Playing the part (Ziam)

Chapter 22: Sweaty, Tired and too quiet

The concert was absolutely wild. The entire arena was alive with the deafening roar of the fans, all screaming like they were at a rock concert—and well, they kind of were. Liam and Zayn were on opposite ends of the stage, belting out their parts like seasoned pros, still maintaining their "we fucking hate each other" act.

Zayn was doing his thing, strutting around, completely unfazed by the throngs of screaming fans. He had his signature smirk on his face, his eyes scanning the crowd as he sang like he was the hottest thing to ever hit the stage (and okay, maybe he was). But while he looked like he was living his best life, his mind was busy. He kept glancing across the stage at Liam.

Liam, on the other hand, was also in full performance mode, throwing himself into the song with the energy of a guy who couldn't wait for this night to end. He was giving the fans everything they wanted—grinning, winking, blowing kisses, the whole shebang. But every so often, his eyes would flicker to Zayn, who was always just a little too far away for his liking.

Still, there was no bickering. No fighting. No sarcastic jabs. Just pure, unadulterated rockstar chaos.

The show wrapped up with an explosive finale—lights flashing, music blaring, fans screaming louder than ever—and as they left the stage, the lads could hardly breathe. They were drenched in sweat, their clothes sticking to their skin in the kind of way that made them all want to crawl into a cold shower and never leave.

"Jesus, that was exhausting," Niall muttered, wiping the sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand.

"I swear, I almost passed out up there," Harry admitted, leaning against the backstage wall as he pulled his shirt off and fanned himself dramatically. "I'm getting too old for this shit."

Louis, looking a little too pleased with himself, grinned as he took a swig of water. "You lot look like you've been through a war zone. Just look at Zayn and Liam over there."

The other lads turned around to see Zayn and Liam peeling off their sweaty stage clothes. Zayn, being Zayn, did it with a casual grace like he had no problem with being a walking pile of sweat, while Liam was more... frantic. His shirt got caught halfway up his body, and he had to yank it off over his head in a way that looked more like a toddler trying to take off their pajamas than a grown man trying to look cool after a show.

The room was eerily quiet for a moment as the lads grabbed water bottles and wiped off their faces, not a single argument or smart comment passing between them. Zayn, still dripping with sweat, leaned against the wall, staring at the floor like he was deep in thought. Liam did the same, but then wiped his face with a towel and shot Zayn a quick glance.

It felt... weird. Like the calm before the storm.

Harry, ever the observer, was the first to break the silence. "You two, uh... okay?" he asked, voice cautious. "You've been awfully quiet. Almost like... you don't hate each other anymore?"

Liam threw him a half-hearted glare but didn't reply, instead taking another gulp of water like it was his lifeline. Zayn, who had been pretending to ignore the question, finally looked up with a small grin. "What, are we supposed to still be arguing, or what?" he shot back, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Was that the whole point of this shit, mate?"

Liam snorted, rolling his eyes. "Clearly, you've forgotten the 'rules,' mate. We're supposed to hate each other while simultaneously pretending we're in love. I don't know how you manage to forget that so easily."

Zayn raised an eyebrow, looking completely unbothered by the comment. "Oh, right. I must've been too busy actually putting on a performance."

Liam didn't flinch. "Yeah, sure. You looked like you were trying to seduce the entire crowd out there."

Zayn gave him a look. "Maybe I was."

The tension between them was palpable, but at least there was some life to it now. It wasn't just plain hatred. It was... weirdly... playful? The lads exchanged confused glances, unsure of what to make of it.

Louis leaned in, half-grinning. "Well, whatever the hell you two are doing, keep it up, because it's making me uncomfortable in all the right ways."

"Yeah," Niall added with a grin. "You guys are like... a trainwreck. But in the most entertaining way."

Liam and Zayn just exchanged another one of those looks—an odd mix of annoyance and something that almost looked like fondness. Zayn opened his mouth to say something, but before he could, Liam cut him off.

"Can we not talk for like, two minutes? Just, like, two minutes of silence?"

Zayn raised his hands in mock surrender. "Fine, fine. Whatever you need, babe."

Liam's eyes narrowed, but a grin tugged at the corner of his lips. "Shut up, Zayn."

That was all the confirmation the lads needed. Even though they weren't screaming at each other anymore, that tension—was still there. And as much as it was fucking annoying, it was also starting to feel right.

They were still fake dating, of course. That was the whole point. They were supposed to be playing a role. But the lines between what was real and what was fake were getting more and more blurred by the minute.

It was like they couldn't even tell if they hated each other anymore.

And that, to Louis, Harry, and Niall, was the real success of the dare.