phone, Zayn tells Liam that he wants to see Olivia, of course, but that he still needs to break in his apartment and figure out his life. Liam just barely keeps himself from screaming, “You've had three bloody months to figure out your life, you fucking arsehole!” It's been three months since that conversation yet Zayn has seen Olivia exactly three times. All of those times have been day trips, as if Zayn had just been babysitting her.
Liam doesn't understand it. He doesn't understand Zayn. He wonders all the time if he'd married a complete stranger or if Zayn had become a different person at some point during those five years. He's sure that it's the latter because when he thinks back, he remembers sweet Zayn, the boy who would show up at his flat with flowers and a shy smile. He doesn't recognize the Zayn that packs up his things and leaves his family. That is someone else. That is someone he doesn't know.
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One Saturday night, Louis and Nick convince Liam to go out. They stifle his arguments by telling him that Eleanor, Louis' co-worker, has agreed to watch Olivia and that they promise not to get him too drunk (they all know quite well that Liam becomes an emotional drunk, shedding all of his feelings that he usually keeps bottled up). So Liam says yes because why not? His life has already become a veritable shit storm, why not change it up and go out to a bar instead of staying in?
They go to a place that Nick frequented often before meeting Louis. The bartenders all know him and give them a free round of shots. Liam chokes his down with a grimace, shaking his head as Nick laughs and pats him on the back. Alcohol has never been a friend of Liam's. He doesn't like losing control of himself and alcohol is the only way that he can voluntarily give up control (besides drugs, which scare the shit out of Liam). So he doesn't drink often. He and Zayn would have wine at dinner quite regularly but it was usually Zayn that did most of the consuming.
“Do not think about him tonight,” Louis hisses into his ear half an hour in.
Liam nods, reminding himself to not look so morose. But it's a bit impossible, isn't it? He's just divorced his husband of five years, he's out at a bar surrounded by fit men, and he's just supposed to forget about said ex-husband? Louis doesn't understand. Missing Harry has become second nature to him, an extra limb that's not normal but not really paid any close attention. Plus, he has Nick. The rebound who'd turned into a potential life partner. Liam can't imagine finding himself a Nick.
He returns home around one o'clock the next morning, sending Eleanor off with a quick kiss to the cheek and his thanks. He checks on Olivia and just studies her sleeping face for a bit, taking in how peaceful she looks. Nowadays, she has a perpetually somber look on her face, as though she's aged exponentially in the past few months. He misses the old Olivia. Happy, bubbly, sassy Olivia. He misses the old everything. He closes the door to her room – with that one wall covered in a fairytale-themed mural painted by Zayn – and goes to his own, where he falls into bed and stares at the ceiling for the rest of the morning.
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On what would have been their sixth wedding anniversary, two things happen.
Louis calls Liam, blubbering, and tells him that Nick had proposed that morning. Louis had gotten out of bed and stumbled into the kitchen to find the entire room filled with pink balloons. The whole floor had been covered with them, all the way up to mid-calf level. Then Nick had turned on the radio, cranked up some poppy top forty hit and they'd danced around like idiots á la Selena Gomez in that one music video. Afterwards, lying half submerged in the wreckage of popped and deflating balloons, Nick had asked him. The scene doesn't make much sense to Liam until Louis explains that he'd always wanted to reenact that music video, had always wanted to dance in a room filled with balloons.
Then, when Liam drops Olivia off at Zayn's for the weekend, he finds out that Zayn's seeing someone. She answers the door in a colorful maxi dress with her ashy lavender-hued hair up in a bun. She smiles at them but radiates nervousness. Liam freezes and so does Olivia, who's standing next to him with her hand snugly tucked in his. They all just stare at each other for a moment before the woman breaks the silence.
“I'm Perrie, you must be Liam and Olivia.”
Liam nods and takes a step forward to shake her hand, just as Olivia goes to hide behind one of his legs. She's five now, loud-mouthed and brash. During the last year, she'd gone from sweet and cheerful to confused and withdrawn to opinionated and unashamed of any bad behavior. But right now, she just seems scared and completely thrown off balance. Liam puts a protective hand on the crown of her head and shields her from view.
“Nice to meet you, Perrie,” Liam says, infusing fake kindness into his voice. “Is Zayn here?”
Perrie nods, looking relieved at the excuse to escape the awkward interaction. “Of course. Zayn!”
She disappears around a corner and moments later, Zayn appears. He's still in his pajamas, even though it's noon, and his hair is uncombed and messy over his forehead. He runs a hand through it, mussing it even more, and something twists deep in Liam's gut. He bites down on his lip to stop from saying something embarrassing. He's been doing this child exchange for months now but it hasn't gotten any easier. He can barely stand seeing his ex-husband and definitely hates having to hand Olivia off like she's a possession, not a child.
“Thanks for bringing her by, Li,” Zayn says, wincing as he soon as he realizes his slip. He quickly cranes his neck around to get a glimpse of their daughter, who's still clutching Liam's leg. “Hi, babe.”
Olivia says nothing but steps out from behind Liam. Her eyes are dark and unforgiving. That's another change – she's come to resent Zayn with a burning passion that would befit a bitter ex-wife. But she is a woman scorned, so Liam can't really blame her. Zayn has been a shit father and even though they have a set visitation schedule now, Olivia hasn't forgiven him for anything. Every weekend, she sits silently during the ride to Zayn's, staring out the window and refusing to speak to Liam. Sometimes he thinks about just turning the car around and taking her home and just saying fuck it to Zayn.
“Yeah, of course,” Liam replies.
He kneels and turns Olivia around so that he can press a kiss to her forehead. She flings herself forward, wrapping her arms around him. They just cling to each other for several seconds, speaking without words. They're both thinking about the woman, the new person in Zayn's life. Liam doesn't want to let her get too close to Olivia but he suspects that this Perrie is going to be a semi-secure fixture in Zayn's life; he knows that Zayn only lets serious prospects stay through the morning (he'd said so himself, before they started dating back in uni).
“I love you,” Liam murmurs as he pulls away from his daughter.
She whimpers softly but then steels herself up as she nods. Her chin goes up a bit in defiance and her eyes go back to looking iron-clad. There's his girl.
“Drop her off at school on Monday,” Liam says as he straightens up.
Zayn nods and looks away quickly, stepping aside as Olivia breezes past him, her red suitcase dragging behind her. There's a tense moment as they both watch her disappear up the stairs to the guest room where she sleeps, and then Liam turns and heads down the walkway to his car without another word.
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It's at Louis and Nick's engagement party a month later that Liam realizes something is wrong.
He has to excuse himself to the bathroom after his nose starts inexplicably bleeding. Instead of being able to get rid of it with a quick pinch and tilt of the head, he sits on the closed lid of the toilet for a full ten minutes, trying to completely stem the flow. He eventually gets up and flushes the soggy toilet paper, light-headed and dizzy. He's been feeling unwell for a while now, but the nose bleeds are a recent development. It'd started off with fatigue, then the achiness, and now this.
Back downstairs, Louis shoots him a concerned look from across the room but he just shakes his head. He needs some water and then he needs to go home. He needs to check on Olivia, kiss her on the forehead and then slide into bed. He feels worn down, ready to snap like a dried out twig. Work hasn't been that stressful, enjoyable actually, and life has been fairly smooth-sailing. Sure, Olivia still falls into a funk every weekend and Perrie now answers the door every single time Liam drops Olivia off, but for the most part, life is okay.
Nick runs into him in the kitchen. Liam is filling a glass of water, hand trembling, when the older man puts a hand on his shoulder. He gasps and the glass slips out of his grasp, shattering on the bottom of the steel sink. Cursing softly, Liam grabs at the shards before even thinking and promptly cuts the pads of his fingers and slices his palm. He jumps back with surprise at the sting of pain as Nick pushes him back.
“Fuck,” Nick says, looking bewildered. “Are you okay?”
Liam nods but his hand is filling up with blood, way more than normal, and Nick grabs a dishtowel. They're both silent as Nick wraps the material around Liam's hand. They stay silent as the towel soaks through with blood. Their breathing is shallow but eerily loud over the faint tinkling of voices and champagne glasses in the living room.
“Li-”
“No,” Liam interrupts, angling his body away from his friend. “I'm fine.”
“No, you're not,” Nick says firmly. “You've looked off for weeks. Months, really, but especially in the past few weeks. Have you been feeling alright?”
The answer is no, a definitive no. Liam knows his body, knows what's right and what's not. He hasn't been able to get himself to the gym for a while now, too tired and achy, and that's not normal. He's exercised regularly since his youth.
“Yeah, 'm okay.”
“Nick, Li?” Louis pops his head into the kitchen then slips in all the way when he sees both of them. “Everything okay? We're … Liam, are you bleeding?”
Louis skitters over and grabs Liam's spread hand, making the other man hiss in pain. Louis jumps back, eyes wide as he takes in the saturated towel and Liam's pallid complexion.
“What happened? Christ!”
Nick puts a hand on Louis' hip and steadies him. “He cut himself on a broken glass. It's okay, relax, love.”
“No, this is not okay,” Louis states, blue eyes wide with fear and alarm. “Something is not right. I know you got a nosebleed just a bit ago! You've been practically dragging yourself around lately. You look like bloody death, Li!”
Liam closes his eyes and leans against the counter with a sigh.
“We should go to the hospital,” Nick pipes up in the pause.
Liam's eyes shoot open and he begins to shake his head. “No, absolutely not!”
“Tomorrow,” Louis says, nodding as he makes eye contact with Nick. “Tomorrow we'll go.”
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So they go.
Louis and Nick wait in the waiting room as the tests are done and the questions are asked. The doctor calls him back the next day and he's put through more tests, tests that tip Liam off before the doctor ever gives him a diagnosis. Lying there, enduring the needles and the prodding, Liam's already sort of resigned to his fate.
When the doctor eventually tells him that he has acute lymphocytic leukemia, he's already prepared for the news.
ALL happens mostly in children, the doctor tells him, but for some reason, Liam's bone marrow cells had developed errors within its DNA and immature white blood cells are wreaking havoc. Basically, Liam's own body has turned against him. Treatment should be fairly successful, the doctor says. He'll have to go through several phases of treatment, chemo included, which is the part that nearly breaks him. He knows how badly chemo fucks people up, how it makes you vomit and lose your hair. But he has no choice. The doctor tells him that he'll have to spend the next several weeks in the hospital as he undergoes chemo for the first time.
Nick and Louis - his self-appointed chauffeurs – drive him home from the hospital. Liam reluctantly tells them the diagnosis and Louis cries the entire way home, Nick's hand on his knee as he struggles to keep his weeping silent. Liam just sits in the back much like Olivia does when he's driving her to Zayn's. Zayn. Olivia. He'll have to tell them both at some point. He's checking himself into the hospital in two days. He knows that Zayn will have to take care of Olivia while he's gone. Louis and Nick will probably beg him to let her stay with them and Olivia would probably prefer it, but he doesn't want Louis and Nick to take on that burden. Because a child is a burden, whether or not she's a cherished burden or not.
Zayn is obligated to shoulder it when Liam cannot.
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Olivia takes it well at first. She digests Liam's words with a serious expression, nodding. He emphasizes the fact that he'll be okay, he just needs to stay in the hospital for a little while. She says okay and hugs him when he opens his arms. But later that night she appears in his room, hiccuping back tears. As soon as he pulls her into his bed to wrap her into a hug, she breaks into agonized wails that last for a long time. After she finally stops crying, she drops off into a deep sleep, exhausted. Liam lets himself cry for the first time, then tells himself that it will be the last. Tears will do him no good, will not keep him alive.
He calls Zayn the next day and in an even voice tells him that he's got some medical issues and needs to stay in the hospital for a few weeks. He can detect the shock in Zayn's voice as he agrees to keep Olivia for that time, but chooses not to think too much into it. Liam says he'll drop Olivia off the next day before he checks into the hospital, then hangs up. The rest of the day is spent sorting things out with work and packing, unsure of what he needs to take with him. Olivia sits on his bed and watches like an owl, eyes big, as he carefully folds clothing and nestles them into a bag. He's a duffel bag sort of person; suitcases have always seemed too bulky, too much trouble. He likes traveling light and off the ground.
That night, he lies with Olivia nestled against his side, both of them sleepless and silent. She drifts off around midnight and he follows her into dreamland around two, finally too exhausted to keep his eyes open. He falls asleep with his lips pressed against her head.
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Louis and Nick wait in the car as Liam walks Olivia up the path to Zayn's door.
Zayn opens it this morning, properly clothed but hair wild. He looks at Liam, takes him in. They haven't seen each other in a month, not since the first time Liam had met Perrie. Liam wonders what Zayn sees when he looks at him, because he already knows what he looks like. But everyone's perspective is different. Thin, pale, dark bags under eyes, exhaustion written across his face for anyone to see – is that what Zayn sees, too?
Zayn shakes his head. “What's going on, Liam?”
His eyes are bright like Olivia's get when she's scared. Liam tries to smile and thinks he does a fairly good job of it. He shrugs as he pushes Olivia gently towards her other father.
“Just under the weather, a bit -”
“He's dying,” Olivia snaps suddenly, shoving past Zayn and leaving her suitcase behind.
They both stand there, stunned, as the suitcase teeters then falls onto its side on the threshold between them. Liam shuts his eyes and sighs. He doesn't need this. He's about to start weeks of chemotherapy. He just wants to leave things at peace, doesn't want a daughter who thinks he's leaving her too, and an ex-husband who pities him, who can slip into his own bed with a warm body beside him.
“Is that true?” Zayn asks, his voice hoarse.
Liam shakes his head impatiently. “No, I am not dying, Zayn.”
“Then what the bloody hell do you need to stay in the hospital for?” Zayn asks, commanding.
“I've got leukemia,” Liam admits after a beat of silence. “I've got to stay in for a few weeks while I get chemo.”
“Oh, fucking Christ,” Zayn curses, shoving a hand into his hair. “Jesus bloody hell.”
Liam watches, taken aback, as Zayn spins away from him. His shoulders, stronger than Liam's for once, are hunched and his head is bowed. Liam wants to reach out and lay his hands over those shoulders, dig the heel of his palms into the shoulder blades and just massage, like he used to when Zayn got especially tense. But now, he just backs away.
“I've got to go, Louis and Nick are waiting.”
Zayn doesn't even turn around, just grabs the edge of the door and slams the door shut in Liam's face.
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Liam considers himself a strong person. But chemo proves to be a worthy opponent.
The first time they give him an intralumbar injection, he almost passes out. They use local anesthesia but there is nothing that will completely eradicate the pain of having a needle shoved into your spine. But the doctors say that he has to get the treatment now, before there's a chance of the cancer spreading to his brain or spinal cord. He cannot imagine repeating that experience again, and definitely not several times. But he knows that there are no other options. He just has to bear it.
The first week, he lies in his hospital bed in the dark with splitting headaches and the constant need to vomit. The doctors tell him that they're side effects of the chemo and that it's to be expected. His body is constantly sore and he feels like he could sleep forever, but can never drift off, too much in pain or too nauseous. He's absolutely miserable but he distracts himself by replaying memories in his head. His past plays in a constant loop and when he closes his eyes, he can cut through the pain and envision the events of his life.
He thinks back to growing up with Louis, his first memory of them in his mum's garden. It had taken days for their mums to get the rich soil out from underneath their tiny fingernails but they'd loved it out there between the rows of flowers. Louis has always been his best mate, the one person in his life who he has always trusted with everything. Even after that time they'd gotten in their first real fight at the age of fourteen when Liam had kissed Louis on a whim. Louis had insisted that he wasn't gay but Liam, obsessed with honesty, had told him to stop lying and Louis had thrown the first punch. They'd ended up never experimenting together, too close for that sort of riskiness. Liam sometimes wonders how life would've gone had they fallen in love.
He remembers the runs he'd go on each morning as a young kid, his ragged breathing the only sound breaking the peace of the early mornings. He'd lose himself completely, unravel all of his frustration and loneliness and fears with the rising sun as his backdrop. He'd always collapse on the front lawn at the end of those runs feeling like he could conquer the world and all of his troubles. He had felt like anything was possible back then. So even when he went on to uni he'd jog every morning or run on the treadmill when it was too shitty outside. He wonders now, lying in a stiff and starched hospital bed, if he'll ever be able to push his body that hard again.
He thinks about Louis and Harry back when they were still together and head over heels for each other. They'd always been far more affectionate than Zayn and Liam, incessantly touching and smiling and meeting eyes. They'd made Liam cringe inside but Zayn had laughed at them, amused by their antics. There'd been a pure, unsullied love between those two but after uni, things had begun to fall apart. Harry had gotten the travel bug, wanted to go places, and Louis had been desperate to find some sort of solid footing. He hadn't trusted Harry's wild-eyed schemes, hadn't believed the pictures of New York skyscrapers and blue Californian ocean that Harry would paint for him with words. Then Louis had gotten the call from some man, telling him that he should keep a closer eye on his boyfriend and shit hit the proverbial fan.
He reminisces about Olivia's first days with him and Zayn. He thinks about the night he'd woken up to find the space in bed beside him empty. He'd found Zayn in the nursery, staring down at a sleeping Olivia with wide, awe-struck eyes. Liam can still remember Zayn's words like he'd uttered them just yesterday. “I will never be able to paint or draw or sculpt anything as beautiful as her. She is my greatest masterpiece.” In that moment, Liam had found it a bit egotistical of Zayn to think that she'd been his creation only, but now, Liam thinks that Zayn was right. He cannot think of anything else that Zayn has ever done as well or as beautifully as help bring Olivia into the world.
Finally, he just thinks about Zayn. He thinks about him in snapshots, little clips of their time together. The first time they'd met, eyes meeting across a crowded pub before Louis and Harry could even pull them together. The first time they'd slept together, the sound of Zayn moaning his name right in his ear. The first time Zayn had said 'I love you' and the way Liam's heart had soared at the sound of those three words, absolutely overjoyed at what it all meant. The time Liam had gotten down on one knee, so fucking sure that he was making the right decision. The time they'd kissed at the altar, their vows hanging between them like promises.
By the time Liam finally falls asleep at night, he can't tell which causes him the most pain – his cancer or his memories.
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Louis and Nick come to see him nearly every day, unfazed by how awful he's sure he looks. They sit on either side of his bed, swapping silly stories and saying things that are just veiled assurances, trying to let Liam know that he'll be okay without saying it outright. They pass on letters from Olivia, that are mostly drawings she'd done at school. They try for three days to get him to say yes to seeing his daughter but it never works. He keeps telling the two to wait to bring her until he looks better and he won't scare her, as if that's ever going to happen.
Harry comes to see him the second week. By then, Liam has already buzzed off his hair in anticipation for the inevitable loss (he has never liked waiting around for the unavoidable and sees no point in not just getting things over with as soon as possible). He hasn't seen Harry for a good two months, never quite sure if it's okay to breach the boundaries of secondary friendship. Harry is Liam's best friend's ex but more importantly, Liam's ex's best friend. That is too sticky of a web to willingly throw himself into. But Harry shows up one day on his own accord, awkward and hesitant as he appears at the door.
They make small talk, ignoring the leukemia until the end, when Harry gets to his feet to go but instead dissolves into tears. He has never been good with hardship so Liam isn't surprised in the least. He still remembers the aftermath of the Louis/Harry break-up and the stories Zayn had told him about Harry getting completely trashed to get Louis out of his head. He wonders what Harry is doing now. He hasn't heard of any current people in Harry's life, no one serious anyway. Liam has always suspected that Harry's still waiting for Louis to come back to him. Liam has also always suspected that it might happen, that it very well could, given some time.
Next are his parents, who make the drive down from Wolverhampton when they have time off, just as Liam requests. His father sits by his side and clenches both of his hands around one of Liam's, statue-still. His mother paces the room, waiting to leap on the next nurse that strays in, just so she can bombard the unsuspecting man or woman with questions about Liam's condition. Will he get better? Is the chemo working? How much longer does he have to stay here? Liam could tell her himself that they don't know, that they’re just responsible for helping him to the loo and making sure he hasn't just died during the night. They stay for three straight days before being forced to go back home.
His father kisses him roughly on the forehead and his mother runs a cool hand down his cheek, both of them looking at him the way they used to when he was a child and down with a fever. Except this time, there's fear in their eyes.
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He meets Niall on one of his worst days.
It feels like every bone in his entire body is throbbing, a skeletal system of pain that makes blessed sleep an impossible escape. He's clutching to the sheets and trying not to cry when he hears someone come into his room, whistling brightly. His eyes flutter open to see a stocky man, the tips of his unruly hair an unnatural shade of blonde and the roots a more believable brown, pushing a cart towards him. Bright blue eyes that rival Louis' flash cheerfully at him as he comes to a stop.
The smell and sight of the food that the man's brought into the room makes Liam's stomach clench and roll.
He groans.
“Not feeling well, mate?” The man asks in a strong Irish accent as he puts the foldable table out in front of Liam.
Liam shakes his head in reply, exhaling loudly.
“Sorry, but you gotta eat,” the man says, still sounding so enthusiastic that Liam's a bit afraid of himself and what he may do.
“Can't,” Liam says petulantly.
Liam never pouts. He hates pouting. Not to mention he's nearly thirty years old.
“I believe in ya,” the man says, placing the tray in front of Liam.
There's something that resembles a slab of meat in one compartment, slathered in watery gravy, and then boxed mashed potatoes in another. Not even the slice of carrot cake looks appetizing. Everything about the meal makes Liam feel a hundred times more ill.
“You can eat it, if you'd like,” Liam offers, half-joking and half-dead serious.
The man chuckles. “I like food, you've got me pegged on that, but not even I eat the shite you all get fed here.”
“Good on you,” Liam replies weakly. He cracks open an eye, takes in the man that looks about his age, if not younger. “I'm Liam.”
The man beams and shakes his outstretched hand. “Niall.”
“Are you a nurse here?”
“Nah, I just wheel around food to patients. Don't usually work this ward, though.”
And from there begins a mutually frustrating friendship that mostly involves Niall acting cheery and trying to convince Liam to eat while Liam stubbornly refuses and acts grumpy. To be honest, Niall is the only person who Liam actually likes seeing. The doctors only ever mean more bad news and the nurses are out just as quick as they're in. Sure, Niall's too merry and jovial for a place that houses the sick and dying, but Liam thinks that maybe it's sort of nice, too.
Plus, Niall is surprisingly easy to talk to. Liam tells him about Olivia and Niall tells him about his son, Connor, who's six. As Liam had guessed, Niall is his age – twenty-eight – and Connor had been an accident in uni. The mum's out of the picture but Niall's been dating a nice girl for a couple of years. He's happy, he says, despite the fact that he doesn't always have enough time or money to satisfy Connor's needs.
Every time before he leaves, Niall pats him on the shoulder and says, “Keep fighting, mate. See you tomorrow.”
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He's beginning his third week in the hospital when they finally come to see him.
He hears Zayn's voice echoing down the hallway as he calls after Olivia, asking her to stop running and to wait for him. But ever stubborn, she comes barreling into the room, pushing open the cracked door. Liam thanks whatever god that's looking down on him that he's well enough that they haven't sequestered him in one of those plastic tents that protect him from the outside world and all of its harmful bacteria. He can only imagine how terrified Olivia would be to see him that way.
“Dad!” Olivia's voice is shrill as she runs to his side and struggles to climb onto his bed.
He's leaning down, weakly gripping under her armpits to lift her when Zayn comes in. He rushes over to them and immediately hoists Olivia into the air but instead of putting her down next to Liam, he just holds her against his side, ignoring her distressed cries. Liam meets Zayn's eyes and sees a look in them that he has rarely ever seen before. Zayn looks like a cornered animal, faced with a foreign threat that his mind can't process.
Liam smiles at him, hopes it comes off right. He's actually been practicing in the mirror, trying to find a way to twist his face into a smile so that his cheekbones don't look quite as sharp and his eyes don't seem quite as bottomless. He's not sure how much weight he's lost, but he knows very well that it's been nearly impossible to eat one full meal a day, let alone three. He hadn't been anywhere near fat before coming in and now it seems like his muscle is melting off his bones at an alarming rate.
Olivia's high-pitched scream brings Liam crashing back down to Earth.
“Let me down!”
Zayn looks frantic as his eyes flit between his daughter and his ex-husband. Liam wonders why he won't let Olivia down on the bed already. Is he afraid Liam will infect her somehow with his illness? Is he afraid that Olivia will turn Liam into a pile of dust with just one touch?
“Let her down, she'll be okay,” Liam cajoles, patting the empty space next to him.
Zayn shakes his head. “How about you, though? Are you – will it be okay if-”
“Yes,” Liam interrupts, chuckling weakly.
So Zayn lowers Olivia down onto the bed and she immediately crawls into Liam's lap, her thin arms capturing him with a surprising strength. He does his best to hold her as closely as possible. They sit like that for a while, Liam stroking her head and remembering how silky her hair is, and Olivia just breathing warm against his neck.
“When are you coming home, Dad?” Olivia whispers.
“I don't know, love. Soon, I hope.”
Liam glances up and meets Zayn's eyes again. Zayn looks bewildered, like he's walked into a completely wrong room and is still trying to figure out where he'd misstepped. He looks like a flight risk. Liam doesn't blame him.
“How are you?” Liam asks him.
Zayn jumps a bit. “Um, fine. Just … yeah.”
“Good,” Liam replies.
He hadn't been expecting any great conversation but he hadn't thought Zayn would clam up like this, either. Granted, Liam had always been the problem solver in their relationship, single-handedly defeating any and all obstacles they faced, but for some reason, Liam had thought that maybe their separation would force Zayn to become a bit more self-sufficient. Looking at his ex now, Liam realizes that he'd thought wrong. Zayn's still that uncertain, skittish young man he'd been in uni all those years ago.
They leave after an hour (which consists of Olivia telling Liam about school, and all the adventures Louis and Nick had taken her on to the zoo and every ice cream shop in the city) and Liam listens as Olivia cries all the way down the corridor.
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Liam has to stay in the hospital for a week more, which should be crushing news but is oddly comforting. He's not sure if he can navigate life with cancer on his own quite yet.
Zayn brings Olivia by the hospital every other day, but shows up by himself on the other days. At first, Liam hadn't quite understood the reason behind the solo visits. The first time, Zayn had shown up and then sat down next to the bed, quiet. They'd sat in silence for a good twenty minutes before Zayn had started listing off all the funny things Olivia had said or done recently. Liam actually anticipates his next visit.
He starts the conversation this time, telling Zayn about Louis and Nick's proposal story. Zayn laughs softly but then frowns, bringing Liam to a stop.
“Harry's broken up about it,” Zayn explains. “He's convinced that life's a romantic comedy and Louis' going to show up at his doorstep one night, soaking wet from the rain, and desperate to tell him that he can't keep going on without him.”
It's sort of comical, but mostly sad.
“He should know by now that life doesn't work out that way,” Liam replies, despite the fact that he has imagined that exact same scene a handful of times.
Zayn nods. “He's still in love with him. It's mental.”
“Is it?” Liam asks with a sigh, sinking back into his lumpy pillows. “I think it's reassuring.”
Zayn furrows his brows. “That Harry is pining after a past love that he'll never get back?”
“That there's proof of love surviving, no matter how much time has passed or what's happened.” Liam shrugs.
Zayn says nothing for a long time so Liam closes his eyes and focuses on the sound of Zayn's breathing.
“I'm sorry, you know,” Zayn mumbles after a bit. “For just … leaving you and Olivia.”
“Then why'd you do it?” Liam asks, blunt and unapologetic for it.
“Because … you want me to be honest, Liam?” Zayn sounds defensive. The first sign of a fight.
“Yes, you know how much I treasure honesty,” Liam says back, not without some sarcasm.
“I felt trapped, Liam. Everything we've ever done together has been so … sudden, so fast. Getting together, getting married, having Olivia … I felt like we made one big decision right after another without taking a breath. I felt like I had no control.”
Liam can't help but scoff. “It seemed like you never wanted any control, Zayn. Like you expected me to choose everything for the both of us. Had we waited on you, we'd still be playing around with the idea of calling each other 'boyfriends'.”
“That's not true,” Zayn argues. “There's no such thing as wanting zero control.”
He's right but Liam doesn't want to admit it.
“So without even explaining why you were unhappy, you just left and filed for a divorce. Makes sense.”
“I – I acted like an idiot,” Zayn admits weakly. “I shouldn't have done that.”
“I understand, okay. You felt like you'd been forced into something. You didn't get to experience everything you should've been able to experience. I get that,” Liam says, closing his eyes again.
The pain thrumming through his body might be from the chemo, might be from this conversation, he can't be sure.
“I wasn't forced,” Zayn says. “I just felt like I'd lose you if I didn't say yes to everything.”
“That's being forced,” Liam retorts.
“I love you, Liam,” Zayn murmurs. “Always have, always will. But you're so – so pushy sometimes, and overbearing. Sometimes you suffocate me.”
“Maybe you should leave,” Liam says after a minute. “I'm tired.”
He hears the squeak of Zayn's chair as he pushes it back and gets to his feet. He hears his ex walking to the door, the light shuffle of his shoes as he drags his feet.
Before he leaves, Zayn says, “If you … if you don't make it, I don't know what I'll do.”
Then the door closes.
Zayn's words don't affect Liam in the way they should. They just make him feel hollowed out in a way that the cancer hasn't.
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After four weeks, the doctors deem him healthy enough to start doing outpatient treatments.
Louis and Nick pick him up and take him home, where he discovers four matching suitcases in his foyer (he's pretty sure they're both Louis Vuitton sets but he chooses not to comment). Apparently, Louis and Nick had decided without Liam's input to move in for a while in order to take care of Liam. It should feel intrusive, but Liam's grateful for their disregard of his thoughts. He can already tell that life is going to be difficult with the routine hospital visits, he can't imagine doing normal things like cooking and cleaning.
Olivia comes back to live with him and they make a family of four. They skirt around each other in the kitchen every morning, tired in varying degrees, then sit down together for dinner each night. Liam mostly just watches everyone converse, picking at his meal and grinning at Olivia every time she looks up at him, eyes bright with happiness. Sometimes they invite Niall, his girlfriend, and Connor over for dinner. Connor is like his dad, loud and raucous, which puts Olivia off at first. But they all settle into a friendship that feels uncomplicated and simple.
Another development is Zayn's visits. He shows up at least twice a week, never calling or texting beforehand, just arriving at their doorstep. Olivia seems oddly okay with this new set-up. She's the only one. Louis and Nick mostly ignore him, greeting him with a detached politeness that makes Liam oddly uncomfortable. He doesn't blame Louis or Nick and never asks them to warm up to Zayn, but something about the way Zayn's face falls every time the two brush past him without acknowledging him hurts Liam. He has to come to terms with the fact that no matter what, seeing Zayn in pain upsets him, too.
One morning, Louis and Nick take Olivia to the zoo (why she wants to go there so often is beyond Liam) and he's left alone. He's tired out from his latest chemo treatment and he wants to lay in bed all day, snuggled into his pillows and wrapped up tightly in his duvet. He feels restless in his own skin, though, like it's stretched too tight. He opts to move around the house instead, running his fingers over the surfaces of tables and grimacing at the dust. Louis and Nick may be helpful but they aren't very useful when it comes to cleaning.
The sharp ring of the doorbell startles Liam but only for a moment. He knows who's on the other side of the door.
“Good morning.” Zayn hesitantly steps into the foyer as Liam backs up to allow him in.
“Morning,” Liam replies, turning his back and heading into the living room.
Zayn follows, looking timid and nervous. Liam takes a seat on the couch, his bones feeling heavy against the cushions. He looks up at Zayn, takes in the way his ex is standing there with his hands shoved into the pockets of that worn out leather jacket and his head bowed.
This is the Zayn Liam remembers from the time they'd met. All rough edges and scruff covering up a softness, an uncertainty. It's always stirred something deep within Liam, making him want to protect Zayn even though everyone's always said that Liam looks like the puppy and Zayn looks like the bad boy who'd punch anyone out for uttering one wrong word. Nobody really knows the extent to which Liam had formed the backbone of their relationship and the family they used to be.
“Where's everyone?” Zayn asks, lifting his head and glancing around, as if just noticing the silence.
“Went to the zoo,” Liam says, short and to the point.
He's not sure why Zayn comes over when all he ever does is ghost around the house like he thinks nobody sees him, that he's observing them without being noticed. It isn't true. Any time he's in the house Liam tracks his presence like a watchdog, attune to any movement he makes.
“Oh,” Zayn says, biting down on his lip briefly. “That's … good, I guess. I actually need to talk to you about something.”
Liam wonders what it could be and his mind takes off on a wild run as it tries to figure out what Zayn's about to say before he says it. He's engaged to Perrie maybe, and wanting to ask if Liam's okay with Olivia being the flower girl. Or he's moving to a different city and breaking it to Liam that he won't be around for Olivia anymore. Or maybe he has cancer, too. Maybe Zayn is dying and life is playing a cruel joke on the both of them, punishing them for being a pair of twats.
Liam chokes out a soft, “Okay.”
Zayn nods before speaking. “I was hoping that … that maybe you'd let me move back in? I wouldn't like … I'd sleep in the guest room, of course, I wouldn't – wouldn't ... you know.”
Liam gapes at him and Zayn takes it as a reason to keep going.
“It's just that you getting sick has made me think a lot about what I've done and what I want to do and … I miss you and Olivia so much, always have. When you told me you had cancer I - I lost my mind a bit. I thought for sure you were going to die and – and it's one thing to not be married to you. At least then I know you're still here, you know? Alive. But the thought of you not being here anymore for Olivia or … for me, it was … I couldn't imagine it.” Zayn takes a shaky breath and runs a hand over his face. “I left you because I couldn't figure out another way to make sense of anything. I felt like I was lost and wandering and I wasn't happy. I wasn't making you happy, either. Yes, I was selfish and yes, I should've thought about you and Olivia but I was so caught up in my bloody self and – and … I'm sorry, Li. I really am.”
Liam stares at Zayn, stunned, and keeps staring long after Zayn has fallen silent. He can't quite wrap his mind around Zayn's words. He'd imagined this sort of conversation, of course, where Zayn would confess his undying love and beg to be taken back. But now that Zayn's said something faintly along those lines, Liam's not overwhelmed by happiness or joy. Mostly he's relieved. Mostly he feels like something has been completed, like this was something that they were destined to come to, it just wasn't clear when.
Liam exhales loudly and drops his head into his hands, his fingers brushing over the prickles of hair.
“Okay,” he says.
Zayn doesn't answer for a full minute. “Okay?”
“You can move back in.” Liam looks up from his hands. “But don't you step foot into this house ever again if it's only temporary. If you decide to up and leave Olivia again you're never coming back, you're never spending another minute with our child. Do you understand?”
Zayn's eyes are glistening with moisture but he nods immediately.
“I want you to start doing more, saying more. I want you to tell me when I'm overstepping and being too controlling. I want you to tell me to back off once in a while. I fucked up, too, Zayn, but sometimes I don't realize when I'm fucking up. So I need you to tell me. I need you to help me, okay?”
Liam's not sure when he'd started crying, but he is. He hastily rubs the wetness from his cheeks but Zayn is suddenly at his side on the couch, pulling his hands away and pressing his lips against his cheek.
“Thank you,” Zayn murmurs, breath hot against Liam's cool cheek. “Thank you.”
Liam thinks that the conversation is over, but one last problem strikes him. "What about Perrie?" He pulls back and levels a serious look at Zayn.
Zayn returns the eye contact, doesn't even blink as he says, "We broke up before you got out of the hospital."
Liam nods, at a loss for words because ... what's he supposed to say to that? Zayn takes that his silence as a good sign and ducks his head, entering Liam's space again. Liam turns his head slightly so that they're face to face but when Zayn moves to kiss him properly, he turns his head again to the side, so that Zayn's lips graze his temple. Because it's not all right yet. But it's getting there.
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By the time Louis and Nick's wedding rolls around, Zayn has moved from the guest room back into Liam's bed (they haven't had proper sex of any kind, but the snuggling is enough for now) and life has settled into a comfortable, if not normal, routine. Zayn takes Olivia to school before heading to the gallery and Liam picks her up afterwards. Zayn makes them dinner and Olivia clears the table, bringing the dirty dishes over to Liam who puts them into the dishwasher. It took nearly a year for things to settle into this pattern, but nobody's complaining now that it has. Olivia is much happier, always smiling and laughing and demanding attention from both Zayn and Liam.
The Saturday of the wedding, Zayn drives them to the venue (that's another change - Zayn had taken over most of the driving duties during family trips after having admitted that he disliked the way Liam automatically took possession of the wheel and then proceeded to crawl down the road like an octogenarian). The botanical garden that Louis and Nick are getting married in is overrun by people in expensive suits and fancy summer dresses, holding glasses of champagne and chatting amiably. Before getting out of the car, Zayn and Liam exchange glances; neither of them are very fond of weddings, but this is Louis and Nick.
The ceremony is beautiful and even Liam gets a bit choked up. Olivia is the flower girl (decked out in what Liam's thinks is a hideous coral taffeta nightmare) and does her job wonderfully, skipping down the aisle like the event is all about her and leaving delicate pink petals in her wake. Liam and Zayn sit in the second row behind Louis' large family, beaming at Louis as he strides down the aisle with an easy grin, his mother at his side. They'd decided against having bridesmaids and groomsmen, saying it was too much of a hassle to deal with choosing who was special enough to be in the wedding party and picking outfits and whatnot. Liam assumes that Louis - being Louis - just wants to be the center of attention.
Which he is, and rightfully so. He looks happy, blue eyes sparkling, and Liam would've missed the way his eyes flicker over at Harry, standing on the other side of Zayn, if it hadn't been for the fact that he'd been waiting for it. Zayn notices it, too, and squeezes Liam's hand briefly. Liam is secretly glad that it isn't his wedding. He doesn't miss the range of emotions he'd felt on his own special day - the fear, the doubt, the overwhelming worry over 'what if?' mixed in with the joy and the crushing love he'd felt for Zayn. He can't imagine going through all of it again, not even if he and Zayn work things out for good.
At the reception, Zayn and Liam sit at their table sipping champagne, quiet. Their hands are linked on top of the table and Liam wonders when they'd gotten back to the place where these small little touches came easily to them again.
“Harry's going to get spectacularly drunk tonight, isn't he?” Liam murmurs.
Zayn chuckles but there's little genuine humor in it. “Probably."
Liam sighs and sits back, stretching his legs a bit. "I think our wedding had a better color scheme, to be honest."
This time, when Zayn laughs, it sounds real. "I agree. Who knew you'd turn out to be a better wedding planner than Louis?"
Liam nods, biting down on his lip to keep from grinning too wide. "I'm proud of myself for that one."
"Remember how you almost pitched a fit because Harry's pants were too short?" Zayn asks, amusement bubbling up around his words.
"Oh fucking hell," Liam says with a groan, remembering full well. "You would've thought he was old enough to find a pair of pants that fit properly, you know?"
"We're talking about Harry," Zayn says. "I'm convinced he's not even fully toilet trained yet."
They fall back into a comfortable silence as they watch Nick throw himself into a spirited rendition of the Cha Cha Slide, Louis standing at the edge of the dance floor with an expression of distress and amusement. They make a lovely couple, Liam thinks, even though he hadn't imagined Louis ever settling down with anyone but Harry. But life is strange.
The sun has already set and the massive white tent that they're all under is cast into a warm orange glow by a number of paper lanterns strung up along the edges.
It's a beautiful night for a wedding, Liam decides.
It's a beautiful night for new beginnings and fresh starts.
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Liam used to hate vagueness and ambiguity, the inability to predict all future events. He'd been proud over the fact that he could take control over nearly every situation and making sure he influenced the outcome at least a little. But nowadays, he's quite fine with just letting things be.
It's been two years since he and Zayn got back together, but it feels like just yesterday.
So many things have happened, though. Olivia's grown an inordinate amount, and they sometimes joke that maybe Harry's DNA got mixed up somewhere in there. She looks more and more like Zayn every day, but it's also becoming easier to pick out the parts of her that remind everyone of Liam. She's more like him in personality - stoic, resilient, stubborn yet capable of adjusting to life's obstacles. Liam is perpetually in awe of her.
Niall also got married to his girlfriend, and if they'd all thought that Louis and Nick's wedding had been a good example of why not to supply endless amounts of alcohol at a wedding reception, then Niall's reception is an example of why alcohol just shouldn't exist. Two people are rushed to the hospital after breaking bones while dancing and even Liam gets drunk enough that he trips over a chair leg and nearly knocks an old woman to the floor.
Liam's healthy now and back to jogging, even after a slight scare a year ago. He knows that Zayn is perpetually concerned over the fact that cancer might strike again at any time, but Liam's come to realize that there's nothing he can do about it and there's no point in worrying. Bad things happen to everyone and there's no scale of justice, no conscious choice of whether one person is more deserving. You just never know.
Liam knows this is true because four months ago, Nick got in a car wreck and died on impact. Not only had a perfectly wonderful human being been taken away, but Nick's death had impacted so many others. Louis, especially, who Liam and Zayn check up on nearly every day. Neither of them mention how Harry has stepped up to watch after Louis, too, because they know that he's not taking advantage of the situation after having found an opportunity to do so. No, they all know that he can't stand seeing Louis in pain and he can't help but be there.
Sometimes the pieces fall into perfect place. Sometimes those pieces are shaken up and strewn around for no reason. It just becomes a matter of figuring out how to fit those pieces back together in a way that make sense.
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One fall evening, Liam joins Zayn out on the back porch and they sit together in the waning dusk, hands intertwined tightly. They've yet to get officially remarried but neither of them feel rushed. They don't have to be anymore because in the end, what does it matter as long as they're still enjoying time together?
"I used to be afraid of not knowing," Liam murmurs. "You know how I'd be desperate to rush everything? I was so certain that if I didn't, I'd run out of time and waste precious moments."
Zayn looks over at him, eyes curious. "And? What changed your mind?"
"I guess I realized that it doesn't matter how much time you think you have. You may have decades or you may have days. You just don't know. So there's no point in pushing things that shouldn't be pushed."
Maybe it's a fatalistic, pessimistic way to view things, but in that moment with his hand snugly laced through Zayn's, Liam feels completely fine with it.