The Way It Is ! ** Ziam

Part 14

He wakes Liam up twice and manages to fall asleep for a bit before his alarm goes off. Both times, he makes Liam get out of bed and walk around for a moment, just to make sure he's okay, and then Liam falls back into the bed and is asleep almost instantly.

It's late in the afternoon by the time Liam finally gets up on his own, and Zayn wonders why the hell they haven't been bothered yet. Why no one's come by the door, or called. But he has a feeling that Jon has something to do with it; he must have mentioned something about Liam's accident and Liam needing rest, or else the rest of the boys would no doubt be here, demanding an explanation, or they'd be ushered out of the hotel and onto the tour bus, ready to head out to the next town for another appearance before their show.

"I feel like shit," Liam says groggily, running a hand over his face.

Zayn chews his lip and stays quiet. He slept in the armchair in Liam's room last night, and his neck is killing him. The bed didn't feel right, though, and he's the kind of person that can sleep anywhere, if he tries hard enough.

"Are you not talking to me, then?" Liam asks. He sounds both exasperated and disappointed. "Are we really going to be that immature?"

"Mature," Zayn repeats slowly. "Mature." He stands up and digs into his pocket. He flings that tiny little baggie at Liam, and it bounces off his chest before it lands without a sound on the carpeted floor. "Do you think that's mature?"

Silently, Liam bends down and picks up the baggie. He holds it in his fingers for a while, eyes on it, like it's the most interesting thing in the world. When he finally lifts his eyes to Zayn again, they're wide and panicked. "It's not what you think."

"Because it's not yours," Zayn says, sarcastic and angry, all at once. "You're holding it for a 'friend', right?"

"It's not as big of a deal as you're making it," Liam says lowly. "Everyone—"

"Everyone does it?" Zayn snaps. "Is that really the line you're going to give me?"

"Do you even hear how you sound right now?" Liam shouts back at him. "You're not my parent, Zayn."

Zayn steps close to him; so close that he can smell the sweat and alcohol and smoke clinging to his skin and clothes from last night. Their noses almost brush, but it's not in any way romantic, or even friendly. "You're lucky you're hurt," Zayn tells Liam. "Because I am so close to punching you right now, you have no idea."

Liam pushes him. He wasn't expecting it at all. One second he's standing right in front of Liam, their chests touching when they both inhale at the same time, and the next there's a pressure on his shoulders and he's stumbling backwards, arms pin wheeling, trying to find something to grab onto. Somehow he stops himself from falling, but all he can do is stand there, mouth hanging open.

"Do it, then," Liam urges. "If you want to hit me, do it."

Silence used to seem deafening to him. When he was younger, Zayn couldn't sleep without sound. A fan, or the TV on in the background, or his headphones in his ears. He needed something because without it, the silence used to be almost painful, the way it would distract him and all he could focus on was the fact that he couldn't hear anything but a rushing sound in his ears. But after all this, with the constant sound and never enough time to take a break and rest, he started to like the silence. He started to crave it, need it. But in this moment, he feels like that little kid again, needing something, anything to distract him from the silence.

"I don't need this," he decides. "I don't need to constantly worry about you. I don't need to be your fucking babysitter. I don't need any of this."

Just before he opens the door to the room, he turns and gives Liam one last look. And finds him sitting on the floor by the end of the bed. His back is resting against it, and his legs are pulled up to his chest. "I didn't do any of it," he says softly. He blinks up at Zayn with pleading eyes. "I wouldn't. You should know that. You should know that I wouldn't."