Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Liam James Payne came into the world earlier than expected, announcing his arrival as a breath of life amidst complications and uncertainties. He was a premature baby, born at just 31 weeks of gestation, battling kidney and respiratory problems from the very first moment. However fragile, he proved to be resilient. His parents, Geoff and Karen, never ceased reminding Liam that he was a true miracle, a gift that illuminated their lives. They protected him fervently but also believed he was stronger than any adversity life might place in his path.

During his childhood, Liam was the typical cheerful boy. The house was always filled with laughter, the contagious energy of a child who seemed determined to make up for the time spent in the incubator. His curiosity was insatiable, and he loved exploring everything around him, from the open fields of Wolverhampton to the books that lined the shelves at home. He was a loved child, both by his parents and his older sisters, Nicola and Ruth, who adored spoiling him.

But not everything was perfect. At school, Liam faced the crueler side of childhood: teasing and bullying. Although he was never considered overweight, he had a physique that malicious children insisted on mocking. His still-developing body became the target of laughs and comments that often hurt more than he cared to admit. Liam never retaliated—not because he didn’t want to but because he simply saw no purpose in violence. He was kind by nature, but kindness was often mistaken for weakness by others.

Worried about the impact this might have on their son’s self-esteem, his parents decided to enrol him in boxing classes. They believed that, by learning to defend himself, Liam would gain confidence and show others he wasn’t someone to be trifled with. Surprisingly, Liam loved the classes. Boxing not only helped him protect himself but also taught him discipline, focus, and determination. It didn’t take long for the teasing to subside—not so much because he confronted it with violence, but because his newfound confidence began to intimidate the bullies.

Still, as much as he enjoyed boxing, Liam’s true love was running. He discovered the joy of running during a physical education class when the teacher suggested he participate in a local competition. On that track, with the wind against his face, Liam felt something he had never experienced before: freedom. It didn’t matter what others said about him or the difficulties he had faced in childhood. While running, he was invincible.

Over time, Liam began to train seriously. He spent hours running in the park, always seeking to improve his time. He participated in school competitions, earning medals and trophies that now adorned a shelf in his room. His father, who was also his coach and always supported him, described Liam as someone with natural talent but also with uncommon determination. Liam’s dream was clear: one day, he would compete in the Olympics. He wanted to be an elite athlete, representing the United Kingdom on the world’s biggest sporting stage.

But if running was his passion, singing was his soul. From a young age, Liam had the habit of singing at home. His father would often play music while cooking, and Liam would join in, imitating the artists he heard on the radio. His mother, a practical and hardworking woman, didn’t always understand her son’s passion for music but never failed to encourage him. “If you enjoy it, go for it, son,” she would say.

It was during his teenage years that Liam began to take singing more seriously. He performed at small school events and the local church, always receiving praise for his talent. For him, singing was a way of expressing himself, of putting into words and melodies what he often couldn’t say out loud.

Then, at 14, an opportunity arose that would change his life forever: The X Factor . The programme was a phenomenon at the time, a springboard for talented young people dreaming of fame. When Liam mentioned to his parents that he wanted to audition, his father supported him immediately, but his mother hesitated. She feared her son was too young to face the pressure of such a large competition. However, seeing the enthusiasm in Liam’s eyes, Karen agreed, as long as he promised to give his best, regardless of the outcome.

At the audition, Liam impressed the judges with his powerful voice and natural charisma. He advanced to the next stages, winning fans and showcasing his talent to the world. But victory did not come. He was eliminated before reaching the finals, with Simon Cowell, one of the judges, saying that Liam was still too young and should return when he was more mature. It was a hard blow, but Liam took the advice. He wasn’t giving up so easily.

Two years later, more confident and experienced, Liam returned to The X Factor . This time, he was determined to go all the way. However, fate had other plans. During the competition, the judges decided to form a group with five standout solo contestants who, together, had something special. That’s how Liam met Harry, Zayn, Louis, and Niall. They formed One Direction, and the rest, as they say, is history.

At first, it was difficult for Liam to accept that he wouldn’t pursue a solo career as he had planned. He was a perfectionist and often took on the role of leader in the group, ensuring everyone was aligned and focused. But, over time, he realised he had gained something far greater than a prize or a solo contract: he had gained a family.

Harry was the free spirit of the group, always bringing lightness and humour to tense moments. Zayn was introspective, but his sensitivity made him the perfect confidant. Louis was the joker, the older brother everyone adored, but who could also be serious when necessary. And Niall, with his contagious smile, was the heart of the group, always reminding them of where they came from and how much they had achieved together.

One Direction quickly became a global phenomenon. Their albums broke records, their tours filled stadiums, and their songs were on radios worldwide. For Liam, it was like living a dream. He loved being on stage, feeling the energy of the fans, and sharing those moments with his “brothers.”

But, like any dream, there were challenges. Life on the road was exhausting, and the pressure of fame could be overwhelming. Liam missed home, running, and simple moments like walking in the park or having dinner with his family. Even so, he never stopped being grateful for everything he had achieved. He knew that, despite the highs and lows, he was exactly where he was meant to be.

Liam never forgot his roots, where he came from, or the struggles he had faced to get where he was. He carried with him the lessons learned in childhood, the unconditional support of his family, and the love of music that guided him every step of his journey. And, above all, he knew his story was far from over.

Now, more mature, Liam looks to the future with hope and determination. He knows that, just like running, life is a marathon, not a sprint. And, with every step, he continues to chase his dreams, knowing he has already overcome the greatest adversities that could have tried to stop him.

Liam Payne had never envisioned himself where he was now. Growing up in Wolverhampton, he had dreamed of many things—becoming an athlete, perhaps even competing in the Olympics, or building a quiet life surrounded by family. But never, in any of his imaginings, had he pictured himself at the centre of one of the world's biggest musical phenomena. And yet, in this unexpected reality, he had never felt more whole.

Life with One Direction was a paradoxical blend of intensity and simplicity. Everything was amplified: the affection of fans was so immense it could warm even the coldest days, but the pressure was equally overwhelming. From the moment he woke to the instant his head finally met the pillow, Liam felt the weight of expectation. He wasn’t just responsible for himself but for those around him. It was as though he carried the entire machinery of the band on his shoulders, always ensuring everything was running smoothly.

And yet, despite all the chaos, Liam loved. He loved deeply. This wasn’t something he merely endured—it was something he chose. He chose to wake up every day to face criticism, rumours, endless hours of rehearsals, and exhausting tours, because, in the end, it was all worth it. The fans' love was a driving force. Seeing glowing faces in the crowds, hearing screams of joy, and knowing the impact his music had on the world were things he never took for granted.

Moreover, there was the music itself. Liam was a creator by nature. Singing was just one facet of what he loved to do. In moments of rare free time, he immersed himself in other forms of art. He composed melodies that were never heard, wrote lyrics that remained tucked away in battered notebooks, doodled sketches in notepads, and painted when he felt the need for visual expression. He was a factory of creativity, turning emotions into art in every conceivable way. For Liam, creating was as essential as breathing.

And in the midst of it all, there was Zayn.

Zayn Malik. Just the name made Liam’s heart race, even after all these years beside him. Being placed in One Direction had brought Liam so many things: success, fulfilment, friends who became brothers. But nothing—absolutely nothing—could compare to Zayn. He wasn’t just a friend. He wasn’t merely someone Liam shared stages, songs, and memories with. He was the love of Liam’s life, a truth he carried with a mix of euphoria and gratitude.

Liam had always known he was gay. It had never been a question of doubt or confusion. As a child, he would hear other boys talking about girls, and although he intellectually understood what they were feeling, he could never connect with it emotionally. It was different for him, but it had never bothered him. When he came out to his family, there was no surprise, only love. His parents and sisters embraced him with the same tenderness as always, as though nothing could ever change how they saw him.

But knowing who you are and finding someone special are entirely different things. Liam never expected that someone to appear so soon, or to be on the same path as him. When he first saw Zayn at The X Factor , Liam felt as though time had stopped. It was as if all sound around him had vanished, leaving only the rapid thud of his heart. He knew, in that instant, that something was different.

They hadn’t exchanged many words before being placed in the band, but Liam cherished every word they did share as though it were treasure. Zayn was calm, introspective, yet carried an intensity in his eyes that Liam couldn’t ignore. He found himself watching Zayn from afar, trying to understand what it was that drew him so strongly. When they were finally grouped together in One Direction, Liam had the chance to truly get to know Zayn, and his initial admiration quickly transformed into something much deeper.

What Liam didn’t know, however, was that the feeling was mutual. Zayn, too, had been watching, captivated by the way Liam seemed to carry the world on his shoulders yet still found space to care for others. To Zayn, Liam was a paradox: strong yet vulnerable, responsible yet easy-going, intense yet kind. He had fallen before he even realised it.

But, like so many young people unsure of their own emotions, it took them time to admit what they felt. Liam was constantly plagued by the doubt: “What if I’m reading this wrong? What if I ruin everything?” For Zayn, the fear of rejection kept him from making any move. The tension between them was palpable, but both hid behind excuses, avoiding the obvious.

It was Louis who changed everything. Louis Tomlinson, with his extroverted personality and sharp intuition, saw what was happening before Liam and Zayn admitted it to themselves. He teased them playfully, but his words always carried serious intent. He encouraged them to stop running, to confront what they were feeling. And eventually, it worked.

Liam would never forget the moment everything shifted. It was a kiss, simple yet full of meaning. They were alone at the end of another exhausting workday when Zayn finally found the courage. Liam, startled at first, quickly reciprocated, feeling as though everything in the universe had aligned. The kiss was gentle, hesitant at first, but soon deepened into something far more profound, filled with emotions they had both repressed for far too long. For Liam, it felt as though the entire world had vanished, leaving only the warmth of Zayn’s touch and the certainty that this was the moment he had been waiting for all his life.

After that kiss, things changed between them. There was still hesitation, a lingering fear of how their relationship might affect the band or how the world would react, but none of these concerns were strong enough to keep them apart. Gradually, Liam and Zayn began to explore what they felt for each other. They exchanged longer glances during rehearsals, found stolen moments of privacy amidst the chaos of touring, and shared secrets they had never told anyone else.

Louis, always their biggest supporter, was the one who suggested they go on a “proper” date. “You two need to go out like normal people, without hiding,” he said in his playful yet wise way. And so, they did.

That night, Liam took Zayn to a small restaurant tucked away from the city centre, a discreet place where they could feel at ease. The dinner was simple but perfect. They talked about everything—childhood, dreams, fears, and, most importantly, their feelings for each other. Their connection felt so natural, it was as if they had been together for years, not just weeks.

Over time, they became inseparable. To the other members of the band, Liam and Zayn were like two magnets, unable to stay apart. Whenever one was near, the other wasn’t far behind. They had a unique way of balancing each other: Zayn helped Liam relax, pulling him out of his perfectionist mindset to enjoy the moment; Liam, in turn, gave Zayn the stability and support he had always longed for.

Being together wasn’t without its challenges, though. The constant scrutiny of the media and public opinion loomed over them. Fame brought immense pressure, and the fear of their relationship being exposed before they were ready was ever-present. There were also the personal expectations they carried: Liam, always the protector, often worried about how their relationship might impact the band, while Zayn, more reserved, wrestled with his own insecurities and the anxiety of life in the spotlight.

Yet, despite it all, their love was unwavering. It was a force that kept them grounded, a solid foundation in a world that often felt chaotic. They learned to lean on each other, to communicate their fears, and to find solace in one another. When times were tough, Liam would always say, “As long as we have each other, we can face anything.” And Zayn believed it with all his heart.

As the years went by, their relationship grew stronger. Though they kept much of their personal lives out of the public eye, those who knew them closely could see how deeply they loved each other. Small gestures—a hand on the shoulder during rehearsal, a knowing glance on stage, a quiet smile backstage—spoke volumes more than any public declaration ever could.

Liam knew that Zayn was his home. No matter where they were—whether in a packed stadium or a hotel room—so long as Zayn was by his side, Liam felt complete. And for Zayn, Liam was the light that brightened even the darkest days.

Their love was simple yet profound. It wasn’t about grand gestures or extravagant declarations but about the constancy of being there for one another, even in the hardest moments. And for Liam, that was all that mattered.

He loved the band. He loved the fans. He loved the music and everything it meant. But above all, Liam loved Zayn. Loving Zayn was the most natural thing in the world to him, and no matter what the future held, he knew that love was unshakeable.

Because, in the end, it wasn’t success, fame, or trophies that defined Liam Payne’s life. It was love—love for art, for the world around him, and most of all, for the man by his side.

The clock on the wall showed it was nearly one in the afternoon, but the hotel room still felt like a secluded refuge from the outside world. The curtains were partially drawn, blocking out the harsh daylight and creating a cosy dimness. Liam lay on the bed, his face partially buried in Zayn's chest as Zayn reclined against the soft pillows. The television mounted on the opposite wall was playing Toy Story , a film they had watched so many times they knew all the lines by heart. For Liam, that movie was a reminder of his childhood, of simpler times, and Zayn, ever so intuitive, knew how much it calmed him.

It was just another day before one of the biggest shows of their lives. Sixty thousand people would be screaming their names, singing their songs, and cheering for every move they made on stage. And although Liam was used to crowds, there was something about such a massive audience that always made him nervous. He was a perfectionist by nature, and the thought of something going wrong kept him in a constant state of restlessness before every show. He knew that once he was on stage, everything would feel natural, as though that was exactly where he was meant to be. But the hours leading up to the event were always a challenge.

Zayn, on the other hand, seemed to have everything under control—or at least, that’s what he let on. He had his own nerves and insecurities, but he never allowed them to show when he was around Liam. He knew his boyfriend needed stability, an anchor to keep him grounded, and Zayn made a point of being exactly that. He was used to handling Liam’s more meticulous side, and he did so with a patience that only someone who truly loved him could manage.

At that moment, Liam seemed more at ease. Resting his head against Zayn's chest, he watched the television intently, as if every movement of Woody and Buzz Lightyear was the most fascinating thing in the world. Zayn ran his fingers through Liam’s hair, tracing gentle, almost hypnotic patterns. For him, there was an incomparable peace in moments like these. Lying together like this, everything felt right. It was as if the world outside, with all its pressures and expectations, didn’t exist.

Zayn tilted his head slightly to look at Liam for a moment. He noticed how his boyfriend’s shoulders were more relaxed now, how his breathing was slow and steady. These small details meant everything to Zayn. He knew Liam carried more weight than he should, always worrying about others, about the band’s success, about what the fans thought. Moments like this, where Liam could let the world fade away, were rare, and Zayn made it his mission to protect them.

A knock at the door interrupted the comfortable silence, and Liam lifted his head, his eyes slightly dazed by the sudden disturbance. Before he could move, Zayn was already getting up.

“Stay there, love. I’ll get it,” he said, his voice soft and affectionate, the tone that always managed to make Liam relax.

Liam simply nodded, settling back among the pillows as Zayn walked to the door. He opened it to find a member of the hotel staff delivering their lunch. It was a simple meal but thoughtfully prepared, something they had chosen together earlier. Zayn thanked the staff member politely, taking the trays and nudging the door closed with his foot before bringing them over to the bed.

Liam sat up, a small smile playing on his lips. “What’s on the menu today?” he asked as Zayn set the trays on the bedside table.

“Grilled chicken, salad, and that bread you like,” Zayn replied, sitting down beside him. He pulled one tray towards himself and handed the other to Liam, who already seemed more cheerful at the sight of the food.

They ate together, speaking softly about what awaited them the next day. Zayn cracked the occasional joke, earning laughs from Liam, who still seemed a bit tense but was clearly more at ease in his boyfriend’s presence. The film continued playing in the background, though neither of them was paying much attention now. It was just ambient noise, filling the spaces between their words and laughter.

“Do you think they’ll use that confetti cannon again tomorrow?” Liam asked, his voice tinged with a mix of curiosity and concern.

“Probably,” Zayn replied with a shrug. “But if you don’t want it, we can ask them to leave it out.”

Liam shook his head. “No, it’s just… I always worry it’ll malfunction and go off at the wrong time or something.”

Zayn chuckled softly. “Liam, you worry about everything. I think it’s one of the things I love most about you.”

Liam raised an eyebrow, looking at him with a playful smile. “Really? My constant state of anxiety is what you love most about me?”

Zayn just smiled back, leaning in to kiss Liam’s forehead. “No. But I love how much you care about everything. It shows how passionate you are about what you do.”

Zayn’s words seemed to hit Liam right in the chest, and he felt a wave of warmth spread through him. It was always like this with Zayn—he knew exactly what to say, exactly how to lift the weight Liam carried.

After they finished eating, Zayn set the trays aside and pulled Liam close again. They settled back onto the bed, Liam resting against Zayn once more as the film reached its conclusion.

“I could live like this forever,” Liam murmured, his voice low but full of sincerity.

Zayn smiled, running his fingers through Liam’s hair again. “Me too,” he replied. “Just the two of us, the rest of the world outside.”

And, for a moment, that’s exactly what it felt like they had: just the two of them, the whole world in the background. There was no pressure, no expectations, just the comfort of being together.

Liam knew the next day would be chaotic, that the nerves would return as soon as he saw the packed stadium. But at that moment, none of it mattered. Because as long as he had Zayn by his side, he knew he could face anything. Zayn was his anchor, his peace amidst the chaos. And for Liam, that was all he needed.

Paul appeared at the hotel room door while they were still finishing lunch, knocking firmly but without urgency, as was his custom. From the other side, he announced it was time for their check-ups, a routine that had long since become a part of the five band members' lives. “Gothel’s waiting for you on the third floor,” he said, pausing briefly as if anticipating the inevitable request. “Finish eating, then head down. But don’t take too long.”

Zayn nodded, fork already in hand. “Will do, Paul. Just a few more minutes.”

Paul acknowledged this with a nod before moving off, likely to gather the others. Zayn and Liam returned their attention to what remained of their trays, savouring the last moments of calm. Liam knew the check-ups were important, but he couldn’t help the automatic thought that it was just another formality. After all, they were constantly monitored, and everyone understood that these examinations, no matter how routine, helped to prevent problems amidst their gruelling schedules. He felt fine, really. Aside from the accumulated exhaustion—which was practically a part of his life now—Liam considered himself in great shape.

Once they had finished, Zayn stood up, collecting their cups and trays to place them on the table in the corner of the room. He flashed Liam a reassuring smile, one of those calm gestures that seemed to say, “Come on, it’s just another thing to get through.” Liam simply shook his head with a small smile in return, and the two left the room together, heading towards the lift that would take them to the floor where the check-ups were being conducted.

The hotel corridor was quiet, save for the sound of their footsteps on the soft carpet. When they reached the third floor, they walked to one of the rooms that had been converted into a makeshift examination room. The band was accustomed to this setup; amidst the chaos of tours and promotional events, they rarely had the luxury of visiting an actual clinic. Gothel, the doctor who had been with them since the beginning, always insisted on arranging everything with as much precision as possible. She often said that even in an improvised setting, quality care could still be delivered.

Zayn entered first, as he always did. He knew Liam preferred to wait a bit longer, so he volunteered to go through the process first. Liam stayed behind in the corridor, leaning against the wall and scrolling through his phone to pass the time. Opening Twitter, he saw excited messages from fans about the next day’s show. It was always a mix of exhilaration and nerves. He loved feeling the fans’ energy, but the responsibility of performing on stage often kept him awake at night.

A few minutes later, Zayn emerged from the room, looking as composed as ever. “Your turn, love. Quick as always,” he said, pressing a brief kiss to Liam’s lips before heading down the hallway.

Liam stepped inside, shutting the door behind him to find Gothel arranging some papers on the makeshift desk. The room had been adapted simply but effectively. The bed had been pushed to one side, leaving space for a table with medical equipment, a swivel chair, and a digital scale. Gothel looked up and smiled when she saw Liam.

“Ready to get started?” she asked casually.

“Sure,” Liam replied, sitting in the chair across from her desk.

Gothel began with the simplest procedure: a blood draw. She donned latex gloves and prepared the syringe, adjusting the tourniquet around Liam’s arm. He turned his gaze to the side, as he always did—not out of fear, but because he didn’t like watching the needle pierce his skin.

“All done,” Gothel said, removing the now-full vial of blood and carefully placing it on a tray nearby. “You’re getting good at this.”

Liam chuckled, relaxing his arm. “It’s just practice, isn’t it?”

She smiled, already reaching for the blood pressure monitor. “Now I need you to relax your arm and take a deep breath, all right?”

He complied, breathing slowly as the cuff inflated around his arm. Gothel studied the digital display, making a few notes on her tablet. “Your blood pressure’s a bit elevated, but nothing to worry about. It’s probably just the stress building up. You’ve been on quite a schedule.”

“Yeah, I think so,” Liam replied, unconcerned. He knew it was normal, especially with such a big show approaching and their new album nearly complete.

Next, she retrieved the fingertip pulse oximeter and asked him to place his index finger inside the small device. “Let’s check your oxygen saturation... 98%. Perfect, just what we like to see.”

Liam smiled, crossing his arms as she organised the next set of equipment. He always felt slightly uneasy during medical exams, but he trusted Gothel and understood it was part of the job.

“Now, I’m going to check your reflexes,” she said, picking up a reflex hammer. “Stand up for me, please.”

He rose to his feet, arms relaxed at his sides. Gothel started with his right knee, then moved to the left. Both responded, though she noted a slight delay on the left. It was so subtle that Liam didn’t notice. Gothel, however, made a mental note without betraying any concern.

“Now, I’d like you to close your eyes and touch your nose with your index finger, alternating hands,” she instructed. Liam followed her directions precisely, though at one point, his left hand hesitated briefly before completing the motion. He didn’t even realise; he was used to the mild fatigue that came after busy days. Gothel observed silently, recording the detail in her tablet without comment.

“Okay, just one more quick test,” she said. “I want you to walk to the end of the room, turn, and come back.”

Liam followed her instructions, walking steadily to the end of the room and turning to return. There was a brief moment where he seemed to adjust his balance slightly while making the turn, but he continued without issue. Gothel made another note, her expression neutral.

Finally, she conducted some simple cognitive tests, asking Liam to repeat a sequence of words and numbers. He answered correctly, but during one of the longer sequences, he hesitated before recalling the final number. “Five… eight… two… four?” he said with a light smile, as if unsure.

“That’s correct,” Gothel replied with a smile. It was enough for her to note a slight delay, but nothing irregular.

When they were finished, she returned to the desk, removing her gloves and tidying the papers. “You’re doing well, Liam. Keep hydrated and rest as much as you can. Let me know if you feel anything unusual, all right?”

He nodded, slipping on his jacket before leaving the room. Gothel lingered for a moment, reviewing her notes. There were a few details that caught her attention—slightly altered reflexes, minor hesitation in short-term memory, and balance adjustment. Nothing alarming—stress could very easily account for it all. None of the boys ever tested perfectly, and it was entirely normal for them.

When Liam finished his test, he thanked Gothel with a casual smile, adjusting the sleeve of his jacket as he headed for the door. In the hallway, he found Louis waiting, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, wearing an expression that was a mix of patience and playfulness. “So, Payne, you survived?” Louis asked, letting out a laugh. Liam rolled his eyes but couldn’t help smiling. “It was fine. Your turn now.”

Louis patted Liam’s shoulder before stepping into the makeshift room for his check-up. Liam took a deep breath, feeling the cool air of the corridor, and started walking towards the lift, where Zayn was waiting, leaning against the polished metal wall. As soon as he saw Liam, Zayn extended his hand to intertwine their fingers, a small gesture that conveyed all the comfort Liam needed.

“Ready for the next round?” Zayn asked, a calm smile playing on his lips.

“Ready,” Liam replied, gently squeezing Zayn’s hand as they walked down the hallway together.

Paddy, one of the band’s security guards, was waiting for them at the hotel entrance. The black car was already parked at the kerb, its polished exterior gleaming in the afternoon sun. Inside, Niall and Harry were already seated, each in their own corner of the back seat, brimming with the lively energy of those about to do what they loved most in the world. Harry was reclining, engrossed in his phone, while Niall hummed a melody softly, likely a draft for a new song. As Liam and Zayn got in, the two shot curious glances their way.

“Louis still upstairs?” Niall asked, interrupting his humming to peer out of the window as though expecting to spot their fifth bandmate on the horizon.

“He’s finishing up,” Liam replied, settling into the seat beside Zayn.

“Hope he doesn’t take long,” Harry muttered, his focus still on his phone. “Paul’s going to lose it if we’re late for rehearsal.”

The conversation flowed lightly as they waited for Louis, who eventually appeared in the hotel lobby, striding through the glass doors at a brisk pace. As he climbed into the car, he let out an exaggerated sigh. “I survived the check-up,” he announced, earning laughter from the others. “Now, onto the next event of the day.”

With everyone gathered, the car set off towards the stadium. The drive wasn’t long, but the city traffic cost them a few precious minutes. From his seat, Liam watched the urban landscape pass by, his thoughts drifting between the rehearsal ahead and the show that awaited them the following night. Three sold-out nights in a row—it was still hard to wrap his head around how far they had come.

Upon arriving at the stadium, the group was greeted by members of the technical team already hard at work, fine-tuning the final details of the stage. The venue was completely empty, but its sheer scale was undeniable. The stands seemed to stretch endlessly, and the stage at the centre was a marvel of engineering, complete with lights, screens, and meticulously arranged equipment.

“This never gets less surreal,” Harry remarked, stopping beside Liam as he gazed at the stage.

“Nor should it,” Liam replied, smiling. “We’ve worked too hard for this.”

Rehearsal began with the sound check, a process that always seemed to drag on but was crucial nonetheless. Every microphone was tested, every instrument tuned. Meanwhile, the five of them took advantage of the breaks to joke around and keep the atmosphere light. Niall picked up a guitar and started strumming random chords, earning laughs when he deliberately played out of tune. Louis, on the other hand, decided to sprint to the end of the stage and back, challenging Harry to follow suit.

Liam and Zayn, however, stayed a bit more reserved, though they smiled and laughed along with their friends’ antics. During one of the breaks, Zayn pulled Liam aside to a quieter corner of the stage, away from the team’s prying eyes. “Are you okay?” he asked, his voice low and filled with concern.

“I’m fine,” Liam replied, resting his forehead against Zayn’s for a brief moment. “Just thinking about tomorrow. Three nights in a row... it’s a lot.”

Zayn smiled, his thumb tracing soft circles on Liam’s hand. “We’ve got this. And I’ll be right there, by your side.”

It was in moments like these that Liam felt the weight of everything lift, as if the entire world could wait while he was with Zayn. But he knew they had to be careful. The music industry still wasn’t ready to accept a couple like them without turning it into headlines, which meant their time together had to remain private. It wasn’t easy, but they had learned to manage.

Back at rehearsal, the five gathered to sing some of the songs they’d be performing at the show. Their harmonies filled the empty stadium, creating a magical atmosphere even without an audience. They exchanged glances as they sang, spontaneous smiles breaking out as they remembered how much they loved what they did.

Between songs, the playful banter continued. Louis attempted to steal Niall’s hat during one of the performances, while Harry exaggerated his dance moves to comedic effect. Liam and Zayn chuckled in the background, occasionally standing closer than they probably should, sharing glances that conveyed more than words ever could.

By the time rehearsal ended, night had fallen, and the stadium lights shone brightly against the dark sky. The group gathered in the centre of the stage, taking in the vast emptiness of the stands. “Tomorrow, this place will be packed,” Niall said, excitement clear in his voice.

“And it’ll be amazing,” Louis added, throwing an arm around Harry.

Liam looked at Zayn, who stood beside him, and felt a wave of gratitude. For everything they’d achieved, for being together, and for still loving what they did, despite all the challenges. He knew that as long as they had each other, they could face anything.

When the rehearsal ended, the sky had already darkened completely, and the stadium lights cast a soft glow over the city. The five of them descended from the stage together, still laughing at some of the antics they’d pulled during the songs. The car was already waiting for them outside, and they climbed in, the fatigue beginning to weigh on them but still energised by the productive rehearsal. The drive back to the hotel was peaceful, their conversation flowing as they discussed the final adjustments for the next day’s show.

Upon arriving at the hotel, the driver parked at the entrance, where a small group of fans was already waiting. The young girls held up signs and phones, their excitement evident on their faces as they saw the car pull up.

“Look who’s here,” Louis remarked as he opened the car door, already waving to the group.

Niall was the first to step out, followed by Louis, both waving and smiling as they immediately approached to take photos. Harry climbed out next, running a hand through his hair as he tried to appear less tired than he truly was. Liam and Zayn were the last to exit, their arms brushing lightly against each other as they walked towards the group.

“We’ve got to stop, don’t we?” Niall said, already heading towards the fans. “They came all this way. Poor things.”

Harry, walking just behind, gave a thumbs-up in agreement and joined them. Liam and Zayn followed at the back, their faces tired but lit up with genuine smiles as they saw the fans’ joy.

“Hello, everyone!” Liam greeted as a girl called out to him for a photo. He crouched slightly to fit into the frame of her camera. “You lot should be in bed at this hour, shouldn’t you?”

“It was worth it,” the girl replied with a shy smile, her hands trembling as she held up her phone.

Each of the five took the time to briefly chat with the fans, signing papers, posing for selfies, and exchanging kind words. Liam felt a familiar warmth in his chest as he noticed the light in their eyes, a reflection of the dedication and love that kept them waiting there late into the night. While taking a photo with a girl trembling with emotion, Liam bent down to pick up the pen she had dropped. For a moment, his head spun slightly. He quickly braced himself on his knee, picked up the pen, and handed it back to her with a smile. “It’s all right,” he said reassuringly, calming her as she apologised for dropping it, before straightening himself up again.

When they finally entered the hotel, the cosy warmth of the lobby enveloped them. The group headed straight to the restaurant. As usual, a table had been reserved for them, and a simple yet delicious meal awaited. The room was warmly lit, with wooden tones and low-hanging chandeliers that made the atmosphere even more inviting.

They sat together, spread around a large table. Harry, as was customary before a string of shows, had been instructed not to speak much. He had a small notebook in front of him, jotting down what he wanted to say and showing it to the others. It was through this method that he replied when Louis teased, “It’s strange, isn’t it? This table’s way too quiet. I almost miss your annoying voice, Harry.”

Harry quickly scribbled something and held up the page, where he’d written, ‘You miss it because I’m the soul of this group.’

“Oh, absolutely,” Liam responded, laughing as he sliced into his steak. “The soul that talks rubbish all the time.”

More scribbles from Harry, accompanied by an exaggerated expression of indignation that made everyone burst into laughter.

Between bites, Liam struggled to open a ketchup sachet, the plastic proving stubborn. He applied more force until the packet slipped from his hand, falling to the floor beside the table. He sighed and bent down to pick it up.

“Need help with that?” Zayn asked, already reaching for the sachet.

“No, I’ve got it,” Liam replied with a smile. He tore the plastic open with some difficulty but managed to squeeze the contents onto his plate. “There. I hate these sachets so much.”

“A place this fancy should be giving us bottles of ketchup, not sachets,” Louis grumbled as he struggled with his own, eventually resorting to his teeth.

The conversation stayed light, filled with jokes and banter, especially about Harry’s enforced silence. “You know, maybe we should adopt this rule for all of us before every show,” Louis suggested with a mischievous grin. “Imagine Niall staying quiet for an entire day.”

“Oi!” Niall exclaimed, feigning outrage. “If you shut me up, who’s going to keep the conversation going, huh?”

Dinner ended with laughter and more playful teasing. By the time they headed up to their rooms, it was late, but the fatigue they felt was a pleasant one, the kind that came from a day well spent. In the lift, Louis kept pestering everyone, while Harry typed messages on his phone to keep up with the banter.

“If you don’t stop, Louis, I’ll leave you stuck downstairs,” Liam joked, pointing at his friend, who pretended to press all the buttons on the panel.

When they reached their floor, each headed to their respective rooms. Liam and Zayn entered theirs, closing the door behind them and leaving the noise of the hallway behind. The room was comfortable, decorated in neutral tones with curtains that blocked out nearly all the external light.

“Finally,” Liam said, flopping onto the bed with his arms spread wide.

Zayn chuckled, kicking off his shoes before sitting beside him. “Long day, huh?”

“Don’t get me started,” Liam murmured, turning on his side to face his boyfriend. “But it was good. Great rehearsal, fun dinner… and now, us.”

Zayn smiled, leaning down to press a soft kiss to Liam’s lips. “Always the best part of the day.”

Already more at ease, Zayn sat back on the bed and pulled Liam close, wrapping him in a silent embrace. Liam melted into his boyfriend’s arms, resting his head on Zayn’s shoulder as he felt gentle fingers run through his hair. It was in moments like these that everything made sense, when the weight of routine and expectations melted away.

They stayed like that for a while, simply savouring each other’s presence. Zayn leaned down to place a soft kiss on Liam’s head, murmuring something that sounded like “I love you.” Liam looked up, a small, sincere smile spreading across his face before he pulled Zayn into a slow, tender kiss.

They lingered together for a long time, exchanging kisses, gentle touches, and soft-spoken words—love, so much love. They were completely surrounded by it.

“What film do you want to watch?” Zayn asked, turning on the TV. “You mentioned one earlier, didn’t you?”

“Yeah,” Liam agreed quickly. “That one… you know, the one with the guy who builds a robot. I’ve forgotten the name.”

“The film or the actor?” Zayn asked, puzzled.

“The film,” Liam replied, running a hand through his hair with a slightly frustrated expression.

“Ex Machina?” Zayn suggested, trying to recall if that was the one Liam had mentioned days ago. Liam nodded enthusiastically.

“That’s it! Exactly. Ex Machina. ” He laughed, trying to brush off the brief moment of forgetfulness.

“Let’s watch it, then.” Zayn smiled, kissing Liam’s lips before searching for the film on the streaming service. They snuggled together in bed as it began playing on the screen.

The night unfolded quietly, the comfortable silence between them broken only by the soft sounds of the TV. Wrapped in each other’s warmth, Liam and Zayn eventually succumbed to their fatigue, falling asleep together, their bodies intertwined and their hearts at peace—at least for that night.

Chapter Text

The final stretch of the Take Me Home Tour was exhausting for all of them, but no one could deny it was also extraordinary. The feeling of standing on ever-larger stages, hearing crowds scream the lyrics to the songs they'd created together, was indescribable. The last leg of the tour had them moving from city to city without respite—concerts almost every night, interviews, photoshoots, rehearsals, travel. It was a cycle that seemed never-ending. And while everyone was tired, Zayn had another worry weighing on his shoulders: Liam.

Since the start of the tour, he'd been noticing small things. Things that might seem normal or insignificant to anyone else, but to Zayn, who knew Liam better than he knew himself, they didn’t go unnoticed. Small lapses in memory. Slightly slower movements. Occasional confusion about simple details, like the next stop on the tour or which song they were supposed to sing at a certain point in the setlist. At first, Zayn tried to ignore it, telling himself Liam was just overwhelmed, like they all were.

But now, in the last week of shows, the little things had started piling up. During a recent performance, Liam had forgotten to sing part of Little Things . He covered it well, of course, joking around with Niall on stage as if it had just been a momentary distraction, and no one in the audience seemed to notice. Even the other boys didn’t mention it afterwards. But Zayn saw the look of frustration on Liam's face as they left the stage, even though he hadn’t said a word about it.

And that was what worried Zayn the most: Liam didn’t seem to realise how different he was. He still smiled, laughed at Louis’s jokes, made plans for the downtime they’d have once the tour was over. Just that week, Liam had mentioned how much he wanted to spend more time with Zayn, visit peaceful places, and watch all the films they’d promised to see together but never had time for. He spoke about it with such enthusiasm that Zayn didn’t have the heart to say anything.

But Zayn knew. He knew something was wrong.

The tour blurred into a whirlwind of hotels, arenas, and airports, and Zayn did what he could to watch Liam without being obvious. He stayed close, helping him with little things—like picking up the microphone Liam had dropped without noticing or reminding him of the hotel room number when he hesitated at the reception desk. Zayn never drew attention to it, always pretending it was natural. “Relax, babe, everyone forgets things sometimes,” he said one night when Liam stopped in the hotel corridor, confused, trying to figure out whether to go left or right.

Despite his concerns, Zayn never spoke about it with the other boys or Paul. He didn’t want to alarm anyone, especially since he wasn’t sure if what he was seeing was truly serious or just a result of stress. He kept convincing himself that everything would be fine once the tour ended and they had time to rest and recover.

That afternoon, they had a break between soundcheck and the next engagement of the day. The atmosphere was calmer than usual, with everyone scattered across the stadium's hallways and dressing rooms. Zayn had stepped out to grab something he’d left on the tour bus, and as he returned, he passed by one of the rooms near the dressing area and heard familiar voices. He wouldn’t have stopped, but one particular word caught his attention.

“Liam.”

Zayn froze mid-step, his footsteps muffled by the carpet. He recognised the voice of Gothel, the band’s doctor.

“Yes, I really think it’s best to redo the tests with him,” she was saying, her voice low but tinged with what sounded like concern.

“Do you want me to talk to him?” Paul asked, his tone equally quiet.

“Yes, that might work,” Gothel replied, a bit hesitant. “It’s probably nothing serious, but… I’d rather be certain. With the pace they’re keeping, anything could be a sign of exhaustion.”

“Well, as long as he doesn’t realise we’re keeping an eye on him,” Paul said, trying to sound reassuring. “The last thing we need is to make him anxious or worried.”

Zayn stood frozen in the hallway, his heart racing. He didn’t want to hear any more. He didn’t want to think about what it all meant. The word tests echoed in his head, mingling with everything he’d noticed over the past weeks. But before he could decide what to do, Paul and Gothel stepped out of the room, still deep in conversation.

They stopped immediately when they saw Zayn standing there, just a few metres away.

Gothel stared at him, her eyes assessing him for a moment, as if trying to gauge how much he’d overheard. Paul froze briefly before putting on a polite, professional smile. But Zayn said nothing. He simply looked at the two of them, his expression unreadable.

And in that suspended moment, the worries Zayn had been trying to bury began solidifying into something he could no longer ignore.

Zayn remained standing in the hallway, his heart pounding in his chest. He knew it wasn’t a coincidence that he’d heard Liam’s name in that conversation between Gothel and Paul. And he also knew he couldn’t just ignore what had just happened. The doctor’s words echoed in his mind: “I want to redo the tests with him.” Even though she’d said it was probably nothing serious, that wasn’t enough to calm him. Because deep down, Zayn felt that something was wrong.

He took a deep breath and stepped closer to Paul and Gothel. They were still in the hallway, exchanging quick glances as if deciding who should speak first. Zayn crossed his arms, trying to keep his voice steady, but the concern was evident when he finally asked:

“What’s going on with Liam?”

Paul raised his hands in a defensive gesture, trying to project calm. “It’s nothing, Zayn,” he said, adopting a tone that was almost paternal. “We just need to redo the last tests, that’s all. We lost part of the reports, and—”

“No,” Zayn interrupted, shaking his head firmly. “Don’t give me that, Paul. I heard you. You’re worried about him, aren’t you? That’s why you want to redo the tests. Don’t treat me like I’m stupid.”

Gothel let out a quiet sigh, glancing away for a moment. She seemed to be considering whether or not to say something. Paul looked at her for support, but it was Zayn who kept speaking, unable to hold back the thoughts that were racing through his mind.

“I know he’s not okay. I’ve noticed things... He forgets simple things, gets confused sometimes, but—like—that’s normal, isn’t it? Everyone forgets things when they’re tired. He’s under so much pressure, we all are. That’s all it is, right? Just the stress of the tour…”

His voice wavered at the end, as though he were trying to convince himself of what he was saying. Gothel finally raised her eyes to him, her expression calm but serious.

“Zayn,” she began, choosing her words carefully, “we’re not saying there’s something wrong. We just think it’s important to keep a close eye. With the pace you’re all keeping, it’s normal for the body and mind to respond in unexpected ways. The tests are just a way to ensure he’s all right and to identify anything that might need attention.”

“But why just Liam? Why not all of us?” Zayn pressed, his worry clearly taking over. “Why aren’t you talking about redoing everyone’s tests? It’s just his you’re focusing on, isn’t it?”

Paul took a deep breath, crossing his arms and glancing at Gothel before responding. “Look, Zayn... During the last round of tests, some things caught our attention. Nothing alarming, but we want to make sure we didn’t miss anything. Once the tour’s over, we’ll redo everything for all of you, but for now, we think it’s important to monitor Liam a bit more closely. He seems to be more tired than usual.”

Zayn shook his head, still unconvinced. He ran his hands over his face, the worry now etched into every line of his expression. “He doesn’t need more pressure right now, Paul. He’s so excited about the time off after the tour… He’s already planned everything. He wants to rest, do normal things. You can’t… you can’t scare him with this.”

“We won’t scare him,” Gothel interjected, her voice soft and steady. “I promise. We’ll keep things light, without worrying him. And, as you said yourself, Zayn, this could just be accumulated stress. Tours like this are incredibly demanding. But we have to do our job, and part of that is making sure you’re all okay.”

Zayn took another deep breath, trying to process her words. He knew she was right. They were all exhausted, physically and emotionally, and that could easily explain the small lapses he’d been noticing in Liam. But even so, the weight of his worry didn’t lessen.

“He can’t know you’re worried,” Zayn murmured, looking between the two of them. “He’s already carrying so much… He’ll freak out if he thinks something’s wrong with him.”

“We won’t alarm him,” Paul assured, placing a hand on Zayn’s shoulder. “We’ll handle this as calmly as possible. It’s just a precaution, nothing more.”

Zayn nodded slowly, though the concern in his eyes remained clear. He knew he couldn’t ignore what he was feeling, but he also knew he had to trust the team that had always looked after them.

“You could help us, if you’d like. We’ll say we lost two reports—yours and his. That we’ll need to redo both tests. Then we won’t even need to do yours, just let him think we did. That way no one gets scared. Does that work?” Paul suggested, looking at Zayn.

“Yeah… That works…” Zayn agreed slowly, exhaling deeply. Then he offered a faint smile. “Thanks for taking such good care of us.”

“You’re all very important to me, kid,” Paul said, ruffling Zayn’s hair gently, earning a soft laugh from him.

He needed to trust the team that had always looked after them—his mind kept repeating that. Even so, as he walked away from Paul and Gothel, heading back to the dressing room where the other boys were, he couldn’t shake the feeling that this was bigger than they were letting on.

He entered the dressing room, trying to mask his anxiety. Liam was sitting on the sofa, laughing at something Niall had said, his face lit up by the smile Zayn loved so much. For a moment, Zayn allowed himself to forget the conversation in the hallway. He walked over to Liam and sat beside him, wrapping an arm around his shoulders as if nothing had happened.

But even as Liam rested his head on Zayn’s shoulder, laughing at another one of Niall’s jokes, the worry lingered, simmering in the back of Zayn’s mind. He promised himself he would keep an eye on Liam, that he’d be by his side through it all, as he always had been. Whatever was going on, he wouldn’t let Liam face it alone.

The first interview of the day takes place early in the afternoon, in a studio set up inside the hotel itself, which makes logistics easier and prevents fans from discovering exactly where they’re staying. They settle on the wide sofa placed at the centre of the set, each in their usual spot, so instinctive now that no one even thinks before sitting down. The warm lights illuminate their faces, and there’s something comforting about the routine that interviews like this impose—predictable questions, light-hearted answers, inside jokes that make the five of them laugh for no apparent reason. The interviewer begins with a compliment about the success of the tour, and they thank him, as they always do, sharing knowing smiles among themselves.

Zayn feels relaxed. In that moment, all that matters is the conversation flowing naturally, Niall’s easy laughter, Louis’s witty remarks, the sparkle in Harry’s eyes as he talks about the connection with the fans. And Liam. Liam, sitting beside him, answering each question with the calm and confidence he’s gained over the years, his eyes bright with genuine enthusiasm when he talks about the new album. He gestures as he explains the writing process, his fingers tracing shapes in the air, his accent thick with an excitement Zayn finds utterly endearing. And, for a while, Zayn allows himself to forget. To forget any worry, any intrusive thought, any apprehension that had been lingering around him in recent days.

The interview moves along with ease, transitioning between obvious topics and more light-hearted moments. At one point, the interviewer asks them to share something funny that’s happened during the tour, and Louis jumps in, his eyes gleaming with mischief.

“Oh, there are loads of stories,” he begins, already laughing before he even speaks. “But I think one of the best was when Liam forgot the lyrics to Little Things in the middle of a show.”

Liam’s eyes widen in mock horror, laughing along.

“Hey, that was just a momentary blank!”

“Momentary blank,” Louis repeats, teasing. “You spent a good five seconds staring into space.”

“Well, I’d say it was Zayn’s fault,” Niall interjects, pointing at him. “Because Liam looked at Zayn before he froze.”

Zayn laughs, shaking his head, and Liam shrugs, a lazy smile on his lips.

“Maybe I got distracted by how beautiful he is,” he says nonchalantly, and everyone laughs, including the interviewer.

The conversation continues, revolving around the same familiar themes—the band’s growth, favourite moments of the tour, plans for the future. It’s easy, comfortable. When the interview ends, they thank everyone and move on to the next, which unfolds in a similar manner. Time passes quickly between jokes and repeated stories, and before they know it, they’re heading back to their rooms, with a few free hours before dinner.

In the lift, Zayn and Liam exchange knowing glances, and as soon as they reach their room, Zayn gently pushes Liam against the door, capturing his lips in a slow, lazy kiss, with no sense of urgency. Liam smiles against his lips, pulling him closer, his hands sliding along Zayn’s arms before settling on his waist.

“Finally alone,” Liam murmurs, his voice low and content.

Zayn simply smiles, pressing his forehead against Liam’s.

“Finally.”

They fall onto the bed without a care, Liam curling up against Zayn in a way so natural it feels as though they were made to fit together like this. The room is quiet, save for the sound of their steady breathing and the distant hum of the city outside. Zayn runs his fingers through Liam’s soft hair, feeling utterly at peace.

“You were amazing today,” Zayn murmurs, breaking the silence.

Liam smiles against his chest.

“We were amazing.”

Zayn presses a kiss to his brown locks, allowing himself to just feel.

Time passes indistinctly—they stay there, exchanging lazy touches, quiet laughter, stolen kisses between conversations about everything and nothing at once. At some point, Liam gets up to grab a bottle of water but ends up knocking his phone off the edge of the bed.

“Oops.” He laughs, bending down to pick it up.

The evening stretches on like this—kisses, laughter, touches. They lose themselves in each other, as they always do, as they always will. And Zayn forgets. Forgets any worry, any apprehension, anything that isn’t Liam and the undeniable love he feels for him.

Liam sleeps deeply, his breathing steady and calm, his chest rising and falling gently. The room is dark, lit only by the faint glow of the streetlight outside, filtering through the slightly parted curtains and casting soft shadows across the bed. The cool air from the air conditioning makes the room even cosier, and the soft blankets wrap around them, creating a cocoon of warmth and safety. Liam’s legs are entwined with Zayn’s, his body nestled against his in a way that feels so natural, so right, that Zayn can’t help the gentle smile that graces his lips. He feels the warmth of his boyfriend against him, the familiar scent of soap mingling with the faint cologne Liam had put on before bed.

Zayn takes in every detail, as though wanting to etch the image into his memory forever. The relaxed face, the soft features, the cheeks slightly flushed from the warmth of the duvet. The straight, perfectly shaped nose and slightly parted lips, revealing a hint of teeth. The slightly messy hair falling over his forehead in a way that seems almost childlike. Liam looks like an angel as he sleeps. A baby, even—completely serene and carefree, lost in a world of dreams.

Zayn feels his heart tighten with immeasurable tenderness. He leans forward slightly, propping himself up on one elbow, just to observe him more closely, to be nearer, as though the moment isn’t enough. His hand slides slowly along Liam’s arm, touching his warm, soft skin with the care of someone holding something precious. He feels utterly lost in it, in this love that grows every day, consuming him entirely and inescapably.

He doesn’t know when he truly realised that Liam was the love of his life. Perhaps it had been from the very first moment, from their first conversation on The X Factor , when Liam’s honey-coloured eyes met his, and something inside Zayn knew there was something different there. Or perhaps it was over the years, in the shared smiles, the sleepless nights talking about everything and nothing, the stolen touches in public, the silent words exchanged with only glances. Perhaps it was in the first kiss, the first “I love you,” the first time he woke up next to Liam and realised he never wanted to sleep without him again.

Whatever it was, Zayn knows there’s no doubt now. Liam is the person he wants to spend the rest of his life with. The person he wants to wake up with every morning, to share every little and big moment with, to build a future with. He wants to marry Liam. He wants to share a home with him, to build a life together, to find small daily rituals that are theirs alone. He wants to come home from work and find Liam in the kitchen, making something while singing whatever song has been stuck in his head that day with the most perfect pitch because he’s one of the best singers in the world, and Zayn has absolutely no doubts about that. He wants movie nights on the sofa, planned trips and spontaneous getaways, lazy Sundays under the covers.

Zayn feels a wave of love so intense it nearly overwhelms him. He gently slides his fingers through Liam’s hair, brushing a few strands away from his forehead, and presses the softest kiss to the top of his head.

“I love you so much,” he murmurs, his voice low, almost inaudible.

Liam stirs slightly, sighing in his sleep, but doesn’t wake. He only snuggles closer to Zayn, as though, even in his sleep, he knows that’s exactly where he wants to be.

Zayn smiles. He closes his eyes. And he falls asleep with the absolute certainty that he’s never wanted anything as much as he wants Liam.

Zayn woke slowly, his eyes blinking a few times before finally adjusting to the soft light filtering through the hotel room curtains. The day outside seemed calm, and the comfortable silence of the room indicated that Liam was still deeply asleep. That wasn’t so common—normally, Liam was the one who woke up first, the one who bounced out of bed with energy, ready to drag Zayn to breakfast or whatever activity he had in mind. But today, Liam slept deeply, breathing steadily, his face relaxed against the pillow, the blankets slightly tangled around his body.

Zayn smiled softly at the sight. He never tired of looking at Liam like this, so peaceful, so vulnerable and beautiful. Something inside him warmed every time he saw him like this because it meant Liam felt safe by his side, safe enough to let his guard down completely. He didn’t want to wake him. Liam had been pushing himself so hard lately, the intense routine of shows and interviews weighing on his shoulders, so he deserved every minute of rest he could get.

Carefully, Zayn slipped out of bed, shivering slightly as he left the warmth of the blankets. He walked silently to the bathroom, splashed water on his face, brushed his teeth, and ran his fingers through his messy hair. Returning to the room, he grabbed his phone and unlocked the screen, checking his messages. Nothing urgent, nothing demanding his immediate attention—just a few messages from the band’s group chat and some social media notifications.

He decided to order breakfast. Opening the room service menu, he selected a hearty spread, with all of Liam’s favourites—pancakes with honey, toast, scrambled eggs, fresh fruit, orange juice, and, of course, a large cup of coffee. He was certain Liam would be thrilled to wake up to a tray full of his favourite things.

While waiting for the delivery, Zayn turned his attention back to Liam. He was still sleeping like an angel, his face partially buried in the pillow, his hair tousled, his arms splayed carelessly over the sheets. His chest rose and fell gently, his breathing deep and steady. He looked so small there, so serene, that Zayn felt an almost overwhelming wave of love wash over him.

He approached slowly, sitting on the edge of the bed, taking in every detail of his boyfriend’s face. The curve of his nose, the delicate line of his lashes against his skin, his slightly parted lips. He softly ran his fingers through Liam’s hair, brushing it away from his forehead. His heart ached with tenderness. He wished he could freeze time right there, in that moment.

“You’re the love of my life, you know that?” he murmured quietly, knowing Liam wouldn’t hear him.

But, as if his body sensed Zayn’s presence, Liam shifted slightly, just enough to turn a little more in his direction, unconsciously seeking his warmth. Zayn smiled. He lay back down beside him, keeping a slight distance just to continue watching him.

Time passed slowly, the silence broken only by the faint sounds of the city in the background. Breakfast would arrive soon, Liam would wake up soon, and the day would truly begin. But for now, Zayn just wanted to savour this moment.

Because he knew, with every fibre of his being, that Liam was the best thing that had ever happened to him. And that, no matter what, he would never, ever stop loving him.

Zayn got out of bed as soon as he heard the knock at the door. He assumed it was breakfast arriving, so he ran his fingers through his hair to tidy it up slightly before opening the door. However, instead of a hotel staff member holding a tray of food, he found Paddy standing there, his face serious yet calm, briefly glancing into the room.

“Is everything all right?” Zayn asked, puzzled by his presence so early. Paddy rarely showed up without reason, especially when they had nothing scheduled until lunchtime. “Liam’s still asleep. We don’t have anything planned until later, right?”

Paddy hesitated for a moment before replying, and that made a small knot form in Zayn’s chest.

“It’s for Liam’s tests,” he said, keeping his voice neutral, as though he were simply following protocol.

Reality hit Zayn like a bucket of cold water. He had completely forgotten about the tests. Over the past few days, between shows, interviews, and the precious moments he spent with Liam, the worry had somewhat faded. But now, with Paddy standing at the door, it all came rushing back. The conversation he’d overheard between Gothel and Paul. The vague answers he’d received when he’d asked why the tests were being redone. That gnawing feeling in his stomach that never entirely went away whenever he thought about it.

Even so, he took a deep breath and nodded.

“All right,” he murmured. “But he’s still sleeping.”

“That’s fine,” Paddy replied. “We can wait. Just let me know when he’s awake.”

Zayn simply nodded and slowly closed the door, exhaling sharply as soon as he was alone in the room again. Or almost alone. He turned to look at Liam, who was still sleeping exactly as before, completely unaware of the conversation that had just taken place.

He walked back to the bed, sitting on the edge as he watched his boyfriend. Liam looked so peaceful there, so far removed from any worry. His breathing was calm and deep, his features relaxed. For a moment, Zayn felt selfish for wishing he could let him sleep just a little longer. Because as long as Liam was asleep, he didn’t have to worry about anything. He didn’t have to think about the tests, the unanswered questions, or whatever might be wrong.

But before he could get too lost in those thoughts, another knock sounded at the door. This time, it was breakfast.

Zayn quickly got up and opened the door, accepting the tray with a murmured “thank you” before bringing it into the room. The food was exactly as he’d ordered—golden pancakes, fluffy scrambled eggs, warm toast, fresh fruit, and two steaming cups of coffee. He set everything down on the table and glanced back at Liam, hoping the smell of the food might wake him.

But Liam still didn’t wake.

Zayn lay on the bed, his head resting on the pillow, eyes fixed on the television screen as some random film played. He had seen it before, perhaps more than once, but he wasn’t really paying attention to the story. His mind drifted between scattered thoughts and vague concerns, the background noise serving only to fill the silence of the room while he waited for Liam to wake up.

It had been over two hours since breakfast had arrived. Zayn had held out for as long as he could, but hunger had eventually won, and he had eaten his share—though without much urgency, without much enthusiasm, just enough to stop his stomach from twisting with emptiness. He had kept Liam’s food covered, making sure it would still be warm when he finally woke.

The room was quiet, filled only with the low murmur of the film and the soft sound of Liam’s breathing. Zayn looked at his boyfriend for a moment, his chest tightening with a feeling he couldn’t immediately name. Liam looked so beautiful like that, lost in sleep, his messy hair spread across the pillow, his skin illuminated by the faint light filtering through the gap in the curtain. He seemed so carefree, so comfortable, so far from any worry that might trouble him.

Then, a sleepy murmur broke the silence, and Zayn immediately shifted his gaze from the screen to see Liam stirring beside him. It took him a few seconds to fully wake, blinking slowly as he stretched, his arms reaching out from the tangle of blankets.

Zayn smiled, his heart warming at the sight of the still-drowsy, slightly confused expression on his boyfriend’s face.

“Good morning, sleepyhead,” he said, his voice full of affection.

Liam turned his head towards him, his brown eyes still heavy with sleep, and gave a lazy smile before leaning in for a kiss. Zayn’s lips curved against his, and Liam let out a muffled chuckle when Zayn deepened the kiss without the slightest hesitation.

“You don’t mind my morning breath?” Liam murmured against his lips, his voice husky from sleep.

Zayn laughed, his fingers gliding over his boyfriend’s face.

“I love you even with dragon breath,” he teased.

Liam rolled his eyes but smiled before stealing another kiss.

Zayn waited until he had settled more comfortably in bed before continuing.

“I ordered breakfast for us, but you slept so much you ruined my surprise.”

Liam let out a small laugh, dragging his fingers over Zayn’s chest before leaning in to press a lazy kiss to the curve of his neck.

“I still loved it,” he said, his voice muffled against the warmth of his skin.

Zayn closed his eyes for a moment, savouring the contact, the quiet affection, the comforting warmth of Liam’s body against his own. But then, while Liam was still distracted stretching again, he reached for his phone from the bedside table and quickly sent a message to Paddy and Paul.

From Zayn: He’s awake.

The reply came in less than a minute.

From Paul: Good.
From Paul: Let him have breakfast and then bring him over. Tell him you’ve already done your tests.

Zayn swallowed hard, feeling his heart pound strangely, as if an anxious restlessness were spreading through his chest for no apparent reason. He didn’t understand why he felt so uneasy. It wasn’t as if anything had actually happened. It wasn’t as if anything was truly wrong.

But then, why did he feel like his chest was getting tighter?

Taking a deep breath, he locked his phone screen and placed it back on the table, trying not to think too much about it. When he looked up, he saw Liam getting out of bed, still sluggish, running a hand through his messy hair as he walked towards the bathroom.

“I’m just going to wash my face. Be right back to eat,” he said, his voice still thick with sleep.

Zayn simply nodded, forcing a calm smile, as if everything was absolutely normal.

But as he watched Liam step into the bathroom and close the door, he felt the tightness in his chest intensify, along with that strange sensation that something was slipping through his fingers, and he didn’t even know what.

Liam emerged from the bathroom rubbing a towel over his face, still half-asleep, his hair adorably tousled in a way that Zayn found endearing. He yawned, blinking slowly, then looked at Zayn, who was still lying in bed, remote control in hand, his gaze absent on the television screen. Breakfast was still on the table beside him, the tray neatly arranged with the plates covered to keep the food warm.

Zayn smiled as Liam approached, extending a hand to him, which he took at once before settling back onto the bed beside him. Liam sighed contentedly as he nestled against the pillows, leaning in for a quick kiss before picking up his tray.

“Have you eaten?” he asked, glancing at Zayn before lifting the lid from his plate.

“I have. But I kept yours warm,” Zayn said, his fingers trailing lightly over Liam’s arm in a distracted, almost instinctive gesture.

Liam gave a small, grateful smile before picking up his cutlery and beginning to eat. He was hungry, and Zayn liked seeing him eat like that, relaxed, unhurried, as if that peaceful moment was the most natural thing in the world. Meanwhile, the film continued playing in the background, filling the room with a comforting hum.

“What film is this?” Liam asked after a few minutes, glancing between the screen and his food.

“We’ve seen it before,” Zayn said, absentmindedly running his fingers through Liam’s hair.

Liam frowned for a moment, trying to recall, but then simply shrugged and took another bite.

“Fair enough,” he murmured, chewing. “Hope it’s one I like.”

Zayn chuckled softly, giving his arm a light squeeze.

“You do,” he assured him.

And Liam accepted that without question, simply nestling closer to him as he ate.

For a few minutes, Zayn just watched, listening to the small sounds Liam made as he chewed, feeling the steady rhythm of his breathing beside him. It was a simple, everyday moment, yet there was something about being there, with Liam, that made everything feel special. As if that serenity was a gift he would never stop cherishing.

But then, as Liam finished eating, Zayn knew he couldn’t put off what he needed to say any longer.

He took a deep breath, searching for the best way to introduce the subject without making it sound strange.

“When you’re done, we need to go,” he said, trying to keep his voice light, casual.

Liam looked at him with a slight frown, chewing slowly.

“Go where?”

Zayn forced a small smile, still tracing his fingers over Liam’s arm.

“Paul and Gothel are waiting for you for a check-up.”

Liam blinked a few times, clearly confused.

“But it hasn’t even been a month since the last one,” he said, setting his cutlery down on the now-empty tray.

Zayn swallowed hard, feeling a strange weight in his chest. He didn’t want to lie to Liam. He hated the idea of hiding anything from him. But in that moment, he felt he had to. That it was the best thing to do.

“They lost the reports from our tests,” he said, keeping his voice gentle. “I already did mine this morning while you were asleep. Now it’s just you left.”

Liam watched Zayn for a few seconds, as if trying to decipher something, but then he simply shrugged.

“Oh, all right then,” he said, not giving it much thought.

Zayn felt both relief and a painful tightness in his chest.

He leaned in and pressed a kiss to Liam’s temple, breathing in the fresh scent of soap mixed with the warmth of his skin.

“Thanks for not making me get up early for it,” Liam joked, his eyes glinting with a hint of amusement.

Zayn chuckled softly, pulling him into a side embrace.

“I know how much you hate waking up too early,” he said. “And I like letting you sleep. I like watching you sleep, you look even more beautiful. I love you.”

Liam smiled against his shoulder, sighing contentedly.

“I love you, my gorgeous.”

For a moment, Zayn wished they could stay like that all day—just the two of them, in peace, with no worries.

But reality was waiting.

Zayn and Liam left the room together, their hands brushing against each other every now and then, as if unconsciously seeking comfort in one another. Liam was in good spirits, his expression light as he spoke about random things—something about a funny video Niall had shown him the night before, a part of a song he was thinking of changing, how much he loved the breakfasts served at the hotels they stayed in. Everything about him exuded normality, the carefree ease of someone simply going about their day like any other.

But Zayn couldn’t quite share Liam’s lightness. There was a weight inside him, a silent unease he tried to ignore, but which grew heavier with every step they took towards the room where the check-up would take place. He wanted to believe this was all just precaution, that Paul and Gothel were simply being overly cautious, that there was nothing actually wrong. But a part of him—a part he didn’t want to admit—knew it wasn’t just that.

The door to the room was open when they arrived. Paul and Gothel greeted them with friendly expressions, showing no signs of concern. Everything seemed normal, exactly like any other check-up they’d had before.

"Good morning, Liam," Gothel greeted, her smile professional.

"Morning!" Liam replied cheerfully, stepping into the room with the relaxed demeanour of someone who had nothing to worry about.

Zayn watched everything closely, trying to catch any exchanged glances between Gothel and Paul, any sign that might confirm this wasn’t just a routine check-up. But everything seemed in order—at least on the surface.

"Can I stay and watch?" Zayn asked casually, as if it was no big deal. "I don’t have anything else to do anyway."

Gothel glanced at Paul for a brief moment before nodding.

"Of course, I don’t see a problem with that."

Zayn felt a small tension ease from his shoulders. At least he could be there, observing everything.

Liam sat in the chair at the centre of the room while Gothel adjusted some equipment around him.

"Let’s start with the basics," she said, noting something on her clipboard. "First, I need to weigh you."

Liam got up and stepped onto the scales without hesitation. Gothel noted the numbers down without comment.

"Great. We also won’t need to take any blood today—we have your latest tests here," she said, and Zayn felt his own jaw tighten slightly. He disliked the lies, but he knew they were necessary.

"One less needle, then," Liam joked, returning to his chair.

Gothel chuckled, checking his oxygen saturation next. The device beeped after a few seconds, and upon seeing the numbers, she nodded to herself.

"All good so far," she said in a reassuring tone.

Liam smiled. "Brilliant. Does that mean I can go now?"

Gothel let out a small laugh. "Not so fast. We still have a few more tests to do."

And that was when everything started to change.

She began with a series of simple cognitive tests—nothing too different from what they had done before. She asked Liam to repeat sequences of numbers backwards, to recall certain words after a short interval, to identify and name objects quickly.

At first, everything seemed normal. Liam laughed at some of the instructions, made jokes between his answers. But then, as the tests progressed, Zayn noticed small things—things another person might not pick up on, but which he knew too well to ignore.

For example, when Gothel asked him to repeat a sequence of numbers, he hesitated a second longer than usual. He furrowed his brows slightly, as if trying to pull the information from his memory, as if he knew it should be easy but, for some reason, it wasn’t. He answered correctly, but with an almost imperceptible delay.

Later, when asked to recall a list of words Gothel had said a few minutes earlier, he managed to remember some but completely forgot others.

"Oh, I know you said another one," he murmured, rubbing his temple, his eyes blinking as though the answer was there but just wouldn’t come.

"That’s okay, just say the ones you remember," Gothel said, her voice calm.

Liam let out a nervous laugh. "I swear I remember you saying more, but my mind’s just... I don’t know."

Zayn felt a tightness in his chest.

They moved on to another test—Gothel described a simple scenario and asked Liam to explain what he would do in response. The first ones were easy, but then she gave him a slightly more detailed situation, and, for a brief moment, Zayn saw something he hadn’t expected: a flicker of confusion in Liam’s eyes.

He frowned, opened his mouth to answer, but stopped, biting his lip.

"Erm... wait, let me think," he murmured, running a hand through his hair.

Zayn felt his throat go dry.

Gothel waited patiently, and after a few seconds, Liam finally responded, but there was something in the way he phrased his answer—as if he were struggling to fit the right words together, as if his mind was working harder than it should for something so simple.

When they reached the motor coordination test, Zayn felt his heart quicken. Gothel asked Liam to perform a specific movement with his fingers, alternating between quick and sequential taps. He started well, but then, suddenly, he hesitated.

He looked at his own fingers, as if for a second he didn’t understand why they weren’t moving quite as he intended.

He tried again, and this time he managed, but Zayn saw the way he furrowed his brows, as if realising that something wasn’t quite right.

"That one was a bit weird," Liam commented with an awkward laugh, flexing his fingers as if trying to shake off the discomfort.

"It’s normal—sometimes we’re more tired than we realise," Gothel said, her tone unchanged.

But Zayn noticed when she jotted something extra on her clipboard.

No matter how much Liam kept smiling, joking between answers and taking everything lightly, Zayn felt his own body tense, his muscles rigid as he observed every small nuance in the tests. He noticed the quick glances Gothel exchanged with Paul, the details she noted without mentioning.

And for the first time, Zayn saw something in Liam that he had never noticed before.

A hesitation, a slight discomfort, an awareness that something wasn’t quite right.

And that terrified him.

The final test was completed, and Liam finally relaxed his shoulders, stretching slightly.

"Done! I survived," he said playfully.

Gothel smiled, closing her clipboard.

"You did great, Liam. Thank you."

Liam smiled back, unaware of the weight in the air.

And Zayn just watched, not saying a single word.

Gothel calmly closed her clipboard, her eyes still on her notes as Liam leaned back in his chair, relaxing his shoulders as if he had just finished a difficult exam. Zayn didn’t take his eyes off his boyfriend, trying to assess any sign of discomfort or worry, but Liam seemed at ease—at least on the surface.

However, silence settled over the room, and it was Liam who broke it.

"So..." He took a deep breath, adjusting his posture. "Is everything okay?"

Gothel lifted her gaze to him with a small smile but hesitated a second longer than usual. Liam noticed.

"I know I didn’t do that well on those tests," he continued, his expression a little more serious now. "I mean, I tried, but I think I messed up more than I should have, right?"

Zayn felt his heart clench. He wanted to say no, that it was just a bad day, that it was nothing, but he couldn’t.

Gothel glanced between her notes and Liam. She sighed softly, as if carefully choosing her words.

"I think it would be a good idea to run a more thorough examination," she said, her voice calm and measured. "Something more specific."

Liam frowned. "What do you mean?"

Gothel wetted her lips before continuing.

"I think it would be wise for us to go to a hospital to investigate further," she said, the gentleness in her voice making the words less alarming than they should have been. "Just to make sure everything is alright."

The word "hospital" made Zayn tense. His eyes darted from Liam to Gothel, the worry in his chest growing.

"Wait a minute," he cut in, feeling an uneasy anxiety spread through him. "Why are you acting so strange? What’s going on?"

Gothel turned to Zayn with patience, her expression serene, but Zayn knew that look. It was the look of someone who didn’t want to scare them but also couldn’t lie.

She sighed, maintaining her professional composure.

"Liam has been declining drastically over the past few months," she explained, flipping through her notes. "His physical exams are excellent—good immunity, normal oxygen levels, balanced blood pH, electrolyte levels within the expected range, no concerning changes in red or white blood cells, normal kidney and liver function. Everything is in order in that regard."

Zayn blinked, trying to process the information. "Then what’s the problem?"

Gothel remained calm. "The problem isn’t in those tests, Zayn. What we’ve been observing is a decline in Liam’s cognitive performance. And that decline has been progressive."

Liam furrowed his brow even more, straightening in his chair. "Are you saying I’m getting stupid?"

"Of course not!" Gothel denied immediately. "But you yourself noticed you struggled with some of the tests. You felt it, didn’t you?"

Liam opened his mouth but hesitated. His gaze drifted for a moment, as if he didn’t want to admit it. Then, he took a deep breath.

"I… I did feel it," he murmured, uneasy. "But maybe I just wasn’t having a good day. I’m tired, you know? The tour has been intense."

"Yes, and that’s exactly why we want to investigate," Gothel said patiently. "It could just be stress. It could be something simple, something that will resolve with rest. But we want to be sure."

Liam crossed his arms, restless, biting his lip. "But what if it was just a bad day? What if I was just distracted? I… I can do it again."

Zayn felt his stomach churn.

"Liam…"

"No, seriously," Liam insisted, his eyes now determined. "Give me the tests again. I promise I’ll focus more this time."

Gothel observed him for a moment, assessing.

"Liam, this isn’t about concentration," she explained gently. "We know you’re not declining because you want to."

"Then let me try again," Liam pleaded, the anxiety evident in his voice. "If I do better now, then that means it was just a mistake, doesn’t it?"

Gothel exchanged a quick glance with Paul. She sighed, then slowly nodded.

"Alright, Liam," she said at last. "We’ll try again."

And that was when silence settled over the room.

Gothel adjusted the clipboard in her hands and offered Liam a small, encouraging smile. Seated before her, he took a deep breath, his shoulders tense. He had already gone through these tests once that day, but now he felt the need to redeem himself, to prove he wasn’t as bad as they had suggested.

Zayn, standing at a safe distance, leaning against the wall, kept his arms crossed, but the tension in his body was evident. His gaze was fixed on his boyfriend, attentive to every slight reaction. He tried to maintain a neutral expression, but inside, his heart was beating fast, restless, as if he were standing at the edge of a precipice, unsure of what lay on the other side.

"We’ll start with something simple, alright?" Gothel said calmly. "Liam, I’m going to say a sequence of numbers, and I want you to repeat them back to me in the same order. Then we’ll do it backwards."

Liam nodded, focused.

"Seven, two, four, nine."

He took a deep breath. "Seven, two, four, nine."

Gothel smiled and gave a new instruction. "Now backwards."

Liam furrowed his brow slightly. "Nine, four, two…" He hesitated for a second, his eyes blinking rapidly before shaking his head. "Seven."

Gothel quickly noted something down. "Great. Let’s continue."

Zayn felt a slight tightness in his chest as he noticed Liam’s small delay in recalling the last number. It was a tiny hesitation, something no one would pay much attention to on a normal day. But this wasn’t a normal day.

Gothel continued increasing the sequences, and as they got longer, Liam began to struggle more. In the six-digit sequence, he mixed up the order of two numbers. In the seven-digit one, he got the last one wrong.

He let out a heavy sigh, biting his lip, visibly frustrated.

"It’s alright, Liam," Gothel reassured him gently. "This exercise is challenging for many people. Let’s move on."

Zayn watched from a distance, his heart tightening more and more. Liam seemed so determined to get everything right that each small mistake felt like a blow to his confidence.

"Now let’s move on to another section," Gothel announced, turning a page on her clipboard. "I want you to say as many words as you can within a given category. For example, if I say ‘animals,’ you need to list as many as you can in one minute. Alright?"

Liam nodded. "Got it."

"Okay, then. Name some fruits."

Liam took a deep breath. "Apple, banana, strawberry, pear…" He paused for a second, frowning. "Uh… mango… kiwi… um…" He blinked a few times, his brow furrowing even more.

Zayn felt a shiver run down his spine.

"Grapes… watermelon…" Liam continued, his voice sounding less confident now. "Uh… damn, there are more, right? Like…" He pressed his eyes shut, frustrated. "That different type of orange… what’s it called again? The… the…"

"Tangerine?" Gothel suggested, trying to ease the tension.

"That’s it!" Liam exclaimed, letting out a nervous laugh. "Tangerine!"

Gothel asked a few more similar questions, requesting names of cities, colours, and objects found in a kitchen. In some categories, Liam did well, but in others, he seemed to stall, struggling to find words that would normally come easily.

"It’s alright," Gothel said after each longer pause. "Breathe, it’s no problem."

But Zayn felt the unease growing inside him. He had never seen Liam like this. Never seen that kind of hesitation, that genuine frustration on his boyfriend’s face.

The next test was a memory one. Gothel read a short story to Liam and asked him to repeat the main details after a few minutes.

"A man named Carlos went for a walk in the park with his dog, Max. On the way, he met an old childhood friend and stopped to chat. Then, the two decided to have coffee together before Carlos went home. When he arrived, he realised he had left his coat at the café."

Liam listened attentively, biting his lip as he absorbed the information. Gothel then moved on to another exercise to distract him for a moment before asking him to recall the story.

"Okay, Liam, now tell me what happened in the story I read to you."

He furrowed his brow. "It was about… a guy who… uh, was walking his dog."

"Great," Gothel encouraged.

"And then… he met someone? Like, a friend? I think?"

Gothel nodded but said nothing.

"And… they went somewhere? Damn, I just heard this." He squeezed his eyes shut, clearly frustrated.

"It’s alright," Gothel assured him. "Try to remember calmly."

Liam took a deep breath. "Uh… I think they went for coffee? Yeah, that was it. And then… damn, there was something else, wasn’t there?" He looked at Zayn, as if searching for help, and Zayn forced a smile, trying to offer whatever comfort he could.

"You’re doing great," Zayn said, and he meant it. He wanted Liam to believe that.

The smile Liam gave him in return made everything worth it, even if the tightness in Zayn’s chest didn’t ease.

Liam kept trying, but it was clear he was struggling more than he wanted to admit. Gothel continued with other exercises, asking him to draw a clock showing a specific time and to do some basic mental arithmetic. In some, he did well. In others, he mixed up details, swapped numbers, hesitated before answering.

And each mistake, however small, seemed to add another layer of frustration.

When the tests finally ended, Liam let out a heavy sigh and ran his hands over his face.

"I didn’t do so well, did I?" he murmured, his voice carrying something Zayn couldn’t quite identify—maybe a trace of fear, maybe just exhaustion.

Gothel didn’t answer immediately. She simply closed her clipboard and looked at him gently, choosing her words carefully.

Zayn felt his breath hitch.

And then, everything fell silent again.

Gothel let out a quiet sigh as she closed her clipboard, casting a careful glance at Liam before resting her hands on her lap. There was a certain weight in the room now, a thick silence that seemed to stretch between the walls, filling every corner with an unspoken tension no one wanted to name. Zayn felt his chest tighten beside his boyfriend, watching as Liam stared down at his own hands, his fingers moving nervously, as if searching for something to hold onto.

Liam finally broke the silence with a heavy sigh, his shoulders slightly slumped under the weight of frustration.

"I don’t understand," he murmured, his voice sounding almost hesitant, as if he wasn’t sure he really wanted to say it out loud. "I’ve always been a bit clumsy, always stumbled over words, always forgotten a name here and there. I don’t get why that’s suddenly being seen as… concerning."

Zayn held his breath, feeling the unease grow inside him, but he stayed silent. He wanted to hear Gothel’s response. He wanted to understand.

Gothel offered a small smile, that patient look she always wore when she had to explain something complex without alarming anyone. She adjusted her glasses on her face before leaning slightly forward.

"Liam, when we assess a patient’s cognitive ability, we don’t just look at what they can or can’t do at the moment. We compare it to what they’ve always been capable of. That makes all the difference."

Liam blinked, his eyes reflecting quiet confusion.

"For example," Gothel continued, carefully choosing her words, "you said you thought you did terribly in the memory test, didn’t you?"

Liam nodded slowly.

"But you’ve always struggled with that."

His eyes widened slightly, as if he hadn’t been expecting that response.

"That doesn’t mean there hasn’t been a change," Gothel quickly added. "But it does mean that this isn’t what concerns us the most, because we already know it’s part of your natural way of functioning. Some people are better at memory, others at logical reasoning, others at language. What we assess is whether there has been a significant change."

She paused briefly before continuing.

"However, the motor coordination, cognitive response, and attention tests… those showed a much more noticeable decline."

Liam averted his gaze for a moment, pressing his lips together.

"Does that mean something’s wrong?"

Gothel maintained her composed expression.

"It means something has changed. But it doesn’t mean it’s something serious, Liam," she assured him in a gentle tone. "And that’s exactly why we’re here. These tests aren’t like school exams, where you have to pass. They’re meant to help us understand how your body and mind are coping with daily demands. If something isn’t right, we investigate before it becomes a bigger issue."

Zayn noticed the tension in Liam’s shoulders easing gradually. The worried expression he had worn since the start of the tests seemed to be dissolving, though a trace of uncertainty still lingered in his eyes.

"So…" Liam ran a hand through his hair, taking a deep breath. "What happens now?"

Gothel smiled calmly.

"Now we do some more specific tests, just to make sure everything is fine. It could just be stress, accumulated exhaustion. But we want to rule out any other possibilities before you leave for the holidays, so you can relax without worries."

Liam finally smiled, still a little hesitant, but much more at ease. He turned his gaze to Zayn, who had remained utterly silent until then, processing everything.

Zayn felt a warm sensation spread through his chest at seeing that smile directed at him, even if it still carried a hint of uncertainty. He smiled back without hesitation, reaching out his hand to Liam.

Liam intertwined their fingers almost instantly, as if that simple touch was enough to anchor him, to remind him that he wasn’t alone.

Zayn gave his hand a gentle squeeze, his thumbs tracing small circles over the warm skin.

And for the first time in hours, the weight in both their chests felt a little lighter.

Gothel really did know how to soothe them.

The day carried on as if nothing had happened. Or, at least, as if that delicate conversation with Gothel hadn’t left a quiet shadow over Zayn and Liam’s thoughts. But if something lingered between them, if any concern tried to creep into the peaceful moments they shared, neither of them let it show. Life continued, the tour went on, and on that particular day, everything seemed to revolve around soft touches, silent smiles, and the constant presence of one another.

The light-hearted, carefree atmosphere remained when they returned to their hotel room after the appointment, when Liam, in an almost childlike manner, tugged Zayn by the hand as soon as they entered and flopped onto the bed, pulling him along. Liam’s strong arms wrapped around Zayn with a lazy affection, and he didn’t need to say anything for Zayn to understand that this was comfort, was need, was simply the desire to be close. Zayn smiled against Liam’s warm chest, feeling his steady breath against his hair, and stayed there, listening to the rhythmic beat of his boyfriend’s heart, his fingers tracing meaningless patterns over the thin fabric of Liam’s T-shirt.

"If we stay like this all day, do you think anyone will notice?" Liam murmured after a while, his voice slow and drowsy, as if he were on the verge of falling asleep right there.

Zayn let out a quiet laugh.

"Probably, yes."

Liam sighed dramatically, pulling Zayn a little closer.

"Then let’s make the most of it before someone comes to drag us away."

And that’s exactly what they did. They stayed there long enough for the sun to begin its descent in the sky, long enough for the other boys to start texting, asking where they were, long enough for Zayn to memorise every tiny detail of Liam’s face as he dozed peacefully beside him. But eventually, they had to get up.

The soundcheck was like any other—full of jokes, laughter, improvisations, and that lightness that only came when it was just the five of them on stage, with no fans, no press, no pressure. Just them, their voices, the instruments, and that indescribable feeling of belonging. Liam seemed normal, seemed fine. He moved across the stage with the same confidence as always, made jokes into the microphone, hit every note perfectly in tune.

And for a moment, Zayn thought that maybe Gothel was right. Maybe it was just exhaustion. Maybe it had all been a big misunderstanding, an overreaction. Maybe, in a few days, when they were finally on holiday, everything would go back to normal.

That night’s show was magical.

The last show in a place always carried a certain emotional weight—not just for the fans, but for them too. It was as if every chord, every lyric, every interaction had an added significance, as if they were trying to absorb everything before it slipped through their fingers. Liam shone on stage, as he always did. His smile was genuine, his energy infectious. When he looked at Zayn between songs, there was something special in his eyes, something Zayn felt deep in his chest.

And Zayn gave it back.

In glances, in fleeting touches, in every note that left his lips.

The show ended with a bittersweet feeling—as it always did when part of the tour came to a close. But there was relief too, because now there were only three left. Three shows in the same city, with no airport rush, no tour buses, no suitcases moving from one hotel to another. Just them and that temporary place that was starting to feel like home.

Back at the hotel, everyone was exhausted but happy. Louis and Niall still had enough energy to order food and debate which films to watch. Harry was sprawled on the sofa, scrolling through his phone with a satisfied smile. Paul and the other security staff had already disappeared down the corridors.

And Zayn and Liam?

They were exactly where they were meant to be.

In their room, together, bodies tangled beneath the sheets, hearts beating in sync in the comfortable silence of the night.

And for now, that was all that mattered.

Chapter Text

The morning of the last show dawned differently.

The timid sunlight filtered through the half-open curtains of the hotel room, casting soft shadows over the rumpled sheets. Zayn woke first, as had been happening frequently lately. He turned lazily in bed, expecting to find Liam still asleep beside him, but instead, he found his boyfriend curled up, his face buried in the pillow, his breathing heavy and erratic.

"Liam?" Zayn called softly, his voice still hoarse from sleep.

A low groan came in response, and that was enough for Zayn to know something was wrong.

He propped himself up on his elbows, sliding his hand gently over Liam's back, feeling the tension in his muscles, the rigidity in the way his body was curled up.

"What is it, love?" he asked, his voice laden with concern.

"My head..." Liam mumbled, his voice muffled against the pillow. "It's awful."

Zayn frowned, quickly moving to kneel beside Liam on the bed. He ran his fingers through his boyfriend's soft hair, gently brushing it away from his sweaty forehead.

"Is it bad? More than yesterday?”

Liam gave a small nod, but the movement seemed to make his head throb even more because he groaned in pain and squeezed his eyes shut.

"It's getting worse. So much worse.”

Zayn felt a tightness in his chest. Ever since the tests with Gothel, he had been trying to keep his worries under control, trying to believe it was just the exhaustion from the tour, the stress, the insane schedule. But now, seeing Liam like that—pale, tense, clearly in pain—Zayn couldn't ignore the growing fear inside him.

He slipped out of bed, going over to the small table where they had left some bottles of water and common painkillers. He grabbed a tablet and quickly returned to Liam.

"Take this, it'll help."

Liam tried to sit up, but as soon as he attempted to, a violent dizziness hit him. He swayed slightly, and Zayn was quick to catch him, his arms firm around his boyfriend, preventing him from collapsing back onto the bed.

"Slowly," Zayn murmured, his tone soft but filled with concern.

Liam closed his eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath, before accepting the pill and the bottle of water. He swallowed the medication with difficulty, his throat feeling drier than usual.

"It'll pass soon," he said, almost as if trying to convince himself.

Zayn didn’t respond immediately. He just watched, his dark eyes analysing every tiny detail—the way Liam pressed his temples, how his eyebrows were furrowed in pain, how he looked more exhausted than he should be so early in the morning.

"I'm calling Gothel."

"You don't need to," Liam countered immediately, his voice coming out a little sharper than he intended.

Zayn folded his arms, raising an eyebrow.

"Are you joking?"

Liam sighed, rubbing his face with his hands.

"Zayn, it's just a headache. I just need some time. The medicine will kick in."

Zayn took a deep breath, trying to suppress the urge to insist, to argue, to say this wasn’t normal. But he knew Liam too well to think that, once he had made up his mind, it would be easy to change it.

So instead, he simply said:

"If it doesn’t get better in half an hour, I’m calling Gothel, and you won’t argue with me."

Liam looked at him for a moment, as if considering protesting, but then he just sighed and nodded.

"Alright."

But half an hour passed. And the pain didn’t ease.

When Gothel arrived at the room, Liam was already dressed, sitting on the edge of the bed and massaging his temples firmly. Zayn sat beside him, his eyes closely watching his boyfriend’s every move.

Gothel didn’t need long to realise something was wrong. She asked a few questions, had Liam describe the pain, asked if he was feeling nauseous, if his vision was blurred, if there was anything else unusual.

Liam answered everything honestly, but always downplaying it.

"It's nothing serious," he insisted. "Just a bad headache."

Gothel frowned, clearly dissatisfied with that answer.

"I can give you a stronger painkiller," she said. "But honestly, I think it would be best if you rested today."

Liam immediately shook his head.

"Not a chance."

"Liam, it’s the last show," Gothel reasoned. "If you’re not well, we can postpone it."

"No."

Zayn looked at Liam, feeling a pang in his chest at the intensity in his eyes.

"Liam..."

"No," Liam repeated, firmer now. "I’m not cancelling this show. Or postponing it. Everyone’s been waiting for this. The fans, the crew, the boys. I’m not ruining it because of some bloody headache."

Zayn pressed his lips together, feeling frustration and worry intertwine inside him.

Gothel sighed, clearly seeing she wouldn’t change his mind.

"If you feel like you can’t go on, I want you to promise you’ll leave the stage immediately."

"I promise."

But Zayn knew that was a lie. He knew Liam. He knew Liam would push through no matter what.

Gothel handed him a new tablet, something a little stronger, and told him to take it before they headed to the venue.

And so, the morning continued, Liam’s headache persisting, and Zayn feeling that something was wrong, deeply wrong, but powerless to stop the inevitable.

The day passed in a blur.

They went to the venue, did the final soundcheck, fulfilled brief interviews, and met a few fans. Liam seemed normal, or at least he played the part well. He smiled, joked, sang as always. But Zayn saw beyond that. He noticed the moments when Liam discreetly pressed his fingers to his temple, the fleeting grimaces of discomfort, the way his posture was slightly stiffer than usual.

And then, suddenly, it was time.

The moment to go on stage.

The opening music began to play, the deafening screams of the crowd filled the arena, and Zayn looked at Liam one last time before they stepped into the tunnel leading to the stage.

He saw the way Liam took a deep breath, how his eyes gleamed with the adrenaline of the moment, how he smiled at the boys as if nothing was wrong.

But something was wrong.

And Zayn knew it.

He just didn’t know what to do, because no matter what he or anyone else said, Liam wouldn’t back out of that show for anything, absolutely anything.

The show started like any other. The intense lights exploded onto the stage, the first beats echoed through the speakers, and the deafening cheers of the audience filled the stadium with an almost tangible energy. Adrenaline surged through Liam’s body, mixed with the pain that throbbed in his head like an unrelenting drum, pounding against his skull. But he ignored it.

He had to ignore it.

Every step on stage felt calculated, not because he wanted to impress, but because, somehow, he felt he needed to pay more attention than usual. The floor felt less stable beneath his feet, as if he were stepping onto something unsteady, and the stage lights blinded him more than they usually did. He blinked repeatedly, trying to adjust his vision, trying to shake off the suffocating feeling that something was off.

But there was no room for weakness here. Not in front of thousands of people.

So he sang.

The voice came out strong, as always. Or at least he thought it did. He couldn't hear properly. The sounds were muffled, as if he were underwater, as if there were an invisible barrier between him and the rest of the world.

The other boys were there, laughing, running across the stage, interacting with the fans. Zayn was close by, casting constant glances at him, those dark eyes always attentive, always filled with something Liam didn’t want to decipher at that moment. Concern, perhaps. Or something worse.

He needed to keep going.

The headache didn’t ease. On the contrary. It felt as if it were being compressed, as if his brain were trapped in a space far too small. He could feel the sweat trickling down his nape, his hands trembling slightly as he held the microphone. He tried to disguise it, moving naturally across the stage, but he knew something was off.

And then, at some point, everything started spinning.

It was subtle at first. A slight oscillation in his field of vision, as if the world around him were dancing to a rhythm he couldn’t keep up with. But then it worsened. The stage tilted beneath his feet—or at least that was how it felt. Liam blinked rapidly, trying to fix his gaze on a single point, anything that might help him regain his balance.

But there was nothing fixed.

The ground seemed to ripple, the lights flickered irregularly, and the sounds around him turned into nothing more than an indistinct hum.

He took a deep breath.

Forced a smile.

Kept singing.

By now, Zayn was close enough to notice. Liam felt the firm touch of his boyfriend’s hand on his back for a brief second, as if he were testing whether he was steady. Liam instinctively pulled away. If he let Zayn see how unwell he truly was, he would stop everything. And he couldn’t allow that.

The show continued.

Somehow, he made it to the end. He didn’t even know how.

The songs passed in a blur, the intervals between them seemed to drag on and, at the same time, disappear before he even noticed. He smiled when he was supposed to smile, sang when he was supposed to sing, raised his hands when he was supposed to engage with the crowd. But the truth was, he was counting the seconds. Not because he wanted it to be over, but because he felt that if it didn’t end soon, he wouldn’t be able to stay on his feet.

Then, the final note was sung.

Fireworks exploded at the back of the stage, marking the show’s conclusion, and the boys gathered in the centre to bid farewell to the audience. Liam did the same.

He waved.

Smiled.

Felt the world spin again.

And then, the lights went out.

They left the stage together, still smiling, still feeling the electric energy of the crowd pulsing in the air. The excited voices of the others filled the exit corridor, pats on the back, congratulatory hugs.

But Liam wasn’t really there.

He was walking, but his feet weren’t truly touching the ground. Or perhaps they were, but he couldn’t feel it. The corridor seemed impossibly long, the sound of voices merging into a distant hum.

And then, suddenly, everything became heavier.

The lights grew too bright. Or too dim. He couldn’t tell.

The sound became too loud. Or too quiet.

He tried to say something.

But he couldn’t.

The world spun one last time.

And then, everything faded to black.

Liam didn’t feel his body give way. He didn’t feel Zayn’s arms catching him before he hit the ground. He didn’t hear the panicked shouts around him, nor see the faces that suddenly became indistinct blurs.

He simply blacked out.

The corridor, once filled with indistinct chatter and exhausted laughter, plunged into a cutting silence the moment Liam collapsed in Zayn’s arms. There was no time to process, no time to understand—one second, he was there, steady, albeit visibly unwell, and the next, his body simply gave out. The weight of Liam against him was a shock that shot through Zayn’s entire body, freezing his blood in his veins before his brain even processed what was happening.

"Liam!"

Zayn’s voice came out in a strangled cry, raw and uncontrollable desperation spreading through the space, making the other boys turn at once. But Liam didn’t respond. His body was limp against Zayn’s, his arms hanging at his sides, his legs devoid of any tension to hold him up. And then, before Zayn could even think, it happened.

Liam’s body began to convulse, his muscles contracting involuntarily, his movements erratic and violent. The eyes Zayn loved so much were wide open but unfocused, lost in a point beyond reality. His mouth opened in a sound that should never have come from him, something between a choke and a pained moan, while his body shook uncontrollably.

Zayn panicked.

His heart pounded violently in his chest, hammering so hard it felt like it wanted to escape, and the air caught in his throat, suffocating. He tried to hold Liam, tried to keep him from hurting himself, but everything felt too fast, too confusing, too terrifying.

"What’s happening? What’s happening?!" Niall’s voice came from somewhere, filled with fear.

Louis stepped closer, his eyes wide but unsure of what to do. Harry stood frozen, pale, his gaze locked on the scene before them as if he couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

"Oh my God..."

It was Paul who acted first, calling Gothel over the radio while rushing towards them. But Zayn couldn’t focus on anything else.

Because Liam was still convulsing.

Time seemed to stretch, making everything slower and more agonising. The jerking wouldn’t stop, and Zayn didn’t know what to do except hold Liam, beg him to stop, beg him to be okay.

"Liam, please..." His voice was a broken whisper, lost in the chaos.

Gothel appeared, dropping to her knees beside them in an instant. She began speaking, giving instructions, but Zayn could barely hear her. The only thing that mattered was Liam. His Liam, fragile, vulnerable, far too small in that moment.

Then, slowly, the spasms started to subside. The violent convulsions gave way to small tremors until, at last, they stopped entirely.

But Liam didn’t wake up.

Zayn felt the panic swell even further, a suffocating knot forming in his throat. Gothel checked his vital signs, murmuring something about his breathing stabilising, but Zayn couldn’t feel the relief he should have.

"He’s going to be okay, isn’t he?" His voice was barely a thread, trembling, pleading.

Gothel looked at him, her face serious but filled with compassion.

"We’re taking him to the hospital, Zayn. We’ll find out what’s happening."

But Zayn didn’t want to find out anything.

He just wanted Liam back.

Time inside that waiting room did not follow the same rules as the rest of the world. The clock’s hands on the wall moved, but no one truly felt time pass. There was no before, no after, only that endless, oppressive, suffocating now. The hospital’s sounds were a low, irritating hum—the hurried footsteps of doctors in the corridors, the beeping of distant machines, muffled voices calling names that were not Liam’s. None of it mattered. Nothing but that crushing wait.

Zayn couldn’t breathe properly. His chest rose and fell irregularly, an unbearable weight pressing against his lungs. Each heartbeat was erratic, painful, and he felt that, at any moment, he might simply lose control. He paced. He walked because he needed to move, needed to do something, anything, because if he stayed still, he might explode. His footsteps echoed against the cold floor, the soles of his trainers squeaking faintly against the smooth surface. But he couldn’t focus on that. Nothing made sense. The hospital was warm, yet he felt cold. A chill that came from within, a constant shiver crawling up his spine, making him tremble.

He tried to sit. Tried to find some semblance of comfort in the rigid, uncomfortable chair, but he couldn’t stay there for more than a few seconds. So he stood again, his trembling fingers running through his dishevelled hair, pulling at it hard as if that could stop his mind from spinning, spinning, spinning. He bit his lip so forcefully that he tasted the metallic tang of blood, but even that didn’t make him feel more present.

Louis, Niall, and Harry were nearby, watching over him without needing to say anything. They tried to appear strong, tried to maintain a firm stance, but they weren’t fooling anyone. The weight of worry was etched into each of them, in their distant gazes, in their tense shoulders, in the way their lips were pressed into thin, anxious lines. Niall fidgeted with his fingers compulsively, as if playing an invisible melody in the air. Harry kept his arms crossed, but his foot bounced nervously, betraying his anxiety. Louis was biting the edge of his nail, a habit he had sworn to have broken years ago but which always returned when the tension became unbearable.

Liam’s family was no better. Ruth seemed the most composed, but only because she was trying to calm Geoff, who occasionally let out a heavy sigh and murmured something inaudible, his fists clenched over his knees. Karen and Nicola sat in the corner of the room, holding each other, their heads resting together, a deep silence between them. They weren’t crying—not yet—but their eyes were red and glassy, as if trapped in a nightmare they couldn’t wake from.

And that was exactly how Zayn felt.

A nightmare.

Because Liam should have been there with them. He should have been cracking jokes, laughing with that silly, wonderful laugh that made the world feel lighter. He should have been sprawled beside Zayn, perhaps resting his head on his shoulder in that casual way he always did when he was tired. He should have been fine. But he wasn’t.

And Zayn didn’t know what to do with that.

The images of the past hour wouldn’t stop replaying in his mind, like a bad film stuck on an endless loop. The exact moment Liam blacked out, his body collapsing against him without warning. The dead weight in Zayn’s arms, the warmth of his skin fading far too quickly. And then, the seizures.

God.

The violent shaking, his eyes open yet unseeing, his mouth trying to form words that never came out. The sheer, absolute terror of watching someone he loved more than anything in the world completely lose control, of witnessing something happening inside him that no one there could stop.

And then the silence.

The silence when Liam finally stopped moving but didn’t wake up. The silence in the car that brought them to the hospital, the tyres gliding over the wet road, the city lights passing by in unreal blurs. The silence of that damned waiting room.

Every second was torture. Every second was another chance for something to go wrong.

The doctors had taken Liam for a series of tests as soon as they arrived, and since then, no one had said anything. No updates, no words of reassurance. Nothing but the crushing agony of not knowing what was happening.

What if it was serious?

What if it was something with no solution?

What if…?

No.

Zayn squeezed his eyes shut, pressing his fingertips against his temples, trying to push away the worst thoughts that kept creeping in uninvited. He couldn’t think like that. He couldn’t let himself fall into that abyss of fear and uncertainty. Liam would be fine. He had to be fine.

But what if he wasn’t?

The thought hit like a punch to the gut, and for a moment, the world tilted.

He stood again, unable to stay still. He needed to see him. Needed to know how Liam was, needed to hold his hand and tell him everything would be okay, even if he himself wasn’t sure.

But the waiting room door remained closed. No doctor came in. No name was called. No news arrived.

And the waiting continued.

The pressure in Zayn’s chest was becoming unbearable, as if an invisible weight were crushing every breath he tried to take. The air felt heavier, harder to pull into his lungs, and his mind was caught in a whirlwind of uncontrollable thoughts, each one more destructive than the last. He couldn’t hold himself together any longer. Despair consumed him entirely, and before he could stop himself, he felt the hot tears spilling down his face.

His knees buckled, his hands trembled as they searched for something to hold onto, and it was Harry who caught him before he could collapse onto the floor. Zayn’s body crashed into Harry’s with force, sobs tearing through his throat with no restraint. He felt his friend’s arms around him, firm and reassuring, but nothing seemed capable of easing the overwhelming pain spreading inside him.

“I should have stopped him.” The words came out broken by his sobs, desperate, full of guilt and anguish. “I should have told them to cancel the show, I should have taken him to the hospital sooner… My God, Harry, I should have done so much more…”

Harry’s grip tightened, as if he wanted to keep Zayn from completely falling apart right there. He could feel his friend’s body shaking against his, his breathing erratic, his sobs uncontrollable as if they would never end.

“This isn’t your fault.” Harry’s voice was firm, though it carried a tremor of concern. “Zayn, look at me. You did what you could, no one knew this was going to happen.”

Zayn shook his head vehemently, his hands clutching the fabric of Harry’s shirt as if it were the only thing keeping him grounded in reality.

“But I knew he wasn’t well.” His voice was louder now, filled with pain, with self-reproach. “I saw the way he was, he could barely stand, Harry, he was struggling the whole time and I just… just let him. I accepted it when he said he wanted to keep going. As if he was more important than his own health, as if a show mattered more…”

More tears fell, his chest rising and falling erratically as guilt only grew, a dark and suffocating shadow wrapping around every part of him. He felt as if he were being consumed from the inside out, as if he would never be able to breathe without this crushing weight in his chest again.

Harry kept his hands steady on Zayn’s shoulders, his green eyes reflecting the intensity of the moment. He understood. He knew that Zayn was breaking apart because the love he had for Liam was too big, too deep, and the mere thought of losing him was unbearable.

“Zayn, listen.” Harry took a deep breath, trying to find the right words. “Liam didn’t want them to cancel the show. You know what he’s like, he would have done it anyway. And you were by his side the whole time, you never left him. You did what you could, you did more than anyone else would have. But now, blaming yourself won’t change anything.”

“But I should have done more.” Zayn closed his eyes tightly, feeling the pain pulse within him like an open wound. “I should have taken him to a hospital the moment Gothel suggested it, I should have insisted… maybe this never would have happened…”

Harry cupped Zayn’s face in his hands, forcing him to look directly at him. His eyes were serious, but gentle, carrying a silent promise that he was here, that he wouldn’t let Zayn drown completely in his guilt.

“You love Liam more than anything.” He said softly. “And he knows that. He knows you’re here, that you’re waiting for him, that you’d do anything to make sure he’s okay. But you need to stop blaming yourself, because this isn’t your fault. You can’t change what’s happened, Zayn, but you can be here for him now.”

Zayn bit his lip, trying to suppress the sobs still shaking his chest. He wanted to believe Harry’s words, he wanted to accept that this wasn’t his fault, but the truth was, he still felt as though he had failed.

But then, between one sob and the next, he felt Harry’s hand squeeze his. A small gesture, but one that carried immense weight.

“He’s going to be okay.” Harry said, his voice filled with hope. “The doctors will take care of him, this will pass, he’ll be fine. I promise.”

Zayn closed his eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath, trying to believe. Because he needed to believe. Because if he didn’t, everything would fall apart.

So he held Harry’s hand in return, searching for a shred of strength amidst the chaos.

And he kept waiting.

The waiting room felt trapped in a strange time, where every second dragged on with torturous slowness. The silence in the room wasn’t true silence—the hum of the air conditioning, the restless rustling of clothing when someone shifted, the heavy breathing of Geoff and Karen as they tried to stay calm. But, in essence, it was absolute silence. A silence thick with anticipation, fear, hope.

Zayn still felt his head spinning, his chest tight, his eyes stinging from crying so much, but he forced himself to stay standing, his arms crossed, his gaze fixed on the door Gothel had left through earlier. He couldn’t sit, he couldn’t stay still, he couldn’t breathe properly until she returned with answers.

And then the door opened.

The sound was small, unassuming, but in an instant, all eyes turned towards it, bodies tensing, hearts stopping for a brief second of pure anxiety. Gothel stepped into the room, closing the door behind her with deliberate calm, as if trying not to alarm anyone more than they already were. She took a deep breath before finally meeting the group’s eyes, scanning each of them, her gaze lingering on Zayn for a moment longer before settling on Karen and Geoff.

And then she spoke the words everyone had been waiting for, the words that made each person’s shoulders loosen slightly, that allowed air to finally return to Zayn’s lungs, even if shakily.

“Liam is okay. He’s out of danger.”

For a moment, no one knew how to react. There was a heavy silence before, at last, a wave of relief swept through the room, as if a dense cloud had suddenly lifted. Karen covered her mouth with her hands, her eyes welling up, while Geoff let out a deep sigh, closing his eyes briefly. Ruth pulled Nicola into a tight embrace, and Niall let out a quiet “thank God” as Louis patted Harry on the back, who took a deep breath, absorbing the words.

Zayn, however, remained in the same place. His chest rose and fell rapidly, still processing what he had just heard. He wanted to ask, to know more, to run to Liam and see with his own eyes that he was okay. But his voice felt trapped in his throat, and all he could do was stare at Gothel, waiting for more.

Gothel, anticipating all their questions, continued.

“He’s undergoing some tests,” she explained, her voice firm but careful. “The doctors want to understand what might have caused the seizure, so they’re looking into some neurological factors. It’s a standard protocol in cases like this.”

The room filled with worry again. Geoff frowned, crossing his arms tightly, while Karen looked as though she might crumble, her expression tense and distraught. Ruth swallowed hard.

“Neurological?” Niall was the one to ask, his voice hesitant. “What does that mean exactly?”

Gothel took a deep breath before answering.

“It means the doctors want to rule out anything more serious,” she said carefully, choosing her words to avoid alarming them. “The seizure could have been caused by many things—extreme stress, fatigue, dehydration, even a severe migraine can lead to something like this. But since Liam has been experiencing some symptoms over the past few weeks, they want to investigate more thoroughly.”

Zayn closed his eyes for a moment, trying to process everything.

“Symptoms?” Geoff asked, looking directly at Gothel.

Gothel hesitated. She knew Liam hadn’t told his family everything, not wanting to worry them. But now that it had escalated so seriously, perhaps it was time they knew.

She sighed.

“Nothing individually alarming,” she said calmly. “Excessive fatigue, frequent headaches, some memory lapses and coordination issues. Nothing too concerning on their own, but together… well, we think it’s worth investigating.”

Karen ran her hands over her face, feeling the tension rise even further.

"But he's all right, isn't he?" she murmured, almost as if she needed to convince herself. "You said he's out of danger."

Gothel nodded, offering a small reassuring smile.

"Yes, he's stable," she assured her. "The tests are just to understand better what might have happened and to ensure he doesn't have any more episodes like this in the future."

Zayn finally found his voice.

"Can we see him?" His question came out as little more than a whisper, laden with urgency.

Gothel hesitated for a moment, then nodded.

"Not yet," she said softly. "The doctors need to finish their tests first, but as soon as it's possible, I'll let you know."

Zayn nodded slowly, trying to contain the frustration and anxiety still coursing through him. He wanted to be by Liam's side now, to hold his hand, to see him open his eyes and say he was all right. But all he could do was wait.

And then, as if she had sensed the weight of that waiting, Gothel continued.

"I know it's hard," her voice was gentler now, full of empathy. "But Liam is in good hands. The medical team here is excellent, they're doing everything they can to ensure he's all right. And as soon as we have more answers, I'll be here to make sure you all know everything."

The room fell silent once more. But now, it was a different kind of silence. Still tense, still full of uncertainties, but also carrying a faint glimmer of hope. Because Liam was all right. He was stable. And that was the most important thing now.

Zayn exhaled slowly, closing his eyes for a brief moment, trying to steady himself. He felt a hand rest gently on his shoulder—Louis, offering silent comfort.

And so, they continued waiting.

The waiting room no longer felt like just a temporary space. To Zayn, it was becoming an entire universe, a limbo where time refused to move, and the only thing that felt real was the anguish tightening in his chest. At first, he had managed to stay on his feet, pacing back and forth, biting his nails, tugging at the sleeve of his hoodie as if the fabric might somehow bring him comfort. But as the minutes dragged on without any new information, the anxiety became unbearable, and he eventually collapsed onto the nearest chair, his hands buried in his hair as he fought the urge to get up and run through the hospital corridors until he found Liam.

He just needed to see him. Just needed to know he was all right.

The others were just as tense. Karen and Geoff sat together, their faces drawn, Geoff’s expression hardened as he stared at the floor, as if waging an internal battle. Ruth tapped her fingers restlessly against the arm of her chair, a nervous habit betraying her attempt to appear calm. Nicola held her own arms tightly, and Niall, Harry, and Louis weren’t much better—though they were trying to maintain a semblance of strength, especially for Zayn.

But none of it helped. Nothing eased the suffocating weight in Zayn's chest, the tightness in his throat, the struggle to breathe properly.

Then something changed.

A nurse appeared at the door and called for Gothel, speaking in a low, urgent tone. Gothel frowned and stood immediately, exchanging a brief look with everyone in the room before stepping out, closing the door behind her.

Zayn’s heart stopped.

No one spoke in the seconds that followed. But now, everyone’s eyes were fixed on that closed door, waiting—waiting for it to open again, waiting for Gothel to return with good news, waiting for anything that might put an end to the torture of not knowing.

Zayn felt the panic rising. His breathing quickened, and he squeezed his eyes shut, as if that might stop the tears threatening to fall once more.

And then, from across the room, Geoff cleared his throat.

"It’s going to be all right." His voice was steady, but there was something in it—something that suggested he needed to believe those words just as much as anyone else. He ran a hand over his face, sighing heavily before continuing. "Liam is strong. He always has been."

Zayn slowly lifted his gaze, looking at him.

"He’s always been stubborn," Geoff went on, his voice quieter now, as if he was speaking more to himself than to anyone else. "Ever since he was a kid. He’s always had this thing about not giving up, about facing whatever came his way. He never accepts defeat. Never."

Zayn swallowed hard.

He knew that. He knew it better than anyone. Liam never gave up. He never complained, never let anyone see when something was weighing on him. He always wanted to be the strongest of them all, the most resilient, the one who could weather any storm without faltering.

And then, without realising it, Zayn murmured, almost to himself:

"Strong like Batman."

The silence in the room shifted, growing a little lighter for a moment. Karen let out a small, trembling laugh, and even Geoff managed a faint smile.

It was something Liam had always said as a child. He had loved Batman—not because he had superpowers, but because he was just an ordinary man who faced the world and won, no matter what. Liam had wanted to be like that. Strong. Unbreakable.

And Zayn wanted to believe that he still was.

So he closed his eyes and held onto that thought. Held onto the fact that Liam had always been the strongest. That he would get through this, too.

Because he was Liam.

And he was strong like Batman .

The room seemed to shrink when Gothel entered again, accompanied by a man in a white coat. The sound of footsteps and the faint creaking of chairs as some shifted in their seats was the only thing that broke the absolute silence that had settled since she left.

Zayn held his breath.

He didn’t know what to expect. But he knew this was important. That this was the moment everyone had been waiting for—or dreading.

Gothel stopped in the centre of the room and took a deep breath before speaking, her voice carefully calm, as if she already knew the impact her words would have.

“Everyone, this is Dr Morgan. He’s the doctor overseeing Liam’s case.”

The man nodded at them all, offering a small, professional smile. He was older, with greying hair at the temples and attentive eyes, but his expression was serious enough that Zayn felt a knot form in his throat before the doctor had even said anything.

No one spoke. They just waited.

And then, finally, Dr Morgan began:

“Liam has undergone a series of tests since he was brought to the hospital. We’ve done a CT scan, an MRI, and other examinations to understand what might have caused the seizure and the symptoms he’s been experiencing over the past few weeks.”

Zayn shrank back into his chair. He felt Niall beside him shift slightly, as if he too was uncomfortable with the direction of the conversation.

The doctor continued:

“Unfortunately, the tests revealed something concerning.”

The word “unfortunately” hit them all like a bomb.

Karen brought a hand to her mouth, her eyes already brimming with tears before she even knew exactly what was coming. Geoff stiffened beside her.

“What… what is it?” Nicola’s voice was the first to break the silence, trembling.

Dr Morgan let out a quiet sigh, his gaze moving between them all before he finally spoke the words no one wanted to hear.

“Liam has a glioblastoma.”

Silence.

For a moment, no one reacted. The weight of those words felt too heavy, too complex to absorb so quickly.

It was Niall who broke through the shock first, his brow furrowing in confusion. “What… what does that mean?”

Dr Morgan took a deep breath.

“Glioblastoma is a type of malignant brain tumour. It's—it’s a cancer type.”

It was as if all the air had been sucked from the room.

Cancer.

Cancer.

The word echoed in Zayn’s mind like a thunderclap.

Karen let out a small, stifled sob, clutching her chest. Ruth averted her gaze, staring at a fixed point on the floor, her face already damp.

Geoff closed his eyes for a second, swallowing hard.

And Zayn… Zayn couldn’t move.

He could feel his own heart pounding against his ribs, his hands cold and trembling in his lap, his lungs unable to take in enough air.

“Cancer…” The word slipped from his lips before he could stop it. His voice was small, barely audible.

Gothel intervened, her expression carefully gentle. “I know it’s a lot to process right now.”

Dr Morgan nodded. “We understand how difficult it is to receive this kind of news. But we’re here to explain everything and to ensure that Liam gets the best possible treatment.”

But Zayn could barely hear anything else that was being said.

Cancer.

How? How had this happened? How had they not noticed sooner? How was Liam… how was Liam the one with cancer?

He wanted to scream. He wanted to ask what could be done, to demand a solution, to get up and run to Liam’s room, to hold him in his arms and make sure he was there, that he was all right.

But he couldn’t.

He couldn’t do anything but feel the world crumbling around him.

The room seemed to breathe in silence as everyone tried to process the news. The air was heavy, thick with a suffocating tension that no one knew how to dispel. Gothel and Dr Morgan remained silent for a while, allowing Liam’s family and friends to absorb the words that had just been spoken.

Karen didn’t move from where she stood, her eyes fixed on some random point on the wall, as if trying to find some logic in it all. Geoff held his face in his hands, elbows resting on his knees, taking deep breaths as if trying to stop any emotion from spilling over. Ruth and Nicola sat side by side, silent, but the way their shoulders trembled gave them away—they were holding back tears.

Louis, Niall, and Harry didn’t seem much better. Louis was biting his lip, his gaze fixed on the floor. Niall rubbed his palms against his thighs, restless, while Harry kept his head down, chin resting on his clenched fist.

And Zayn… Zayn could still feel his own heart pounding in his chest as if it wanted to escape. As if, at any moment, it would explode into a million pieces, never to be put back together again.

Glioblastoma.

Brain cancer.

What did that mean? What would happen now? How were they supposed to deal with this?

After a few minutes of absolute silence, Dr Morgan cleared his throat softly, drawing everyone’s attention. His expression was kind but firm—he knew this was a difficult moment, but they needed to move forward.

“I know it’s a lot to take in all at once,” he said, his voice low and patient. “And I know this news is not easy to hear. But we want to make sure you understand what’s happening with Liam and what the options are going forward.”

Gothel nodded beside him. “We’ll explain everything carefully so you can take it in and ask any questions you have.”

No one spoke.

Then Dr Morgan continued:

“Glioblastoma is a type of malignant brain tumour. It grows rapidly and, unfortunately, has a very aggressive behaviour.”

Louis squeezed his eyes shut for a second, as if trying to push that word away. Aggressive.

“It infiltrates healthy brain tissue, which means it cannot be completely removed by surgery without compromising important areas of the brain.”

Zayn felt something tighten inside him.

“But Liam can have surgery, right?” Geoff asked, his voice rough.

The doctor nodded. “Yes. But surgery alone is not enough to eliminate all the tumour cells. That’s why treatments like radiotherapy and chemotherapy are necessary afterwards. They help slow the tumour’s growth and control the symptoms.”

Silence.

“What exactly happened to Liam?” Ruth asked quietly.

Gothel looked at her kindly before answering. “We had already been monitoring some changes in his performance over the past few months—you all know that. He showed cognitive difficulties in tests, and while some dips in performance are normal due to stress or exhaustion, we noticed a pattern. The memory lapses, the difficulty concentrating, the lack of coordination… they were warning signs.”

Zayn swallowed hard.

That’s why Gothel had wanted Liam to undergo more tests. That’s why she had been so careful with her words that day.

“And then, the seizure…” Nicola murmured.

Dr Morgan nodded. “The seizure was an indication that something more was going on. When we did the MRI, we identified the tumour. It’s located in the left frontal lobe of the brain.”

“And what does that mean?” Harry asked, his voice unsteady.

“It means Liam will continue to experience cognitive and motor difficulties as the tumour progresses,” Gothel explained gently. “The frontal lobe is responsible for reasoning, impulse control, motor coordination, and language. That explains the memory lapses, the forgetfulness, the stumbling, the difficulty finding words, and even the extreme exhaustion he’s been feeling.”

A shiver ran down Zayn’s spine.

He thought of all the times he had seen Liam too tired to get up, all the times he had forgotten words mid-sentence, all the times he had tripped.

He had always assumed it was the exhaustion from touring. The stress. But it wasn’t.

And now, Liam wouldn’t have much time left.

“What does that mean?” Louis asked hesitantly. “What kind of prognosis does he have?”

Dr Morgan looked at him for a moment before sighing. “I’ll be very honest with you.”

Zayn’s heart raced.

“Glioblastomas are difficult to treat. Even with surgery, radiotherapy, and chemotherapy, the long-term prognosis is generally not favourable.”

The room plunged into silence again.

Nicola began crying softly. Karen closed her eyes, tears falling freely, with no effort to stop them.

Geoff sat stiffly.

Harry gripped Niall’s shoulder as if trying to support him, but his own hand was trembling.

Zayn couldn’t breathe.

“But there are cases of people who live for years, right?” Niall asked, his voice choked, as if clinging to any shred of hope.

Gothel nodded. “Yes. Everyone responds differently to treatment. But we want to be realistic with you. We need to prepare for all possibilities.”

“And how long…?” Louis started but didn’t finish the sentence.

He didn’t need to. Everyone knew what he was asking.

Dr Morgan hesitated for a moment before answering. “With treatment, the average survival time is about fifteen months. Some patients live longer, others less. It depends on many factors, including how Liam’s body responds to treatment.”

The ground disappeared beneath Zayn’s feet.

A year.

Maybe a little more. Maybe less.

But Liam didn’t have much time.

He couldn’t hold back the sob that escaped his throat. He brought his hands to his face, trying to stop the tears, but it was useless.

This couldn’t be happening. This couldn’t be real.

Liam was healthy. Liam was strong. Liam was everything.

Liam couldn’t be dying.

But he was .

Chapter Text

The word was there, floating between them, heavy as an anchor, inescapable as a nightmare from which they could not wake. The air in the room felt thin, time stretching and contracting in an incoherent way, as if they were trapped in a lapse where reality had fractured, and all that remained was the reverberation of that sentence no one wanted to hear, no one wanted to accept.

Cancer.

It was a shock, a brutal impact, like a car slamming into each of them, stealing their breath and leaving only emptiness behind. The word spun, circled the room, seeped into the walls, the furniture, the tense bodies of everyone present. It was a palpable presence, suffocating, as if it had weight and volume, as if it had the power to crush them simply by existing.

Cancer.

The kind of thing no one ever expects to hear about someone they love. The kind of thing that, even when spoken in a whisper, echoes inside the mind like thunder, spreading like poison through the bloodstream, making it impossible to think of anything else.

The information was there before them, and yet it felt distant, as if it were just a string of loose words, as if it belonged to another reality, another life, another universe. But it didn’t. It was here, in this moment, in this place, and this was the truth they now had to face. It was official, it was final, it was real.

Liam was ill.

It wasn’t just a passing discomfort, it wasn’t just exhaustion or stress. It wasn’t something that could be fixed with a few weeks of rest or a handful of pills. It was cancer. A tumour lodged in his brain, growing, consuming, destroying little by little. And there was nothing they could do to stop it.

The silence in the room was absolute and, at the same time, deafening. The air was thick, charged with the static electricity of repressed emotions, of words left unsaid, of questions no one wanted to ask. The world outside kept turning, people went on with their lives, unaware of what was happening within these walls, oblivious to the fact that, in this instant, in this very second, an entire family was being torn apart by news they were never meant to receive.

It wasn’t fair.

It wasn’t right.

Liam was young, he was strong, he was healthy. He had an entire life ahead of him, he had dreams, plans, promises whispered in quiet dawns, in hotel rooms, in noisy dressing rooms. He wasn’t supposed to be here, in a hospital, being diagnosed with something that felt like a sentence.

Zayn’s eyes were red, burning with the effort of holding back tears, but he couldn’t. He wasn’t able to. Not when it felt like his heart was being ripped from his chest, crushed, reduced to nothing.

He wanted to scream, to break something, to do anything that might ease the overwhelming pain consuming him, but all he could do was stand there, fists clenched, chest rising and falling erratically, trying to find a way to process it all without completely losing himself.

Beside him, Karen held Nicola against her chest, the two of them sinking into each other, seeking comfort, trying to find some way to bear the weight of such devastating news. Geoff sat with his elbows on his knees, head bowed, jaw locked in an expression of pure anguish. Ruth was motionless, her eyes fixed on some distant point in the room, as if she couldn’t believe what she had just heard. Louis had his arms crossed over his chest, shoulders tense, gaze lost. Niall hid his face in his hands, breathing heavily, while Harry simply stared into nothing, as if in shock, unable to process a thing.

But no one was more broken than Zayn.

His chest ached, tightened by an anguish that threatened to crush him. His mind was in chaos, filled with disordered thoughts, with overlapping memories, with moments spent with Liam flashing through his head like an uncontrollable film.

He thought of the laughter, the jokes, the songs sung in the middle of the night, the hands entwined under restaurant tables, the stolen kisses backstage, the comforting warmth of an embrace after an exhausting day. He thought of everything they had lived, of everything they were supposed to live, of everything that now might never happen.

Fifteen months.

The doctor’s words echoed in his mind, a number too small, a number that didn’t make sense.

Fifteen months was nothing.

Fifteen months passed in the blink of an eye.

Fifteen months meant that, before long, Liam would no longer be here.

And Zayn didn’t know how to live without him.

Didn’t know how to breathe without him.

Everything felt wrong.

Liam had always been there. He had always been the foundation, the certainty, the constant amidst the chaos. Zayn had never imagined a future without him. He didn’t want to. But now, there was no other choice.

The future was here, knocking at the door, bringing with it a countdown that no one could stop.

The despair grew within him, suffocating, crushing. He wanted to hold Liam, to protect him, to promise him that everything would be all right, even knowing that it wouldn’t. Because the truth was harsh, it was immutable.

Liam was ill.

And he couldn’t save him.

The helplessness was the worst part.

Because no matter how much they wished, how much they begged, how much they prayed, nothing would change. The cancer was there, growing, spreading, taking everything. And all they could do was watch.

Watch as time passed.

Watch as Liam fought.

Watch as life, cruel and unrelenting, took away someone they loved.

It was unfair.

So unfair.

Liam was good. He was kind, he was pure. He made the world around him better just by existing. He didn’t deserve this.

He deserved to live, to grow old, to see his dreams come true, to build a life, a family—he deserved time.

But time wasn’t on their side.

And to think of that, to accept that, was unbearable.

Tears streamed down Zayn’s face uncontrollably, his shoulders trembling, his breath coming in broken sobs. He tried to pull himself together, to hold on, but it was impossible.

How was anyone supposed to bear something like this?

How was anyone supposed to look at the person they loved and know that, in a short time, they wouldn’t be there anymore?

He felt like he was drowning, like he wouldn’t be able to cope. He felt like he was dying alongside Liam, because living without him wasn’t an option.

Because a world without Liam wasn’t a world Zayn wanted to be in.

He wanted it to be a nightmare.

Wanted to wake up beside Liam, to see him smiling, to hear his voice, rough with sleep, to feel his arms around him.

Wanted all of this to be a mistake.

But it wasn’t.

It was reality.

Raw. Cold. Unforgiving.

And there was nothing they could do but wait.

"You can go in to see him, if you’d like," the doctor said gently. "But in small groups. We don’t want to overwhelm him or crowd the space. I understand that just being in a hospital is frightening enough. He’s asleep now."

The room was still heavy with that invisible weight, a dense, suffocating atmosphere that seemed to press against the chests of everyone present. The announcement that they could see Liam, even in small groups, should have brought some relief, should have been a sliver of light in the darkness that had fallen over them. But no one moved immediately. No automatic response, no genuine relief. Just a strange, uncomfortable silence, as though they were all absorbing the words, trying to figure out how they were supposed to feel from that point on.

Because nothing felt right.

Nothing felt real.

The world kept turning around them, doctors and nurses passed through the hallways with their routines unchanged, the clock on the wall marked the passing of time as if nothing had happened. But for them, everything had stopped. Everything had changed. The very notion of normality had been ripped from beneath their feet, and now they were here, trying to find some way to move forward, to put one foot in front of the other without collapsing.

The doctor spoke, his voice calm, measuring each word carefully, explaining that Liam was still asleep and that they hadn’t told him anything yet. That they would wait until he was rested, until they could talk to him properly, until he could, in some way, take part in the decisions about his own future.

As if that was fair.

As if any decision to be made could be something Liam should have to bear alone.

Fifteen months.

Time was there, looming over them all, hovering above their heads like a shadow they could never escape. Every passing minute was one minute less. Every decision now was a crucial piece in a game whose ending had already been sealed.

Niall took a deep breath, but it wasn’t a relieved sigh. It was a heavy one, laden with something too dense to be named. He ran his hands over his face, his eyes red, exhausted—not from physical fatigue, but from something deeper. An emotional exhaustion, as though he were being crushed under the weight of it all.

"I... I won’t go in now," he murmured, his voice hoarse, broken, almost as if he were ashamed to say it out loud.

But no one judged him.

No one looked at him with reproach or disappointment.

Because they all felt the same, in one way or another.

"I just need a moment. Just a little bit. But I’ll come back later."

He couldn’t do it. He knew he needed to be strong, knew that Liam would need them more than ever, but right now, in this moment, he couldn’t walk into that room and look at the friend he had known for so many years, knowing that their time together was running out.

Harry nodded beside him, his eyes fixed on the floor, as if he, too, was wrestling with the same thoughts.

"I think… I need a little time too."

It wasn’t weakness.

It was fear.

It was the sheer inability to look at Liam without feeling like they were all standing on the edge of a precipice, without knowing how to handle the suffocating pain of losing someone they loved.

Paul stepped forward, placing a firm but gentle hand on both their shoulders.

"It’s all right, lads," he said, his voice low but steady. "I’ll take you back to the hotel. Paddy will stay here with the rest of you and make sure everything’s sorted."

There was a quiet murmur of assent.

No one questioned it.

No one needed to pretend they were all right, because they weren’t.

And that was fine.

Because no one would be all right after something like this.

Silence settled over them again, but it wasn’t the same uncomfortable silence as before. It was something more resigned, something that seemed to acknowledge the reality around them.

Zayn didn’t move. He was still standing there, staring at some indistinct point on the wall, lost in his own thoughts. Liam was there, so close, yet he felt so far away. But Zayn would stay. He wasn’t going anywhere. He couldn’t.

Leaving the hospital felt surreal to Harry and Niall. The cold night air brushed against their faces, but nothing seemed real enough for them to actually feel it. The car park was silent, save for the distant hum of traffic and the faint rustling of nearby trees. Paul walked alongside them, unhurried, as if he understood that every step they took away from that building was a difficult one, an added weight on shoulders already burdened. None of them spoke. There was no need. The silence said it all.

Niall hugged his own arms, as if trying to shield himself from the emptiness in his chest. He had never imagined he would find himself in a situation like this. Never thought he would have to leave a hospital because he needed time before seeing one of his best friends lying in a bed, waiting to wake up and realise that his life would never be the same again. Harry walked beside him, his shoulders tense, his hands curled into fists inside his coat pockets. His eyes were red, glistening under the streetlights outside. Paul unlocked the car with a simple click, but no one made a move to get in straight away. It was as if they hesitated, as if they had stepped out of the hospital just to breathe for a moment, but still felt the weight of the responsibility to return.

Meanwhile, inside, things moved at a different pace. The doctor held a small stack of visitor stickers in his hands, distributing them one by one—Karen, Geoff, Ruth, Nicola, Louis, and Zayn. The glossy plastic clung to their clothes, a tiny, almost insignificant detail, yet in that moment, it felt unbearably heavy. It was confirmation that they were there as visitors, as spectators to whatever came next.

The corridor was illuminated by a cold, white light, the kind that made the hospital feel even more impersonal, even more clinical, devoid of warmth. The scent of antiseptic hung in the air, mingling with the faint aroma of coffee drifting from reception. None of them spoke much as they walked. Geoff held Karen’s hand, his fingers tightly entwined with hers, as if she were the only thing keeping him standing. Ruth and Nicola walked side by side, their faces serious, their eyes fixed straight ahead, not glancing at anything around them.

Zayn walked next to Louis, his breathing heavy, his hands trembling slightly. Every step felt like a challenge. Everything in him was fractured, everything inside him felt broken, as if he could crumble at any moment. He knew he had to be strong, had to hold himself together for Liam, for Liam’s family, for everyone there. But how? How could he be strong when all he wanted to do was cry until there were no tears left?

Louis noticed. He always did. And without a second thought, he turned to Zayn and pulled him into a tight, crushing embrace, one of those hugs that try to piece someone back together.

That was the breaking point for Zayn.

He squeezed his eyes shut, his hands clutching at the fabric of Louis’ coat as if it were the only thing keeping him from collapsing entirely. And then he cried. He cried without caring who saw, without trying to hold it in, without trying to hide.

Louis cried too, silent tears slipping down his face as he held Zayn there, in the middle of the corridor, while everyone around them fought to keep their own emotions in check as best they could.

They weren’t ready. None of them were.

But the hospital didn’t wait.

Time didn’t stop to let them pull themselves together.

So, after a long, unsteady breath, Zayn pulled away, running his hands over his face, trying to erase the traces of his tears, trying to regain some semblance of control. Because he had to. He had to for Liam’s sake. He didn’t want to walk into that room looking like an emotional wreck. He didn’t want Liam to open his eyes and see him like this.

And then, finally, they reached the door to his room.

It was such a small, insignificant action, pushing that door open, yet Zayn felt as though he were stepping into something irreversible.

Karen was the first to enter, Geoff following close behind. Nicola and Ruth stepped in next, then Louis. Zayn lingered at the threshold, hesitating for just a second. His heart pounded against his ribs, his breathing was unsteady, and he wasn’t sure if he could take that last step.

But then the door opened fully.

And he saw Liam.

And his heart shattered into a thousand pieces all at once.

Liam was there, lying in the bed, his face peaceful, his breathing steady. He was in a deep sleep, and for a second—just a second—everything seemed normal.

There were no strange machines connected to him.

No beeping of a heart monitor filling the silence.

No tubes or wires or anything that gave away just how wrong everything was.

It was just Liam, sleeping as if nothing had happened.

As if he were simply taking a nap after a long day.

And that was what hurt the most.

Because everything had happened.

And nothing was all right.

Zayn stepped inside last, his feet heavier than ever. He felt as if he could fall to his knees at any moment. But he swallowed hard, trying to keep his emotions at bay.

He didn’t want to wake Liam.

He didn’t want Liam to see him like this.

But he couldn’t stop crying.

The hospital room was steeped in heavy silence—a silence that wasn’t absolute but filled with soft sounds—shaky breaths, quiet sniffles, the faint rustling of fabric as people moved carefully. Liam slept deeply, his expression peaceful, lips slightly parted, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. The thin mattress of the hospital bed looked uncomfortable, yet he lay there, motionless, lost in sleep. Perhaps it was better this way. Perhaps it was better that he didn’t know yet.

Karen sat beside him, her hand resting gently over his, her thumb stroking the warmth of her son’s skin in an almost unconscious gesture. Her eyes were red and damp, but she fought to maintain her composure. In her other hand, she clutched a crumpled tissue, her knuckles white from the force of her grip. She didn’t want to sob, didn’t want to let her pain spill into the room and make the air even heavier than it already was. So she simply looked at Liam, as if trying to memorise every detail, as if trying to engrave this moment into her mind, even though it was a moment she had never wanted to live.

“My boy,” she murmured, her voice soft enough not to disturb his sleep, yet brimming with profound love.

Geoff stood beside her, his hand resting on his wife’s shoulder, his eyes fixed on their son. He looked lost in thought, as if searching for something to say but not knowing how. He had always been a man of few words when it came to emotion, but in that moment, no words seemed enough. So he did what he could—he moved a little closer, leaning towards Liam, and squeezed his son’s hand affectionately.

“We’re here, son,” he said, his voice slightly hoarse. “We always will be.”

Ruth stood at the foot of the bed, her arms crossed as if trying to hold herself together, as if trying to contain all the pain inside her. But she failed. Her tears slipped silently down her face, and after a few moments, she leaned forward slightly, touching Liam’s foot beneath the blanket as if it were the only way she could comfort him without waking him.

“You’ve always been so stubborn,” she said, smiling through her tears. “Always doing things the hard way.”

Nicola let out a weak laugh, sniffling immediately after. She stood on the other side of the bed, watching Liam with immense tenderness.

“And always making us worry,” she added.

Karen released a trembling sigh and ran her fingers gently through Liam’s brown hair, just as she used to when he was a child.

“But always so strong,” she murmured. “So, so strong.”

Zayn observed everything from where he stood, slightly apart from the others. He wanted to step closer, wanted to touch Liam, wanted to feel the warmth of his skin beneath his fingers and remind himself that he was here, that he was alive. But his feet felt rooted to the floor.

Because it wasn’t fair.

None of it was fair, and it made Zayn want to scream, to punch something, to simply refuse to accept that this was happening. Liam didn’t deserve to be in that bed, didn’t deserve that diagnosis, didn’t deserve to be told he had so little time. He was young, healthy, full of life. He was one of the brightest human beings Zayn had ever known. How could life be taking everything away from him?

He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to suppress the wave of emotions threatening to consume him whole. When he opened them again, Karen was still stroking Liam’s hair, Geoff was still holding his hand, and Ruth and Nicola were still looking at him as if their gaze alone could shield him from everything.

Zayn swallowed hard.

“He’s strong like Batman,” he murmured, not realising he had spoken out loud.

Karen lifted her eyes to him, surprised to hear his voice, then smiled—a small, fragile, but genuine smile.

“Yes,” she agreed, her voice thick with emotion. “Strong like Batman.”

Louis, standing beside Zayn, gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze. He knew exactly what Zayn was feeling, even if no one needed to put it into words.

Because no one wanted to lose Liam.

No one was ready for that.

And, in that moment, all they could do was stay. Love Liam. Show him, even in his sleep, that he would never be alone.

The hospital room remained wrapped in that heavy, almost sacred silence, where every gesture carried an emotional weight so intense it was almost tangible. The air felt dense, as if the simple act of breathing required more effort than it should. Liam slept, motionless, his expression peaceful, unaware of the crushing weight that hung over those who loved him.

Zayn couldn’t take his eyes off him. His heart ached in a way he had never felt before—a deep, cutting pain that seemed to tear his soul apart from the inside out. He wanted to be closer, wanted to touch Liam, feel the warmth of his skin, memorise every detail of him as if that could somehow prevent anything bad from happening. But he hesitated.

Because this was the family’s moment.

And as much as Zayn desperately wanted to step forward, as much as his entire body begged him to, he didn’t want to intrude. He didn’t want to disturb this intimate moment, this instant where Liam’s family poured all the love they could into him, as if they could protect him with the sheer force of that feeling.

But then Karen lifted her eyes to him, as if she could sense his hesitation.

“Zayn,” she called softly, and he felt his chest tighten.

Geoff looked at him next, then gave a small nod, beckoning him closer.

Zayn remained still for a second.

He wanted to. God, how he wanted to.

But something held him back—something he couldn’t quite name.

Perhaps it was fear.

Perhaps it was the crushing pain of knowing that, no matter how much he was here now, time was against them.

He opened his mouth, trying to come up with some excuse, some justification for not interrupting this private moment between Liam’s family, but Karen simply smiled—a small, gentle smile, full of understanding.

“You’re as much family as any of us,” she said, her voice filled with a tenderness that made Zayn’s eyes burn even more.

A sob rose in his throat, and he shook his head, unable to respond.

That was when Louis, who had been beside him the entire time, patted his back twice—not a push, not pressure, just a silent encouragement, a reminder that he could go, that he had every right to be there.

And that was all Zayn needed.

His feet moved before he even realised, and before he could process it, he was already taking slow, hesitant steps towards the bed.

As he got closer, the tears fell harder.

It was impossible to hold them back.

Liam was right there. So close.

Yet at the same time, he felt so far away.

And Zayn was trembling.

He didn’t know if it was from crying, from the overwhelming emotion, or from the absolute fear consuming every part of his being. Perhaps it was all of it at once.

When he reached the bedside, his fingers hesitated for a moment before finally reaching out to brush against the warm skin on the back of Liam’s hand. He took a deep breath, a sob escaping against his will.

Because despite all the pain, he loved Liam.

More than anything in the world.

And that was what kept him standing, even when he felt like he could fall apart at any second.

The silence in the room was almost absolute, broken only by the soft sound of Liam’s breathing and the occasional muffled sobs from Zayn, who still felt the crushing weight of tears in his chest. But, little by little, he was beginning to calm down.

His fingers moved slowly, trembling, as he lifted his hand and sank his fingers into the soft strands of Liam’s hair, feeling the silky texture against his skin. It was an automatic gesture, a habit he had had for so long that it was already a part of him. How many times had he done this before? How many times had he run his fingers through Liam’s hair after a long, exhausting day, trying to help him relax? But now, it was different. Now, that touch carried a silent desperation, an almost irrational need to make sure Liam was still there.

He lowered his face, resting his forehead against Liam’s hand as he closed his eyes for a moment. His breathing was unsteady, the remnants of his sobs still evident in the uneven rise and fall of his chest. But, little by little, he managed to regain control.

“I love you,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion, yet filled with so much truth, so much feeling that it seemed to linger in the air around them.

Zayn smiled through his tears, even though it was still hard to breathe properly. Because, deep down, just the fact that Liam was there was enough to soothe him, even on the worst day of his life. Even when everything seemed to be crumbling around him, Liam was still the only one who could make his world feel a little less chaotic.

He ran his palms over his face, wiping away the persistent tears, trying to regain some composure. He felt exhausted, his head heavy from all the crying, but at least now the despair wasn’t consuming him entirely.

And that was when he noticed it.

A subtle movement.

Liam’s breathing changed, becoming slightly deeper, more irregular.

Zayn held his breath, his eyes fixed on him, searching for any other small sign.

Liam’s body shifted slightly on the bed—a slow stretch, a faint yawn that made his lips part softly. He let out a small sound, a sleepy murmur, before nestling further into the pillow.

Zayn’s heart jumped in his chest.

Everyone in the room held their breath as they noticed it too.

Slowly, Liam shifted again, his face contorting slightly—a clear sign that he was waking up. His fingers moved against the sheet, his breathing changed once more, and then, with visible effort, he blinked a few times, as if trying to shake off the haze of sleep.

It was a gradual awakening, the lazy kind of stirring of someone who wasn’t yet fully aware of where they were.

Zayn watched every detail as if his life depended on it.

The way Liam blinked slowly, his eyes still adjusting to the soft light in the room. The barely perceptible furrow of his brows when he realised he wasn’t in his own bed. The small, hoarse sound he made as he opened his mouth to mumble something.

And then, he spoke, his voice so faint it was barely audible.

“What… happened?”

Zayn felt a lump form in his throat at those words, a tightness in his chest that nearly stole his breath away.

Liam blinked a few more times, his vision still adjusting, trying to make sense of his surroundings. His gaze moved around the room, scanning each face, and then he froze when he realised that everyone was crying.

His chest rose and fell a little faster—a clear sign that he was beginning to worry.

His eyes moved from one person to the next. Karen and Geoff sat hand in hand, their faces still marked by tears. Ruth and Nicola stood close together, their expressions a mixture of relief and sorrow. Louis was beside Zayn, his face visibly shaken.

And then, his gaze met Zayn’s.

His eyes were soft, tired, but full of concern.

He blinked slowly, as if trying to piece things together.

It was Ruth who broke the silence first.

She leaned forward, her hand gently cupping Liam’s cheek, her fingers tracing a tender path across his warm skin, her touch almost maternal.

“You gave us quite a scare,” she said, her voice thick with emotion yet still soft and reassuring.

Liam frowned slightly, clearly confused, trying to process what she meant.

Zayn held his hand tightly, his thumb tracing slow, comforting circles against his skin.

The silence that followed was heavy, filled with so many unspoken emotions.

Because, in that moment, no one had the courage to say anything else.

No one wanted to be the first to shatter that brief moment of peace, that fleeting instant where Liam still didn’t know, still wasn’t fully aware of the devastating reality that awaited him.

And Zayn wanted, more than anything, to make that moment last for as long as possible.

The silence in the room was almost as heavy as the air itself—dense and laden with emotions too complex to name. Even though no one was crying at that moment, the remnants of what had happened were still there—in the reddened eyes, the weary expressions, the way Zayn still held Liam’s hand so tightly, as if afraid to let go and watch him disappear.

Liam blinked slowly, his eyes still adjusting to the room’s light, his mind trying to catch up with the reality around him. His body felt strange, heavy, as if he had been asleep for days and was still trapped in the limbo between sleep and wakefulness. His head throbbed, a dull, pulsating pain spreading through his temples, and his muscles ached in a way he couldn’t quite explain.

He furrowed his brows slightly, taking a deep breath, trying to summon the energy to understand what was happening.

And then, he felt the familiar, comforting touch of his mother.

Karen’s hand rested gently on his forehead, her fingers tracing a tender, almost unconscious caress. He had known that gesture since childhood, that touch she always used whenever she wanted to soothe him, to let him know he was safe.

Her voice followed soon after—soft, careful, filled with a love so deep that it seemed to envelop Liam like a warm blanket on a cold night.

“My love,” she began, her voice as smooth as velvet, “how are you feeling?”

Liam blinked a few times, his expression slightly focused, as if he needed a second to process the question. He wetted his lips, took a deep breath, and, for a moment, seemed to hesitate before answering.

“A bit of a headache,” he murmured, his voice hoarse and low from having slept for so long. He ran his tongue over his lips again before continuing. “And my body feels kind of sore…”

Karen nodded slowly, her gaze filled with warmth, but also with something else—something Liam couldn’t quite identify.

He sensed movement beside him, and when he turned his head, he saw his father stepping closer. Geoff looked just as worn down as everyone else, and Liam realised in that moment just how strange that was. His father always seemed strong, steady—the kind of man who kept the family together even in the worst of times. But now, looking at him, Liam saw something different—a deep exhaustion, a worry so overwhelming that it showed in every line of his face.

Geoff sighed, lowering himself slightly to be closer.

“Son,” he began, his voice weighted with something thick, something that made Liam’s stomach twist slightly. “You collapsed after the show.”

Liam blinked slowly, his gaze fixed on his father, as if trying to absorb every word.

“You had a seizure,” Geoff added, his voice still calm, but carrying a weight he couldn’t hide.

Liam’s mind worked sluggishly, pulling at the fragmented memories of the previous night.

He remembered the show.

He remembered the unbearable headache, the heat of the stage lights, the constant dizziness.

He remembered how the world had started to spin around him, how the sounds had become muffled, distant, as if he were trapped inside a cocoon.

And then, he remembered leaving the stage.

But after that, everything was a blur.

Liam frowned slightly, trying to grasp any lingering memory, any sensation that would tell him what had happened next, but his mind felt foggy, as if someone had erased part of the film of his own life.

He let out a quiet, weary sigh.

“Ah… okay,” he murmured, nodding slowly.

His body shifted instinctively, adjusting himself more comfortably on the bed, but the weight of exhaustion still pulled him down. His head spun slightly as he moved, but he ignored the sensation, focusing instead on the faces around him.

And that was when he noticed it.

They were crying.

All of them.

Even if silently, even if some tried to hide it or disguise it, the signs were there.

The redness in Ruth’s eyes.

The restless way Nicola’s fingers fidgeted with the hem of her shirt, as if she didn’t know what to do with her hands.

The way Louis looked at him, as if he wanted to say something but didn’t know how.

And most of all, Zayn’s face—utterly devastated.

A chill ran down Liam’s spine.

Something was wrong.

Terribly wrong.

He wetted his lips again, the dry, unfamiliar taste lingering in his mouth, and his gaze swept over each of them before returning to his parents.

“Something’s going on,” he said, his voice still quiet, but carrying a firmer edge now. He looked from one to the other, his breathing growing slightly shallower with rising anxiety. “I know it is.”

He took a deep breath, closed his eyes for a second, then opened them again, looking straight at Karen.

“You were crying,” he pointed out, his voice now a little stronger. “I can see it on your faces.”

A heavy silence fell over the room. No one seemed to know what to say.

Liam watched as they exchanged glances, as if waiting for one of them to have the answer, as if any of them knew how to explain whatever it was that was happening.

But no one seemed ready for that. No one wanted to be the first to say it.

And that silence, that damned silence, made Liam’s heart start to race in his chest.

His eyes turned to Zayn. Zayn, who had always been so transparent to him. Zayn, who could never hide anything—not from him.

Liam squeezed his boyfriend’s hand slightly, feeling Zayn’s fingers tremble under his own.

“My love,” he murmured, his voice softer now, but laced with a quiet urgency. “What’s going on?”

Zayn swallowed hard, his breathing unsteady, and Liam felt when he gripped his hand a little tighter.

The silence stretched on.

And Liam knew, in that instant, that something was terribly wrong.

The silence in the room was dense, almost tangible, weighing over everyone like a storm-laden cloud on the verge of breaking. The doctor stood beside the bed, hands tucked into the pockets of his impeccably white coat, his posture professionally neutral, yet his gaze overflowed with empathy and understanding. His presence added a formality to the already tension-filled atmosphere, and Liam, still slightly groggy from exhaustion and the pain radiating through his body, felt his stomach churn in anticipation of what was to come. He didn’t need anyone to say it aloud to know that something was wrong. The way everyone there—his family, his friends, Zayn—looked at him, as if they were about to fall apart, as if they were bracing for the worst, only confirmed what he had already sensed deep in his mind since the moment he had opened his eyes to find tear-streaked faces surrounding him.

Yet still, no one spoke. No one shattered that suffocating silence that seemed to stretch endlessly.

Liam wetted his dry lips, feeling the weight of the doctor’s gaze on him, as if he were assessing the right moment to speak. His breathing was slightly unsteady, and he realised his own hand was trembling faintly against the sheets. He squeezed Zayn’s hand, which still held his firmly, offering silent comfort, and then forced his voice to emerge, even though each word felt like an enormous effort.

“I want to know what’s happening.”

His voice was hoarse, almost shaky, but laden with determination. He was tired of pitiful glances, evasive answers, and the heavy atmosphere pressing down on him like a weight on his chest. He wanted answers. He needed them.

The request seemed to reverberate through the room like an unspoken plea. Geoff closed his eyes for a moment, running a hand over his weary face, and then, with a voice that was fragilely hesitant, he uttered something that sounded more like a lament than a request.

“Doctor, please.”

No one there knew exactly what he was pleading for, yet, at the same time, they all did. They wanted hope. They wanted whatever was about to be said not to be as devastating as they feared.

The doctor let out a restrained sigh before finally beginning to speak. He tried to soften the impact, carefully choosing his words, like someone handling an object too delicate to be touched carelessly.

“We ran a series of tests to better understand what happened,” he began, his voice calm but carrying an underlying weight. “Your collapse and seizure led us to investigate possible causes, so we conducted a battery of tests to identify any irregularities. We performed CT scans, an MRI, an EEG… We wanted a complete picture of your condition.”

The mention of neurological tests sent a chill down Liam’s spine. Something tightened in his chest, and he swallowed hard, feeling his unease grow. His mind started retracing the past few months—all the headaches he had ignored, all the dizziness he had dismissed as fatigue or stress, all the times he had felt something off but chose not to dwell on it.

Now, everything was beginning to connect, like pieces of a puzzle he hadn’t realised he needed to solve.

Gothel, ever calm and composed, stepped forward, her voice so gentle it seemed to be shielding him from the harshness of reality.

“Liam, we know you’ve always had migraines, that headaches weren’t unusual for you, but in recent months, they seem to have worsened. You started experiencing other symptoms, didn’t you? An exhaustion beyond the norm, more frequent dizziness, stumbling, dropping things…”

He blinked slowly, his thoughts racing as he processed those words.

Yes. He knew that.

But he had never thought it was anything serious. Never imagined it could be… dangerous.

“Yes…” he murmured, his voice slightly hesitant. “But… I never thought it was anything out of the ordinary.”

Gothel nodded with understanding, as if she knew exactly what was going through his mind.

“And that’s why I suggested we investigate further to reach a diagnosis,” she said.

Liam took a deep breath, trying to stay calm, but a part of him was already on high alert, already sensing that this was heading somewhere he didn’t want to go.

And then, he asked the question he knew would bring an answer he might never be ready to hear.

“What diagnosis?”

The room fell into absolute silence.

For a moment, no one moved.

It was as if time had frozen, as if everyone there was holding their breath at the same time, as if reality was about to crash down on them like an inevitable wave. Liam’s gaze locked onto the doctor, and when he hesitated for a brief second before answering, it was as if everything inside Liam screamed that this wouldn’t be easy to hear.

Zayn leaned slightly towards him, his presence warm and steady by his side. Liam felt Zayn’s lips press gently against his cheek, felt the soft brush of their noses together—a small gesture, yet filled with silent tenderness, an attempt to offer strength without words.

And then, the doctor finally spoke the words that would change everything.

“Glioblastoma. It’s a grade IV brain tumour—the most aggressive form.”

Brain tumour.

The words were cast into the air like sharpened blades, slicing through whatever fragile hope still remained.

Liam’s world stopped spinning.

The sound of his own breathing became distant, muffled, as if he had been sucked into a vacuum where nothing made sense. His heart pounded against his ribs, so loud it was the only thing he could hear. He blinked a few times, trying to understand, trying to absorb the meaning of those words, but his mind seemed to refuse to process them.

His vision blurred slightly, and he realised someone was crying—perhaps Ruth, perhaps Nicola, perhaps Karen, perhaps all of them at once. He felt Zayn’s grip tighten around his hand, as strong as it was desperate, as if he were trying to hold onto him, to anchor him to reality before he completely lost himself in the abyss of that news.

He tried to speak, to ask something, to say anything, but his mouth was too dry, his throat too tight.

Cancer . Brain tumour.

He wanted to ask what that meant, what it implied, but something inside him already knew the answer before hearing any explanation. His gaze darted around, searching for something, anything, but all he found were devastated expressions, swollen eyes from too many tears, faces weighed down by a sorrow he didn’t want to see.

No. It couldn’t be. His chest rose and fell in a frantic rhythm, his breathing becoming erratic. This couldn’t be happening.

Not to him. Not now.

But it was.

And Liam knew that, from that moment on, nothing would ever be the same again.

Chapter Text

Time unravelled around him. The sound of restrained breathing from those in the room, the silent sobs, the weight of Zayn’s hand over his—everything became a distant blur, as though Liam had been torn from reality and thrown somewhere between past and present, where each of his memories overlapped in an uncontrollable procession of images, faces, and moments.

He couldn’t cry.

There were no tears, no sobs, not even the movement of his trembling lips attempting to form words. Only absolute silence within him, an oppressive stillness that kept him trapped between what once was and what could never be again.

He saw himself small once more, a child of just a few years old running barefoot through the garden, soft grass beneath his feet, his laughter ringing freely in the air as his mother called him from the veranda. He saw himself sitting in the living room, watching cartoons in the early morning with a bowl of cereal nearly overflowing in his lap. He saw himself on his first day of school, clutching his father’s hand tightly, nervous and anxious, yet trying to be brave because he wanted to show everyone he was strong, even when all he truly wanted was to run back home and hide under the covers.

He saw himself growing up, passing through the years as if his life were being both rewound and fast-forwarded at the same time, each memory appearing like a fading painting, each scene blending into the next, forming a mosaic of everything he had ever been and everything he could never be again.

The childhood football practices, the matches won and lost, the taste of sweat and grass, the excited shouts of his friends around him. Christmases with his family, the fireplace crackling, fairy lights twinkling on the tree, the scent of hot chocolate and homemade biscuits filling the house. The tight embraces from his mother when he was sad, his father’s words of encouragement, the way his sisters were always there—to tease, to laugh, and, above all, to love him unconditionally.

He remembered the first time he held a microphone, the electrifying sensation of realising his voice could fill a space, that his music could reach people in a way he had never imagined. The first show. The first contract. The first time he stepped onto a stage, knowing thousands of people were there to hear him sing.

And then, inevitably, Liam saw himself meeting Zayn.

He remembered the shy glances exchanged in those first days, the laughter shared between rehearsals and recordings, the whispered secrets in the dark when everyone else was asleep and they were still awake, talking about everything and nothing all at once. He remembered the nights he stayed up just to watch him sleep, the subtle touches that spoke more than any words, the inexplicable comfort that only Zayn’s presence could bring.

He remembered every little detail about him—the way Zayn furrowed his brow when he was focused, how he bit his lip when trying to suppress a smile, how his eyes always gleamed in that unique way whenever he spoke about something he loved.

And now, Liam knew he wouldn’t have time to memorise these things anymore.

Because everything was about to end.

That was it, wasn’t it?

The diagnosis wasn’t just a collection of medical terms explaining his symptoms. It wasn’t merely a test report, a treatable condition, something he could fight through with enough effort. It was a sentence. His life was no longer an endless line stretching into the future. It was a finite space, a ticking clock that had already begun its countdown without him knowing.

What would he do with this time? What could he do? How could he simply go on living, knowing there was no longer an "after"?

Time took on a different weight. Fifteen months was nothing. It was far too little for someone who had plans, dreams, desires. It was far too cruel.

Because Liam wanted to live .

He wanted to see his friends grow, to watch his sisters marry, to go home for Christmas and hug his family as he always had. He wanted to keep singing, to feel the adrenaline coursing through his veins every time he stepped onto a stage. He wanted to grow old with Zayn, to have a life long enough to experience all the phases of love—from the intensity of youth to the quiet serenity of later years, when just being together would be enough.

He wanted all of that.

But he couldn’t have it.

Because his time was running out. And he couldn’t cry. Not because it didn’t hurt. On the contrary—the pain was so deep, so crushing, that it felt beyond tears.

It was something greater, something that enveloped him entirely, that made him feel too heavy to react, that made his own body feel distant, as though he wasn’t really there.

He knew they were all around him.

He knew his family was looking at him with broken hearts, that Zayn was still holding his hand as if afraid to let go and watch him disappear. He knew Louis was struggling to hold back his own tears, that Nicola and Ruth were searching for a way to offer comfort when there was absolutely nothing that could be said to ease this.

But Liam couldn’t respond to any of it. The only thing his mind could do was keep replaying everything he had lived.

As if, somehow, if he clung tightly enough to those memories, he could stop the future from arriving. As if he could anchor himself to the past and refuse to move forward, refuse to face what lay ahead.

But there was no escape. The end was there, waiting for him. And for the first time in his life, Liam felt truly trapped.

Nicola squeezed Liam’s hand gently, her trembling fingers enclosing his as if, somehow, she could shield him from the cruel reality that had just been imposed upon him. She leaned in slightly, pressing a soft kiss to his cold knuckles, as if her touch could warm not only his skin but his soul as well. Her voice, though thick with emotion, remained steady—or at least she tried.

“It’s going to be all right, Liam. We’re here. We’ll always be here. We’ll never leave you, never.”

Liam’s eyes, still lost, moved slowly across his sister’s face before dropping to the bed, as though he were trying to organise his own thoughts. But the confusion and shock were so overwhelming that he couldn’t even begin to process it all. For a moment, everything around him felt distorted, distant, muffled—like he was trapped in a bad dream, the kind that locks the breath in your chest and leaves a bitter taste in your mouth upon waking. He blinked a few times, searching for something to anchor him back to reality, but the only thing he found was the cruel certainty that had been thrust upon him.

“I’m going to die.”

The words slipped from his lips, low, hoarse, almost a whisper dragged down by the weight of shock. “I know I’m going to die. And it’s going to be soon, isn’t it?”

Those words were a punch to the gut for everyone in the room. The air seemed to vanish, and no one knew what to say. Not even the sobs trapped in his family’s and friends’ throats could escape.

It was true.

They all knew it.

He knew it.

But saying it aloud made the pain even more real.

Liam’s eyes wandered around the room and landed on the doctor, seeking an answer. He needed to know. He needed to hear the truth, no matter how devastating it was.

“Doctor, please…” Geoff’s voice came out weak, almost pleading. He didn’t even know what he was begging for—words of comfort, a merciful lie, or his son’s life itself. But he begged all the same.

The doctor took a deep breath before replying. His tone was calm, understanding, but there was an unavoidable weight in those words that no one wanted to hear.

“We ran a series of tests and identified a glioblastoma, a brain tumour. It’s an aggressive, fast-growing cancer. Unfortunately, no matter how much we try to remove with surgery, some cells will remain and continue to multiply. That’s why we follow up with radiotherapy and chemotherapy—to try to slow the growth as much as possible.”

Liam listened without reacting at first. His expression was unreadable, his eyes fixed on some random point on the blanket over his lap. The doctor continued.

“We know this isn’t easy news to hear. But treatment can help improve your quality of life and give you more time—”

“More time?” Liam interrupted, his voice a little firmer now, though still heavy with disbelief. He finally lifted his gaze to meet the doctor’s. “How much time?”

The doctor hesitated briefly before answering, carefully choosing his words.

“With treatment, the average life expectancy is between twelve and eighteen months. Without it… significantly less.”

And that was when the avalanche hit him in full force.

Liam felt his chest tighten, as though he were being crushed from the inside out.

Twelve months.

Maybe a little more, maybe a little less.

A year.

A year was all he had.

“I… I can’t believe this…” Ruth’s voice cracked as she brought her hands to her face, trying to hold back the tears that had already begun to fall freely.

“Son, we’re going to do everything we can. The best treatment, the best doctors…” Karen tried, her voice thick with maternal desperation.

Liam, however, seemed distant, his thoughts spinning in an uncontrollable whirlwind.

The rest of his life.

Every second now felt numbered.

Every heartbeat felt like a cruel reminder that he was running out of time.

“I don’t want it.”

His voice was firm, though slightly unsteady.

Karen blinked, confused. “What?”

“I don’t want it.” He repeated, lifting his gaze to meet his family’s and friends’ eyes. “I don’t want treatment. I don’t want surgery. I don’t want to spend what little time I have left trapped in a hospital. I don’t want to go through the hell of chemotherapy just to buy a few more months.”

“But, Liam…” Geoff began, his voice pleading.

“No.” Liam shook his head. “It’s my life. I decide what to do with it. And I don’t want this.”

A crushing silence settled over the room. No one knew what to say. No one wanted to accept it. But deep down, they all understood.

Zayn, who until then had been unable to speak, gripped Liam’s hand tightly, fighting back tears.

He didn’t want to lose him. He didn’t even want to imagine a life without him. But he also knew Liam.

He knew how much he valued freedom, how much he hated hospitals, how the very thought of spending his last months confined to a bed terrified him more than death itself.

He swallowed hard and leaned in, gently cupping Liam’s cheek before pressing their foreheads together, their noses barely brushing.

“I’m with you, love. Always.”

Liam closed his eyes, allowing himself to take a deep breath for a moment. He knew there would still be difficult conversations ahead.

That his family would try to convince him. That there would be pain, suffering, and goodbyes. But right now, he just wanted to feel.

He just wanted to hold Zayn’s hand and pretend, if only for a few fleeting moments, that time wasn’t running out against him.

Liam curled up in his mother’s and father’s arms, his small, fragile body trembling between them, as if he could disappear into their warmth. His sobs were raw, wrenching, torn from a place deep inside him—a place that had never before been touched by such pain. Each breath was a struggle, dragged in as though the very act of breathing hurt, as though the air was too thick, too heavy to take in. His hands shook so much that he could barely hold anything, yet still, his fingers remained tightly wrapped around Zayn’s, as if that touch was the only anchor keeping him from drowning in absolute despair.

It was a pain that made no sense. That could not be put into words. That could not be explained in any logical way. It was not a physical pain, not like the ones he already knew—not like the sting of a cut, the agony of a broken bone, or the sharp impact of a hard blow. But somehow, it was worse than anything he had ever felt before, because it did not come from the body. It came from the soul. It consumed everything. It was as if his chest was imploding from within, breaking apart into tiny fragments that no one would ever be able to piece back together. He wanted it to stop. He wished it had never begun.

His mother’s arms tightened around him, and he felt her own sobs shaking her small, delicate frame. Her breath came in broken gasps against his hair, and even without seeing her face, he knew her eyes were swollen, red, exhausted from crying. His father’s face was buried against his shoulder, and Liam could feel those large, strong fingers trembling against his back, moving in slow, hesitant strokes, as if trying to comfort him but not knowing how. Because there was no way. Because there was no comfort for this.

Liam had thought he had cried many times in his life. He had cried in fear as a child, waking from nightmares or after falling and hurting himself. He had cried in relief, in joy; he had cried over little things, over big things. But he had never cried like this. Never had he felt his heart shatter inside his chest with such violence, as if it were about to explode and disappear entirely, leaving only a hollow space where life had once been.

The tears would not stop, hot trails streaming down his face, soaking the collar of his hospital gown, dripping onto the hands intertwined with Zayn’s. He squeezed his eyes shut, as if he could escape what was happening by simply refusing to see it. But there was nowhere to run. No way to escape. Reality was there, cruel and unchanging, as sharp as a cold blade pressed against his skin, slow and merciless.

He wanted to scream, wanted to tear this feeling out of himself, wanted to curl up until he disappeared, until he was swallowed by nothingness. He wanted to go back in time and stop any of this from happening. He wanted to wake up and realise that it had all been just a bad dream, a distant nightmare.

But it wasn’t a dream.

And he wasn’t going to wake up.

The idea that his life had an expiry date, a looming end, was so incomprehensible, so vast, that his mind seemed incapable of fully grasping it. Until this moment, he had never truly thought about his own mortality. Never really considered that one day he would no longer exist. Of course, he had always known that death was something that happened to everyone, but it had never felt close. It had never been a real possibility.

Until now.

Now, it was here.

Real and inevitable.

He didn’t want to die.

The thought pounded in his head, loud and desperate, as if his mind were trying to fight against something that had already been decided. He didn’t want to die. He didn’t want to disappear. He didn’t want to lose everything, everyone. He didn’t want time to run out like this, without warning, without preparation. He didn’t want to see his life reduced to a countdown of months, to a limited number of days, to a succession of painful treatments that could not even save him.

And perhaps that was what hurt the most.

The fact that there was no solution. That no matter how hard they tried, how much they fought, how fiercely they clung to any possible hope, nothing could change the outcome.

He was doomed.

Despair tightened around his chest, crushing every inch of his existence, stealing all the air from his lungs, leaving only a suffocating, merciless emptiness. He sobbed against his mother’s shoulder, his face buried in the fabric of her blouse, his fingers digging into the sleeve of his father’s coat, his legs drawn up against himself, trying to make himself small, trying to hide from the truth.

But there was nowhere to hide.

And all he could do was cry.

He cried because he was afraid, a fear so vast it swallowed everything else. He cried because it wasn’t fair, because he wanted more time, because he wanted everything. He cried because there was still so much he wanted to do, so much he wanted to live, and fate had ripped it all from his hands before he even had the chance to fight for it. He cried because he didn’t want his family to suffer, because he didn’t want to see his friends in tears, because he didn’t want Zayn to go through this.

He cried because he knew they would suffer. That they would watch him worsen, watch him fade away bit by bit, watch him lose everything before the end even arrived. And he didn’t want them to go through that.

He didn’t want his mother to have to see him waste away. He didn’t want his father to have to bury him. He didn’t want his sisters to carry this weight for the rest of their lives. He didn’t want Zayn to have to hold him as he died.

The thought made a broken, wrenching sob tear from his throat, a sound so raw and helpless it barely felt human. The pain inside him was so vast it felt as though it might rip him apart. And the worst part was knowing that this pain would not go away.

There was no escape. There was no fight to be won. He just wanted it all to be over. He wanted it to be a nightmare.

But he knew it wasn’t.

Liam cried until his body could take no more, until his sobs grew more sporadic, until his muscles gave in to complete exhaustion. There was no strength left to continue, and fatigue dragged through every inch of him, pulling him into a heavy, restless sleep. Yet even as he slept, his face remained etched with pain, his features drawn, his eyelids trembling faintly, his fingers still curled into weak fists upon the sheets. It was as if, even in unconsciousness, his heart continued to bear the weight of that crushing reality.

His family remained around him, desolate, looking at the boy they loved so dearly—now fragile, devastated by news no one should ever have to receive. Karen could not let go of his hand, her fingers trembling slightly as they traced over his warm skin, still damp with the tears that had yet to fully dry. Geoff’s eyes remained fixed on Liam, though he was not truly seeing him, lost in thoughts no one could fully understand. The silence in the room was heavy, suffocating, broken only by the soft, uneven breaths of those present.

Zayn sat at the edge of the bed, his eyes swollen and red, gazing at Liam’s sleeping face with an expression that was equal parts absolute love and an immeasurable, unbearable pain. Louis was beside him, unable to find any words, his hand resting on Zayn’s shoulder, as if that small gesture was the only thing keeping him grounded. The sense of helplessness was unbearable, crushing. None of them knew what to do. None of them knew how to ease this pain.

Liam did not want the treatment. He did not want to spend the last months of his life in hospitals, enduring surgeries, chemotherapy, radiotherapy—he did not want to go through it all only to prolong the inevitable. And somehow, they all knew they could not blame him. But that did not make the pain any less. That did not make it easier to accept the thought of watching him give up without a fight.

The doctor, who had been watching in silence, finally stepped forward, his gaze careful and understanding. He knew there were no right words for this moment, but he also knew he had to say something.

“It was a great shock for him,” he said, his voice low, as if not wanting to disturb Liam’s restless sleep. “And he is afraid. It is natural for his first reaction to be refusal. But that does not mean he won’t change his mind.”

Karen lifted her gaze to the doctor, her eyes brimming with unshed tears, weary and pleading.

“Do you think he might reconsider?”

The doctor took a slow breath before answering, choosing his words carefully.

“I believe he needs time to process all of this. Right now, the most important thing is to let him rest. When he wakes, we can talk again. We mustn’t pressure him, but we can help him understand all his options—everything that can still be done.”

No one responded immediately. It was hard to imagine any conversation that could change Liam’s decision, yet at the same time, none of them were ready to accept it. They still had to try. They still had to believe that there was some hope, however small.

Zayn leaned over Liam slightly, his hand gliding softly through his boyfriend’s hair. He wanted to say something, wanted to promise that everything would be all right, that they would find a way through this, that it was all just a terrible mistake.

But he couldn’t.

He knew that, in the end, nothing would be all right.

Still, he pressed a gentle kiss to Liam’s forehead, closing his eyes for a moment, feeling the warmth of his skin against his lips.

“It’s going to be all right,” he whispered, his voice barely holding together.

But deep down, he knew he was lying.

Liam began to wake slowly, consciousness returning in gentle waves, as though he were emerging from a deep, silent ocean. His body felt heavy, his limbs numb, as if they had been forgotten for too long. The first thing he noticed was the firm mattress beneath him, the unmistakable scent of the hospital—a mixture of antiseptic and something he couldn't quite define. He frowned slightly, his eyelashes fluttering before he finally managed to open his eyes fully.

The stark white ceiling stared back at him, and for a few seconds, his mind remained blank, unable to fully grasp where he was or why he was there. Time seemed to move sluggishly, and his head throbbed with a dull ache, as though it were being compressed from the inside. He blinked a few times, trying to dispel the fog that clung to his thoughts, and slowly, he began to take in his surroundings.

His eyes drifted around the room, landing first on the corner where his parents were. Geoff was seated in the armchair, his posture slightly hunched forward, his arms wrapped around Karen’s small frame as she rested against his chest, fast asleep. His mother’s face was partially hidden by her blonde hair, but Liam could see the exhaustion in the way her body seemed small and fragile in that moment. Even in sleep, his father’s face bore the marks of worry.

Liam swallowed hard, feeling something tighten in his chest. He didn’t want to see them like this.

He looked away, and that was when he noticed Ruth and Zayn near the window, standing close to one another. They seemed to be speaking in hushed tones, and even though Liam couldn’t hear what they were saying, something in their posture conveyed the weight of their conversation. Ruth had her arms crossed, her expression taut, as though she was holding back her emotions with every ounce of strength she had. Zayn, on the other hand, held tension in his shoulders, his hands moving sporadically, gesturing in small bursts of anxious energy.

And then, before he could process anything further, the door to the room opened gently—a careful, almost hesitant movement. Liam turned his head and saw Nicola stepping inside, closing the door softly behind her. Her gaze met his within seconds, and immediately, her expression softened, a mixture of relief and sadness settling on her face.

She approached slowly, each step cautious, as if she didn’t want to disturb the delicate silence enclosing the room.

“Hey, sweetheart…” Her voice was low, gentle, carrying an unmistakable warmth.

Liam blinked sluggishly, still feeling as though his mind was operating at a pace far too slow. But then, like a silent avalanche, the memories began to return.

The past months flashed before his eyes. The moments when he had felt strange, when the headaches had started becoming more frequent, the small lapses in memory that had seemed insignificant at the time but now felt so much more important. The concert. Him singing, feeling that something was wrong but pushing it to the back of his mind. The collapse. The darkness. The hospital.

The diagnosis.

The word echoed inside him like a painful refrain, reverberating through every corner of his mind. Cancer.

His chest tightened, and for a moment, he felt as though he couldn’t breathe properly. He shut his eyes tightly, as if that might erase everything, as if it could undo the moment, make it so that none of this had ever happened.

But there was no escaping it.

He opened his eyes again and saw Nicola settling on the edge of the bed, leaning slightly closer.

“How are you feeling?” she asked, her voice still quiet, hesitant.

Liam tried to swallow down the automatic response he usually gave. He knew there was no point in saying he was fine. Because he wasn’t. Because nothing was.

Nicola continued watching him, patient, waiting.

Liam wetted his lips, his voice coming out hoarse and weak when he finally spoke.

“My head hurts… My body feels kind of strange.”

Nicola nodded slowly, as if she understood, and her hand found his atop the sheets, her fingers tracing gently over his skin.

“You slept for a while… Everyone’s been waiting for you to wake up.”

Liam didn’t respond straight away. His gaze wandered back across the room, to where his parents were still sleeping, to Ruth and Zayn by the window.

And then, he whispered,

“I remember everything.”

Nicola’s grip on his hand tightened slightly, but she said nothing.

Liam turned his face to look at her, his dark eyes weighed down by something heavy, something that didn’t belong in someone so young.

“I have cancer.”

The words came out softly, but the moment he spoke them, it was as though the air around him had thickened, growing heavier.

Nicola blinked a few times, as if willing herself to hold back tears, but then she forced a small, sad smile.

“You have us. And we’re going to get through this together.”

Liam wanted to believe her.

But in that moment, all he could feel was the weight of something far greater than himself.

The room was immersed in a fragile silence, broken only by the soft sound of breathing from those around him. The dim light filtering through the window cast gentle shadows on the walls, making the atmosphere even more intimate, as if time had slowed within that space. Liam blinked a few times, trying to shake off the last remnants of sleep, but his mind was already fully awake.

His awakening was anything but ordinary. There was none of that lazy, comforting feeling that usually followed a long night’s rest. Instead, it felt as though he had been pulled back into reality abruptly, forced to face a world that, in the span of just a few hours, had changed completely.

The diagnosis still echoed within him like a final sentence. He wasn’t sure if he was ready to face it.

But before he could lose himself too deeply in those thoughts, a movement caught his attention.

Ruth and Zayn, who had been standing near the window, noticed that he was awake. Ruth’s gaze was instantly filled with relief and a hint of concern, and she began to approach with careful steps. Zayn, on the other hand, hesitated for a moment before moving, as if caught between the desperate need to be near Liam and the fear of seeing him suffer even more. But in the end, he couldn’t stay away.

Liam felt his chest tighten at the sight of their worry, and before either of them could say anything, his voice emerged in a whisper, raw and vulnerable.

“My love…”

His boyfriend stopped immediately, their eyes meeting with an intensity that sent a shiver down Liam’s spine.

“Stay with me.” Liam pleaded, his voice breaking at the end. He felt the first tear slide down his face, warm against his cold skin. “Please…”

Zayn needed no more than that. In an instant, he was at his side, climbing carefully onto the bed without hesitation. He settled towards the edge, ensuring Liam had as much comfort as possible, before gently pulling him into his arms. Liam nestled against him without reservation, holding onto his boyfriend as if he needed him to keep breathing.

Ruth watched the scene with a gaze full of tenderness and sorrow. She sat beside Nicola, who was still there, keeping one of Liam’s hands in hers.

The movement, however, was enough to stir Karen and Geoff from their sleep as well.

The first sign was a quiet sigh from Karen, followed by the way she shifted in her husband’s embrace. Geoff opened his eyes slowly, blinking a few times before his expression grew more alert. He glanced around, taking a moment to process that Liam was awake and conscious.

“Liam…” Karen’s voice trembled, and she quickly brought her hands to her face, as if trying to contain the flood of emotions threatening to overwhelm her. “Oh, my baby…”

Geoff sat up a little straighter, his gaze softening as it met his son’s.

“How are you feeling, son?” he asked, his voice laced with gentle concern.

Liam hesitated before answering. He felt as though anything he said would sound hollow because nothing could truly describe the avalanche of emotions within him.

But in the end, he chose honesty.

“I’m… scared.”

Karen immediately got up and moved to him, sitting beside Nicola and taking Liam’s other hand in hers.

“My love…” She sighed, caressing his skin with her thumb, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “We’re here. We’ll always be here.”

Geoff nodded, his voice steady despite the evident emotion.

“You’re not alone, Liam.”

Liam closed his eyes for a moment, trying to keep the fresh wave of tears at bay.

“I… I don’t know what to do.”

Silence filled the room for a few moments, heavy but not suffocating. Everyone there knew there were no easy answers.

But then, Ruth spoke, her voice filled with tenderness and quiet strength.

“You don’t have to know right now. You have time to process everything. And we’ll be by your side the entire time.”

A lump formed in Liam’s throat. He wanted to believe her, wanted to cling to his sister’s words as though they were an anchor in the chaos.

But the fear was still there, overwhelming.

“And if… if it doesn’t work?”

It was Geoff who answered, his voice carrying the same strength that had always made Liam feel safe as a child.

“Then we cherish every moment. Every second. But we fight, Liam. Together.”

Liam swallowed hard, feeling Zayn’s arms tighten around him, as if trying to shield him from all the suffering in the world.

He looked at each of them. His mother, his father, his sisters. Louis was somewhere in the hospital, probably trying to be strong so the others wouldn’t have to be. Niall and Harry were likely at the hotel, struggling to process it all in their own way.

And Zayn…

His Zayn was there, with him, holding him as if he would never let go.

Liam closed his eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath.

He didn’t want to die. He wanted every moment he could have with these people. And for that, he would set aside his fear. He would fight.

Slowly, he opened his eyes again and, with a voice weak but resolute, he whispered:

“I want to do the treatment.”

The relief that filled the room was immediate. Karen let out a quiet sob, bringing a hand to her mouth. Geoff closed his eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath before nodding. Ruth and Nicola exchanged glances, their eyes shimmering with tears that were not just of sadness but of hope.

Zayn, still holding Liam with infinite care, said nothing.

He simply rested his forehead against Liam’s and closed his eyes.

And for a brief moment, Liam felt that, despite everything, he might still have time to love and be loved.

The door to the room slowly opened, and Dr Morgan stepped inside, his movements measured and gaze attentive, as if he didn’t want to disturb the intimate moment unfolding within. He had dealt with difficult diagnoses before, but it was always different when he saw a young man like Liam surrounded by his family, held up by their desperate love. He couldn’t help the tightness in his chest as he faced the reality of the situation.

Upon noticing his presence, Nicola was the first to speak. With eyes still glistening and a small smile filled with equal parts hope and fear, she took a deep breath before announcing, her voice a little unsteady but determined:

“Liam wants to do the treatment.”

The immediate wave of relief in the room was almost tangible. Dr Morgan nodded, offering a gentle smile, before stepping closer, his hands clasped in front of him in a careful gesture.

“I’m very glad to hear that, Liam” he said, keeping his voice soft, unhurried, without pressure. “And I want you to know that we’ll be with you every step of the way.”

Liam gave a small nod, still holding onto Zayn’s hand tightly. His boyfriend wouldn’t let go for anything, his eyes focused on every word the doctor spoke, as if absorbing it all with the utmost seriousness.

“Let’s talk a little about the treatment” Dr Morgan continued, adopting a didactic tone while maintaining his sensitivity. He crouched slightly to be at Liam’s eye level, wanting to convey closeness. “Glioblastoma is an aggressive tumour, as we’ve discussed before, so treatment needs to begin as soon as possible.”

Karen swallowed hard, nodding, while Geoff ran a hand over his face, trying to maintain his composure.

Liam listened to everything intently, but he couldn’t shake the growing apprehension within him. He knew cancer treatment wasn’t easy. But the reality was even more overwhelming than he had imagined.

He wanted to live. He wanted every bit of time he could have.

And despite the fear gripping every fibre of his being, he knew he would do it.

He would fight.

For as long as he could.

Taking Liam home was not a simple task, not in the way everyone wished it could be. If it had been any other day, without the shadow of illness looming over them, perhaps they would have been leaving an airport after an exhausting tour or hastily exiting a hotel to escape fans and photographers. But this was not just any day. This was not an ordinary departure. It was a moment laden with meaning and fears no one dared to voice. There was an invisible weight in the air, a constant tension that made every step, every movement, more careful than ever.

Paddy was the first to ensure everything was under control. He arranged the logistics with surgical precision, making sure no paparazzi knew about the departure, that no camera was lurking to capture Liam in this state. Not that Liam looked any different to a casual observer—he was still the same young man, still had that gentle gleam in his eyes and his composed posture. But to those who truly knew him, like Zayn, every detail screamed of change. The flaws were small, almost insignificant to an inattentive eye, but Zayn was never inattentive. He had noticed these lapses even before knowing what was wrong, and now, knowing the truth, everything bore an even heavier weight.

The keys Liam would forget where he had left, the names he took a little longer to recall, the sentences he would start saying and then hesitate midway, as if the words slipped through his fingers before he could even grasp them. Small things. Things anyone could blame on exhaustion, on the stress of a demanding routine. But they were not mere harmless distractions. They were symptoms. They were signs of something far greater, far more cruel. And now that they knew the truth, now that they knew a tumour was growing inside Liam’s head, stealing these little pieces of himself, it was impossible not to see the gravity of it all.

In the car, as they made their way home, Zayn kept his hand over Liam’s, gently squeezing his fingers—a silent reminder that he was there. That he would always be there. Liam seemed tired, but he never complained. He remained silent for most of the journey, watching the scenery pass by the window, as if trying to imprint every image in his mind. As if trying to absorb everything he could while he still could. Karen and Geoff sat just ahead, occasionally glancing back to check if Liam was all right, if he needed anything. Nicola, beside Zayn, remained just as quiet, merely watching her brother with a look full of love and fear.

Louis was in the other car with Paddy, making sure nothing got out of control. The last thing they needed was to attract attention, to make this moment even harder than it already was. There was something reassuring about Paddy’s presence, in the way he handled everything with firmness and calm, as if, somehow, he could hold everything together even when everyone else was on the verge of falling apart.

Upon arrival, their care doubled. Paddy and Geoff were the first to step out, ensuring the path to the door was clear. Then, Zayn helped Liam out of the car with gentle precision, as if he were made of glass, as if any sudden movement might hurt him. Liam chuckled softly, shaking his head.

"I still know how to walk, you know?" he joked, his voice low but carrying that familiar tone he always used when trying to ease the tension.

Zayn forced a smile but did not reply. He knew Liam was trying to lighten the mood, that he did not want to be treated any differently. But it was impossible. Not when they knew that in two days, they would be back at the hospital for surgery. Not when they knew this was only the beginning of a long battle.

Karen and Nicola followed closely behind, ensuring Liam was comfortable. There was a familiar scent in the air, a scent that made Liam feel at home, and for a moment, he closed his eyes, breathing deeply, trying to anchor himself in that feeling. It was good to be here. It was good to feel that, for just a moment, things were normal.

Zayn helped Liam settle onto the sofa, and Louis arrived shortly after, carrying a bag with a few things they had picked up along the way. No one said much, but the silence was not empty. It was full. Full of fear, of worry, of emotions no one could quite put into words.

Liam knew everyone was worried. He knew they were treading carefully around him. And though part of him wanted to say it did not have to be this way, that he was still the same, another part understood. He did not want things to change, but he knew they already had. He knew they would never be the same again.

Zayn sat beside him, keeping their hands intertwined. Liam turned his face to look at him, taking in every familiar detail—the deep brown eyes, the strong line of his jaw, the way he seemed to carry the weight of the world on his shoulders.

"Are you all right?" Liam asked, his voice quiet but full of meaning.

Zayn blinked a few times, surprised by the question. He opened his mouth to respond but then closed it again, as if he did not quite know what to say.

"I don’t know," he admitted at last, his voice thick with emotion. "I just… I wish none of this were happening."

Liam squeezed his hand tighter.

"So do I."

And in that moment, they both knew there was nothing more to say. Because no words could change what was happening. No sentences could erase the fear, the pain. But there was that touch, that silent presence that said everything.

There was love.

And no matter how uncertain the future was, no matter how overwhelming the fear, Liam knew he was not alone.

The night at the hospital had been long, intense, laden with emotions so heavy that none of them quite knew how they were still standing. The shock still lingered in the air, the diagnosis still echoed in their minds, and though they had returned home, nothing felt normal. Even so, they all knew they had to keep going. They had to move forward, one step at a time.

Paddy, ever observant, noticed that none of them had eaten properly all day. Hunger did not seem a priority in the face of everything they were going through, but he knew it was necessary to keep everyone strong for what lay ahead. So, with the same dedication he applied to their security, he busied himself in the kitchen, preparing something simple yet nourishing, something that might offer even a small sense of comfort. The smell of warm food filled the house, bringing a sense of home that, for a brief moment, softened the pain in each of them.

Karen and Geoff sat together on the sofa, silently seeking comfort in each other. Nicola and Ruth helped set the table, while Liam sat nearby, wrapped in a blanket, looking smaller than ever. Zayn, beside him, never let go of his hand for even a second. It was as if they both needed that contact to remind themselves they were there, that they were together, that they were not alone.

When Paddy called them to eat, no one refused, though their appetite was minimal. Still, the simple act of sitting at the table, of sharing a meal, brought a quiet kind of solace. Liam knew he was loved, cared for in a way words could never truly express.

They ate in silence at first, only the clinking of cutlery filling the space. Then Nicola, with a soft smile, started recounting a funny story from Liam’s childhood, trying to bring a little lightness. Gradually, the others followed suit, reminiscing, sharing happy memories, trying to remind themselves that life still existed, that not everything was about the illness. Liam smiled, genuinely, more than once, and that warmed the hearts of everyone there.

He saw in his mother’s eyes the immeasurable pain of someone who would give anything to trade places with him. He saw in his father’s expression the effort to stay strong, to be a pillar for the family. He saw in his sisters the fear and the affection, the need to protect him from something they could not control. And in Zayn… well, in Zayn, he saw everything. All the love in the world. All the pain. All the hope and the despair coexisting in those deep brown eyes.

They ate in silence for a while, only the sound of cutlery filling the room. Until Nicola, with a gentle smile, began to recount a funny episode from Liam’s childhood, trying to bring a little lightness to the moment. Gradually, the others followed suit, reminiscing, sharing happy memories, trying in some way to remind themselves that life still existed, that not everything was about the illness. Liam smiled, genuinely, more than once, and it warmed the hearts of everyone there.

After dinner, each began to retreat to their rooms. Paddy stayed a little longer, making sure Liam was comfortable before taking his leave. Karen and Geoff kissed their son’s forehead, whispering words of affection before going upstairs. Ruth and Nicola hugged him tightly, lingering a little longer than usual, as if trying to imprint that moment in their memories. Then, finally, only Liam and Zayn remained in the living room.

They exchanged a knowing look, one that said everything without needing words.

"Shall we?" Zayn asked softly.

Liam nodded, and together, they climbed the stairs.

It was Liam’s room, after all; they were in his house in London, a space that reflected his personality in every detail. The atmosphere was cosy, decorated just the way he liked, with soft tones and elements that made him feel at peace. Posters, photos, small objects carrying memories of happy times. It was a safe place, a refuge.

Zayn closed the door behind him, watching Liam closely. He looked exhausted, but there was something more in his gaze, something beyond physical fatigue.

"Are you okay?" Zayn asked, knowing the answer probably wouldn’t be sincere.

Liam gave a small, tired smile.

"I’m here, aren’t I?" he replied, and that was enough for Zayn to understand everything he wasn’t saying.

They changed clothes in silence, finding comfort in the simplicity of the routine. Loose T-shirts, soft hoodies, the familiarity of movements that, despite being tainted by a cruel reality, still existed. Then, finally, they lay down together in bed, a space that had so often witnessed laughter, secrets, moments of pure happiness.

Zayn settled beside Liam, pulling him gently closer. His arms wrapped around his boyfriend, holding him with all the love he had to give. Liam sighed, letting himself sink into that embrace, into the safety that only Zayn could offer him.

"You know I love you, don’t you?" Zayn murmured against Liam’s hair, his voice thick with emotion.

Liam nodded, his fingers gliding softly over Zayn’s arm.

"I know. And I love you too. So much."

Silence enveloped them for a moment, but it wasn’t empty. It was full. Full of feelings, of unspoken promises, of shared fears.

Then, Zayn gently lifted Liam’s face, gazing into his eyes. There was so much there, so much he wanted to say, but no words seemed enough. So instead of speaking, he simply leaned in, sealing their lips in a kiss that was more than just a touch. It was a silent vow. A promise.

They kissed with the intensity of those who know every moment is precious. Their lips moved slowly, absorbing every sensation, every second. There was no rush, no urgency—just the need to feel, to be there, together, in that moment.

Liam’s hands tangled in Zayn’s hair, pulling him closer, and Zayn responded in kind, holding him as if afraid to let go. Because deep down, he was afraid. Afraid of an uncertain future. Afraid of what might happen.

When they finally parted, Liam rested his forehead against Zayn’s, breathing deeply.

"It’s going to be okay," Zayn whispered, even though, deep down, he knew it was a lie.

Liam closed his eyes, savouring that moment, that instant where everything felt simpler.

"As long as you’re with me, I know it will be."

And in that room, on that night, between vows of love and silent promises, they found refuge. They found peace in each other, even as the world outside was falling apart.

Chapter Text

The night had been long, endless, and Zayn hadn’t managed to sleep for even a second. He had tried, closing his eyes and seeking some kind of comfort in the darkness of the room, but the weight on his chest was unbearable. So he gave up, spending every second of the early hours watching over Liam’s sleep, observing him with a mixture of love, fear, and crushing sadness. Liam looked so peaceful, breathing in a steady rhythm, his chest rising and falling beneath the blanket. It was unfair, Zayn thought. How could someone so full of life, so beautiful, so good, be carrying such a heavy burden inside him? The cancer was there, hidden beneath his skin, growing, consuming him little by little.

Zayn wished time would stop right then, in that exact moment, when Liam was just sleeping—no pain, no fear, no shadow of illness hanging over him. But time didn’t stop; it never did. And morning arrived, bringing the first rays of sunlight that filtered through the bedroom curtains. Zayn felt the gentle warmth bathing Liam’s skin, illuminating his serene features, and held his breath when he noticed the first signs that he was waking.

First, a slight movement of his fingers against the sheets. Then, a deeper sigh. Liam’s face tensed slightly, his eyes shifting beneath his eyelids, and then he turned a little in bed, seeking more comfort. Finally, with a lazy yawn, he blinked a few times until he could fully open his eyes.

Zayn was there, watching everything. His heart clenched when Liam’s eyes met his, brown and filled with a sleepy, affectionate glow.

Liam smiled. A small, shy smile, but a real one. A smile of someone who was happy to see Zayn there.

He moved slowly, still stretching, and without thinking much about it, he crawled into Zayn’s lap, seeking refuge in his arms. Zayn welcomed him immediately, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. And it was. He wrapped Liam tightly in his embrace, running a hand through his soft hair, inhaling his scent, savouring every second of that moment. Liam let out a quiet laugh when Zayn rubbed his nose against his, as they always did.

"You didn’t sleep," Liam murmured, rubbing his eyes as he looked at him more closely. "You spent the whole night crying, didn’t you?"

Zayn sighed, his expression softening into a mixture of sadness and love. He didn’t try to deny it because he knew Liam always saw right through him.

"You know I can’t handle the pain of losing you," Zayn replied, his voice thick with emotion. "You should be eternal."

Liam lowered his gaze for a moment, biting his lip, and Zayn knew his words had affected him more than he wanted to admit. Then Liam hugged him even tighter, pressing his face against Zayn’s chest.

"But I’m here now," Liam whispered, as if trying to convince him that this was enough.

Zayn closed his eyes, swallowing the pain that spread through him. He knew Liam was there, in his arms, warm, alive, loving. But what about tomorrow? And the months to come? The fear of a future without Liam was something Zayn couldn’t bear.

They stayed in silence for a while, just breathing together, sharing that moment as if it were precious—and it was. Liam felt smaller, more fragile in Zayn’s arms, as if the weight of everything he had learned had drained his strength. But at the same time, he was still Liam, still that boy who smiled at Zayn as if he were the best thing that had ever happened to him.

After a while, Liam sighed and lifted his head, resting his chin on Zayn’s chest to look at him.

"Hey," he called softly. "Shall we do something nice today? Spend the day together, like we used to?"

Zayn ran his fingers over his face, caressing his cheek.

"Whatever you want, love," he said without hesitation.

Liam smiled again, but there was a trace of melancholy there, as if he knew that every moment now had to be lived intensely.

And Zayn would do exactly that. He would give Liam every happy moment he could.

The morning light had already spread across the room when Liam, still wrapped in Zayn’s arms, stretched slightly and sighed. His body still felt heavy from sleep, his muscles aching in a way he was slowly getting used to. But there, in Zayn’s embrace, the weight seemed lighter, as if the world became just a little easier to bear.

Zayn traced the tips of his fingers over Liam’s skin, drawing invisible lines on his arm, and smiled softly when Liam lifted his head and looked at him with that sleepy, lazy gaze he loved so much.

Liam closed his eyes for a moment, as if wanting to prolong that moment for just a few more seconds. Then, finally, he stretched, shifting in Zayn’s lap until he was sitting up in bed, his hair messy and his eyes still heavy with sleep.

"Come on," Liam called, reaching out his hand to Zayn. "Let’s get up, do something—I don’t want to spend the whole day in bed."

Zayn smiled and took his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze before getting up as well. He wished he could stay there forever, just the two of them, hidden from the world and everything waiting for them outside that room. But Liam wanted to move forward. He wanted to live.

They walked through the room in slow, lazy steps towards the bathroom, Liam rubbing his eyes while Zayn watched every detail of him as if he were a precious treasure. The bathroom was illuminated by the soft glow of the morning sun, and Liam leaned over the sink, turning on the tap and letting the water run for a few seconds before grabbing his toothbrush. Zayn picked up his own and joined him.

They brushed their teeth side by side, laughing when the foam almost escaped the corners of one of their mouths, and Liam nudged Zayn lightly with his elbow whenever he pulled an exaggerated face in the mirror. It was a simple, silly moment, but full of love, as if they were just two normal boys, starting an ordinary day, without a single worry in the world.

After rinsing his mouth, Liam looked at Zayn through the reflection in the mirror, his eyes shining with quiet affection.

"Shower?" Liam suggested, raising an eyebrow.

Zayn needed nothing more. He took Liam’s hand and gently pulled him towards the shower, closing the glass door behind them. The hot water began to cascade over their bodies, and Liam let out a deep sigh, closing his eyes as he felt the warmth relax his muscles.

Zayn reached for the bottle of shampoo and squeezed some into his hands before beginning to massage Liam’s hair with care. He ran his fingers through the short strands, moving his hands slowly, with all the tenderness in the world, as if that moment were sacred.

"I like it when you do that," Liam murmured, tilting his head back, completely surrendering to Zayn’s touch.

"I know," Zayn smiled, continuing the gentle movements.

After a while, Liam switched places with Zayn and began washing his hair too, his fingers sliding through the dark, drenched strands. His eyes were filled with tenderness, as if he wanted to memorise every detail, every sensation, every second of that simple yet deeply meaningful morning.

For a few minutes, they allowed themselves to forget the world outside. Just the hot water, the careful hands, the soft touches.

When they stepped out of the shower, still wrapped in the warm steam, Zayn grabbed a towel and began drying Liam’s hair, his fingers sliding gently through the damp strands. Liam smiled slightly, watching his boyfriend’s concentrated expression as he did so, and his heart filled with a quiet warmth, as if Zayn were the only anchor keeping him steady amidst everything that was happening.

After getting dressed in warm, comfortable clothes, the two of them made their way downstairs together. The scent of fresh coffee had already spread through the house, mingling with the familiar aroma of warm bread and melting butter in the pan.

In the kitchen, Geoff was seated at the table, leafing through a newspaper with a tired expression, while Ruth finished preparing something on the stove.

"Good morning," Liam said, his voice still a little hoarse from sleep.

Geoff looked up and immediately smiled, his face lighting up at the sight of his son.

"Good morning, son," he replied. "Did you sleep well?"

Liam glanced briefly at Zayn before turning his eyes back to his father.

"I did," he said, smiling.

Zayn pulled out a chair for Liam and sat down beside him, while Ruth placed a hot cup of tea in front of her brother.

"Good morning, Zayn," Ruth greeted, offering him a warm look.

"Good morning, Ruth," Zayn replied with a smile.

The kitchen felt cosy, with the morning sun streaming through the windows and the table being set with plates, cups, and warm bread. Slowly, the space filled with soft voices, with quiet morning conversations, with shy laughter between bites of breakfast.

As the minutes passed, Nicola arrived to join them. She stepped into the kitchen with her hair tied up in a messy bun, yawning softly.

"Good morning," she said, stretching before sitting at the table.

"Good morning, Nic," Liam replied, smiling.

The table was nearly ready when Karen appeared, looking a little more rested but still carrying that worried mother’s gaze. She paused for a moment at the entrance to the kitchen, observing the scene before her. Her son, sitting there, surrounded by family, Zayn at his side—all of them together, sharing a simple breakfast, as if nothing were wrong.

She took a deep breath and forced a smile before stepping forward and sitting next to Geoff.

And then, they had breakfast.

The conversation remained light, revolving around casual topics—the weather, films they wanted to watch together, childhood memories that Ruth always loved to recall. For a while, Liam was able to just listen, to simply be there, without having to think about what the future held.

He wanted to hold onto that moment, that day, that morning. He wanted to collect every laugh, every exchanged glance, every subtle touch of Zayn’s hand against his leg under the table, every piece of that unconditional love his family gave him.

Because, in the end, that was what truly mattered. The love that kept them together.

The table was filled with familiar aromas. The scent of fresh coffee mingled with that of warm bread, butter melting in the pan, and sliced fruit arranged in a dish at the centre. There was a comforting atmosphere in the kitchen, a feeling of belonging, as if they were frozen in a precious moment of normality. Liam took it all in as best as he could, as if he were storing every small detail within himself. He wanted to remember these simple mornings, the way his family gathered without rush, the soft laughter exchanged between sips of tea.

Zayn, seated beside him, stretched slightly to reach for a piece of bread and, as he spread butter over it, cast a meaningful glance at Liam before saying, in a light yet deeply affectionate tone:

"It’s the first day of our holidays, love. What do you want to do?"

The question, so simple at first glance, seemed to halt time for a moment. Liam blinked a few times, lowering his gaze to the cup of tea he held between his fingers. He didn’t have an immediate answer. His first instinct was to say he wanted to travel, that he’d love to leave London, explore somewhere new, feel the sea breeze or wander through a quiet little town in the countryside. But then reality settled in with a bitter weight. He couldn’t simply travel. His surgery was the next day. And everything that would follow was still a vast unknown.

He shrugged, trying not to let too much disappointment seep through.

"I don’t know," he said, his voice slightly hesitant.

Karen, who had remained silent until then, watching her children with the attentive gaze of a mother who always noticed everything, smiled softly. Her hand came to rest over Liam’s, warming it with a simple yet deeply meaningful gesture.

"We can travel later," she said, her voice low and full of tenderness. "To all the places you want."

Liam forced a smile and nodded, but he couldn’t bring himself to say anything. His heart tightened in a way that was difficult to explain. He had always known he was loved. He had always known his family would do anything for him, that Zayn would move heaven and earth to see him happy. But now… now, everything felt different. As if every act of affection carried an invisible weight, as if every kind word was accompanied by a painful silence that no one dared to fill.

They were trying their hardest to make him happy. Trying to make the most of every moment with him. And that hurt. It hurt because every passing second was one second less. Because they all knew it, even if no one said it out loud.

Silence settled for a few moments, and Liam felt that if they continued like this, they would drown in thoughts far too heavy for a breakfast that was meant to be light.

It was Ruth who broke the tension, her bright voice cutting through the atmosphere like a breath of fresh air.

"What if we had a picnic in the park?"

Liam lifted his eyes to her, surprised.

"I think the weather is lovely today," she continued, smiling in a way that was genuinely warm. "We could bring some blankets, prepare some nice food… it’d be a peaceful day outdoors."

Liam blinked a few times, absorbing the idea. And slowly, a genuine smile began to form on his lips. The suggestion was simple, but there was something comforting about it. Spending the day outside, eating delicious food, surrounded by his family and by Zayn… it felt right. It felt perfect.

"I like the idea," he said, his voice sounding more enthusiastic than before.

Ruth clapped her hands lightly, pleased with herself.

"Great! Then it’s settled."

Zayn, who had been quietly observing the exchange with a small smile on his lips, leaned in slightly towards Liam.

"How about you and I go to the market to get the ingredients?" he suggested, his voice low and filled with warmth. "We can make a few recipes together."

Liam felt his heart warm. He loved every second he spent by Zayn’s side.

"I’d love to," he replied without hesitation.

After finishing breakfast and helping tidy up the kitchen, Liam and Zayn set off for the market. The weather was pleasant, the sun shining in the sky without being too hot, and the cool breeze made Liam’s hair shift gently. He liked walking hand in hand with Zayn, liked the way his boyfriend’s thumb traced light, unconscious patterns over his skin.

Upon arriving at the market, they grabbed a trolley and began wandering through the aisles, discussing what they would buy for the picnic. Paul walked a few steps behind them, ensuring their safety while remaining almost invisible, his presence subtle enough not to intrude on their moment.

"We definitely need strawberries," Zayn said, picking up a punnet and placing it in the trolley.

Liam laughed.

"Just because you want to see me all messy with strawberries again?"

Zayn shot him a mischievous look.

"Maybe," he admitted, chuckling.

They continued choosing ingredients together, pausing now and then to debate which type of bread would be best for the sandwiches or which biscuits would pair better with the tea they planned to bring. Liam liked this. He liked the normality of it, the way they could simply be two boys picking out things for a fun day.

At one point, Zayn picked up a jar of Nutella and raised an eyebrow at Liam.

"This is essential, right?"

Liam pretended to think for a moment before shaking his head.

"We don’t need that," he said, trying to keep a serious tone.

Zayn widened his eyes in mock horror.

"Liam James Payne, are you daring to say we don’t need Nutella?"

Liam tried to suppress his laughter but failed completely.

"Alright, alright, put it in the trolley."

Zayn grinned triumphantly and dropped the jar in.

The supermarket was relatively quiet that morning, which was a relief for Zayn and Liam. The shoppers seemed preoccupied with their own purchases, and no one appeared to have noticed that two members of the world’s biggest boyband were there, strolling calmly through the aisles as they filled their trolley with ingredients for the picnic. There was something comforting in the simplicity of the moment—Liam holding a bag of flour in his hands, carefully reading the ingredients, while Zayn, beside him, studied a shelf of chocolate drink powders, pondering which would be the best option.

"How about we make a cake?" Liam’s voice rang out cheerfully, breaking the comfortable silence between them. He reached out, picking up a packet of chocolate cake mix and examining the picture on the packaging with a hungry gleam in his eyes. "This one looks good."

Zayn let out a low chuckle, leaning in to take a look at the packet. "We could make one from scratch, you know? I bet it’d be way better than this ready-made mix." He nudged Liam lightly with his shoulder, smiling. "Besides, you know I like cooking with you."

Liam smiled, but his gaze soon drifted back to the shelf, hesitant. He knew he liked cooking too, but lately, he’d been feeling more tired, more distracted. He didn’t want to admit it, but he was afraid he wouldn’t be able to keep up with Zayn’s pace.

"Yeah… from scratch sounds like a good idea." He nodded, trying to hide his concern.

Zayn noticed the hesitation but didn’t comment on it. He simply picked up a packet of cocoa powder and placed it in the trolley, then wrapped an arm around Liam’s shoulders and pulled him slightly closer. "Let’s get the rest of the ingredients, then."

They continued walking through the market, stopping now and then to pick up eggs, sugar, and milk. But as they moved through the aisles, Liam started to feel a slight dizziness, as if the space around him was subtly shifting. He blinked a few times, trying to ignore the sensation, but everything seemed a little harder to focus on than usual.

"Are you alright?" Zayn asked softly, noticing how Liam had slowed his pace and was gripping the trolley a bit more firmly than before.

"Yeah, yeah… I’m just a bit dizzy." Liam took a deep breath, closing his eyes for a moment before opening them again. "It’ll pass."

Zayn frowned, clearly concerned, but didn’t push. He discreetly took Liam’s hand, squeezing his fingers with gentle reassurance, and kept walking beside him.

Moments later, as they made their way towards the dairy section, they heard an excited voice calling out to them.

"Oh my God, I can’t believe it’s you!"

They both turned to see a young girl, probably in her teens, clutching a phone in her hands with an expression of pure delight. Her face was slightly flushed, her eyes shining with excitement.

"I went to your concert last week—it was incredible!" she continued, beaming at them. "Could I take a picture with you?"

Liam put on a polite smile, trying to ignore the heaviness in his limbs, the fatigue that seemed to worsen with every passing minute. He didn’t want to disappoint anyone.

"Of course, it’d be a pleasure." His voice was kind, though a little quieter than usual.

Zayn, always perceptive, noticed that Liam didn’t seem entirely comfortable, so he stepped a bit closer, staying by his side.

The fan held up her phone, her hands trembling slightly as she positioned herself between them and took a selfie. After checking the photo and smiling in satisfaction, she thanked them repeatedly, gushing about how much she loved them and how much their work meant to her.

"You’ve changed my life," she said, looking directly at Liam. "I hope you know how important you are to us."

The words struck Liam deeply. He swallowed hard, feeling a lump form in his throat. He wanted to say something meaningful in return, but his mind felt clouded. Before he could find the right words, he felt Zayn’s hand gently squeeze his arm.

"It means a lot to hear that," Zayn said with a sincere smile, shifting the attention onto himself, sensing that Liam needed a moment. "Thank you for always being with us."

The girl nodded, radiant, and then said her goodbyes, skipping down the aisle with a little bounce in her step.

Liam let out a heavy sigh as soon as she walked away, bringing a hand to his forehead for a moment.

"Hey…" Zayn called, his voice low and filled with care. He stepped a little closer, his dark eyes full of concern. "Do you want to sit down for a bit?"

Liam hesitated, always trying to hide when something wasn’t right, but he knew Zayn could see straight through him anyway. He gave a small nod.

Zayn spotted a small bench near the bakery section and guided Liam over, helping him sit down. He stood beside him, running his hand over Liam’s back in slow, comforting motions.

"Just breathe," Zayn whispered, feeling his chest tighten at seeing Liam so vulnerable.

Liam took a deep breath, closing his eyes for a few moments. "I’m sorry…"

"Don’t start that." Zayn shook his head, crouching slightly so their eyes were level. "There’s nothing to apologise for."

Liam offered a small, tired smile.

"If you want, I can finish picking up the rest of the things while you wait here," Zayn suggested, always willing to do whatever he could to make things easier for Liam.

But Liam shook his head, determined. "No, I want to finish this with you."

Zayn studied him for a moment, then nodded, respecting his choice. "Alright. Let’s do it together."

He helped Liam stand up slowly, making sure he was steady before letting go completely. With slightly slower steps, they resumed their way through the aisles, side by side, as it should always be.

And, in the end, Liam felt better. Because with Zayn by his side, everything always felt just a little bit easier.

The morning at the market had been tiring, but it was also filled with sweet moments. Zayn and Liam had managed to buy everything they needed for the picnic, despite the small difficulties along the way. Liam was making an effort to keep his spirits up, to not show how much each little task seemed to take a bit more out of him than before. Zayn, always attentive, noticed every detail—the brief moments of hesitation, the way Liam seemed to need an extra second to focus his vision on the product labels, the quiet sigh he let out as he sat on the waiting bench.

Even so, Liam was determined to carry on. He wanted to enjoy the day. He wanted everything to feel normal.

Now, back in the car, the journey home was peaceful. Paul drove with his usual patience, the car’s engine humming softly as they moved through the streets of London. In the back seat, Zayn and Liam sat together, as they always did, as if their bodies naturally gravitated towards each other.

Liam sighed deeply as he settled into the seat, feeling the weight of exhaustion pressing down on him. His head ached slightly—not enough to be unbearable, but present enough to be uncomfortable. He closed his eyes for a moment, feeling the gentle touch of Zayn’s fingers in his hair.

"I love you," Zayn whispered, his lips almost brushing against Liam’s temple. He didn’t want to break the peaceful silence in the car, but he needed to say it.

Liam gave a faint smile and adjusted himself in his seat, seeking more closeness, more warmth. He rested his head on Zayn’s shoulder and closed his eyes again, listening to the steady rhythm of his boyfriend’s heartbeat against his ear.

"I love you too," he murmured back, without opening his eyes.

Zayn kept running his fingers through Liam’s soft hair, letting them slide slowly, feeling how relaxed he was in that moment. Liam’s breathing was calm, his body slightly heavy against his own. Zayn imagined that if the journey lasted a little longer, Liam would probably fall asleep right there, his head fitting perfectly against his shoulder.

But soon, they arrived.

Paul pulled up smoothly at the house’s entrance, switching off the engine before turning around.

"We’re here," he said, keeping his voice low as he noticed how comfortable Liam seemed.

Liam opened his eyes slowly, blinking a few times to adjust to the daylight. Zayn helped him sit up properly and wrapped an arm around his waist as they stepped out of the car.

"I’ll get the bags," Paul said, opening the boot.

Normally, Liam would insist on helping, but his head was still aching, and he knew that if he tried to carry anything now, it would only make things worse. So, for the first time, he didn’t argue. He simply nodded and walked slowly towards the house’s entrance, feeling Zayn’s eyes on him the entire time.

As soon as they stepped inside, they were greeted by the familiar scent of home. Ruth and Nicola were sitting on the sofa, chatting, while Karen finished setting the table in the kitchen. The moment they saw Liam, their gazes immediately turned to him, concern clear on their faces.

"Are you alright, love?" Karen asked, putting down what she was doing and approaching him.

Liam forced a smile.

"Yeah, just a headache."

But he didn’t fool anyone. Everyone in the room exchanged looks, as if silently sharing their worry, but no one pressed him on it.

Liam let out a tired sigh and made his way to the sofa, sinking into it almost instantly. He lay on his side, resting his head against the cushioned armrest, trying to find a comfortable position.

Zayn sat beside him, watching every little movement. Liam was clearly exhausted, and that hurt more than anything else.

"Maybe a nap will help you feel better," Zayn suggested, sliding his fingers over Liam’s hand.

Liam blinked slowly, hesitating.

"I don’t want to sleep the whole day away."

"Just for a bit," Zayn coaxed gently. "Let’s go upstairs, I’ll stay with you."

Liam looked at Zayn for a few seconds before nodding.

"Alright."

Zayn stood up first and held out his hand. Liam took it without hesitation, letting Zayn help him up slowly.

Together, they climbed the stairs.

Liam’s bedroom was a haven of comfort. The place where he always felt safe, where every object held special meaning, where every detail carried a piece of who he was.

Liam went straight to the bed and sat down, rubbing a hand over his eyes.

Zayn stood beside him, watching.

"Do you want me to close the curtains?" he asked.

Liam nodded.

Zayn crossed the room and pulled the curtains shut until the space was darker and cosier. Then he returned to the bed, sitting beside Liam before gently pulling him into his arms.

Liam sighed against Zayn’s chest, allowing himself to fully relax.

"Feeling better?" Zayn asked, his voice low and soft.

Liam didn’t respond immediately. He just squeezed his eyes shut and gave a small nod.

Zayn ran his fingers through Liam’s hair again, an automatic gesture of affection.

"Get some sleep," he whispered.

Liam hesitated, but then he felt the warmth of Zayn’s body around him, the sound of his breathing so close, and everything seemed a little more peaceful.

He closed his eyes.

And, in Zayn’s arms, he drifted off to sleep.

The room was silent, filled only with the soft sound of Liam’s breathing as he slept. Zayn remained lying beside him, watching every detail with quiet tenderness. Liam’s face looked peaceful in that moment, his features relaxed under the dim light of the room. His chest rose and fell in a slow, steady rhythm, bringing Zayn a strange mixture of peace and heartache at the same time.

He wanted to hold onto that moment. He wanted to memorise every curve of Liam’s face, every expression, every slightly tousled strand of hair against the pillow. Because, no matter how hard he tried to push the thought away, he knew their time together was limited. And that hurt more than anything.

Zayn let out a quiet sigh, allowing himself to run his fingers through Liam’s hair one last time before moving carefully. He didn’t want to wake him.

With delicate movements, he pulled the blanket up, tucking it around Liam’s body to make sure he was warm and comfortable. He lingered for a moment, simply watching him, before finally getting up slowly.

The bed creaked slightly with the movement, but Liam didn’t stir.

Zayn smiled faintly, leaning against the headboard for a moment, his eyes still fixed on him.

"I love you," he murmured softly, even though he knew Liam couldn’t hear him in that moment.

Then, with one last glance, he left the room. He closed the door slowly, making no noise, and walked down the corridor, descending the stairs with light steps.

When he reached the kitchen, he was met with the cosy sight of Liam’s family gathered around the counter, preparing the food for the picnic. The scent of fresh bread and freshly cut fruit filled the air, mingling with the soft aroma of freshly brewed coffee.

Karen was organising the ingredients on the counter while Nicola sliced some fruit and Geoff prepared sandwiches. Ruth, meanwhile, was stirring a large bowl of pasta salad, looking focused on the task.

As soon as Zayn entered, everyone lifted their gaze almost at the same time.

"Did he sleep?" Karen asked softly, the concern still evident in her expression.

Zayn nodded.

"Yeah. He’s resting."

There was a brief moment of silence before Karen let out a relieved sigh and returned to what she was doing.

"Good," she said simply.

Zayn walked over to the counter and picked up a knife, joining Nicola to help her with the fruit.

"So, what have we got here?" he asked, glancing around.

Nicola gave a small smile.

"A bit of everything, really. Sandwiches, fruit, juices… I mean, we’re still deciding."

"But you and Liam bought some pretty random things, didn’t you?" Ruth teased, raising an eyebrow at him. "Seriously, Zayn, who buys that much chocolate for a picnic?"

Zayn laughed, shaking his head.

"Liam’s fault," he said, shrugging. "He really wanted a chocolate cake."

Karen smiled at that, a fond look in her eyes.

"Then we’ll make the cake," she said simply. "If he wants it, he deserves it."

Geoff looked at his wife and smiled.

"It’ll be a picnic and afternoon tea at the same time," he joked.

Zayn laughed along with them, feeling a comforting warmth in his chest. He loved this atmosphere, loved how Liam’s family was always so welcoming, so close-knit.

And more than anything, he loved how they did everything to make Liam happy.

As he sliced some strawberries, Zayn found himself thinking about how this moment felt like one of those instances you want to keep forever. The sound of quiet laughter, of voices blending as they chatted about the food, the clatter of utensils against the chopping board, the sweet aroma of the cake beginning to bake in the oven.

It was simple.

It was familiar.

And it was beautiful.

Over time, the food was gradually prepared. The cake was now in the oven, filling the kitchen with the delicious scent of melting chocolate, and the sandwiches and fruit had been carefully arranged in containers and baskets.

Karen had already prepared a large jug of lemonade, while Ruth sorted out the cutlery and cups.

Zayn finished wrapping the last portions of cake and looked at everything they had prepared, satisfied.

"This is looking more like a feast than a picnic," he commented with a smile.

Nicola laughed.

"Well, we don’t know how many ants will show up."

Zayn shook his head, still smiling, and wiped his hands on a kitchen towel before glancing at the clock on the wall.

"Is Liam still asleep?" he asked, more to himself than to the others.

Karen looked towards the stairs.

"I think so. Do you want to go up and check on him?"

Zayn nodded.

"I’ll see if he wants to eat something before we go."

He climbed the stairs slowly, making as little noise as possible. When he reached the bedroom, he opened the door carefully and stepped inside.

Liam was still lying in bed, but his eyes were half-open, blinking slowly.

"Hey," Zayn called softly, approaching.

Liam turned his head towards him and gave a sleepy smile.

"Hey."

Zayn sat on the edge of the bed and ran his fingers gently over Liam’s face.

"How are you feeling?"

Liam sighed, closing his eyes briefly before answering.

"Better," he murmured.

Zayn smiled.

"The cake’s in the oven. Can you smell it?"

Liam gave a faint smile and nodded.

"It’s making me hungry."

"Good," Zayn said. "Come on, we can eat a bit before we head to the picnic."

Liam blinked at him.

"Is everything ready?"

"Almost."

Liam was quiet for a moment before murmuring,

"Help me up?"

Zayn didn’t hesitate. He took Liam’s hand and helped him sit up slowly, steadying him when he needed a few seconds to find his balance.

When Liam finally stood, Zayn placed a gentle hand on his waist.

"Take it slow."

Liam gave a small laugh.

"I’m fine."

Zayn looked at him for a moment before nodding.

"Alright. Let’s go."

And together, they went downstairs.

Liam descended the stairs beside Zayn, feeling much better than before. The rest had helped a little, and now, with the scent of chocolate cake still lingering in the air, he felt an almost childlike hunger growing inside him. He was excited at the thought of the picnic, of spending good time with everyone, far from hospitals, doctors, and tests. Just him, his family, his friends, and Zayn. Before all of this had to change.

As soon as they reached the bottom of the stairs, they heard the front door open, followed by lively voices filling the house.

"Anyone home? We’ve brought treats!" Louis’ unmistakable voice echoed through the room, carrying a lightness that felt almost rehearsed.

Liam smiled instantly.

"In the kitchen!" he called back, as he and Zayn made their way there.

As they turned the corner, they found Louis, Niall, and Harry entering, laden with bags. Paddy was right behind them, helping carry a few as well.

The trio seemed cheerful, smiling, joking among themselves, and Liam noticed nothing out of the ordinary. But Zayn… Zayn did. He always did.

The light in their eyes was slightly dimmer, their smiles carried a subtle weight, their laughter was a little forced. They were there, happy to be together, happy to see Liam well and in good spirits, but they were also broken inside. Zayn could feel it, could see the way Harry avoided looking at Liam for too long, how Niall pressed his lips together every time he glanced at him, and how Louis exaggerated his enthusiasm, as if trying to convince himself that this moment didn’t hurt.

But Liam, unaware of it all, simply smiled at them.

"You came!" he said, genuine happiness lighting up his face.

"Of course we did!" Niall said, walking over to hug him, holding the bags in just one hand. "I thought you knew by now you wouldn’t get rid of us that easily."

Liam laughed and pulled him into a tighter hug.

"Not that I’d want to get rid of you."

Louis appeared beside them, giving Liam’s shoulder a light slap.

"Better not."

Liam laughed again, and then Harry hugged him too.

"How are you?" Harry asked quietly.

"Good," Liam replied sincerely.

And it was true. In that moment, he really did feel good.

Karen, who had just finished organising a few things in the kitchen, smiled at the sight of the boys there.

"You arrived just in time. We’re finishing up packing the baskets for the picnic."

"Then we came prepared!" Louis said, lifting the bags. "We’ve got snacks, juices, biscuits, and a few other surprises."

Liam helped carry some of the bags to the table, where Ruth and Nicola were finishing wrapping up the food. As he opened one of them, his eyes immediately landed on the chocolate cake they had baked earlier.

"This looks amazing," he said, already feeling his mouth water.

"It was your idea, so of course it looks amazing," Zayn commented beside him.

Liam smiled.

Everyone began organising the items, arranging the food in the baskets and making sure nothing was left behind. Liam felt a genuine joy in being there, surrounded by everyone he loved. His parents, his sisters, his best friends, his boyfriend.

And, for a moment, he forgot about everything that was happening.

He forgot about the surgery scheduled for the next day.

He forgot about the invisible weight everyone carried because of him.

He even forgot about the mild headache that still lingered.

In that instant, he was just Liam, and he was happy.

The weather was perfect for a picnic. The sky was a vibrant blue, speckled here and there with soft white clouds drifting lazily in the gentle morning breeze. The sun was warm but not harsh, and the trees around the park swayed lightly, casting cool shadows over the well-kept grass. The scent of earth, flowers, and the nearby lake carried a tranquillity that was almost melancholic, but in that moment, they chose to focus only on the good part of the day.

The journey to the park was relatively short but filled with lively energy, even though a faint trace of tension hung in the air—too subtle to be mentioned. Since the group was large, they had to split into two cars: Liam, Zayn, Karen, and Geoff rode with Paddy, while Louis, Niall, Harry, Nicola, and Ruth went in the car driven by Paul. Along the way, they chatted about random things—the songs playing on the radio, funny tour memories, future plans which, no matter how uncertain, were still worth dreaming about.

Liam, seated in the back next to Zayn, gazed out of the window as the car moved, absorbing the scenery with a soft smile on his face. He liked that feeling of normality, of just going to a picnic with the people he loved, with no rush, no greater concerns beyond which juice flavour he would choose first when they arrived. It was comfortable and, for a moment, almost possible to forget everything that had been happening.

Almost.

But the cracks were there.

Small, yet present.

The way Liam sometimes took just a little longer to respond when someone asked him a question. The subtle furrow of his brow when he tried to remember a specific word. The way he blinked a few times before fully processing a conversation and engaging with it.

Zayn noticed. He always noticed.

But he said nothing.

Instead, he simply took Liam’s hand, intertwining their fingers and giving a gentle squeeze—a silent gesture of support. Liam looked at him, his smile widening slightly, and then turned his head to rest against Zayn’s shoulder.

The journey continued like that, peaceful and quiet for a few minutes, until they finally arrived at the park. The other car was already there when Paddy parked, and as soon as they stepped out, Louis waved enthusiastically from a distance.

"Finally! I thought you lot had changed your minds and were going to leave us here with all the food!"

Liam laughed, shaking his head.

"I’d never do that. You’d starve in five minutes."

"Exactly!" Louis placed his hands on his hips, feigning indignation. "You can’t deprive me of food."

The lighthearted mood helped distract everyone. They headed towards a more secluded part of the park, away from the curious eyes of strangers. They chose a grassy spot beneath the shade of a large, sturdy tree, its branches stretching out like protective arms over them. The breeze there was even cooler, and the distant sound of children’s laughter and birds singing created a perfect setting.

They began setting everything up.

Zayn and Harry spread out the blankets on the grass, ensuring there was enough space for everyone to sit comfortably. Karen and Geoff started unpacking the baskets, arranging the sandwiches, snacks, fruits, and sweets so that everything was easily accessible. Nicola and Ruth handed out cups and bottles of juice, while Niall was already helping himself to a biscuit, not even waiting for everything to be ready.

Liam was helping unpack some of the food containers when he suddenly felt a slight dizziness.

It was quick, just a moment. A second of imbalance, a brief darkening of his vision that soon passed.

But Zayn saw.

He always saw.

Without saying a word, Zayn stepped closer and took the basket from Liam’s hands.

"Why don’t you sit down for a bit?" he suggested, his tone so casual that it could have gone unnoticed by anyone—except Liam, who knew every nuance of Zayn’s voice.

Liam hesitated for a moment but then nodded, sitting down on the blanket next to Louis, who immediately handed him a sandwich.

"Do you need anything?" Zayn asked, crouching in front of him.

Liam smiled and shook his head.

"I’m fine. I just need a minute."

Zayn didn’t look entirely convinced, but he didn’t push.

They continued setting everything up until, finally, everything was ready, and they all sat together to enjoy the picnic. The sunlight filtered through the tree’s leaves, casting dappled patterns of light and shadow over the group, and for a while, everything felt... right.

"So," Louis began, grabbing a piece of cake. "We’ve got something important to discuss here."

"Oh yeah?" Niall raised an eyebrow. "What’s that?"

"Where we’re going on holiday once Liam’s feeling better."

Everyone turned to Liam, whose eyes widened slightly in surprise.

"I…" He hesitated for a moment, glancing around at the smiling faces of his family and friends.

He knew they were trying to keep the mood light, trying to focus on the future, trying to make him believe there was still so much left to live for.

But it was hard.

He wanted to believe.

He really did.

And looking at Zayn, who was holding his hand without letting go for even a second, Liam decided he would.

He decided he would allow himself to dream.

"Iceland," he said at last. "I’ve always wanted to go there with you lot."

Louis clapped his hands.

"Then that’s it! Once you’re better, we’re going to Iceland!"

"Don’t you think you’re getting ahead of yourselves?" Liam chuckled, slightly self-conscious.

"Of course not," Nicola smiled. "It’s good to have plans."

Zayn squeezed his hand.

"And we’ll make them happen."

Liam looked at him, at the certainty shining in his eyes, and decided he wanted to believe that too.

The day was beautiful. The sun hung high in the sky, radiating warmth but never excessively, as if it knew it ought to be gentle that morning. The wind blew softly through the trees, making the leaves dance in a silent ballet, casting shifting shadows over the fresh grass. The scent of earth mingled with the sweet aroma of wildflowers, creating a tranquil, almost ethereal atmosphere. In the background, the distant sound of children’s laughter filled the air with a sense of normality—something simple and pure.

Liam wanted to hold onto that.

Seated on the blanket spread over the grass, he looked around, trying to mentally capture every detail of the scene. The way Louis gestured dramatically while telling a story that most likely involved one of Niall’s clumsy antics. Ruth’s loud laughter as she tried to argue with Karen about some recipe. The subtle smile on Geoff’s face as he watched his family gathered together. The relaxed way Zayn sat beside him, absentmindedly playing with the loose threads of the blanket, lost in thoughts Liam didn’t need to ask about to understand.

He knew that look.

There was something about Zayn that always carried a quiet worry, no matter how much he tried to hide it. As if he were always on alert, ready to step in at the slightest sign that something was wrong. As if he knew that the time they had was too fragile, too precious, and he didn’t want to waste a single second. Liam understood. He felt the same.

But he didn’t want to think about that now.

Because, despite everything, he was happy.

There was something magical about being there, surrounded by those he loved, eating food he adored, feeling the warmth of the sun on his skin and listening to the gentle sound of the wind passing through the tree branches. It was one of those moments he wished he could bottle up, store inside himself to relive later, when things got difficult.

And he knew they would.

He knew that day wouldn’t last forever, just as he knew his condition wouldn’t allow him to collect many more moments like this. But what if he pretended, just for today? What if he allowed himself to believe that the world was on pause and that this day could repeat itself indefinitely, without anything ever having to change?

He liked that idea.

He closed his eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath, absorbing everything around him. The scent of fresh fruit laid out on the blanket. The sound of paper tearing as someone opened a packet of biscuits. The feeling of Zayn’s hand brushing lightly against his, almost unintentionally, as if making sure he was still there.

Yes.

He wanted this to last forever.

But he knew it wouldn’t.

Beneath the lightness of the moment, there was an underlying layer of melancholy that no one dared to mention. It was in the subtle gestures, in the way everyone looked at him a little more than usual, as if trying to memorise every one of his expressions. It was in how his family and friends laughed just a little louder, spoke with just a bit more enthusiasm, as if they were trying to make this day as special as possible.

And Liam noticed.

He caught the exchanged glances when he took a little longer to process a conversation. He noticed how his mother handed him a glass of water without him asking, just in case. He saw how Louis, who had always been carefree and playful, now looked at him with a kind of quiet tenderness he didn’t usually show.

He noticed everything.

And yet, he still preferred to believe it was just an ordinary day.

He preferred to believe that nothing was different, that this was simply a happy moment that could be repeated as many times as they wished, that there was no countdown silently ticking away in the background.

Because the alternative was far more painful.

So Liam kept smiling.

He kept listening to Niall’s funny stories, watching Zayn idly play with the grass, feeling the warm touch of the sun on his skin.

He knew that day wouldn’t last forever.

But for now, he chose to believe that it would.

Chapter Text

The day dawned shrouded in a thin mist, as if the world around it was hesitant, holding its breath. The sky, once a vibrant blue in the days before, now stretched out in a heavy shade of grey, mirroring the invisible weight that hung over the Payne household. The air was dense, laden with a silent tension, as if every particle around them understood the gravity of this moment.

Liam woke slowly, his eyes blinking a few times before finally adjusting to the dim light of the room. He felt the steady breathing beside him, the warmth of a body close to his, and he knew Zayn was still there. He had probably not slept much—perhaps not at all. It was hard to tell, but Liam did not need to look to know. He knew Zayn too well not to notice the restlessness that had consumed him over the past few weeks.

But now was not the time to get lost in those thoughts.

The day had arrived.

It was a marker. A divide between what had been and what was yet to come. The surgery represented a new stage, an inevitable change, a promise of a fight, but also an agonising uncertainty. Everyone clung to hope, trying to believe that everything would be all right, but no one dared to say aloud what came with that belief—the fear, the fragility of what was beyond their control.

Liam took a deep breath before sitting up. The cold floor met his feet, and he allowed himself to stay there for a moment, feeling the solidity of the wood beneath him, trying to anchor himself to reality. There was something strange about realising how everything around him remained the same while his life seemed to be turning upside down. The room still carried the same familiar scent, the furniture was still arranged in the same way, the clothes were still folded in the same corner. Nothing there betrayed the storm unfolding within him and around him.

He heard movement in the hallway. Hesitant footsteps, muffled voices. His family was already awake. Of course, they would be. No one had truly slept that night. The silence that filled the house was almost oppressive, and Liam knew that behind every closed door was someone trying to deal with their own thoughts, their own emotions, searching for a way to face the day without letting fear take over completely.

Getting ready to leave was a quiet, methodical process. Liam showered, feeling the warm water glide over his skin, but his mind was elsewhere. He dressed slowly, as if absorbing every detail of a routine that, somehow, felt different today. When he went downstairs, he found his family in the kitchen.

The atmosphere was quiet, but it was not the kind of comfortable silence that sometimes filled the early morning hours. It was a heavy silence, filled with exchanged glances, careful gestures, as if any sudden movement might shatter the fragile balance of that moment. Karen was busy preparing something on the stove, even though no one was truly hungry. Geoff held a cup of coffee, but he did not seem to be drinking it. Ruth and Nicola sat at the table, eyes lowered, absentmindedly playing with small pieces of bread they had no real intention of eating.

Zayn stood by the counter, arms crossed, observing everything in silence.

They were together, yet at the same time, each of them seemed trapped in their own bubble of thoughts, trying to find a way to process the day without completely falling apart.

And Liam knew they were doing it for him.

The attempt at normality, the effort to keep the routine, to act as if this were just another ordinary day—it was all for him. Because they knew he needed it. He needed stability, a sense of control, however small.

He appreciated it more than he could express.

But it hurt, too.

Because he saw it in their eyes. He saw the fear, the hidden worry, the attempt to keep up appearances. And it reminded him, more than anything else, that there was no longer any pretending that nothing was happening.

Reality was here.

Inescapable.

The drive to the hospital was just as silent. The car moved through the streets of London, the world outside continuing as normal, as if nothing had changed. People hurried along the pavements, children crossed streets holding their parents' hands, shops opened their doors for another day of business. Everything seemed so absurdly normal that it was almost cruel.

Inside the car, however, the atmosphere was entirely different.

Liam stared out of the window, watching the scenes pass before his eyes, feeling the weight of the inevitability of this moment. The hospital was not an unfamiliar destination—he had been there before, had gone through consultations, tests, medical discussions that had gradually shaped the reality he now faced. But this time was different. This time, it was final.

When they arrived, no one moved immediately. There was a moment of hesitation, an instant in which everyone seemed to need a few seconds to gather their strength before stepping out of the car. Geoff was the first to move, followed by Karen, and then, one by one, they all stepped out—until only Liam and Zayn remained inside.

There was a brief exchange of silent understanding between them.

Zayn said nothing—he did not need to. His eyes conveyed everything Liam needed to know. There was fear there, yes. There was anguish. But there was also love. There was the promise that he would be there, no matter what happened.

And that was enough.

Liam took a deep breath and opened the door.

The hospital had a distinct smell—antiseptic, cold, faintly metallic. The walls were white, the floor reflected the artificial light in a way that felt almost too clinical. Everything was clean, organised, standardised. But no matter how many times Liam had been there, he would never fully grow used to it.

The reception was swift. They had been expected. The procedures were explained once more, and Liam listened carefully, trying to absorb every word, even as his mind insisted on drifting. The protocol was clear. He would be prepared for surgery, go through the pre-operative steps, receive the anaesthesia, and then…

Then, he would fade away.

And when he woke up, everything would have changed.

He was not sure how he felt about that.

The wait was long, yet at the same time, it felt far too short. Time seemed to be playing tricks on him, the minutes stretching and then slipping away too quickly, leaving him suspended in a strange limbo.

When the moment finally arrived, Liam looked around, absorbing the familiar faces surrounding him. His family, his friends, Zayn. All of them there, holding their breath with him.

The hospital room was silent, but it was not a peaceful silence. It was heavy, dense, filled with expectation and fear. Liam sat on the bed, already dressed in the pale blue hospital gown. His hands rested on the white sheets, fingers intertwined, as if holding onto each other to keep from trembling. He tried to keep his expression neutral, wanting to appear strong for his family, for his friends, for Zayn. But inside, he felt a tight knot in his chest, as if the very air was against him.

Dr Morgan entered the room at that moment, accompanied by a nurse holding a clipboard. He wore a crisp white coat and had a calm expression, trained to inspire confidence, even in moments like this. He was a tall man, his features severe, but his voice was gentle as he spoke.

"Good morning, everyone. I know you're all nervous, so I’ll go over the procedure once more, step by step, to ensure there are no doubts."

There was a tense silence in the room as everyone braced themselves to listen.

"Liam’s tumour, a glioblastoma, is located in the frontal lobe. It’s an aggressive tumour, as you know, but our aim today is to remove as much of it as possible. The surgery will be performed under general anaesthesia and will last between four and six hours, depending on what we find. We will perform a craniotomy, meaning we will open a portion of the skull to access the tumour. Once inside, we will remove as much of the tumour tissue as possible, taking great care not to compromise the healthy areas around it."

Liam swallowed hard. He had heard this before, but hearing it again, now so close to the surgery, made it all feel more real.

"We know that glioblastoma has a high recurrence rate, but removing as much as we can now will give Liam more time and a better chance of responding to complementary treatment, which may include radiotherapy and chemotherapy. After the surgery, he will remain in intensive care for at least 24 hours for monitoring. Depending on his progress, he will then be moved to a ward and will be able to begin physiotherapy and other aspects of his recovery."

The word "recovery" felt strange to Liam. He wanted to believe that it meant everything would be fine, but part of him knew the road ahead was uncertain.

Karen was the first to speak, her voice thick with emotion.

"What are the risks?"

Dr Morgan nodded slightly, as if he had expected the question.

"As with any brain surgery, there are risks involved. We may have to deal with brain swelling, bleeding, infections. Additionally, since the tumour is in the frontal lobe, there is a chance of cognitive impacts, such as changes in memory, personality, difficulties with speech or reasoning. However, every patient responds differently, and our team is fully prepared to provide all the necessary support for his recovery."

The room grew even quieter. Everyone seemed to hold their breath at the same time.

Liam closed his eyes for a moment, trying to take it all in. He already knew the risks, but hearing them spoken aloud, at that moment, made his heart beat faster.

It was Zayn who broke the silence, his voice soft yet steady.

"And the chances of success? I mean... what determines whether this surgery is successful?"

Dr Morgan looked at him for a moment before replying.

"Our primary objective is to remove as much of the tumour as possible without compromising essential brain functions. If we achieve that, we can consider the surgery a success. But, as I said, glioblastoma has a high recurrence rate, so ongoing follow-up is crucial."

Liam let out a long breath, trying to steady his own heartbeat.

Gothel, the nurse who had been with them for months, stepped forward with a gentle smile. She was a familiar presence, someone who always tried to lighten the weight of appointments and procedures.

"It’s going to be all right, Liam," she said with the same calm reassurance she always carried. "You’re strong. You’re surrounded by people who love you and by a team that’s ready. We’ll get through this together."

Liam smiled, a small but sincere smile.

He felt Zayn squeeze his hand discreetly, and that was enough to help him breathe a little easier.

The next moment was filled with goodbyes.

Karen was the first to lean in, cupping her son's face in her hands and pressing a lingering kiss to his forehead.

"We love you so much, my love. We’ll be here the whole time."

Geoff only nodded, trying to maintain his composure, but the brightness in his eyes said everything.

Ruth and Nicola embraced him together, their faces buried in his shoulder for a long moment before whispering words of encouragement.

Louis, Niall, and Harry followed.

"It’s going to be all right, Li," Niall murmured, squeezing his shoulder. "We’ll stuff you with food as soon as you can eat again."

"You’re the strongest guy I know," Louis said, trying to smile, though there was an almost imperceptible tremor in his voice.

"We’re with you, brother," Harry added, his expression serious but full of warmth.

At last, Zayn leaned in close, his eyes locked on Liam’s.

There were no words between them in that moment. There was no need. Liam knew. He knew everything Zayn wanted to say. Everything he was feeling.

And that was enough.

He squeezed his boyfriend’s hand one last time before finally allowing the medical team to take him.

As the doors closed behind him, the world seemed to pause for an instant.

And then, everything fell silent.

The hospital was behind them, but the tension remained lodged in Zayn’s chest like a stone sinking into a deep ocean. He sat in the back seat of the car, his head resting against the window, watching the city pass by in grey, unfocused blurs. The overcast sky did nothing to help—it seemed to mirror his emotional state perfectly. Not a single ray of sunlight managed to pierce through the heavy clouds hanging over London that morning.

Beside him, Louis idly fiddled with the zip of his jacket, his eyes fixed on the street without really seeing anything. In the other corner, Niall drummed his fingers against his knee, a nervous tic that always surfaced when he was anxious. Harry, in the passenger seat, sat with his arms crossed, his gaze lost on the road ahead. None of them spoke. The silence between them was almost tangible, thick enough to be felt in the air they breathed.

Paul was driving, with Paddy in the front seat. They had been assigned the task of getting them out of the hospital and taking them to the studio. Management wanted them at that meeting, whether they wanted to be there or not. Not that any of them truly cared about the band’s future at that moment—Liam’s future was the only one that mattered. But what they thought or wanted didn’t change the fact that they were there, following orders.

Zayn hated it.

He hated how, even now, the band still came first. Hated how management couldn’t, even for a second, just let them breathe, just let them be where they truly wanted to be. He wanted to be at the hospital. Wanted to be sitting in the waiting room, holding Karen and Geoff’s hands, sharing in their anxiety. Wanted to be near Nicola and Ruth, wanted to feel like he was standing beside Liam’s family—because, in a way, they were his family too. But instead, he was trapped in that damned car, on his way to a meeting that meant absolutely nothing to him at that moment.

The drive to the studio was quick, but to Zayn, it felt like an eternity. When they finally arrived, he was the first to get out of the car, shutting the door with more force than necessary. The other three followed, still silent, and together they walked through the entrance of the building, where they were met by a production assistant who led them to the meeting room.

As soon as they stepped inside, they found three people already waiting—two of the band’s managers and a representative from the record label. All of them were seated, their expressions cold and professional, as if this meeting were just another item on a long list of bureaucratic obligations.

Zayn felt his stomach turn.

Did they not know what was happening? Did they not realise that Liam, at that very moment, was lying on an operating table while surgeons opened his skull to remove a malignant tumour? How could they just sit there, with papers and contracts spread across the table, pretending that everything was normal?

He felt Louis shift uncomfortably beside him. Niall crossed his arms, and Harry simply sighed, running a hand through his hair.

“Take a seat,” one of the managers said, gesturing towards the chairs around the table.

None of them moved immediately.

It was Louis who broke the silence first, his voice laced with irony.

“Right. Let’s all pretend we’re in the mood for this and act like it’s just another day.”

The manager sighed, as if he had been expecting that reaction.

“We understand that you’re going through a difficult time,” he began, carefully choosing his words. “But we also need to think about the band’s future. What happens from here?”

Zayn felt anger bubbling inside him. He didn’t want to be here. He didn’t want to talk about this. He didn’t want to decide anything right now. He wanted to shout that none of it mattered, that nothing would matter until Liam was all right.

But instead, he just clenched his fists and forced himself to take a deep breath.

“What happens now?” Louis repeated, letting out a humourless laugh. “What happens is that our friend is in a high-risk surgery, and the last thing we want to do is sit here and plan the band’s next steps.”

The label representative leaned forward, lacing his fingers together on the table.

“And if Liam can’t continue?”

The question hung in the air like a punch to the gut.

Zayn felt his breath falter.

He knew it was a possibility. He knew there were no guarantees about what would happen after this surgery. But hearing someone say it out loud, so casually, as if they were merely discussing numbers and contracts, made something inside him break.

“Then we don’t continue,” Harry said firmly, speaking for the first time. “Not without him.”

The managers exchanged glances.

“The band has commitments,” one of them said, in a tone that clearly left no room for argument. “Scheduled shows, signed contracts, audience expectations—a nearly finished album. We know Liam is irreplaceable, but we need a plan. If he needs more time to recover, we can postpone some dates. If he can’t come back…”

Zayn felt his blood boil.

“You want a plan?” he interrupted, his voice louder than he had intended. “Here’s the plan: we wait. We give Liam all the time he needs. We stop this ridiculous conversation and accept that the band does not—and never will —come before him.”

The room fell into silence.

Paul and Paddy watched the exchange without saying a word, but Zayn noticed the hint of pride in their eyes—because they knew he was right.

Niall let out a long breath before speaking.

“If you think we’re just going to move on without him, then you don’t know us.”

Louis nodded, crossing his arms.

“The band stays together, or it doesn’t stay at all.”

The air inside the meeting room grew heavier. Not that it hadn’t been before, but now it was different. Now, it was thick with a palpable tension, a raw indignation that burned inside the four boys like fire in a storm.

The managers stared at the furious faces before them, perhaps expecting them to simply accept those cold words as unquestionable truths. But they wouldn’t. Not this time.

“You can’t think like that,” one of the managers began, his voice laced with a false patience, as if explaining something obvious to a group of stubborn children. “Liam’s diagnosis is terminal. He probably won’t want to return to the stage in his final moments. But you four can.”

It was a sentence spoken with such casual ease that it made it seem as though they were discussing the replacement of just another band member, just another musician—and not talking about a life. About Liam’s life.

Harry was the first to break.

“Can you stop talking like that?” His voice was deep, the fury evident in every word. “Stop talking as if Liam is nothing? As if he’s just one of five puppets you use to make money?”

The manager raised his eyebrows, surprised by the outburst of anger.

Niall shook his head in disbelief and laughed, but it was a humourless laugh, a bitter sound that only amplified the pain growing inside him.

“You’re talking about his life,” he said, his blue eyes burning with frustration. “The life of our best friend. And you’re reducing it to nothing.”

Zayn clenched his fists, his fingers practically digging into his own skin, his chest rising and falling with uneven breaths.

“You’re heartless,” he growled, his voice lower but dripping with venom, none of which they bothered to conceal. “You only care about money. You’re cold. Selfish.”

Louis leaned forward, placing his hands on the table, his piercing blue eyes locking onto the managers across from him.

“The band isn’t just five boys you can swap out whenever you please,” he said, his voice carrying a defiant edge. “The band is the five of us. If it’s not all five, then there is no band.”

The silence that followed was deafening.

The managers didn’t like hearing that. It was evident in their tight expressions, in the rigid glances they exchanged. They were used to being in control, used to setting the rules, making decisions without being questioned.

But this time, they were facing something different.

They were facing four boys who weren’t willing to swallow it.

“This isn’t a simple choice,” one of them said, crossing his arms. “The band doesn’t belong solely to you. There are contracts. There are commitments.”

“And there is a life at stake,” Zayn shot back without hesitation.

“You think you can just stop everything for one member?” Another manager interjected, and now his tone no longer carried that forced patience. Now, he sounded irritated, as if he believed he was dealing with an unnecessary problem.

Louis let out a dry, disbelieving laugh.

“You still don’t get it, do you?” he said. “He’s not just a member. He’s Liam.”

The room fell silent once more.

The only audible sound was the ticking of the clock on the wall, marking the passage of time in an almost cruel way.

No one wanted to be there.

Niall rubbed his temples, closing his eyes for a moment. He didn’t want to waste energy arguing with those managers—not when all his energy should have been focused on Liam. But they weren’t leaving them any choice.

Harry ran a hand through his hair, taking a deep breath before addressing the man who kept insisting on contracts and obligations.

“Let’s make something very clear,” he said, his voice more controlled but still unwavering. “If Liam needs time, the band stops. It doesn’t matter what you want, it doesn’t matter what the label wants, it doesn’t matter what’s written in a contract. If Liam can’t come back, the band doesn’t come back.”

The managers exchanged glances.

They knew they had hit a wall.

It was rare—very rare—for the boys to stand together so firmly against management. Over the years, they had learned to pick their battles, to compromise when necessary, to bite their tongues for the sake of the group’s harmony. But this battle was different. This battle was about Liam.

And when it came to Liam, there were no compromises.

The lead manager let out a long sigh, rubbing his temple as if dealing with a headache.

“Fine,” he said at last. “We’ll postpone everything for now.”

None of the four fully relaxed.

It was a temporary victory.

But for now, it was enough.

Zayn felt the tension in his shoulders, the exhaustion settling into his muscles, but he kept his stance firm. He cast one last look at the managers, ensuring they understood the message.

Then, without another word, he turned and walked out of the room. Zayn left the room without looking back. Anger was boiling in his veins, making his heart pound against his ribs. He needed to get out of there before he said or did something that went too far—further than he already had. He knew the managers were already irritated enough, that they saw him as a problem, and he didn’t need to give them any more reasons to think that way.

But honestly? He didn’t care. He pulled his phone from his pocket, his thumb already poised to dial Karen or Geoff’s number. He needed to know how Liam was.

Nothing else mattered.

Inside the room, the three remaining boys watched as Zayn stormed out, uncertain whether they should go after him or take a moment to process the situation. They exchanged glances, and Louis, who would normally be the first to run after a friend when he saw them like that, seemed torn. He wanted to go. But before any of them could move, one of the managers cleared his throat, drawing their attention back to the meeting.

“We need to discuss the official statement for the fans.”

The air in the room shifted.

What had once been a confrontation between the boys and management became something more delicate. Because, even though everyone there shared the same enemy in that moment, there was a crucial difference between the two sides: the managers only saw the fans as numbers. To Harry, Niall, and Louis, they were so much more than that.

The fans were part of their story. Part of what they had built over all those years.

And unlike management, the three of them knew that the fans weren’t to blame for the mess happening behind the scenes.

Louis was the first to sigh, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Okay,” he said, his tone more tired than angry. “Let’s hear it.”

The lead manager nodded, satisfied to finally have their attention, and began explaining how they planned to handle the announcement.

The band would be going on hiatus.

They would announce that it was a collective decision, that they wanted some time to rest, to relax, to explore personal projects. They would say it was just a break, a hiatus, a well-earned rest after so many years of hard work, and that in eighteen months, they would return with renewed energy.

It was a lie.

And they knew it.

But Liam’s family—and Liam himself—had been very clear: they didn’t want his illness exposed to the public. They didn’t want pitying looks, speculation, tabloids turning Liam’s life into a tragic spectacle.

So the boys listened to management’s proposal, swallowing the anger still burning inside them, and nodded.

Harry picked up a piece of paper and a pen from the table and began drafting a statement.

Niall, beside him, leaned in to read over his shoulder, suggesting small changes. Louis, though impatient to get out of there, also contributed, tweaking a few words, making adjustments until the text felt right.

Right.

They had never felt less certain about anything in their lives.

But the statement had to sound sincere, had to seem natural, something the fans would accept without suspecting that something was wrong.

In the end, the text read:

“ After three incredible years together, we feel that the time has come for a break. We want to take some time to rest, to explore other passions, and, more than anything, to return with even more energy for everything that’s ahead.

This is not a goodbye. We’ll be back before you know it.

Thank you for everything, always. 

With love, Liam, Louis, Zayn, Niall and Harry xx”

Simple.

Straightforward.

Deceptive .

Louis stared at the words for a few seconds before letting out a frustrated sigh and pushing the paper across the table.

“It’s done,” he said, his voice low.

Harry ran his hands through his hair, his eyes fixed on the statement.

“It hurts,” he murmured.

The other two looked at him.

Harry didn’t need to explain. They understood.

The last line said this wasn’t a goodbye. But they knew it was.

They knew One Direction wouldn’t return, that this hiatus wasn’t just a hiatus, and that the eighteen-month break was, in truth, a cover for something far more final.

It was the end, but they couldn’t say that. They simply couldn’t look at the fans who had been by their side from day one and say, “That’s it. It’s over.”

They couldn’t do that to them. They couldn’t do that to Liam, least of all.

So they wrote a nice statement, to be posted on social media, and let the whole world believe the lie they had told.

And the three remaining boys, sitting in the meeting room, reading it on their phones, felt a crushing weight on their chests.

Louis was the first to stand.

“I need to get out of here,” he said, his voice hoarse.

Niall and Harry got up almost at the same time, all three of them knowing that this meeting was officially over. They didn’t want to be there. They didn’t want to think about contracts, numbers, press statements.

They just wanted to go back to the hospital, back to Liam.

That was the only thing that mattered now.

The studio door clicked shut behind them, muffled and final, but none of the four felt truly free as they stepped outside. The meeting was over, the decisions had been made, but their weight still lingered on each of their shoulders like an unwelcome shadow, impossible to ignore.

The cold air outside enveloped them the moment they stepped onto the pavement, but none of them complained. On the contrary, the change in temperature was a fleeting relief, as if the biting wind might carry away at least some of the tension they had been carrying since the moment they walked into that room.

And then, there he was.

Zayn was waiting, leaning against the side of the car, arms crossed over his chest, his expression tight. He no longer looked as furious as he had when he’d stormed out of the meeting in the middle of the argument, but whatever he was feeling was still there, evident in the rigid set of his posture, in the restless glint in his eyes.

When he saw them approaching, Zayn straightened, pushing himself away from the car.

“What is it?” Louis asked immediately, his heart picking up speed.

“Any news on Liam?” Harry added, already bracing himself for the worst.

Zayn sighed, running his hands over his face before answering.

“I just spoke to Ruth,” he said. “He’s still in surgery.”

For a moment, no one spoke.

They shouldn’t have been this worried—Dr Morgan had been very clear about the estimated surgery time. Four to six hours. They knew that. They were aware that not even half that time had passed yet. But even so…

It was impossible to ignore the tightness in their chests, the knot in their throats, the anxiety growing with every minute that passed without concrete news.

Niall was the first to sigh, raking a hand through his blond hair, messing it up even more.

“Feels like it’s been days,” he murmured.

And they all agreed.

The waiting was agonising.

It didn’t matter how many times they tried to distract themselves, how many times they reminded themselves that everything was going as expected—the truth was, every second felt like an eternity.

Zayn looked at each of them, sensing the tension still hanging thick in the air between them. He hesitated for a moment before asking,

“And the meeting?”

No one answered immediately.

Louis exchanged a glance with Harry, who looked at Niall, who only sighed and shoved his hands into the pockets of his coat.

“We postponed everything,” Louis was the one who finally responded, his voice devoid of emotion. “All commitments. There’s nothing scheduled for the next few months.”

Zayn nodded slowly, unsurprised.

“And we made the hiatus announcement,” Harry added, his voice sounding more bitter than he had intended.

Zayn looked up at him, waiting for him to continue.

“We haven’t posted it yet,” Niall explained. “It’ll go out at the end of the week.”

Zayn crossed his arms again, his jaw tightening slightly.

He knew it was the right thing to do. He knew there was no other option. But even so, hearing them say it out loud made it feel more real, more final.

Zayn looked at Louis. “What did you say?”

“That we needed a break,” Louis replied. “That it was a joint decision. That we want to explore personal projects and rest for a while.”

Zayn let out a dry, humourless laugh.

“And, of course,” Harry added, his voice dripping with irony, “that we’ll be back.”

The silence that followed was heavy because they knew—it was a lie, and One Direction wasn’t coming back.

But what else could they say?

They couldn’t just tell the fans the truth. They couldn’t expose Liam like that, turn his life and his illness into a public spectacle for the tabloids to exploit.

Liam’s family had been very clear about that, and so had Liam himself.

And so, all they could do was lie.

Zayn sighed, closing his eyes for a brief moment before nodding.

“It’s the best we could do,” he murmured.

And they all knew he was right, but that didn’t make any of it easier.

The cool afternoon breeze carried a distant scent of rain, the sky still covered in grey clouds that had not dissipated since the morning. The studio, its glass walls reflecting the surroundings, felt oppressive even from the outside. The silence between them was not exactly comfortable, but no one made an effort to break it.

Zayn, Louis, Harry, and Niall remained standing there, near the car, still digesting everything that had happened. The hiatus announcement, the way they had to hide the truth, the feeling that they were betraying their own fans—it was all a heavy burden to bear. But the worst part was the uncertainty. They still had no concrete news about Liam, and every second of waiting only fuelled the anxiety burning inside them.

Paul finally approached, his expression as neutral as possible, though his eyes carried a silent understanding. He knew how unbearable this wait was for them, knew that all they wanted was to get back to the hospital as quickly as possible.

“Let’s go,” he said, his voice low, without its usual professional rigidity.

They all nodded almost simultaneously, yet none of them moved right away. Only when Paul unlocked the car doors did they start to stir, one by one, finally ready to leave that place behind.

And that was when they heard it.

The voices were not loud, but they carried that unmistakable excitement they knew so well.

“Oh my God, is that Zayn?”

“It’s them! Oh my God, it’s them!”

They turned at the same moment, and there stood two girls, clearly fans, a few metres away, their eyes wide, phones already in their hands, as if they still couldn’t believe their luck.

It was almost instinctive.

The exhaustion and tension on their faces vanished in seconds, replaced by genuine smiles—or at least almost genuine. They did not want, under any circumstances, to let on what was really happening. None of this was the girls’ fault. They had no way of knowing what was unfolding behind the scenes.

So, instead of simply waving and getting into the car, as they might have done at any other time, the four of them stepped forward slightly, allowing the interaction to happen.

“Hi, boys! You look amazing today!” one of the fans exclaimed, her eyes shining with the energy of someone who had just seen a star. The other girl, equally excited, smiled shyly as they both stepped closer.

“Hi! It’s great to see you here,” Louis responded with his usual warmth, though it was clear in his eyes that he was exhausted, his mind elsewhere. He tried to push aside the discomfort and focus on the present, a friendly smile shaping his lips.

“You were incredible on the tour show!” the more enthusiastic fan said, her eyes still gleaming with the memory of the last performance. “I was there, front row! The energy you had on stage… it’s surreal!”

“I’m glad you enjoyed it!” Niall replied, forcing a smile, though his voice carried a subtle tension. “Every show was special for us too.”

The shyer fan hesitated slightly before stepping forward. “And Liam? Where is he? Didn’t he come with you?”

Niall froze for a second, his eyes almost shifting away. His blood seemed to run cold, and he searched for something to say that wouldn’t sound too forced, but there was no easy answer. He glanced at the others quickly, realising they were just as tense. Zayn, standing beside him, merely kept his gaze down, and Louis flicked a brief look at Harry, who was also struggling to conceal the storm of emotions swirling inside him. It was impossible to ignore the discomfort of lying to these girls, but it was necessary.

“Oh, Liam… he’s at home resting,” Niall said, the nervous laugh escaping before he could stop it. “The lazy one slept in late, you know? Didn’t have time to wake up yet.”

Niall’s laugh, though nervous, made the girls giggle. “Ah, he’s always been like that, hasn’t he?” the more excited fan remarked, adjusting her phone to take a picture.

“Yeah, he always needs a few more hours of sleep,” Louis added, trying to keep the conversation light. He cast a glance at Niall, a silent apology for the lie, but he couldn’t think of another way to handle the situation.

“Oh, so he’s fine, right?” the other fan asked, smiling. “We love Liam so much, tell him we miss him!”

“Of course, absolutely!” Zayn said, forcing a smile, though his chest tightened with pain. “We’ll pass on the message, don’t worry.”

The girls kept smiling, excited, as if the brief conversation had been just another fun encounter in their otherwise ordinary day. They positioned themselves for the photo. Niall, Louis, and Zayn adjusted themselves, putting their arms around the girls, and Harry pulled a playful face, trying to mask how uncomfortable he felt. But they all kept their smiles steady. They had to. They had to pretend everything was fine.

When the picture was taken, the girls thanked them and asked again for their love to be sent to Liam. “Tell him we love him so much! He’s the best!”

“Of course, we will,” Niall replied, maintaining his smile, though an overwhelming emptiness churned inside him.

They said their goodbyes with kind words and warm smiles. As the girls walked away, the tension among them became even more palpable. The immediate relief of having escaped the situation without any more uncomfortable questions quickly faded.

Paul, who had been waiting near the car, approached swiftly, sensing the heavy atmosphere surrounding the boys. He offered a small smile, but his eyes were watchful, clearly seeing how strained they all were.

“Come on, lads. Time to get back to the hospital.”

Niall was the first to get into the car, followed by Zayn. Louis and Harry settled into the back seat, all trying to keep composed, but the thick silence between them spoke louder than any words could.

Paul drove, his eyes fixed on the road, but his mind was clouded with concern—concern for Liam’s condition, for the pressure weighing on them all, and for the burden of the lie they had just told.

The boys stared out of the windows, trying to distract themselves with the ever-moving scenery, but inside, their thoughts were all in one place: Liam. And each of them felt a tight knot in their throats, the weight of deceiving their fans, even if it was to protect their friend’s privacy and preserve what little normality remained in such a devastating moment.

They knew that, despite everything, they had to keep up appearances for Liam—until the very end.

“This will pass,” Niall said, breaking the tense silence, trying to convince himself as much as the others. “He’ll get better, everything will be fine.”

Louis looked at him, his expression darker. “We just have to keep going. For Liam. Even if it hurts.”

Zayn closed his eyes for a moment, as if trying to escape reality for just a second, but he knew that wasn’t possible. “Yeah. For him.”

The car continued down the road in silence, the weight of the world settling on their shoulders. Yes, they knew Liam wasn't going to get better. No, they didn't want to face that reality.

The sound of the hospital doors closing behind them seemed to amplify the tension hanging in the air. Paul and Paddy walked ahead, their steps calm and measured, as they always were. No one knew what was happening within those walls, but at that moment, the façade of normality was the only thing holding their composure together. The hospital, with its scent of disinfectant and its cold lighting, felt even more impersonal than usual, as if the very building were absorbing the pain of everyone inside.

Their footsteps echoed through the empty corridors as they made their way to the private waiting room, where Liam’s family awaited them. Zayn, Niall, Louis, and Harry followed Paul in silence, their eyes fixed on the floor, as though avoiding each other’s gaze was the only way to keep their emotions from spilling over. Each of them knew what was at stake, knew there was no turning back. All that remained was to wait, and the waiting was stretching on unbearably.

“I hate this,” Niall murmured under his breath, not caring if anyone heard. The pain and exhaustion in his voice were unmistakable. “We can’t do anything but wait.” He shook his head, as if trying to dispel a thought that tormented him, but the truth was that they all shared the same suffocating sense of helplessness. The surgery was their only hope, but the fear—that overwhelming fear—was always there, lurking, ready to consume any attempt at rationalisation.

“I know, Niall,” Louis replied, his voice heavy. He was trying to conceal just how broken he felt inside, but the words seemed to slip from him. “I just wish... I just wish I could do something. I can’t just sit here waiting, watching time pass, not knowing what’s happening.”

Zayn, quieter than usual, felt the weight of everyone’s emotions pressing down on him. He could sense Niall’s and Louis’s eyes on him, and though he tried to focus solely on Liam, the anguish inside him felt almost physical. Every step down the corridor echoed like a sentence being pronounced, every second like another grain of sand falling in an hourglass that would never turn over. “We’re in this together,” he murmured, though he knew it did little to ease their pain. “Liam knows we’re here.” He just didn’t know how to reassure them—or himself.

When they reached the private waiting room, the door was open, as if someone had been expecting them, yet the space didn’t feel welcoming. The room was large, but there was nowhere near enough space to contain the anxiety each of them carried. Karen and Geoff sat at one end of the room, speaking quietly to each other, but the moment the boys entered, their eyes lifted to them. Ruth stood pacing back and forth, as if movement itself were an attempt to grasp control over something she could no longer hold onto.

“Hello, boys,” Karen said with a forced smile, trying to maintain an air of calm, though the tension in her eyes betrayed the pain she was feeling. “How was it out there?”

Louis stepped closer to Karen, struggling to hold himself together, but his response was vague. “We did what needed to be done,” he said, his voice a little harder than he had intended. “Now all we can do is wait.”

The silence that followed was the heaviest they had ever endured. The ticking of the clock on the wall sounded deafening, echoing in every corner of the room. The distance between the boys and Liam’s family, though not physical, was there. They all knew they were experiencing something beyond words, beyond comprehension. Each was coping with the wait in their own way, but none could escape its cruelty.

“It’s been three hours,” Ruth finally said, her voice trembling. “Dr Morgan said it would take between four and six, but… I don’t know what to think anymore.” She looked at the boys, her eyes searching for reassurance. But in truth, they were all searching for certainty—certainty no one could provide.

“I know,” Zayn answered quietly. He sat at the edge of a sofa, staring at the wall, trying not to look at the others, trying not to be swallowed by the fear that was already gripping his body. “I don’t know what to think anymore either.”

With each passing second, time seemed to stretch further, dragging them into a limbo of uncertainty. There was nothing left to do but wait. The clock continued its merciless march, marking each agonising second, while inside them, the fear that they might be consumed by their own anxiety grew heavier and heavier.

“We have to wait,” Paul said, entering the room with a composed expression, though his eyes betrayed the worry he was trying to conceal. He attempted to ease the tension, but nothing could change the fact that the worst was happening right then, and they had no control over it. “I know it hurts. I know it’s hard, but… Liam needs you now, more than ever.”

The boys exchanged glances, trying to steady themselves, trying to swallow their pain, but they knew that, no matter how much they wished to control the situation, that control had long since slipped from their grasp. Now, all that remained was silence and the weight of waiting, time dragging itself forward like a shadow over their heads.

They sat there, caught in an endless state of waiting, as the hospital around them carried on as usual, indifferent to the chaos unfolding in their minds and hearts. There was nothing else to do but wait. And with every passing second, the wait became an eternity.

Time felt like an eternity since Liam had been taken in for surgery. Each minute dragged on as if the world around them had frozen, as if the hospital itself had warped, becoming a blurred reflection of a reality too difficult to face. The waiting room was filled with a heavy silence, broken only by the muffled sounds of nurses' and doctors’ footsteps passing through the corridors. Anxiety hung in the air, an invisible weight that each person carried differently, yet with the same fear pulsing in their chests.

Zayn sat in silence on the sofa, arms crossed, head lowered, his restless hands moving over his knees, shifting back and forth as though the motion could ease the tension. His thoughts were far away, oscillating between hope and fear, struggling not to succumb to the anxiety consuming him. Beside him, Niall was just as quiet, staring at the floor, his fingers tapping lightly against his leg—an automatic gesture that failed to mask the apprehension overwhelming him. Louis tried to appear strong, but his eyes betrayed his unease, worry etched onto his face, as if at any moment, the ground beneath him might give way.

Liam’s family was just as tense. Karen had a hand over her heart, as if trying to shield it was the only thing she could do. Ruth, the most agitated, paced the room ceaselessly, her quick, uneven steps a reflection of her internal turmoil. Geoff struggled to remain calm, but the tension in his shoulders and the way his gaze remained fixed on the door revealed a concern deeper than he would ever admit. They were all there, waiting, anticipating news that could change everything.

And then, like a beam of light piercing through the darkness, Gothel entered the room. The atmosphere shifted instantly, a wave of expectation rippling through them. It was as though, for a moment, time had stopped again—every eye fixed on her, waiting for her to bring some relief, some answer. Gothel, with her characteristic poise and composed presence, stepped in with a serious expression, but her eyes—always seeming to perceive more than anyone else—now shone with a glimmer of something that no one could immediately identify. She said nothing at first, merely taking in the room, watching those around her. And then, the questions erupted in a surge of anxious voices, everyone desperate to know, desperate for more.

“How is he? How did it go? Will he be all right?” The group, bound by collective worry, couldn’t hold back the flood of words. Zayn, who had been lost in his own thoughts moments before, was the first to speak, his voice edged with urgency, almost desperation.

“Gothel, please, say something! He… is he going to be all right?”

His voice trembled, but he didn’t care. His concern overpowered everything else—he needed the truth, needed to understand what was happening. But Gothel, as always, remained composed, keeping her calm before stepping closer with a soft smile. She met Zayn’s anxious gaze with a gentle look, placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder, as if trying to offer solace without saying a word.

But it was when the waiting room door swung open and Dr Morgan stepped inside that the room fell silent in an instant. His steps were steady, his face composed, but there was something in his eyes—a slight tension in his brow—that no one could ignore. As he approached, everyone, without exception, held their breath, waiting for the words he would bring.

“I know how worried you all are,” Dr Morgan began, his voice calm and steady, though the intensity in his gaze did not go unnoticed. “I know this has been a difficult time for everyone, but I can assure you that the surgery was a success.”

Relief—the long-awaited relief—washed over the room like a tidal wave. People exchanged incredulous looks, as though they hadn’t heard correctly, as if fear still lingered in their ears, making them doubt what had just been said. But Dr Morgan smiled—a small, subtle smile, yet one that carried immense satisfaction.

“We were able to remove more than 99% of the tumour,” he said, his words light yet firm, cutting through the tension and settling in their hearts like a balm.

It was as if the air they had all been holding in for hours could finally be released. The smiles that spread across their faces were immediate, but they were more than just smiles of relief. They were filled with emotion, gratitude, and a love so profound that it did not need to be spoken aloud. Zayn was the first to turn to Harry, who stood beside him, and the two embraced tightly, their bodies trembling with the intensity of the tears they could no longer hold back. Happiness, mingled with relief, overflowed within them, tears streaming freely. Harry couldn’t stop crying, and Zayn held him even tighter, not knowing what else to do but cling to his best friend.

Liam’s family, of course, was just as emotional. Karen placed her hands over her face, tears falling unrestrained. She could no longer hide how relieved she was, how that unbearable weight had finally been lifted from her. Geoff pulled her into a fierce embrace, and Ruth, beside them, seemed so overwhelmed that she could no longer stand. She collapsed into Karen’s arms, the two of them crying together, unable to put into words what they were feeling.

Louis and Niall, who had been quiet until that moment, caught each other’s gaze and, almost simultaneously, embraced—wordless, driven by the simple need to be close, to feel that, in this moment, everything was finally going right. Paul and Paddy stood in the background, trying to maintain their usual composure, but the relief and happiness in their eyes were impossible to hide. Even Gothel, always so composed, could not help but smile—a wide, genuine smile. She, who had been there with them through it all, was now grinning from ear to ear, just as relieved as everyone else.

Dr Morgan took a step back, allowing them their moment of happiness, but soon resumed his role, focused on what still lay ahead.

“There are still several steps to go,” he said, his voice regaining its professional tone, though it never lost its underlying reassurance. “Liam is being taken to the ICU now, where he will remain under observation for the next 24 hours. He is stable, but we will need to monitor him closely. Recovery is a delicate process, but he is strong. He will need rest, time, but his chances of recovery are very good.”

His words offered comfort, yet they also brought a renewed understanding. They were relieved, but they knew the journey was not over yet. Dr Morgan explained that after the ICU, Liam would undergo regular tests to monitor for any complications, and that his recovery would be gradual. He emphasised that the family should remain calm, as Liam was in good hands and that the surgery had been a significant step in the right direction.

“I know there is still much to be done,” he said, offering a reassuring smile. “But right now, the most important thing is that he is doing well. And with all of you here to support him, he will only continue to get stronger.”

At last, they felt the weight on their chests beginning to lift. There was still a long road ahead, but for now, they had won this battle. The war was not yet over, but they were ready to stand by Liam’s side, as they always would.

Chapter Text

Zayn felt the restlessness growing inside him as he walked through the grey streets of London, his jacket zipped up to his neck to shield him from the cold morning wind. The sky was still heavy with clouds, remnants of the rain that had fallen during the night, leaving the asphalt glistening under the faint sunlight. But none of that mattered. None of it held his attention. His heart was racing, his mind running wild, because the only thing echoing inside him was the need to find the perfect flowers.

Not just any generic bouquet, not an obvious or rushed choice. He wanted something worthy of the moment, worthy of Liam. After more than twenty-four hours of post-surgery recovery, they would finally be allowed to see him. Finally, they could enter his room, hold his hand, look into his eyes without the barrier of glass, without the agonising wait that had consumed them since he had been taken into surgery. Zayn could swear he felt the absence of Liam’s touch as though it were a missing piece of his own body, as if he were incomplete without him. And now that he could finally be by his side again, he would not arrive empty-handed.

He wasn’t sure when he had made this decision, but he knew it was the only thing that made sense. Perhaps because flowers had always held a special meaning for him—for both of them. A reminder that even in the midst of chaos, even when everything seemed to be falling apart, beauty still existed. He remembered all the times Liam had appeared with a single flower, stolen from a forgotten vase in the corridors of the hotels they stayed in, just to make Zayn smile. The times Zayn had done the same, tucking flowers into Liam’s curls and laughing when he pretended to protest. It was a small gesture, but one filled with meaning. And now, more than ever, Zayn needed that meaning.

But not just any flowers. Not just any bouquet without personality. He wanted the most beautiful, the most vibrant, the most full of life. He wanted something that reflected what he felt—the gratitude that Liam was well, that he had endured, that he was still there.

Minutes dragged by until he finally found what he was looking for—a modest florist shop, nestled between two charming cafés on a quieter street. It wasn’t a flashy shop, didn’t have large signs or extravagant displays. But the moment he saw the small wooden sign delicately painted and the carefully arranged bouquets outside, he knew this was the place.

Zayn paused for a moment, taking a deep breath. The scent of flowers reached him before he even took his first step inside. A soft, natural fragrance that cut through the cold and brought an unexpected sense of comfort. He gripped the zipper of his jacket tightly, trying to contain the anxiety still thrumming within him, and pushed open the glass door.

The bell above the door chimed softly as Zayn stepped into the florist’s, and the delicate aroma of freshly cut flowers immediately enveloped him, bringing a fleeting moment of peace. The shop was small and cosy, filled with soft colours and a careful organisation that showed the love and attention given to every bloom inside. Natural light streamed through the large windows, illuminating the bouquets arranged on rustic wooden tables and shelves lined with vases of varying shapes.

An elderly woman, her expression kind and her eyes bright, looked up from the counter where she had been arranging a bouquet and offered a warm smile upon seeing him. There was something comforting about her, as if merely being in this space had the power to quiet some of the turmoil Zayn carried inside him.

"Good morning, my dear," she said, wiping her hands on the floral apron she wore over a simple dress. "How can I help you?"

Zayn took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the moment on his shoulders. He knew exactly what he wanted, yet he still needed a second to find the right words.

"I need flowers," he said, then let out a small laugh, because it was obvious, but the woman only smiled patiently, waiting for him to continue. "Purple flowers. The most beautiful ones you have. Purple and white, in a bouquet."

The woman nodded, her eyes glinting with curiosity. "A very specific request," she noted, already making her way towards one of the shelves filled with fresh flowers. "Is it for a special occasion?"

Zayn hesitated for a moment, but there was no reason to hide it. In truth, part of him wanted to talk about Liam, wanted to put into words what he felt—perhaps because that way, the love consuming him wouldn’t feel so immense and overwhelming inside his chest.

"Yes," he replied, following her down the narrow aisle between the shelves. "They’re for someone very special. The most special person in the world."

The woman paused in her sorting for a moment and looked at him, a smile forming on her lips. "Oh, what a lovely thing to hear," she said before turning towards another display where several flowers were carefully arranged. "Then we need to find something that is worthy of this very special person, don’t we?"

"Exactly," Zayn said, feeling a faint smile tug at his lips for the first time in hours.

The woman began showing him some of the options she had, carefully selecting bouquets, explaining the names of each flower, the possible combinations, the shades of purple and white that could complement each other well. Zayn watched everything attentively, but despite each one being beautiful in its own way, nothing felt perfect enough.

Until the old woman made a suggestion.

She picked up a small cluster of flowers in a soft lilac hue, almost ethereal, and held them delicately between her wrinkled fingers. "These ones," she said, looking at Zayn expectantly. "They symbolise devotion and affection. And paired with these white ones here…" She gestured towards another set of smaller flowers, their petals fine and delicate. "...they bring a meaning of peace and harmony."

Zayn remained silent for a moment, gazing at the flowers she held. Something inside him settled, and he knew these were the ones.

"They’re perfect," he said, then smiled. "I just wanted them to be purple. That was my only request."

"May I ask why?" the woman inquired, carefully adjusting the flowers.

"Because purple is his favourite colour," Zayn answered without hesitation. "And white because… because he brings peace wherever he goes."

The woman sighed, charmed. "You are so in love, my dear," she said, shaking her head fondly.

Zayn chuckled softly, not even trying to deny it. "I’m the most in love man in the world," he declared, with certainty. "And I’m so happy because of it."

The old woman smiled and returned to the counter to start assembling the bouquet. Zayn watched her in silence, feeling warmth spread through his chest. He could already picture Liam holding those flowers, smiling when he saw them, knowing exactly what they meant.

And for a brief moment, everything felt a little lighter.

The elderly woman worked with delicacy and precision, selecting each flower with the same care as someone assembling a gift for a cherished person. Zayn watched intently, admiring the meticulous way she touched the petals, as if handling something precious.

She began with a handful of white lilies, symbolising purity and renewal—a perfect representation of this moment in Liam’s life. Among them, she added lilac roses, whose meaning evoked admiration and enchantment—exactly what Zayn felt for Liam every time he looked at him. To complement the arrangement, she chose purple hydrangeas, their delicate yet voluminous petals lending a sophisticated air, carrying with them the symbolism of gratitude and resilience. Finally, she placed sprigs of lavender, not only for their comforting fragrance but also because they represented calm and protection—something Zayn had always wanted to offer Liam.

When she finished, she tied the bouquet with a white satin ribbon, fastening it into a perfect bow. After one final adjustment to the stems, she handed the arrangement to Zayn, who took it with both hands, awestruck by how beautiful it had turned out.

"It’s perfect," he said, his voice laden with genuine gratitude.

The elderly woman smiled, satisfied with her work. "I’m sure it will make the day of someone very special," she said, her eyes filled with warmth.

Zayn smiled too and shook his head. "Actually, it’s already making my day special," he replied, looking at the flowers once more, as if he could picture Liam smiling as he received them.

The woman sighed, clearly moved, and nodded. "Then these are flowers that carry love from both sides," she said softly.

Zayn simply smiled, needing no further words. He reached into his pocket for his wallet and paid for the bouquet, leaving a generous tip on the counter. "Thank you so much," he said sincerely. "Truly."

"It was my pleasure, dear," the woman replied. "And good luck. But from the way you speak about him, I don’t think luck is something you’ll need."

Zayn chuckled quietly, nodding in farewell before stepping out of the shop, holding the bouquet firmly in his hands.

The moment he stepped through the door, he felt the cold London air wrap around him, a stark contrast to the warmth of the florist’s. But nothing could dim the warmth he felt in his chest at that moment. The black car was parked directly in front, with Paul waiting outside, leaning against its side.

"Did you get what you wanted?" Paul asked, glancing at the bouquet.

Zayn smiled, gripping it more securely. "Even better than I expected."

Paul opened the door for him and waited until he got in before circling the car and taking the driver’s seat.

The drive back to the hospital was peaceful, the bustling streets of London passing by the window as Zayn remained entirely absorbed, gazing at the bouquet on his lap. His fingers traced the petals softly, and his heart quickened each time he imagined Liam’s reaction upon seeing it.

He could hardly wait to see his face.

Paul parked the car in the hospital’s underground lot, and Zayn let out a heavy sigh, feeling the anxiety swell in his chest. He knew Liam was fine, that the surgery had been a success and that he was already in his room, surrounded by family and friends, but nothing seemed to ease the tension gripping his body. Ever since he had left the florist, holding the bouquet with the utmost care, his mind had been unable to focus on anything but the one thing that truly mattered: seeing Liam.

"Shall we?" Paul asked, opening the door for him.

Zayn nodded and stepped out of the car, still holding the flowers firmly. The cold air of the car park didn’t affect him—inside, he was burning. His heart pounded against his ribs, and every step through the hospital felt heavier than the last.

Paul led him through the corridors, always vigilant to avoid curious glances or fans who might be there by chance. The hospital was large and quiet, and the sound of their shoes against the polished floor seemed to echo louder than usual. With each floor they ascended in the lift, Zayn felt his anxiety heighten. It was a clash of emotions—fear, happiness, relief, apprehension—all tangling inside him like a tight knot.

When the doors slid open on the ICU floor, Paul gestured towards the way, and with steady steps, Zayn followed. The corridor was bright and spacious, with white walls and sheer curtains separating the rooms. He recognised the door immediately. He knew that beyond it, Liam was there, waiting, breathing, alive.

And then he stepped inside.

The first thing he noticed was the warmth. The room was inviting, a stark contrast to the hospital’s cold hallways. There was a low murmur of conversation, but everything seemed to fade the instant his eyes found Liam.

He was lying in bed, covered with white sheets, a high pillow propping him up. His face was a little paler than usual, the shadows under his eyes a little deeper, and the shaved strands of his hair revealed the delicate dressing on the side of his head. But none of that mattered. None of it.

Because Liam was still Liam.

And to Zayn, he was the most beautiful person in the world.

The smile that spread across Liam’s face when he saw him was enough to bring tears to Zayn’s eyes. It hit him like a punch to the stomach, as if all the air had been knocked from his lungs and replaced with an indescribable relief.

"Zayn," Liam said, his voice slightly hoarse but filled with warmth.

Zayn felt the tears fall before he even realised he was crying.

He moved closer to the bed, uncaring of anyone else in the room. Not Louis, not Niall, not Harry, not Liam’s family. He only wanted to be near him, to feel his warmth, to confirm that he was really there, breathing, looking at him in that way that made his heart race.

And then he handed him the bouquet.

"The most beautiful flowers in the world," Zayn whispered, placing them gently on Liam’s lap.

Liam looked at the bouquet, his eyes glistening. He ran his fingers slowly over the petals, as if absorbing every detail, every colour, every scent.

"They’re beautiful," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion.

"I wanted them to be even more," Zayn admitted, swallowing hard. "Because nothing in this world is beautiful enough for you."

Liam lifted his gaze and met Zayn’s eyes, and for a moment, time stood still.

Zayn couldn’t resist. He leaned in and kissed him—a light, careful kiss, laden with everything words could never express. When he pulled back, his hands found Liam’s face, cradling it with infinite tenderness.

"I love you," Zayn whispered, then said it again. "I love you so much, Liam."

And again, and again.

Because it would never be enough.

Liam held the bouquet with an almost reverent care, as if he were holding something too precious to touch without delicacy. The flowers were beautiful, perfect—exactly the kind he imagined Zayn would choose for him. Their fresh, gentle fragrance mingled with the sterile air of the hospital, a welcome contrast, something that broke the monotony of the space and made him feel a little more alive.

His fingers brushed over the soft petals, absorbing every detail. The vibrant lilac blended with the pure white—a combination as delicate as it was powerful, as beautiful as the love he felt inside him. He looked up, finding Zayn’s eyes, and it was impossible not to be even more overwhelmed.

"Zayn…" His voice trembled, heavy with everything he felt but didn’t know how to put into words.

Zayn only smiled, his gaze full of boundless affection, and Liam felt his throat tighten. It wasn’t just about the bouquet—though he loved it more than he could say—it was about the gesture, the intention behind it. Zayn had always known how to make him feel loved, always known how to show what he felt through quiet gestures, through soft touches, through looks that spoke far more than words ever could.

"I love you," Liam said, unable to hold it in any longer, because Zayn needed to know. He needed him to feel it, just as Liam felt every beat of his heart pulsing for him alone. “Thanks for being here with me.” 

Zayn took his hand gently, his fingers gliding over Liam’s skin as if moulding this moment into something eternal.

"There isn’t a single reality in the universe where I’m not by your side," he said, his voice steady but full of emotion. "Because I am completely in love and devoted to you in absolutely all of them."

Liam exhaled a shaky breath, the air slipping from his lungs.

There was no way to explain what he felt in that moment. No words were big enough, no sentence could contain the vastness of what was inside him. The love he felt for Zayn was too immense to fit within his body—it seemed to fill every corner of the room, spread through the hospital, pass through walls and go beyond, like something even time could never erase.

He tightened his grip on Zayn’s hand, feeling its firmness, the comforting warmth that had always been there, that had always kept him anchored even in the hardest moments.

"I wish I could find the words to tell you how much I love you," Liam whispered, frustrated with himself for not being able to express something so infinite.

Zayn smiled—that small, tender smile Liam knew so well. The smile that made his heart feel at home.

"You don’t have to say it," Zayn replied, leaning in just a little closer. "I feel it."

And Liam knew, in that instant, that it was true.

Because Zayn had always felt it.

The hospital environment was quieter than usual, a stark contrast to the whirlwind of emotions filling Zayn’s chest. The distinctive smell of the place—a mixture of antiseptic and something faintly metallic—didn’t exactly bother him, but it reinforced the reality around him. He was here, by Liam’s side, and he would stay until they could go home together.

Time seemed to pass at its own pace inside that room, different from the world outside. Liam held his hand, their fingers intertwined in a silent gesture of comfort and presence, while the bouquet of flowers rested on the small table beside the bed, emanating a soft fragrance that broke the sterility of the hospital air. Zayn had lost himself in watching Liam more than once, absorbing every detail, from the steady rhythm of his breathing to the tired yet still beautiful sparkle in his eyes.

Then, the door opened gently, and a tall man with dark hair and a professional expression entered the room. He held a tablet and wore a polite but genuine smile as he approached.

"Good afternoon," he greeted, stopping beside the bed. "I’m Dr Russell. I’ll be overseeing Liam’s care while Dr Morgan is off duty."

Zayn blinked, taking a second to process this, as he hadn’t met him yet. Liam’s family had already been introduced to him earlier, but Zayn had gone out to buy the flowers and missed that moment.

"Pleasure to meet you," he said, keeping his voice steady as he sat up slightly, though he didn’t let go of Liam’s hand.

Dr Russell looked at Liam and smiled. "You’re looking great for someone who’s just had major surgery. That’s a very good sign."

Liam smiled back, weak but sincere.

"I’d like to update you on the next steps," the doctor continued, pulling up a stool to sit beside the bed. "If everything continues to go well, you’ll be moved to a regular room in a few hours. You’ll spend the rest of the day and night under observation, and if all remains stable, we can start preparing for your discharge tomorrow morning."

Liam’s eyes lit up at the prospect of going home. Zayn felt his hand squeeze his own slightly, and he squeezed back, sharing in that small victory.

"But," Dr Russell went on, his tone professional yet understanding, "we must take some strict precautions to ensure your recovery stays on track. While most of the tumour has been removed, your body has been through significant trauma, and we need to minimise any risks. So, I’d like you both to be aware of a few key points."

He swiped a finger across his tablet screen and began listing the instructions in detail:

"First, complete rest for the first few days. I know it might be tempting to resume certain activities quickly, but your body needs this time to heal. Light physical activity is allowed, such as walking short distances around the house, but nothing that requires too much exertion."

Liam nodded, showing he was taking in the information.

"The healing of your incision also needs to be monitored closely. It’s crucial to keep it clean and dry. We’ll change the dressing regularly while you’re here, and once you’re home, you’ll need to follow the exact instructions the nursing team will provide on how to clean and protect the area. If you notice any signs of infection—excessive redness, abnormal swelling, persistent pain, or fever—you must contact the hospital immediately."

Zayn felt his body tense. He wanted to make sure nothing went wrong, that every necessary precaution was taken in the best possible way.

"Another essential point," Dr Russell continued, "is avoiding any impact to the head. The bone structure is still delicate after surgery, and any knock could pose a significant risk. Avoid crowded places where he might be bumped accidentally, and if possible, use extra pillows in bed to prevent him from rolling onto his side while sleeping."

Liam let out a quiet laugh. "Zayn already surrounds me with pillows anyway, so that won’t be a problem."

Zayn rolled his eyes but smiled. "I don’t even want to imagine you hitting your head by accident. I’ve been doing this for years—now I just have an extra reason to carry on."

Dr Russell gave a knowing smile and continued. "We also need to manage post-operative symptoms. Mild headaches are normal, but if the pain intensifies, if there’s constant dizziness or vomiting, that could indicate a problem. The prescribed medication will help minimise discomfort, and you must follow the dosage schedule properly to prevent the pain from building up."

Zayn absorbed every detail, storing everything in his mind to ensure nothing was forgotten.

"As for your diet, we’ll start with light meals in the first few days, as your body will still be adjusting. Nothing too fatty or heavy. Staying well-hydrated is also essential."

Liam sighed. "I know it’s necessary, but I’m already looking forward to eating normally again."

"We’ll take it step by step," Dr Russell assured him. "Your body will let us know when it’s ready."

He then adjusted the tablet in his hands and looked at them both.

"Now, regarding treatment. Once your incision has healed a little more, we’ll begin chemotherapy. The goal is to eliminate any remaining tumour cells and prevent recurrence. We need to wait long enough for your body to recover from surgery before we start, as the treatment can weaken the immune system, and we want to minimise the risk of infections."

Zayn felt a tightness in his chest upon hearing that. He knew chemotherapy was the next step, but hearing it stated so clearly made everything feel even more real.

"The treatment will be done in cycles," Dr Russell explained. "Each cycle may cause different side effects, ranging from fatigue to possible nausea and changes in taste. We have ways to manage these symptoms, and we’ll adjust medications as needed to ensure as much comfort as possible."

Liam remained composed, but Zayn noticed the way he swallowed hard, as if trying to process all that information at once.

Dr Russell spent a few more minutes explaining the guidelines, making sure all doubts were addressed. He emphasised the importance of regular medical follow-ups, maintaining open communication with the hospital team, and respecting Liam’s physical limits throughout the process.

When he finished, he looked directly at Liam and Zayn. "Do you have any questions so far?"

Liam took a deep breath before shaking his head. "I don’t think so. I know we’ll have more explanations as things progress."

"Exactly," Dr Russell confirmed. "You don’t need to memorise everything right now. We’re here to ensure everything goes smoothly."

Zayn, however, still had something on his mind. "What about visitors at home? Can he have people over, or should we avoid too much contact?"

"It’s best to limit the number of visitors for the first few days, at least until we’re sure the recovery is stable," Dr Russell replied. "But you can arrange it in whatever way feels most comfortable for you."

He stood up, adjusting his coat. "I’ll leave you to get some rest. The nurse will come in to let you know when it’s time to transfer him to a regular room."

Liam thanked him, and Zayn did the same.

As soon as Dr Russell left the room, Liam turned slowly to Zayn, his expression calm but filled with meaning.

"So, looks like I’ll be giving you a bit more work over the next few days, huh?"

Zayn gave a small smile, brushing his fingers over Liam’s hand. "You’ve always been my favourite job."

The hospital, with its clinical and quiet atmosphere, no longer felt so unfamiliar to Zayn. He had grown accustomed to the sterile scent of the corridors, the muffled footsteps of the medical staff, and the cold glow of artificial lights. But no matter how familiar the setting had become, nothing could ease the weight in his chest that came with the simple sight of Liam lying in that bed.

He wasn’t alone in that feeling. Everyone there seemed to carry their own form of worry, and Liam, even as he tried to act as if everything were normal, knew it was impossible to ignore the watchful, protective gaze of those around him. He hardly even needed to ask for anything; before he could express a need, someone was already there, ready to help. His family, his friends, the nurses—each of them seemed willing to do anything to ensure his recovery was as smooth as possible.

And at the centre of it all was Zayn.

The love of his life, his anchor, the one person who felt the weight of everything happening the most, and yet the one most determined to hide any sign of exhaustion or fear. Zayn wanted to be unwavering for Liam, wanted to be the person he could lean on without hesitation. And now, more than ever, he was determined to ensure that every second of Liam’s recovery was surrounded by care, warmth, and love.

In the past few days, even before the surgery, Zayn had observed every detail of the process. He noticed how Liam woke more slowly than usual, how his movements were cautious, how his voice sometimes came out weaker than he would have liked. Liam tried to downplay any discomfort, but Zayn knew him well enough to recognise when he wasn’t being entirely honest.

The fact that the surgery had been a success brought relief, but the road ahead was still long. Recovery would require patience, and though Liam had been strong up to this point, Zayn knew there would be difficult days. Days of extreme fatigue, of unexpected pain, of frustration with his own body’s limitations. Days when he might try to hide what he was feeling, pretending to be fine just to stop everyone from worrying.

But that wouldn’t work with Zayn.

Zayn saw Liam. He saw beyond the polite smiles, beyond the reassuring words he used to keep everyone from fretting too much. Zayn noticed every detail and would not let Liam face anything alone.

When they finally left the hospital and went home, the attention Liam was already receiving would only intensify. His family would be close, friends would visit often, and he would be surrounded by all kinds of support. But among all these people, Zayn knew he would be the one who never left his side.

And he didn’t want it any other way.

Zayn wanted to be there at every moment, to be the first person Liam saw when he woke up and the last before he fell asleep. He wanted to be the one to ensure Liam was comfortable, that he didn’t have to worry about anything but resting and healing. He wanted to be there when Liam was in pain, to help him in any way possible. He wanted to hold his hand if he grew frustrated, to embrace him if he felt weary, to distract him if the day felt too overwhelming.

He wanted to prepare his meals, to make sure he ate properly, to accompany him to every medical appointment and pay close attention to every recommendation. He wanted to memorise his medication schedule, to learn every detail about the recovery process to be certain that everything was being done correctly.

And more than anything, he wanted to give Liam love.

Because Liam didn’t just need medical care—he didn’t just need supervision and recovery guidelines. He needed comfort, peace, the reassurance of feeling safe and loved in every moment. And if there was one thing Zayn could give without limit, it was that.

In the days to come, Liam would see it even more clearly.

Zayn already knew their friends would take turns visiting, that his family would stay close to offer support. But he also knew that no one— absolutely no one —could compare to what he was willing to do.

Not because it was a competition, but because it was inevitable.

The love Zayn felt for Liam was so immense, so absolute, that the idea of stepping away, even for a second, simply did not exist. He was ready to devote every minute, every thought, every part of himself to ensuring that Liam had everything he needed.

And Liam knew that.

Even without needing words, Liam understood. He saw it in Zayn’s eyes, in the gentle touch, in the way he always seemed attuned to his every need. He saw it in the quiet concern, in the way Zayn watched him when he thought he wasn’t looking.

Liam knew he would never be alone for even a second, and the truth was, he didn’t want to be.

Zayn would not allow him to face anything alone.

And Liam would never wish for anything different.

The hospital room was fuller than usual, but rather than being a nuisance, it made the atmosphere feel warmer. The presence of Liam’s family and friends made all the difference, turning a clinical, impersonal space into something that felt like a temporary home. There were still machines monitoring his vital signs, there was still the lingering pain from the surgery, but none of that seemed so significant when he was surrounded by those he loved most.

It was hard to say who felt the most relieved at that moment. Everyone there had endured hours of anguish and worry, and now, even though Liam’s recovery was only just beginning, the worst was behind them. He was all right. The surgery had been a success. The tumour had been almost completely removed, and every small improvement in his condition was cause for celebration.

Zayn was by his side, as always. Sitting in the chair closest to the bed, he held Liam’s hand between his own, as if he were incapable of letting go. Not that Liam wanted him to. He liked Zayn’s constant presence, his touch, the way he always found some way to be close.

Around them, his family chatted, and the atmosphere was much lighter than at any point since this whole ordeal had begun. Ruth, his sister, was particularly animated, and Liam already knew that meant she was about to say something completely random—and perhaps a little embarrassing.

She glanced at the bouquet of flowers Zayn had bought that day especially for Liam, which he now held carefully between his fingers, and her smile widened.

"So, little brother, I was just thinking…" she began, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "Zayn got you such a lovely bouquet, didn’t he? Purple and white, super delicate, super romantic. So, what now? When’s the ring coming?"

The silence that followed her question lasted only a second before the whole room erupted into laughter.

Liam, on the other hand, felt his face heat up instantly. He shouldn’t have been surprised—Ruth always knew how to catch him off guard—but this was too much. He didn’t even know how to respond.

"Oh my God, Ruth!" he exclaimed, covering his face with one hand as everyone laughed even harder.

"What?" she said, clearly enjoying herself. "I’m just saying, if he’s already this romantic now, I’m expecting a marriage proposal any day!"

Liam glanced sideways at Zayn, expecting him to be just as flustered as he was, but to his surprise, Zayn looked… calm. There was a small, amused smile on his lips, and he was watching Liam with a different kind of sparkle in his eyes.

"Well," Zayn said, leaning in slightly, "I won’t say too much about it—wouldn’t want anyone spoiling my plans—but… let’s just say I already have a few ideas."

Liam felt his stomach flip and his breath hitch for a moment. The casual way Zayn said it only made it worse—as if he had genuinely thought about it, as if it was inevitable, something certain.

And maybe it was.

Maybe, deep down, Liam already knew there was no future where he wasn’t with Zayn. But he also knew there was a future where Zayn wouldn’t be with him—because he wouldn’t be there anymore, and though it was a painful and difficult reality to face, it was necessary.

Ruth let out a dramatic gasp, placing a hand over her chest. "Oh my God, Zayn! You can’t just say things like that! My brother’s still a bit weak—he might have a heart attack right in front of us!"

"Oh, for God’s sake," Liam grumbled, covering his face again as everyone burst into laughter once more.

The mood in the room grew even lighter after that, as if that moment of teasing had dissolved any lingering tension in the air. And even after the conversation shifted to other topics, Liam couldn’t stop thinking about what Zayn had said.

Maybe it was the medication, maybe it was just the relief of being surrounded by his family and friends, but he felt a different kind of warmth in his chest. He was alive, he was recovering, and Zayn was by his side.

And if he had loved him before, now that love felt even greater. But he was still afraid of the future. Terribly afraid.

The hospital room was filled with a comforting warmth, a different energy from the past few days. Fear and tension had given way to casual conversations, quiet laughter, and playful teasing among friends and family. It was exactly what Liam needed. His body felt heavier than usual, a consequence of the surgery and medication, but his mind was light. For the first time in a long while, he allowed himself to relax, simply enjoying the moment.

He was surrounded by those he loved most—his family, his closest friends, and of course, Zayn, who remained by his side, holding his hand with such ease that it seemed impossible to imagine a day when he wouldn’t be there. The bouquet of flowers Zayn had brought rested in the vase on the bedside table; Zayn had just placed it there to give Liam’s hands a break—even though he never wanted to let go, loving the affectionate gesture from his beloved, he eventually relented—spreading a soft fragrance through the room and serving as a constant reminder of how deeply he was loved.

The conversation flowed effortlessly among them, each person sharing small details about their day or recounting some random story, just to keep the atmosphere light. Then, during a natural pause, Niall, who was sitting at the foot of Liam’s bed, decided to share something that clearly excited him.

"You know," he began, glancing around at the others with a childlike gleam in his eyes, "I’ve decided I’m finally going to build a treehouse in my garden."

There was a brief silence, followed by expressions of surprise and curiosity.

"A treehouse?" Harry asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah," Niall confirmed enthusiastically. "I always wanted one as a kid but never had the chance. Now I can make it happen."

Liam, who had been battling a slight drowsiness from the medication, suddenly widened his eyes and shifted slightly in bed, clearly more awake at the thought.

"Mate, I love treehouses!" he exclaimed, his excitement evident in his voice. "I always thought they were the coolest thing ever, like a secret hideout or something."

"Exactly!" Niall agreed, pointing at him. "I always imagined what it’d be like to have a place of my own, away from everything, just to relax and forget about the world."

Zayn smiled, watching the interaction between the two. He loved seeing Liam get excited about simple things, loved how he fully engaged in any topic that truly interested him. Then, without thinking much, he added to the conversation:

"Wouldn’t it be amazing to watch films in a treehouse at night? Just picture it—some fairy lights strung up, a projector, loads of blankets for us to snuggle up in and just enjoy."

For a moment, everyone imagined that scene. The idea of a retreat nestled in the trees, lit by soft twinkling lights, with an improvised screen playing some random film while they all huddled together.

Louis, however, couldn’t let it pass without a remark.

"How old are you again, Zayn?" he asked, narrowing his eyes. "Because, honestly, this sounds like the plan of a bunch of twelve-year-olds."

"Oh, piss off, Louis," Zayn shot back, rolling his eyes. "Are you really going to pretend you wouldn’t love it too?"

Louis opened his mouth to respond but shut it again almost immediately, unable to hide the small smirk at the corner of his lips.

"Okay, fine," he admitted with a shrug. "It does sound fun."

"It would be amazing," Liam agreed, a lazy smile still on his face.

The conversation carried on for a while longer, with Niall eagerly detailing his plans for the treehouse—he wanted it to be big enough for everyone, with giant cushions and even a mini fridge. Liam listened attentively, but gradually, his expression began to change. He blinked more slowly, his body sank further into the pillows, and his hand, still entwined with Zayn’s, grew more relaxed.

"Feeling sleepy?" Zayn asked softly, leaning in slightly to get a better look at Liam.

Liam opened his eyes slowly, as if processing the question.

"Maybe a little," he admitted, his voice drawn out.

"It’s all right, mate, you can sleep," Niall said with a smile. "I’ll carry on talking about the treehouse later."

Liam let out a sound somewhere between a chuckle and a sigh and closed his eyes again.

"Even better," he murmured. "I want to see it when it’s done."

"Then don’t worry—I’ll build the best hideout ever," Niall promised.

"Sleep, my baby," Karen said, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead over the bandage.

And with that promise lingering in the air, Liam finally allowed himself to succumb to exhaustion, drifting off to sleep surrounded by love, light-hearted conversation, and the certainty that, no matter what happened, he would always have these people by his side.

Liam had always been good at hiding what he felt. Since childhood, he had learned that sometimes the best thing to do was to keep certain emotions to himself, to avoid unnecessary worries, to not burden those he loved with his own fears. But now, more than ever, he felt the weight of that habit. It was hard to pretend he wasn’t afraid when the future felt both uncertain and, at the same time, painfully predictable. He knew what awaited him. He knew because the doctors had been honest from the beginning, because the statistics were there, relentless, carved into a reality he couldn’t change, no matter how much he wanted to.

Fifteen months. That was the number Dr Morgan had given him—the average survival rate for glioblastoma patients who underwent treatment. Without it, it would be just three. The difference was staggering, yet still cruel. Fifteen months was nothing compared to the time he wanted to have. Fifteen months weren’t enough for all the things he still wanted to do, for all the conversations he wanted to have, for all the moments he longed to share.

And what hurt the most was knowing that everyone around him was aware of this, even if they never said it aloud. He could see it in the lingering glances, in the prolonged embraces, in the way they treated him with an even greater gentleness than usual. He saw it in the way his mother adjusted his pillows with extra care, as if that simple act could somehow protect him from the inevitable. He noticed it in the way his sisters went out of their way to keep him comfortable, filling his days with little surprises, as if trying to pack all their love for him into daily gestures before it was too late.

He tried not to dwell on it. He tried to focus on the present, to savour each day, each hour, each minute as if they were unique—because, in truth, they were. But it was impossible to completely ignore what lay ahead. What haunted him most wasn’t the thought of not being there anymore, but rather the pain it would cause the people he loved. Thinking of his mother, of how she had always been his greatest protector, always worrying, always caring for him as if he were still a helpless little boy, and imagining the grief she would endure made him want to cry. He wanted to apologise, wanted to promise that everything would be all right, but how could he, when he couldn’t even believe it himself?

He wanted more time. He wanted years and years with his family, his friends, with Zayn. He wanted to keep sharing silly moments with Louis, laughing at Niall’s terrible jokes, listening to Harry ramble on about absurd theories in late-night conversations. He wanted the chance to build a future with Zayn, to make plans together without the shadow of time pressing down on them, without every happy moment being tainted by the fear of what was to come.

But he couldn’t have any of that. He only had these months, and that was why everyone was trying so hard to make the most of every second with him. That was why, whenever someone spoke about the future, he felt his stomach twist—because he knew that, to them, the future meant a time without him. They avoided saying it, avoided any mention of what lay beyond, but he knew it lingered in everyone’s thoughts. And what hurt the most was realising that, despite all their love and their efforts to hold on to hope, none of them could completely hide the fear they felt.

He wanted to pretend he didn’t notice. Wanted to keep smiling and acting as if nothing were wrong, as if he truly believed everything would be fine. But at night, when he was alone, when the hospital room was silent and the weight of reality became impossible to ignore, he allowed the fear to consume him. He closed his eyes and imagined all that he would miss, all the things he would never experience, all the people he loved moving on without him.

And yet, when morning came, he took a deep breath, wiped away any trace of tears, and put on his best smile. Because if he couldn’t change what was coming, he could at least make sure that every moment he had left was lived with love, with joy, with intensity. After all, in the end, that was what truly mattered.

Liam couldn’t say for certain when the weight of reality had become unbearable. Since his diagnosis, he had wavered between moments of forced acceptance and a silent despair that consumed him when he was alone. But at that moment, as he stared at the white ceiling of the hospital room, feeling his heart beat in a heavy, irregular rhythm, he wondered if it would ever get easier. If he would ever be able to look at the future without the sinking certainty that he wouldn’t be there to see it unfold.

It was hard to process everything. Hard because, not long ago, he had been a young man in his prime, with the whole world ahead of him, with so many plans, so many dreams, so much still left to do. And now, suddenly, everything had shrunk, reduced to a space that was too small, too suffocating. Time, which once seemed infinite, was now a clock relentlessly reminding him, with every passing second, that it was running out.

And then there was the band. One Direction. The group he had helped build, that had grown alongside him, that had been part of his life since he was a teenager still trying to figure out who he was. He couldn’t deny that, at times, the routine had been exhausting—that there had been days when he had wondered what it would be like to have a break, to breathe without the constant pressure of tours, interviews, recordings. But the truth was, he had loved it. He had loved being on stage, hearing the fans sing along with him, feeling that electrifying energy that only music could bring. He had loved the connection they had, the feeling of being part of something much bigger than just himself.

And now, all of that was over.

The band had come to an end.

The hiatus that once seemed temporary was now permanent. And no matter how many times everyone told him it wasn’t his fault, that there had been many factors involved, that they had all been exhausted, he couldn’t shake the feeling that, deep down, it was his condition that had sealed the group’s fate. If not for this, would they still be together? Would there still have been a chance to return? Would he have had the chance to live that dream for a few more years?

He knew he would never have that answer.

What remained were the memories. Louis, Niall, Harry. The three who had been by his side for so many years, who had shared unforgettable moments with him, who had conquered the world together. They were still there. Still his friends, still supporting him, still doing everything they could to make sure he was all right. But Liam knew things would never be the same. That part of their lives was over, that each of them would move forward in their own way, and he would never know how far they could have gone together.

And above all, there was Zayn.

Zayn, who was his everything.

Liam felt a tightness in his chest whenever he thought about him. Because loving Zayn was the most natural thing in the world, the only absolute certainty he had amidst all the uncertainty. But it was also what hurt the most. Because Liam wanted a future with him. He wanted to marry him. He wanted to build a home together, to share routines, to have a family. He wanted Zayn to be the first person he saw every morning and the last before falling asleep. He wanted to spend all the years he could by his side.

But he couldn’t.

He couldn’t make plans when he knew his time was running out.

He couldn’t promise a future that would never come.

Zayn had his whole life ahead of him. He could find someone else, someone who could give him everything Liam never could. Someone with whom he could build the life he deserved—without limitations, without fear, without a countdown hanging over them.

And all Liam wanted was for him to be happy.

He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to hold back the wave of emotion threatening to overwhelm him. It was unfair. Unfair because he had never loved anyone the way he loved Zayn, because he had never wanted anything as much as he wanted this life with him. But at the same time, he knew it was selfish to wish for Zayn to stay by his side until the very last moment, knowing that afterwards, he would be alone, carrying all that pain.

Maybe it would be better if Zayn pulled away. Maybe if Liam pushed him away now, the pain would be less when the time came.

But the truth was, Liam couldn’t.

Because no matter how much it hurt, no matter how much it would make everything harder, he needed Zayn there.

He needed him until the very last moment.

Chapter Text

Being home was such a different, comforting sensation that Liam felt as if he were in another world. After so many days surrounded by sterile corridors, the strong scent of antiseptic lingering in the air, and the constant hum of hospital machines, the simple fact of being there, in the place he knew so well, made him feel more whole. It was as if, for the first time in a long while, he was reclaiming a part of himself that had been lost within the white, lifeless walls of the hospital. Here, he was not just a patient. Not just a fragile body in need of constant care. Here, he was simply Liam.

The bed beneath him was far softer than any he had slept on in the hospital. The sheets, carrying the familiar scent of his favourite fabric softener, gave him the feeling of being wrapped in something safe, something that could not be taken away from him. The room held his colours, his belongings scattered just as they had always been. His trainers left by the door, clothes half-folded on the chair, posters on the wall. All of it was him. All of it was a part of who he was, of who he had always been.

But the best part of all was the company.

There, beside him, sleeping peacefully, was Zayn.

Liam knew that his boyfriend hadn’t been sleeping properly since the day of the surgery. In truth, he suspected Zayn hadn’t been sleeping well for much longer than that. Between the constant trips to the hospital, the endless waiting, and the ever-present worry that loomed over them like a shadow, Liam knew that Zayn had been exhausting himself more and more, even though he tried to hide it. He saw it in his eyes, in the way he sometimes blinked slower than usual, in the deep sighs he let out when he thought no one was looking.

And now, after so long, Zayn was finally sleeping.

Liam watched him with a mixture of tenderness and relief, committing every detail to memory. The relaxed expression, the deep and steady breathing, the long eyelashes resting against his warm skin. There was something almost hypnotic about the way Zayn’s chest rose and fell slowly, about the way his lips were slightly parted, as if he had fallen asleep so quickly he hadn’t even had time to settle in properly. His arm was still stretched towards Liam, as if, even in unconsciousness, he wanted to maintain some form of contact, of connection.

Liam wasn’t sure when it had become so natural for him to watch Zayn sleep. Perhaps it was because, lately, it had been happening far less often than it should. Or perhaps because, deep down, there was immense comfort in simply being able to sit there, quietly, admiring someone he loved so much, without having to think about anything beyond the fact that they were together, that for at least this moment, everything seemed at peace.

He wondered how long it had been since Zayn last slept like this—uninterrupted, without the obvious tension in his muscles. Since they had come home, Zayn had been constantly alert, always looking after every detail, making sure Liam was comfortable, that he wasn’t in pain, that he had everything he needed. Even when Liam insisted he was fine, that he could do some things on his own, Zayn never seemed convinced. He wanted to be there for everything, wanted to ensure Liam had as much comfort as possible, wanted to be the constant presence that reminded him he wasn’t alone.

And Liam loved that. He loved how Zayn cared for him so attentively, with such devotion, with such love. But he also worried. Because, no matter how much Zayn tried to hide it, Liam saw the signs of exhaustion building up.

Now, though, he was asleep. Finally asleep.

Liam allowed himself to reach out and, with the lightest touch possible, brushed a stray lock of hair from Zayn’s forehead. His hair was a little longer than usual, the strands tousled in a way Liam adored. He smiled to himself, amused by the fact that, even so, Zayn still managed to look effortlessly beautiful. It was almost irritating how naturally handsome he was.

But it wasn’t just his looks. It wasn’t just the sharp features or the striking face. It was everything that Zayn was, everything he represented to Liam. The way he always seemed to know exactly what to say, even when Liam didn’t have the strength to express what he was feeling. The way he would lightly touch his hand whenever he noticed Liam was anxious, as if offering him something to hold on to. The way he made a point, every single day, to show him how much he loved him—whether through words or through the smallest gestures.

Liam felt a familiar warmth spread through his chest at the thought. He knew he was being more sentimental than usual, but he also knew he had every right to be. After everything they had been through, after all the uncertainty, after everything still ahead, he wanted to savour every moment, to hold on to every detail. He wanted to remember every laugh, every look, every touch.

He didn’t know how long he stayed there, simply watching Zayn, but he didn’t care. In that moment, nothing else mattered. He just wanted to hold on to this instant, to feel the rare tranquillity that filled the air, to imprint in his memory this image of Zayn sleeping soundly beside him.

Because, no matter how uncertain the future was, no matter how much fear and pain awaited them, at least here, in this moment, Liam could still hold on to it with both hands. He could still take a deep breath and feel, even if only for a little while, that everything was exactly as it should be.

After ensuring that Zayn was deeply asleep, Liam carefully rose from the bed, trying not to make a sound. The dimness of the room was broken only by the soft light filtering through the gaps in the curtain, creating a serene and welcoming atmosphere. He walked slowly to the desk, feeling the cold floor beneath his bare feet, and settled into the chair that had so often supported him through nights of inspiration.

The desk was just as he had left it before his hospital stay—papers scattered, a few scribbled lines of unfinished lyrics, a notebook open to melodies that now felt as though they belonged to a distant life. The lamp, with its warm amber glow, cast a soft light over the wooden surface, creating shadows that danced as he moved.

Sitting there, Liam felt an avalanche of emotions. The familiarity of the space contrasted starkly with the strangeness that now resided in his body and mind. The surgery had removed the tumour, but it had left behind invisible scars he was only beginning to discover. He knew that time was a luxury he did not have, and the urgency to transform feelings into words drove him forward.

He picked up a pen and a notepad, determined to write. Ideas swirled in his mind, but as he attempted to put them onto paper, he encountered an unexpected barrier. The words, once fluid and natural, now eluded him. He knew what he wanted to express, but finding the right form felt like a Herculean task.

Liam closed his eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath. He remembered how, after the surgery, the doctors had warned him about possible cognitive deficits. The removal of the tumour, though necessary, could result in difficulties with memory, attention, and other brain functions.

He resolved not to let it defeat him. He began to scribble a few lines, trying to capture the essence of what he felt. Yet, with each failed attempt to find the right word, his frustration grew. It was as if his mind were shrouded in fog, obscuring thoughts that had once been so clear.

He knew these challenges could be the result of both the glioblastoma and the surgery itself. Cognitive changes were common in brain tumour patients, affecting concentration, memory, and language.

The pen felt heavy in his hand, and the paper before him remained largely blank. Mental exhaustion was beginning to set in, and he realised that forcing himself beyond his limit would not be productive. Perhaps he needed more time to adjust to the changes, to find new ways of accessing his creativity.

With a resigned sigh, Liam closed the notebook and set the pen down on the desk. He looked towards the bed, where Zayn still slept soundly, unaware of the silent battle Liam was fighting within himself. Despite the difficulties, he felt a wave of gratitude for still being here, for having the chance to fight for another day, for another song.

He rose from the chair, feeling the weight of reality on his shoulders, but also a flicker of hope. He knew the road ahead would be arduous, filled with challenges that would test his resilience. But as long as he had the strength, he would keep trying, searching within the lines of his mind for the melodies and words he still longed to share with the world.

Liam returned to bed with slow, silent steps, feeling the weight of exhaustion spreading through every muscle in his body. The time he had spent at the desk had not been particularly productive—at least not in the conventional sense—but it had still been important to him. Even if he couldn’t find all the words he wanted, even if his mind no longer worked in the same way as before, that solitary moment in which he had tried to compose had been essential. Because it meant that he was still trying, still fighting. But now, after that frustrating attempt, all he wanted was to feel the warmth of Zayn beside him.

The soft mattress gave way beneath his weight as he lay down, his body finally relaxing upon touching the familiar comfort of the bed. The room was bathed in a peaceful twilight, with only the dim glow of the bedside lamp illuminating the space’s contours. The air was warm and welcoming, carrying the soft scent of Zayn, blended with the faint aroma of lavender from the diffuser Liam had always liked. There was a peace here, a sense of safety he found nowhere else, and it was that feeling that made him close his eyes, ready to let sleep take him.

But before he could fully sink into drowsiness, he felt Zayn shift beside him. A gentle, unconscious movement, as if his body instinctively sensed Liam’s presence. In the next moment, a strong, warm arm wrapped around his waist, pulling him into a lazy, comforting embrace. Zayn was still asleep, his breathing light and steady, yet even in his dreams, his first instinct was to hold Liam close.

Liam smiled, his heart warming at the familiarity of that gesture. How many times had this happened before? How many nights had he woken in the middle of the night only to find Zayn holding him just like this, as if, even unconsciously, his body knew he always wanted Liam near?

He nestled further into the embrace, moving carefully so as not to wake him, yet still wanting to burrow into the warmth that was Zayn. His face found the space between his boyfriend’s shoulder and neck, and he allowed himself a quiet sigh as he took in the familiar scent of his skin. A mixture of woody soap, a hint of citrus from his shampoo, and something uniquely Zayn—a scent Liam could never quite describe, but one he would recognise anywhere in the world.

Zayn’s chest rose and fell in a steady, tranquil rhythm, his heart beating strong against Liam’s body. And in that moment, Liam found himself thinking about how comforting it was. How that heart, now beating strong and stable, was the same one that raced whenever Liam kissed him, the same one that slowed when they lay together watching a film, the same one that pounded whenever they argued over something silly and later made up with long embraces and whispered apologies.

It was a sound he wanted to memorise.

A sound he wanted to carry with him forever.

Because the fear of one day not hearing it anymore was something that haunted him constantly.

Liam didn’t want to think about that now. He didn’t want to allow himself to sink into those dark thoughts—not when he was in the arms of the person he loved most in the world. So, he pushed aside any lingering worry and focused on the present. On the warmth of the embrace. On the comforting weight of Zayn’s arm around him. On the soft touch of his boyfriend’s T-shirt beneath his fingertips.

His own body was beginning to succumb to exhaustion, his muscles loosening, his mind allowing itself to slow. Zayn’s breathing remained calm, a steady sound that seemed to lull Liam into a silent melody. He had always found it fascinating how deeply Zayn could sleep, as if his body simply switched off from the world, while Liam often took hours to drift off, his mind too restless to allow immediate rest. But now, wrapped in that embrace, feeling utterly safe and loved, Liam realised he didn’t have to fight sleep.

He could simply let go.

And so he did.

Resting his head comfortably on the pillow, letting the warmth of his boyfriend surround him completely, Liam closed his eyes and allowed himself to be carried away. Sleep came softly, naturally, without resistance, as if it were merely the next logical step within this bubble of tranquillity he was in. And as his consciousness dissolved into the comforting darkness of rest, his last sensation was the firm, reassuring hold of Zayn around him, as if promising—even in his dreams—that he would always be there.

Always.

Zayn woke gradually, emerging slowly from sleep as if swimming towards the surface of a calm ocean. His senses became sharper as his still-closed eyes recognised the environment around him. First, he felt the comforting warmth of the body beside him, the familiar weight of an arm loosely draped over his waist. Then, he noticed the soft, rhythmic breathing that sent faint tickles against his neck.

When he finally opened his eyes, he found himself in the tangled mess of limbs that he and Liam had formed overnight. The sheets were bunched around them, their legs entwined, arms sprawled in a nearly clumsy fashion, and Liam was completely askew on the bed. His body seemed to have moulded itself to Zayn’s, as if they had slept pressed together the entire night without any intention of moving.

Zayn smiled.

It was always like this. Liam hardly moved in his sleep, yet somehow, he always ended up clinging to Zayn, as if his body instinctively sought the security of his boyfriend without even realising it. It was one of those little things Zayn loved. Small, perhaps insignificant details, but ones that made Liam even more special in his eyes.

But then his gaze fell on Liam’s position, and he realised just how uncomfortable his boyfriend must be. His neck was tilted at an awkward angle, his pillows displaced, and his body slightly twisted against the mattress. Given that he was still recovering, this was far from ideal.

Carefully, Zayn began to move, slipping out of the tangle of arms and legs they had formed. He did everything as slowly as possible, paying close attention to each tiny movement so as not to disturb Liam’s sleep. Once he managed to free himself from the embrace, he sat up in bed and turned his full attention to his boyfriend, ensuring he was comfortable before doing anything else.

He adjusted the pillows first, stacking them carefully beneath Liam’s head to provide better support. Then, with gentle hands, he guided Liam’s body into a straighter, more relaxed position on the mattress. Liam didn’t stir, lost in the deep sleep that held him. He merely let out a lazy sigh as Zayn repositioned him, his lips slightly parted, his face utterly serene.

Zayn smiled again, unable to resist the affection swelling within him.

Leaning in, he brushed his lips against Liam’s in a soft kiss, a brief and delicate touch that carried all the love he felt. Liam didn’t react, but Zayn didn’t mind. He simply ran his fingertips along his boyfriend’s jawline with quiet fondness before getting up and heading to the bathroom.

The bathroom was silent, the only sound being the water from the shower as it struck the tiled floor. Zayn undressed slowly, feeling the cool morning air against his skin before stepping beneath the hot stream. The warmth cascaded over his body like instant relief, easing muscles that were still sluggish from sleep.

He ran his hands over his face, letting the water flow, and exhaled a long sigh.

Since Liam had fallen ill, Zayn felt as though he rarely had moments of true tranquillity. He would never complain about it—wouldn’t even consider it—but he knew his mind was always alert, always concerned, always focused on ensuring Liam was well. In the hospital, he had barely slept, his constant worry keeping him awake. Now that they were home, things were better, but the unease still lingered, lurking somewhere in the back of his mind.

But here, under the shower, for just a few moments, he allowed himself to simply exist.

He felt the hot water ease the tension in his shoulders, the steam filling the air, his muscles relaxing a little more. He closed his eyes and stood there for a few minutes longer, allowing himself that small moment of peace before returning to Liam.

When he finished, he turned off the water and dried himself slowly, running the towel over his body before wrapping it around his waist. The air outside the shower was cooler, but he didn’t mind. He simply rubbed his damp hair with the towel as he made his way back to the bedroom.

And then, the moment he stepped out of the bathroom, his eyes found Liam.

His boyfriend was still lying down, but now his eyes were half-open, blinking sluggishly as if trying to shake off the last remnants of sleep. His body remained relaxed against the pillows, yet there was a slight furrow in his brow, a sign that he was beginning to wake properly.

Zayn smiled at the sight of him—that familiar, beloved face still marked by the weariness of sleep, his tousled hair scattered over the pillow.

"Liam..." he murmured softly, stepping closer.

Liam blinked a few more times, his expression gradually becoming more aware as he took in his surroundings. Then, he turned his head towards Zayn, and a small, sleepy smile curved his lips.

Warmth bloomed in Zayn’s chest instantly.

It was always like this. Just one look from Liam, and he already felt as if the world had settled into place again.

The first thing Liam noticed upon waking was the gentle warmth of the morning light filtering through the curtains, casting a golden glow over the room. The second thing was Zayn.

He was there, as always, just as Liam knew he would be. Still damp from his shower, his hair tousled from the towel he had used to dry it, his skin warm and slightly flushed from the steam. He wore only a towel around his waist, and the sight of Zayn—so natural, so present, so absurdly beautiful—made something tighten in Liam’s chest.

It was always like this. Every time he looked at Zayn, especially in these quiet, intimate moments, he felt that same ache—a mixture of deep love and a faint pang of sorrow, that uncomfortable reminder that his time was limited. But he pushed the thought aside. He didn’t want to get lost in it now.

He smiled.

Zayn, who had been distractedly running his fingers through his damp hair, noticed his gaze and immediately returned the smile. His dark eyes shone with warmth as he stepped closer, sitting on the edge of the bed.

"Good morning, love," Zayn murmured, his voice rough and soft from recent sleep. "How are you feeling?"

Liam stretched slightly against the pillows, letting his body wake up slowly. "Good," he replied. "Just a bit of a headache, but nothing major."

Zayn studied his face carefully, searching for any sign of greater discomfort. He trusted Liam, but he also knew his boyfriend sometimes downplayed what he was feeling to keep him from worrying.

"Are you sure?" he asked, leaning in a little closer. "If it’s bothering you too much, I can get you something."

Liam shook his head, still smiling. "It’s not time for my meds yet, remember? So for now, there’s not much to be done."

Zayn sighed quietly but nodded. He appreciated Liam’s honesty, even if he didn’t like the part where he had to endure any pain, no matter how small.

"If it gets worse, promise you’ll tell me, yeah?"

Liam rolled his eyes playfully. "Zayn, you’d know before I even told you."

Zayn chuckled. He couldn’t deny it was true.

Then Liam’s gaze drifted towards the window, watching the sunlight slip through the gaps in the curtains, and he let out a soft sigh. "I want to get out of the bedroom for a bit."

Zayn raised an eyebrow. "Go where?"

"Just downstairs to the living room," Liam said. "Spend some time with everyone."

Zayn’s smile grew. He liked that idea. "Then let’s go."

He stood up, grabbing the clothes he had set aside before his shower. Liam watched as he got dressed—not just because he liked the sight of Zayn pulling on his T-shirt and adjusting his trousers, but because there was something comforting in the routine of it all.

Zayn was careful in the smallest gestures. Even in the simplest movements, there was something intimate about the way he ran his fingers through his hair after getting dressed, or how he gave himself one last glance in the mirror before turning back to Liam.

"All set," he said, returning to the bed and holding out his hand. "Shall we?"

Liam took his hand, feeling the warm, familiar touch, and let himself be pulled out of bed. His body was still adjusting to the constant fatigue that seemed ever-present now, but being with Zayn made everything easier.

Together, they left the bedroom and made their way downstairs, the steps creaking softly beneath their feet. As soon as they reached the living room, they were greeted by a cosy atmosphere and the lingering scent of breakfast in the air.

Liam’s family was there. Karen and Geoff sat on the sofa, speaking in hushed tones, while Ruth and Nicola were settled near the coffee table, where a board game was already set up.

The moment she saw them, Nicola grinned excitedly. "There you are!"

Ruth glanced up and raised an eyebrow. "I thought you’d be in bed all day."

Liam laughed, settling beside Zayn on the sofa. "Almost did."

Nicola clapped her hands against her thighs, eager. "Well, good thing you didn’t, because I’ve been waiting for you to play."

Liam felt his chest warm with the familiarity of the scene. He loved board games. Always had. Ever since childhood, spending hours competing with his sisters had been one of his favourite memories, and he knew Zayn enjoyed these things too.

He looked at the board on the table and smiled. "What are we playing?"

Nicola grinned back. "Guess."

And the moment Liam realised which game it was, he knew it was going to be a good day.

The soft living room rug was the perfect setting for the moment. The coffee table had been pushed slightly aside to make more space, and the board was open between them, with the game pieces scattered and the cards neatly arranged in small piles.

Zayn, Nicola, Ruth, and Liam sat there, their legs crossed or folded haphazardly, completely immersed in the game. The colourful tokens moved across the board, and the dice rolled, dictating each player's fate.

It was one of those classic games, full of twists and turns—the kind that could turn a lucky player into a complete loser in a matter of minutes. And, of course, Liam was losing miserably.

"This is a complete injustice!" he exclaimed as he landed, for the third time in a row, on a space that forced him to move several steps back.

Zayn laughed, watching his boyfriend fondly. "You’re the one who chose that strategy."

"Yeah, but I didn’t think the game would decide to hate me this much!" Liam shot back, crossing his arms dramatically.

Nicola, who was clearly winning, grinned triumphantly. "Maybe you just need to accept that I’m better at this."

Ruth rolled her eyes. "Or maybe it’s because you’ve been playing this game since you were old enough to count to ten, and we only play it every now and then."

"Details." Nicola shrugged, entirely pleased with herself.

The game continued, each round bringing a fresh wave of laughter and friendly teasing. There was something special about that moment, something beyond the game itself. The way Zayn looked at Liam with that soft glimmer in his eyes whenever he spoke. The way Ruth and Nicola exchanged knowing glances, as if reminiscing about all the years they had played this game together.

And then there were Karen and Geoff, sitting together on the sofa, simply watching.

They weren’t playing, but they didn’t need to. Just seeing them there, laughing, joking, living in that moment of genuine happiness, was enough to warm their hearts.

They knew life hadn’t been easy. They knew the challenges they faced now were great, frightening, difficult to bear. But in that moment, none of it mattered.

What mattered was that their children were happy, that Liam was happy. And that was all that truly mattered.

The game carried on at an engaging pace, each piece slowly making its way across the board, each card bringing unexpected challenges. Liam was already in a terrible position, and luck didn’t seem to be on his side this time.

He picked up a new card and sighed before even reading it aloud, as if he already knew something unfair was about to happen. Turning the paper between his fingers, he began to read, trying to contain his frustration:

"You had to get married. Wedding costs: £7,000. Pay and skip two turns for the honeymoon."

A moment of silence.

Then, laughter exploded around the room. Nicola clapped her hands, delighted by the game’s latest twist, while Ruth threw her head back, thoroughly amused by the obvious indignation on Liam’s face.

"Luck in love, bad luck in the game, little brother," Nicola teased, still laughing.

"Oh, come on, seriously? I was already broke in this game!" Liam groaned, tossing the card aside with an exaggerated sigh.

Zayn, sitting beside him, raised an eyebrow, chuckling. "Well, at least you’re on your honeymoon. Two rounds without having to worry about anything."

"And without getting to play, either," Liam retorted, huffing.

Ruth, still laughing, decided to push the joke further. "It’s not really fair, is it? Zayn should at least split the costs with you."

Zayn crossed his arms, pretending to consider it. "Hmm… good point."

Nicola nodded, enjoying the scene. "Exactly! What kind of fiancé lets the other pay for everything alone?"

"The kind that wants to test true love," Zayn teased with a shrug.

But then he smiled, leaning forward slightly. His tone shifted—quieter, almost serious.

"But don’t worry, yeah? Liam won’t have to pay for anything when it really happens."

The silence that followed was different from before. No longer the expectant hush before reading a card, nor the quiet that precedes an eruption of laughter.

It was a silence filled with meaning.

Liam’s cheeks flushed instantly.

He looked down at the board, at the colourful pieces and scattered cards, as if suddenly completely focused on the game.

But he didn’t say anything—he didn’t need to.

There was something in his hands, which had absentmindedly intertwined over his knees. Something in his chest, which seemed to warm with those words. And at the same time as it warmed, it ached .

He simply took a deep breath and let his turn pass so the game could continue.

The game had ended, but the relaxed atmosphere didn’t seem to have fully returned. Liam kept a smile on his face, joked a little while everyone tidied up the scattered pieces and cards, but Zayn noticed the difference.

It was subtle at first—a slight withdrawal, a silence that lingered just a little longer than usual between his occasional laughter. But Zayn knew Liam too well not to realise when something was wrong.

He didn’t say anything. Not yet.

He helped Nicola and Ruth put the board away while Liam got up from the floor, with Zayn discreetly offering a hand, and muttered that he was going out to the garden for some fresh air.

Zayn watched him leave.

If it had been anyone else, it might have seemed like a simple urge to step outside for a moment. But it wasn’t just anyone.

It was Liam.

And Zayn knew that Liam always sought the garden when he needed to be alone.

The night air was cooler than he had expected. Liam crossed his arms over his chest, feeling the light breeze brushing against his skin as he walked slowly towards the wooden bench near the carefully tended flowers his mother had planted. He sat there, resting his elbows on his knees, hands clasped together, gaze fixed on some indefinite point ahead.

Marriage.

That word had been coming up more often than he would have liked in the past few days.

He didn’t want to think about it.

Because thinking about marriage meant thinking about the future.

And thinking about the future meant remembering that he didn’t have one.

Zayn wasn’t far behind.

The sound of footsteps on the grass was soft, but Liam would have recognised it anywhere. He glanced at his boyfriend and saw the concern written all over his face.

"Are you all right?" Zayn asked, his voice calm but weighted with something deeper.

Liam looked away again, taking a deep breath before answering. "Yeah."

Zayn narrowed his eyes slightly, unconvinced. He stepped closer, sitting beside Liam on the wooden bench, his arm slipping gently around his boyfriend’s shoulders as he pulled him into an embrace.

"You went quiet during the game," Zayn remarked bluntly. "Was it because of what I said?"

Liam didn’t reply straight away. He simply closed his eyes for a moment, relaxing into Zayn’s arms, letting the familiar warmth make everything feel just a little easier.

Then he sighed and murmured, almost like a silent plea:

"Don’t talk about marriage anymore."

Zayn’s chest tightened. He blinked, as if he needed a moment to process those words.

"What?" His voice came out lower than he had intended.

Liam pulled away just enough to look at him. "I’m going to talk to Ruth and Nicola too, so they stop saying things like that."

A second of heavy silence.

And then, Zayn felt his heart stutter.

"Why?"

The question was barely a whisper. He wanted to sound calm, but his worry was obvious.

"Why don’t you want us to talk about it?"

Liam didn’t answer immediately. Zayn’s brown eyes searched his, trying to understand, trying to decipher the weight of that silence.

"Liam," Zayn insisted, now holding his face between both hands. "Why?"

Liam’s eyes were damp.

And when he finally spoke, his voice trembled.

"Because I can’t."

Zayn frowned. "Can’t what?"

"Marry you."

Zayn’s stomach dropped.

"What?" he repeated, louder this time, more surprised, as if his brain refused to absorb those words.

"I can’t marry you, Zayn."

"What do you mean, you can’t?"

Liam squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, as if gathering the courage to say what needed to be said.

And then, when he opened them, the tears were there, brimming, glistening under the faint light from the veranda.

"Because I’m dying."

Zayn felt as though the ground had been ripped from beneath his feet.

But Liam continued.

"We can try to ignore it, pretend otherwise, but we both know the truth." His voice wavered for a second, and he had to take a deep breath before going on. "I’m dying, Zayn. In two years… I won’t be here anymore."

Zayn shook his head, as if simple denial could be enough to push those words away. "Liam, don’t say that."

But Liam only smiled—a small, bitter smile.

"It’s the truth."

"No."

"Zayn."

"No." His voice broke.

Liam closed his eyes again, pain etched into every feature of his face. "I can’t marry you knowing that I’m going to die soon."

Zayn felt a suffocating pressure in his chest, a growing despair he didn’t know how to contain. "Liam—"

"It would be so selfish of me."

Zayn sat utterly still, his breath caught, his heart pounding—painfully, fiercely.

And then, without thinking, without hesitating, he cupped Liam’s face and kissed him.

It was a desperate kiss—deep and aching—and Liam didn’t hesitate to kiss him back.

He gripped Zayn’s arms, holding on tightly, as if anchoring himself to him. As if that kiss was the only thing keeping him from completely falling apart.

And maybe it was.

When they finally pulled away, Zayn kept his hands on Liam’s face, pressing their foreheads together, eyes closed as he tried to steady his breathing.

"Don’t say that to me again," Zayn murmured, his voice rough, thick with unshed tears.

Liam swallowed hard. "But it’s true."

"I don’t care."

Liam frowned slightly.

"Zayn—"

"I don’t care!" he repeated, his voice cracking again. "You’re not selfish for wanting to marry me, love. You’re not selfish for wanting to live! Even if it’s for less time than you wanted."

Liam blinked rapidly, trying to hold back his tears.

"I want to marry you, Liam."

Liam’s chest rose and fell unevenly, his breathing unsteady.

"But I can’t let you be tied to this."

Zayn shook his head, firm. "That’s not something you decide on your own."

Liam’s eyes finally overflowed.

And Zayn held his face even more tenderly, his thumbs wiping away the tears that slipped down his cheeks.

"It doesn’t matter how much time we have. I want that time with you."

"Time doesn’t matter, my love."

The words left Zayn’s mouth with such unwavering certainty that, for a moment, Liam could do nothing but look at him, trying to understand how someone could say something like that with such conviction.

Time didn’t matter?

"Time has never mattered to me," Zayn continued, and there was a light in his eyes—a mixture of affection, pain, and a strength Liam had never quite understood where he got from. "I’ve always wanted to live with you, from the very beginning. I’ve always wanted to spend every second of my day by your side. Not because you’re ill, not because I’m afraid of losing you, but simply because I want to. I want to be with you, I want to share my life with you, I want everything with you."

Liam felt his throat tighten.

"I don’t want to live by your side thinking that time is running out. I don’t want to count the days, don’t want to be trapped in this idea that everything will end. I just want to live with you, love. That’s all."

Zayn’s fingers brushed gently over Liam’s face, wiping away a tear that escaped before he could hold it back. His touch was delicate, as if he were trying to memorise every detail of Liam’s skin beneath his fingertips.

"I want to travel with you," he said, his voice now barely a whisper. "I want to create new memories with you, just like we planned for the holidays. I want us to laugh at our silly jokes, I want us to argue because I never remember to put things back where they belong, I want us to wake up late in some random hotel and spend the entire day in bed, watching whatever’s on TV."

Liam closed his eyes for a moment, trying to suppress the sob threatening to escape.

"I want to marry you, love."

This time, Zayn took his hands in his own. "I want to wake up every day knowing that you’re my husband. I want to love you every night, the way I always have, without thinking about what comes after. I want to watch every film in the world with you, even the ones I know I’ll hate, just because I know you’ll look at me halfway through and smile in that way that makes me forget everything else around us."

Liam couldn’t hold back his tears any longer.

They fell.

Silent at first, merely a reflection of the crushing weight of the moment. But then, the crying deepened, and he didn’t even try to hide it. There was no point in hiding anything from Zayn. There never had been.

Zayn tightened his grip on his hands, pulling Liam into an embrace—a strong embrace, one that wrapped around every part of him, one that held him so firmly it felt like a silent promise that he would never let him fall.

"It doesn’t matter how much time we have," Zayn murmured against Liam’s hair, his own eyes burning with the need to make him understand. "Whether it’s two years, five, ten. It doesn’t matter. What matters is that I want that time with you. I want every second, Liam. I want it all. And I know you do too."

Liam swallowed hard.

Because he did.

He wanted it so much it hurt .

And that was why he had tried to deny it—because he wanted it so much he was afraid, because thinking about the future hurt more than any physical pain he had ever experienced.

But Zayn wanted him too.

Zayn wanted him exactly as he was, exactly with the time they had, without worrying about what came next.

And deep down, Liam knew he wanted that too.

So he nodded.

It was a small gesture, almost imperceptible, but Zayn saw it.

He saw it and smiled, his eyes still glistening with tears, but carrying a genuine happiness—a happiness Liam hadn’t seen in him for some time.

Zayn moved closer, his eyes fixed on Liam’s, absorbing every detail of that face he knew so well. The way the tears still slid silently, marking his skin as if they were the purest reflection of everything Liam felt—everything he always kept buried so deep within himself, everything he rarely allowed to escape. But now, here, in front of him, Zayn saw every fragment of Liam’s vulnerability, every piece of the internal battle he waged against his own feelings, against the fears that kept trying to pull him away from what he truly wanted. Zayn would never allow him to pull away.

Without hesitation, he lifted a hand and caressed Liam’s face, his fingers gliding gently over the damp skin, wiping away a few tears that still insisted on falling. Liam closed his eyes for a moment, leaning into the touch, as if seeking refuge there, as if every gesture from Zayn was enough to ground him in reality, to remind him that he didn’t have to carry everything alone.

And then Zayn kissed him.

It was a slow kiss, filled with tenderness and devotion—unhurried, free of urgency, just a pure reflection of everything he felt for Liam. His lips moved with an almost reverent softness, savouring every tiny detail, conveying through delicate touches all that words failed to express. Liam returned the kiss with the same intensity, his fingers clutching at Zayn’s shirt, holding onto him as if afraid he might disappear.

When they pulled apart, Liam smiled.

His eyes were still full of tears, but now there was something different in them. Something lighter, brighter. Something that resembled hope.

"I love you," Liam murmured, his voice thick with emotion but filled with certainty.

Zayn smiled against his lips and replied without hesitation, "I love you too."

And then Liam said it again.

And Zayn answered.

And as if they needed to reaffirm that feeling countless times to make it even more real, they continued.

"I love you."

"I love you."

"I love you."

Those words filled the space between them, enveloped them like an invisible embrace, becoming something almost tangible—a silent promise that extended beyond any amount of time they had left.

Zayn leaned in once more and kissed the lingering tears from Liam’s face, his lips brushing softly against the damp skin, as if trying to erase any trace of pain, any remnant of sadness. Liam closed his eyes and allowed himself to simply feel—the warmth of Zayn’s touch, the way he held him with such care, as if Liam were something too precious to be treated with anything but the utmost gentleness.

They could have stayed there forever, wrapped in that bubble of love and tenderness, but Geoff’s voice brought them back to reality.

"Boys, come to dinner."

Liam opened his eyes slowly and saw his father standing at the door of the veranda, his gaze soft, understanding, carrying that quiet kind of warmth that only parents can express without needing to say anything. Geoff didn’t ask any questions, didn’t mention the tears, didn’t break the moment with unnecessary words. He simply smiled kindly, as if he knew exactly what had happened there and wanted Liam to know that he was there, that he understood, that he was happy for him.

Zayn gave a small smile and, before Liam could pull away completely, kissed his face a few more times, his lips brushing gently against his skin until all the tears had disappeared. Liam let out a quiet laugh, pushing Zayn lightly, though without any real intention of making him stop.

"That’s enough," he murmured, but his tone was so full of affection that Zayn only chuckled and took his hand, intertwining their fingers before standing up.

And then they walked inside together, hand in hand, ready to have dinner with Liam’s family.

Dinner didn’t last very long, at least not for the two of them. Due to the medication Liam was taking, his recovery, and the tumour itself, he had been getting tired quite easily.

To some, that afternoon might not have seemed like much—playing board games with his sisters and boyfriend, chatting with his parents, and a brief moment in the garden with Zayn. It was nothing.

But lately, to Liam, it was a lot. So, as soon as they finished eating and Zayn gave Liam his medication, the two of them said their goodbyes and headed back upstairs, ready to do what they spent most of their time doing when they were together—watching a film.

The nighair had the scent of rain-soaked earth, wafting through the slightly open window. A single lamp cast a warm glow across the cluttered bedroom, illuminating piles of clothes and a rumpled bed. On the bed, Liam lay sprawled out, his chest rose and fell steadily with his deep breaths, and the soft snoring that escaped his lips was a testament to his exhaustion. The room was still, the only sound being the rhythmic patter of rain on the window pane. 

Zayn, on the other hand, was wide awake. His eyes glinted with mischief as he studied Liam's relaxed form. He couldn't resist the urge to stir things up a bit. Slowly, he leaned in, his breath hot against Liam's ear as he whispered a low, "Love."

Liam jolted upright, blinking rapidly. "H-Hm?"

Zayn smirked, his hand already moving to the hem of his shirt. "I was just thinking, the movie's almost over and we're still dressed." He peeled his shirt over his head, revealing the taut planes of his chest. His eyes danced with a playful glint. "Want to take this to the next level?"

Without waiting for an answer, Zayn leaned in and captured Liam's mouth in a deep kiss. The suddenness of it sent a jolt through Liam's body, and he responded eagerly, his arms wrapping around Zayn's neck, pulling him closer. The kiss grew more fervent as their tongues met, exploring and dancing together. The TV droned on in the background, forgotten as the heat between them began to build.

Zayn's hands grew more daring, sliding under Liam's shirt to trace the lines of his muscles. His fingertips danced over Liam's stomach, sending shivers up his spine. The rain outside grew louder, matching the tempo of their increasingly passionate kisses. The room was now a cocoon of warmth and desire, the outside world a distant memory.

As if reading Liam's thoughts, Zayn gently pushed him onto his back, straddling his waist. Their eyes locked, and Liam felt a thrill of excitement as Zayn's hands moved to the button of his pants. The tension grew palpable as Zayn began to undo the button, his movements deliberate and teasing. The anticipation was intoxicating.

Liam's own hands weren't idle. He reached up to grab Zayn's hips, pulling him closer. He could feel the bulge in Zayn's pants, and the desire to touch it grew unbearable. Their kisses grew sloppier, more urgent, as they both fumbled with the fabric that separated them. The room was filled with the sound of their breaths mingling, the rustle of clothes, and the occasional thunder from the storm outside.

With a final tug, Liam's pants gave way, and Zayn's hand found its target. Liam gasped into Zayn's mouth as he felt the warm, firm grip around his cock. Zayn began to stroke him, his movements slow and deliberate, drawing out the pleasure. Liam's hips bucked upward reflexively, seeking more.

The storm outside grew more intense, the thunder rumbling closer, and the rain hammered against the glass with a newfound ferocity. Yet, it was nothing compared to the tempest that was building inside the room. Their kisses grew more desperate, their bodies moving together in a silent symphony of need.

Zayn reached into his own pants and freed himself, the cool air of the room a stark contrast to the heat between their bodies. He aligned their cocks and began to rub them together, their pre-cum mixing and making the friction slick. The sensation was electric, and Liam's breaths grew ragged.

The thunder crashed, and in that moment of pure, unbridled passion, they both came together, their bodies shuddering with the intensity of their shared orgasm. They broke their kiss, panting, their eyes locked, sharing in the aftermath of their desire. The rain continued to pound, but they were in their own world now, a place where only they existed, where the storm outside was nothing but a backdrop to the fierce intimacy they'd just shared.

“Sorry." Zayn said, laughing a little, his breathing labored. "I just felt a really urgent need for you all of a sudden." 

"I want more," Liam begged in a whisper. "More of you. Please." 

“Baby. I think that was enough for you today." Zayn said, brushing their lips together softly. “Sorry, I didn't mean to stir you up and then cut you off. It was just a momentary urgency—but I don't want to ask more than you can handle. Let's not forget that you are still in recovery." 

“I'm fine." Liam stated smiling. "I swear I would tell you if I wasn't. I just really, really need to feel your cock inside me. Pleeeease ." 

“"Oh, God. Who can resist you asking like that and with that face? My dick is already getting hard again.” Zayn gasped, licking his dry lips. Liam grinned, grinding his hips against Zayn's, rubbing their cocks together again. “I'll be gentle to you, okay? And you'll tell me if anything bothers you." 

“It's already bothering me. I don't want you to be gentle. I want you to fuck me hard. You've turned me on—now I need you so bad. Fuck me good, no gentleness.” Liam begged. Zayn couldn't deny him. It was impossible.

The room was bathed in the warm, silver glow of the rising moon, the curtains drawn back just enough to let a few fingers of light dance across their bare skin. The scent of their mingled arousal hung in the air, a potent reminder of the passion they had just shared. Zayn's hand trailed down Liam's chest, his fingertips tracing the path of his lover's racing pulse before coming to rest in his abdomen. 

Zayn nodded, his eyes dark with understanding. He knew that the surgery had taken a toll on Liam, that his body was still healing. But the doctor had given the all-clear for gentle activity, and Zayn was more than willing to push the boundaries of what that meant.

He leaned back, his eyes never leaving Liam's. "I've got you," he promised, reaching for the bottle of lube on the nightstand. The cap snicked open, and a moment later, cool gel coated his fingers. He watched as Liam's eyes widened slightly, his pupils dilating with anticipation.

Gently, soothingly, Zayn began to spread the lube over Liam's ass. His touch was light, almost reverent, as if he were painting a masterpiece with every stroke. Liam's muscles tensed, then relaxed under his ministrations, a soft sigh escaping his lips.

With a wicked smile, Zayn leaned in and whispered, "Ready for more?"

Liam's breath hitched, his eyes flying open to meet Zayn's. "Always."

The sound of the lube bottle being set aside was the only noise in the room. The silence was a living thing, charged with the electricity of what was to come. Zayn's fingers slid down, pressing against Liam's tight opening. Slowly, so slowly, he pushed one inside, watching Liam's expression for any signs of pain or discomfort.

But all he saw was pleasure , pure and unbridled, as Liam's eyes rolled back and his mouth fell open on a silent moan. Zayn felt his own cock twitch in response, eager to be back inside the warm embrace of his lover's body.

He added another finger, then another, his movements slow and deliberate. Liam's body stretched around him, accepting him, welcoming him back in. The moan that spilled from Liam's lips was like music to Zayn's ears, a sweet symphony that sent shivers down his spine.

Once Liam was open enough, Zayn pulled his hand away, reaching for his cock. It was slick with pre-cum and lube, and he stroked it a few times, watching as Liam's gaze followed the motion hungrily.

Then, with a growl that was part passion and part possession, Zayn positioned himself and pushed inside. Liam's body tensed for a brief moment, a whine escaping him, before he melted into the sensation. Zayn stilled, giving Liam a moment to adjust, his own breath ragged.

"Okay?" he checked, his voice strained.

Liam nodded, his eyes still closed, a smile playing on his lips. "Fuck me, Zayn."

And with that, Zayn began to move, his hips rocking in a steady rhythm that had Liam's moans growing louder with each stroke. He held his lover's legs open wide, watching as his cock slid in and out, the sight making him even harder.

Each thrust hit Liam's prostate, and with every moan, every clench of his muscles around Zayn's cock, the tension grew. Zayn could feel Liam's body responding, begging for more, and he was more than happy to oblige. He picked up the pace, his strokes growing deeper, more deliberate. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, punctuated by the wet sounds of their union.

Liam's hands found Zayn's shoulders, his nails digging in as he arched his back, pushing himself onto Zayn's cock. "Harder," he pleaded, his voice a desperate whine that went straight to Zayn's core. “Please please.”

Zayn groaned, his self-control slipping as he gave in to the demand. He leaned over Liam, his weight pressing him into the mattress, and drove into him harder. The headboard banged against the wall in time with their passionate dance, each impact sending a shockwave of pleasure through both of them.

Liam's eyes snapped open, locking onto Zayn's. The depth of his need, his love, was starkly clear in their dark pools. "I'm close," he warned, his voice tight with the effort of holding back.

Zayn's own climax was building, his balls tightening, his cock swelling. He leaned down, capturing Liam's mouth in a bruising kiss, their tongues tangling as they raced towards the edge together.

With a final, powerful thrust, Zayn felt himself let go, his orgasm ripping through him like wildfire. He groaned into Liam's mouth, filling him with his seed. Liam's body tightened around him, and then he too was coming, his cock spurting between them, painting their chests with ropes of hot cum.

They lay there for a moment, panting and trembling, their bodies joined as one. The only sound was the rapid beating of their hearts, echoing in the quiet room.

Slowly, Zayn pulled out, his cock slipping from Liam with a wet sound that made them both shiver. He collapsed beside his lover, their bodies sticky with sweat and lube.

Liam's eyes remained closed, his chest rising and falling rapidly. "Thank you," he murmured, his voice barely audible.

Zayn wrapped an arm around him, pulling him close. Always being very careful with his head. "Always, my love," he whispered. "Always. I love you.”

“I love you too.” Liam whispered, his eyes slowly closing, feeling so tired. 

Their breathing began to even out, the aftershocks of pleasure still coursing through their veins. They lay there, tangled in the sheets, basking in the warmth of their love.

But outside their cocoon, the world waited, full of unspoken tensions and unresolved conflicts. And as much as Zayn wanted to stay there, lost in the bliss of Liam's arms, he knew they couldn't ignore reality forever. The storm was coming, and it would take more than just love to weather it.

Chapter Text

Over the past few days, ever since the doctor had approved the trip, Liam had been feeling a mix of emotions that ranged from pure excitement to a slight apprehension he preferred to ignore. The idea of going away, of travelling, of doing something he had always wanted to do filled his heart with an almost childlike thrill—something he hadn’t felt in a long time. But at the same time, there was that constant shadow reminding him of his limitations, of the fact that things weren’t as simple as they seemed. Even so, he chose to focus on the positive—the opportunity to experience this alongside Zayn.

The room was an organised mess. The suitcases lay open on the bed, clothes neatly folded on one side, accessories and essentials on the other, and Zayn, as always, was the one making sure everything was properly arranged. Liam tried to help, but every now and then, he would pause to check something on his phone or simply get distracted watching Zayn, feeling grateful just to have him there.

The trip to Thailand wasn’t just a whim. It was a dream. Ever since the film had been released, Liam had loved Tangled , and the lantern scene had always been one of his favourites. The idea of being there, of witnessing it with his own eyes, made his chest buzz with excitement. He knew Zayn had helped make this possible, knew that his family supported it too, even if they were worried.

"Did you pack your medication?" Zayn asked, not taking his eyes off the suitcase as he carefully folded one of Liam’s t-shirts and placed it neatly alongside the others.

Liam rolled his eyes but smiled. "Yes, Dad, it’s here," he replied, holding up the toiletry bag with the bottles before tucking it into the side pocket of his suitcase.

Zayn shot him a sidelong glance, narrowing his eyes playfully, but said nothing. Instead, he closed his own suitcase and let out a satisfied sigh. "I think we’re done, then."

Liam watched his boyfriend for a moment, taking in the sight of him there—so focused, so present. Zayn had always been attentive to him, always treated him with care and affection, but since the surgery, that attentiveness had multiplied. Liam knew Zayn tried not to smother him, tried to act as if everything was normal, but the truth was, Zayn was constantly on the lookout for any signs of fatigue or discomfort. Liam understood. He couldn’t blame him.

A little while later, they carried their suitcases downstairs, where Karen, Geoff, Nicola, and Ruth were already waiting in the living room. The atmosphere was one of farewell, but not sadness. There were smiles, tight hugs, and reminders Liam had fully expected to hear.

"Don’t forget to call me when you arrive," Karen said, holding Liam’s hands firmly. "And please, if you feel anything unusual, let me know."

"Mum, I’ll be with Zayn and Paul. And I’ll call you every day, I promise."

She nodded, though she didn’t look entirely convinced. Geoff stepped forward and wrapped an arm around his son’s shoulders, pulling him into a strong, silent embrace. He didn’t need to say anything. Liam knew exactly what that gesture meant.

Nicola and Ruth, on the other hand, made sure to be more dramatic, going on about how much they would miss him and how they wanted pictures of absolutely everything. Liam laughed and promised to send every detail.

Finally, after a few more minutes of goodbyes, they got into the car that would take them to the private jet. The trip had been planned to be as comfortable as possible for Liam—no long waits at airports, no exhausting transfers, no invasions of privacy.

As soon as the plane took off, Liam gazed out of the window, feeling a wave of emotion wash over him. He was going. He and Zayn. To a place he had always wanted to visit, to a festival that meant so much to him.

And for the first time in a long while, Liam felt genuinely excited about what was to come.

The private jet glided smoothly through the night sky, carried by the almost imperceptible hum of the engines. Outside, the darkness stretched endlessly, occasionally dotted by the distant lights of some city below. The cabin’s interior was silent, save for the faint clinking of cutlery when Liam and Zayn picked something from their plates or the muffled sound of Paul’s breathing as he slept in one of the seats further ahead. His arms were crossed over his chest, his head tilted slightly to the side, making his breathing come in a steady, peaceful rhythm.

Liam and Zayn, on the other hand, were at the back of the aircraft, enjoying the privacy of their space. They had just finished dinner—a light yet well-prepared meal—but Liam was still nibbling on a piece of chocolate while Zayn watched him with a smile. He loved seeing Liam like this, relaxed, completely present in the moment, without worrying about what came next.

"You do know that chocolate was my part of the dessert, right?" Zayn remarked, raising an eyebrow as he watched Liam take another bite.

Liam shrugged, his expression entirely innocent, chewing slowly before replying, "Sharing is an act of love, Zayn. You should be grateful for the opportunity."

Zayn chuckled, shaking his head. "Oh, of course. Thank you so much, love of my life, for letting me watch you eat my dessert."

Liam grinned in satisfaction, finally picking up a piece and holding it to Zayn’s lips. "There. Now you can say we shared."

Zayn accepted the offer without protest, gently holding Liam’s wrist as he took a bite of the chocolate from his hand, his lips brushing lightly against his boyfriend’s fingers in the process. A shiver ran down Liam’s spine—so subtle, so familiar, that he nearly laughed at his own reaction. How did Zayn manage to make even the simplest gestures have such an effect on him?

Once they had finished the chocolate, Zayn let out a long sigh and reclined his seat, stretching his back in the process. A satisfied groan escaped his lips as he felt the tension ease from his muscles, his eyes fluttering shut for a moment.

"That was very necessary," he murmured, sinking comfortably into the soft upholstery.

Liam watched him for a few seconds, feeling a deep, swelling tenderness inside him. He knew Zayn was tired. Ever since the surgery, Zayn had made a point of staying by his side at all times, looking after him, making sure everything was alright. He rarely allowed himself to truly rest, always paying attention to every little detail, every possible sign of discomfort Liam might show.

Liam didn’t want Zayn to worry so much. He wanted Zayn to relax too, to enjoy this trip without constantly thinking about how to protect him.

Without giving it much thought, he got up and, before Zayn could question him, carefully climbed onto his lap, lying down against his chest.

Zayn’s eyes opened instantly, startled by the sudden proximity, but the surprise quickly melted into a soft smile. He let his hands glide over Liam’s back, stroking slowly, lazily.

"Comfortable?" Zayn asked, his voice low and filled with affection.

Liam nodded, closing his eyes and exhaling a contented sigh. "Very."

Zayn chuckled, tilting his head slightly to press a kiss to the top of Liam’s head, right where the soft strands remained untouched, careful not to brush against the dressing.

The warmth of Zayn’s body was so familiar, so comforting, that Liam felt himself fully relax. He could hear Zayn’s steady breathing, feel the rhythm of his heartbeat beneath his cheek. It was a sensation he would never tire of.

They stayed like that, exchanging silent touches, unhurried, with no need for words. Zayn traced gentle patterns across Liam’s back with his fingertips, while Liam, in turn, let his fingers play idly with the fabric of Zayn’s jumper, feeling its soft texture beneath his hands.

For a moment, time seemed to slow down. Nothing else mattered but the warmth of their bodies pressed together, the tender touches, the quiet comfort they found in one another.

Eventually, fatigue began to weigh on them. Liam felt his eyelids grow heavier, and Zayn noticed the gradual slowing of his breath.

"Sleep, love," Zayn murmured, his voice almost a whisper. "We’ve still got a long journey ahead."

Liam didn’t respond with words—he simply tightened his arms around his boyfriend a little more, as if wanting to hold onto this moment forever.

And then, in the peaceful silence of the jet, lulled by the gentle sound of the flight and the warmth of each other, they finally drifted off to sleep.

Time seemed suspended within the silent cabin of the jet, the only sound coming from the distant hum of the engines and the slow, steady breathing of Liam, still deeply asleep. Zayn couldn’t say exactly how many hours had passed since they had drifted off, but he woke to a slight pressure against his body, realising that Liam, who had been sleeping comfortably on top of him, was now beginning to slide down slightly, his muscles too relaxed to hold him in place.

Zayn blinked a few times, still trying to shake off the haze of sleep, but his instincts reacted faster than his consciousness. He moved his hands gently, catching Liam before he could slip away completely. He felt the familiar weight of his body in his arms, the warmth radiating from his skin, the way his breathing remained calm, completely surrendered to rest.

With the utmost care, Zayn shifted to the side of the seat, adjusting Liam to settle him more comfortably. He didn’t want him to wake abruptly, especially knowing how exhausted he had been feeling lately. Even after the surgery, even with the tumour removed, Liam still seemed drained, as if his body were struggling to recover from something far greater than any of them could truly understand. His sleep was so deep that when Zayn lifted him slightly to move him to the seat beside him, Liam didn’t even stir. He merely let out a long, sleepy sigh, his face sinking into the pillow the moment Zayn reclined the seat and adjusted his body into place.

Zayn’s heart clenched at the sight. Liam looked so peaceful, yet so fragile at the same time. There was something angelic about the way his face was relaxed, his long lashes casting soft shadows against his fair skin, his breathing unfolding in slow, rhythmic waves. The dressing on the side of his head was still there, a constant reminder of everything he was going through, and yet, to Zayn, Liam had never looked more beautiful.

He reached for a folded blanket beside him and draped it over Liam, pulling it up to his shoulders. He took care to smooth the fabric, ensuring he was warm enough before allowing himself a quiet sigh. Even without feeling sleepy, he didn’t want to check his phone, didn’t want to turn on the TV or do anything that might disturb the peaceful moment Liam had found.

It was only then that he remembered something he hadn’t done in a long time.

Careful not to make any noise, Zayn leaned down, pulling his rucksack from under the seat and unzipping it slowly, deliberately. His sketchbook was there, nestled among a few other belongings. He let his fingers glide over the worn cover, feeling the texture of the aged leather beneath his hands before finally retrieving it from the bag, along with one of his favourite pencils.

He flipped through a few pages, glancing over old sketches, unfinished ideas, outlines of faces that had never been completed. It had been a while since he had picked up a pencil to draw something from scratch. But now, watching Liam sleep so serenely beside him, he knew exactly what he wanted to capture on that blank page.

Zayn rested the sketchbook on his knee, holding the pencil firmly, and began tracing the first lines.

His hand moved with precision, the strokes emerging on the paper in light, fluid motions. He started with the basic structure of Liam’s face, marking the curve of his jaw, the shape of his nose, the softness of his slightly parted lips in sleep. His eyes, even closed, were an essential detail—Zayn took care to sketch every strand of his brows, every subtle shadow around his lids, capturing the tranquillity of the moment.

The low lighting in the cabin cast gentle shadows across Liam’s face, giving the scene an almost ethereal quality. Zayn tried to replicate every detail, every nuance of his expression—the strands of hair falling over his forehead, the slight tilt of his head against the pillow, the quiet rhythm of his breath that Zayn could almost hear as he drew.

And, of course, the dressing.

Zayn hesitated for a moment when he reached that part. He didn’t want the drawing to be a reminder of what Liam was going through; he didn’t want it to be a portrait of illness. But at the same time, he knew it was part of Liam now. And Liam was beautiful, with or without that dressing.

So he drew it.

He captured every detail, every delicate fold of the fabric, the way it rested against the side of Liam’s head, the contrast between it and the softness of his hair. And as he did so, he realised he didn’t see it as something sad or painful. He saw it as part of Liam’s story. Part of who he was, of everything he was fighting through.

Zayn continued sketching for long minutes, immersed in the process as though nothing else existed around him. Each new stroke on the page seemed to bring the image to life, making it almost tangible. He worked on the final details, shading certain areas, adding depth to Liam’s serene expression, until at last, he paused, gazing at the completed drawing.

It was him.

It was Liam, exactly as he was in that moment—sleeping deeply, wrapped in the soft blanket, his delicate features perfectly captured on the paper.

Zayn couldn’t help the smile that spread across his lips.

He closed the sketchbook slowly, unhurried, and placed it back into his bag, making sure to tuck it away carefully. Then, he turned his attention to Liam once more, watching him for long moments.

It didn’t matter what the future held. It didn’t matter how many days, months, or years they still had together. What mattered was this. Moments like this. Small fragments of peace and love that Zayn would never stop treasuring.

And with that thought, he nestled back into the seat beside Liam, pulling the blanket up a little higher over his boyfriend. He closed his eyes, listening to the soft, steady rhythm of Liam’s breathing beside him.

The cabin of the jet remained steeped in a comfortable silence, broken only by the gentle hum of the engines and the steady breathing of Liam, still asleep beneath the soft blanket. Zayn, who had been sitting beside him, watching his serene face with a mixture of affection and concern, felt his stomach protest quietly. He hadn’t realised he was hungry, too distracted by his own thoughts and the drawing he had done minutes earlier.

With one last glance at Liam, ensuring he was still deeply asleep, Zayn rose from his seat and walked towards the front of the cabin, where the jet’s small kitchen was located. The space was well-equipped, as expected, with a few ready-to-eat options available. He opened the built-in fridge and grabbed a sandwich, unwrapping the foil slowly before taking a bite. The taste was simple but satisfying.

Seated in one of the chairs by the window, he picked up his phone and unlocked the screen. The sudden brightness illuminated his face in the dim cabin, and for a moment, he blinked, adjusting his eyes before swiping across the display.

His notifications were exploding.

He knew they always were, especially after the announcement of the band’s hiatus. The news had hit the fandom like a bombshell, and even though the fans understood the need for a break, that didn’t make it any easier to accept.

Zayn scrolled through his Twitter feed, seeing “ One Direction ” still in the trending topics, accompanied by emotional hashtags like # ThankYouOneDirection and # WeWillWaitForYou . The fans were in a frenzy, as always, blending sadness, nostalgia, and support. Old videos from their first tours were circulating as if they were memories from another life. The Zayn of 2010, 2011, 2012 appeared on his screen, laughing alongside Liam, Harry, Niall, and Louis, messing about backstage, playfully throwing themselves at one another during interviews.

That boy felt so distant from him now.

Zayn looked away for a moment, taking another bite of his sandwich, a weight settling in his chest. He loved the band, he loved the boys, but there was no denying how much had changed since those early years. Now, with Liam asleep at the back of the jet, fragile and exhausted after surgery, nothing seemed more important than being by his side.

He turned his attention back to his phone and kept scrolling through his timeline. A few posts caught his eye.

Photos of them at the supermarket.

Photos of them at the picnic with Liam’s family.

A fan captioned one: “Ziam was real this whole time, and we never knew??? How??? My heart can’t take this.”

Another post showed a close-up of Zayn holding Liam’s hand in the park, the caption in all caps: “ THEY’RE NOT EVEN TRYING TO HIDE IT ANYMORE. THEY’RE NOT EVEN TRYING!!!!”

Zayn let out a quiet laugh through his nose, shaking his head slightly. The fandom had always been quick. No matter how discreet they tried to be, the fans always paid too much attention to the smallest details. For years, he and Liam had hidden everything—or at least tried to. They knew the weight of their careers, the expectations of the industry, the interference of management.

But now… now none of that mattered anymore.

Management had already sent furious messages about those photos, Paul had even tried to warn them, but Zayn hadn’t bothered to reply. He knew Liam wouldn’t care either.

Liam was more important than any career, any public image, any contract or expectation.

They had never told the world they were together, but Zayn felt that, on some level, people had always known. At least now, he didn’t have to hide anymore.

He stayed on social media for a few more minutes, watching the speculation grow, the fans connecting dots, recalling moments from the past and questioning everything . “Have they always been together? Did the whole band know? What else have they hidden from us??”

Zayn sighed and locked his phone, setting it down on the table in front of him. He didn’t want to worry about any of that now. Not when Liam was there, sleeping, and when the only thing that truly mattered was that he was okay.

He finished eating and stood up, grabbing a bottle of water before heading back to the rear of the jet.

Liam was still in the same position, the blanket slightly rumpled over his body, his breathing calm and steady. Zayn smiled, leaning down to adjust the cover over him again, his fingers brushing lightly through his soft hair.

The whole world might have been talking about them now.

But in that moment, the only thing that mattered was Liam.

The soft morning light of Thailand bathed the private airport runway as the jet finally landed. The gentle impact of the wheels against the tarmac made the plane vibrate slightly, an almost imperceptible movement, but enough for Liam to let out a small, uncomfortable noise at the back of his throat and shift in his seat. He was still deep in sleep when Paul stood from his seat at the front and approached them, his voice low but firm enough to wake them.

"We’ve arrived, boys."

Zayn blinked a few times, stretching before glancing at Liam beside him. His boyfriend barely moved, only furrowing his brow, as if trying to ignore the reality that he had to leave that comfortable state of drowsiness. But the journey, though smooth, had been long, and he needed to wake up.

"Liam," Zayn called softly, sliding his hand down his arm. "Wake up, love."

Liam let out a tired sigh and slowly opened his eyes. He blinked a few times, trying to gather himself, and as he made a move to sit up, Zayn noticed the exact moment his body tensed. A grimace formed on his face, and his hand immediately went to his stomach.

"Feeling sick?" Zayn asked, already knowing the answer before Liam gave a weak nod.

He hurried to help him up, wrapping a steady arm around his waist. Liam was thinner, and the way his body seemed to lean entirely against Zayn made it obvious just how exhausted he was.

"Let’s take it slow, yeah?"

Liam didn’t respond with words, just rested his forehead against Zayn’s shoulder, as if wanting to steal a moment of rest before they even reached the car.

Paul stepped off the plane first, checking the security of the area, then signalled for them to follow. Zayn held Liam more firmly and guided him outside, taking slow steps down the stairs. The Thai air wrapped around them immediately—warm and slightly humid, yet with a pleasant morning breeze.

Zayn helped Liam into the black car already waiting on the tarmac, holding the door open so he could settle inside. As soon as Liam sat down, he leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes, visibly uncomfortable.

Zayn exhaled quietly and, before taking his seat beside him, pulled a wool beanie from his backpack, carefully fitting it over Liam’s head to cover the bandage. His fingers ran gently over the fabric, making sure it was comfortable.

"It’s cold," Zayn murmured, also grabbing a jacket and wrapping it around Liam. "That’s better."

Liam hummed in response, not opening his eyes, but tilted his head towards Zayn’s touch, accepting the affection without hesitation.

Paul took the passenger seat, and the driver set off, navigating the quiet streets of the morning. The ride to the hotel was silent, with Liam remaining still, trying to keep his nausea at bay, and Zayn staying alert for any sign that he might need help.

When they finally arrived at the hotel, Paul stepped out first again, ensuring the way was clear before opening the door for them.

Zayn helped Liam out of the car, and together, they walked towards the hotel entrance. The lobby was spacious and elegant, with grand chandeliers and a subtle scent of fresh flowers in the air. The atmosphere was quiet but not empty—some guests sat in armchairs, chatting softly or scrolling through their phones.

It was only as they crossed the lobby that Zayn noticed the looks.

Nothing blatant, no one approaching them immediately, but he caught the subtle lift of phones, the glances that lingered too long. Some people whispered amongst themselves, and a group of teenagers in one of the seating areas exchanged excited expressions when they realised who had just walked in.

Zayn knew photos were being taken at that very moment.

But honestly? He didn’t care.

He kept his eyes on Liam, who seemed oblivious to it all, focused solely on moving forward and reaching their room as soon as possible.

Paul handled check-in quickly, collecting the room keys while Zayn and Liam waited near the lift. Once everything was sorted, the three of them headed to their floor.

The corridor was quiet when they arrived, and Zayn sighed, finally feeling relief knowing that, inside the room, Liam could rest undisturbed.

He opened the door, guiding Liam to the bed, and as soon as he saw him lie down, he knew he wouldn’t stay awake for long.

Liam hugged the pillow without a word, his body sinking into the mattress as if he could finally relax.

Zayn smiled faintly, pulling the blanket over him, then sat beside the bed, watching as his boyfriend drifted off to sleep almost instantly.

The world might have been watching their every step.

But there, in that hotel room, Zayn’s only focus was Liam.

While Liam slept soundly, Zayn took advantage of the quiet moment to pick up his phone and send messages to their families, letting them know they had arrived safely. He knew how worried everyone had been, especially given Liam’s delicate health. After sending the messages, Zayn glanced around the hotel room, feeling grateful for the warm and welcoming space that surrounded them.

The room was spacious and elegantly decorated, blending traditional Thai design with modern touches. The walls were adorned with carved wooden panels depicting scenes from the country’s rich culture. A large king-size bed sat at the centre of the room, covered in crisp white linens and colourful silk cushions that added a vibrant touch to the setting. Beside it, a dark wooden desk was positioned near a floor-to-ceiling window, allowing natural light to flood the space during the day.

Zayn walked to the balcony and slid open the glass door, feeling a gentle breeze caress his face. The view was simply breathtaking. From above, he could see the Ping River winding through the city of Chiang Mai, its waters reflecting the golden shimmer of the strong sun. The riverbanks were dotted with ancient temples, their gilded roofs gleaming under the sunlight, contrasting with the lush green trees that surrounded them. Further in the distance, mist-covered mountains created an almost ethereal backdrop, reminding Zayn of landscapes he had only ever seen in films or photographs.

He took a deep breath, absorbing the serenity of the moment. The city was slowly waking up, filling the narrow streets with life. The distant sound of laughter and conversations in an unfamiliar language reached him, blending with the tempting aroma of spices drifting through the air. A wave of excitement ran through him at the thought of the Lantern Festival, or Yi Peng, which would take place in two days. He knew how eager Liam was to experience this magical event, where thousands of lanterns would be released into the night sky, creating a spectacle of lights that symbolised the letting go of misfortunes and the renewal of hope.

Returning inside, Zayn decided to unpack so everything would be in order when Liam woke up. He carefully hung both their clothes in the spacious wooden wardrobe, making sure the suits they planned to wear to the festival were free of any creases. Then, he arranged their toiletries in the luxurious marble bathroom, which featured a soaking tub and a rain-effect shower. The hotel’s amenities were of the highest quality, infused with fragrances that evoked the scent of the local flowers.

As he organised their belongings, Zayn couldn’t help but think about the plans he had made to surprise Liam during their stay. Aside from attending the festival, he had booked a private dinner at one of the city’s most renowned restaurants, set in a traditional teakwood house overlooking a lantern-lit garden. And there was another event—one of great significance—that he could barely contain his excitement for.

After finishing, Zayn sat in the armchair beside the bed, watching Liam sleep. His face looked more at peace now, the lines of worry softened by rest. Zayn reached out, gently caressing Liam’s cheek, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath his fingers. Leaning in, he pressed a soft kiss to Liam’s forehead, whispering words of love and promises of better days ahead.

The distant chime of wind bells and the gentle song of daytime birds created a soothing melody that filled the room. Zayn closed his eyes for a moment, allowing himself to be lulled by the harmony, feeling deeply grateful that they were here together, sharing this moment in such a special place.

As the morning progressed, Zayn knew that despite the challenges they faced, they were creating memories that would last a lifetime. And, above all, he was determined to make every moment of this trip unforgettable for Liam—filling his days with love, joy, and renewed hope.

Zayn was still sitting in the armchair beside the bed when he realised that Liam was still sleeping deeply. The exhaustion had been evident in him since they had landed, and Zayn knew Liam’s body needed this rest more than anything. But at the same time, he also knew that when Liam woke up, he would probably be hungry. Zayn himself could already feel his stomach rumbling slightly, and with that in mind, he picked up the room phone and dialled reception.

The receptionist answered almost immediately, her voice gentle and professional. Zayn explained that he wanted to order something to eat—something local, but not too spicy or heavy. The receptionist helpfully listed a few traditional options that might suit them—massaman curry, pad thai, pineapple fried rice—and Zayn chose somewhat randomly, trusting her recommendation. He always enjoyed trying new foods when he travelled and hoped Liam would also be in the mood to try something different.

After hanging up, Zayn stretched in his chair and glanced at Liam again. The room was quiet, with only the muffled sounds of the city outside and the soft hum of the air conditioning. The curtains weren’t fully drawn, and a golden hue from the sun’s rays seeped through the gap, casting a gentle light on Liam’s face. He looked so peaceful like this, sleeping. A tender ache filled Zayn’s chest.

Slowly, he leaned forward and ran his fingers through Liam’s hair, careful to avoid the area covered by the bandage. The strands were soft between his fingers, and he allowed himself to stroke them for a few moments, simply savouring the quiet intimacy of the moment. Liam let out a small sigh and shifted against the pillow, as if, even in sleep, he enjoyed the touch.

Zayn smiled.

He moved closer and pressed a soft kiss to Liam’s cheek, then another near his temple, and one more along his jawline. He was about to kiss the tip of Liam’s nose when he heard a sleepy murmur and saw Liam’s eyes begin to open slowly.

Liam blinked a few times, his eyes adjusting to the light in the room. As soon as his gaze met Zayn’s, he gave a lazy smile.

“Good morning,” Zayn murmured, even though it was almost evening.

Liam chuckled, his voice still rough with sleep. He lifted a hand and lazily ran it through his tousled hair. “Is it morning?” he asked, his voice thick with drowsiness.

Zayn nodded, laughing as well. “You were out cold. But I expected that. The journey was long.”

Liam stretched slowly, his muscles still heavy with sleep. “I needed that. Sleeping in a real bed helped a lot,” he admitted. “Now I’m just hungry.”

Zayn smiled. “I already ordered us some food, lunch,” he said, pleased with himself for anticipating it. “I have no idea what exactly it is, but the receptionist swore it was good.”

Liam pulled a playful face, nudging Zayn lightly on the shoulder. “You trust people too much,” he teased.

“It’s good to try new things,” Zayn countered.

But then Liam shook his head. “I don’t want to stay in the hotel room,” he said suddenly. “That’s not why we came. I want to go out.”

Zayn raised his eyebrows, surprised, but he didn’t argue. He understood Liam. Staying in the room didn’t feel right after all the planning they had done for this trip. Even though he wanted to make sure Liam got enough rest, he also wanted him to enjoy himself.

“If you want, I’ll cancel the order,” Zayn offered.

Liam nodded immediately. “I want that.”

Zayn chuckled and picked up the phone again, calling reception to cancel the food order. While he did that, Liam grabbed his own phone and sent a message to Paul, letting him know they wanted to go out. Then, he got up from the bed and walked to the balcony, taking in the view of the city from their room.

When Zayn hung up, he looked over at Liam again. “Where do you want to go?”

“Anywhere,” Liam replied. “I just want to walk around a bit, see the city. Have you seen the view from the balcony? The city is stunning, absolutely beautiful! I want to explore every bit of it.”

Zayn smiled, his heart warming at the sight of Liam so excited. He stood up, pulling Liam along with him, and kissed his forehead before saying, “Then let’s get ready. Let’s go explore.”

And so, they began preparing to head out, ready to make the most of the day together, immersed in a new place, surrounded by a vibrant culture and the promise of unforgettable moments.

Paul knocked on the hotel room door exactly at the agreed time. On the other side, he heard the sound of footsteps, and then the door opened, revealing Liam and Zayn already ready to head out. Liam looked excited, a smile on his face and his eyes shining with anticipation, while Zayn absentmindedly adjusted Liam’s shirt collar before closing the door behind them.

Paul observed them for a second, as he instinctively did whenever they were outside, making sure Liam seemed well. He didn’t say anything, just smiled. “Ready to go?”

Liam nodded. “Yes! The day is so beautiful. I want to walk around, explore the city, and find a nice place for lunch.”

Paul raised his eyebrows, both surprised and pleased. “Good to hear. It’s always better when you decide what you want to do instead of just staying in the hotel.”

Zayn chuckled, slipping on a pair of sunglasses as they walked down the corridor towards the lift. “We definitely didn’t come here to stay stuck in a hotel.”

Liam glanced out of the large window at the end of the hallway, taking in the vibrant blue sky, almost cloudless, stretching over the city. The sunlight reflected off the buildings and the bustling streets below, making everything look even more beautiful. His heart felt lighter. For a moment, he completely forgot why they were there, forgot the worries that usually weighed on him. In that instant, he just wanted to live.

As soon as they reached the lobby, they passed quickly by the reception, where a few staff members greeted them with polite smiles. The hotel was luxurious yet discreet, so there weren’t many people around. But Liam knew that as soon as they stepped outside, the chances of being recognised would be high. Not that it mattered much right now.

The moment they walked out onto the street, they were met with the gentle warmth of the sun and the aroma of spices drifting from nearby street food stalls. The city’s soundscape was a blend of lively voices, passing motorbikes, and traditional music playing somewhere in the distance.

Paul glanced at them. “Is there anything specific you want to see, besides having lunch?”

Liam shook his head. “Not really. I just want to walk around, take in the city, no rush.”

Zayn smiled and wrapped an arm around Liam’s shoulders, pulling him closer. “Sounds like a perfect plan.”

And with that, they began strolling through the streets, immersed in the vibrant energy of this new place.

As they strolled through the streets of Chiang Mai, Liam couldn’t contain his enchantment at the beauty surrounding him. The city, known as the "Rose of the North" of Thailand, offered a unique blend of culture, history, and nature. The streets were lined with ancient temples whose golden rooftops shimmered under the afternoon sun, while the air was filled with the aroma of spices and exotic flowers. The mild climate, typical of the mountainous regions of northern Thailand, made the walk even more pleasant.

Zayn, walking beside Liam, observed the excitement in his boyfriend’s eyes and couldn’t help but grin from ear to ear. Seeing Liam so happy and full of energy made his own heart overflow with joy. They passed through vibrant markets where local vendors displayed colourful handicrafts, finely woven fabrics, and an array of street food that made their stomachs rumble with hunger. The city’s energy was contagious, and every corner seemed to unveil a new wonder.

“Everything is so beautiful,” Liam said, his eyes shining as he watched a group of monks in orange robes walk past them. “I can’t wait for the Festival of Lights. I’m so excited—I just know it’s going to be amazing.”

Zayn, knowing the surprise he had planned for his boyfriend during the festival, nodded with a knowing smile. “It will be amazing, yes,” he agreed, already imagining Liam’s expression when the moment arrived.

As they wandered through the charming streets of Chiang Mai, Liam, Zayn, and Paul allowed themselves to be enveloped by the city’s vibrant atmosphere. The pavements were adorned with vividly coloured tropical flowers, and the scent of exotic spices mingled with the warm afternoon air. The façades of the buildings displayed a harmonious blend of traditional Thai architecture and colonial influences, creating a picturesque scene that delighted the eye.

Liam, his eyes shining with enthusiasm, pointed to a cosy restaurant that stood out at the corner of a bustling street. The establishment had tables set along the pavement, covered with impeccably clean white linen tablecloths, while colourful paper lanterns hung gracefully above, swaying gently in the breeze. The ambience was inviting, and the combination of traditional and modern elements gave the place a special charm.

"How about having lunch there?" Liam suggested hopefully, watching the cheerful bustle of customers enjoying their meals outdoors.

Zayn and Paul exchanged glances before nodding in agreement. "It looks like a great choice, Liam," Zayn replied, appreciating his boyfriend’s keen eye for detail and his eagerness to explore new places.

As they approached the restaurant, they were greeted by a shy-looking young waiter who led them to a table shaded by a large bamboo parasol. Upon recognising Liam and Zayn, the waiter showed a mix of surprise and nervousness, his hands trembling slightly as he handed them the menus.

"Sorry... my English... not very good," the waiter said with an embarrassed smile, trying his best to communicate.

Liam leaned forward slightly, adopting a warm and reassuring posture, and replied gently, "Don’t worry, your English is great. We’re happy to be here."

Zayn added with an encouraging smile, "Yes, we’re looking forward to trying the local food. What would you recommend?"

The young waiter seemed to relax a little at their kindness. "Ah, thank you. Well, our Khao Soi is very popular. It’s a curry noodle soup, typical of Chiang Mai. We also have Pad Thai and Som Tum, a spicy papaya salad."

Liam and Zayn exchanged excited glances. "That sounds delicious," Liam said. "We’ll have the Khao Soi and the Pad Thai, please."

As the waiter jotted down their order, he hesitated for a moment before asking, a hopeful gleam in his eyes, "Sorry, but... may I ask for a photo with you?"

Liam and Zayn smiled warmly. "Of course, we’d love to take a photo with you," Zayn replied.

Liam, feeling a pang of insecurity, discreetly adjusted the beanie he was wearing to cover the bandage on his head. Though the temperature was high, he preferred to keep it on to avoid unwanted questions or curious glances.

They stood up and posed beside the waiter, who held his phone with slightly trembling hands. After the photo, the young man thanked them repeatedly, visibly moved by the experience.

As they waited for their meal, Liam gazed around with a dreamy expression. "This place is truly enchanting," he remarked, his eyes fixed on a distant point.

Zayn noticed that, for a brief moment, Liam seemed lost in thought, as if he were trying to remember something important. He reached out and gently touched Liam’s arm. "Are you all right?"

Liam blinked, returning to the present, and smiled. "Yes, I was just thinking how wonderful it is to be here together."

Zayn smiled back, though a slight worry settled in his chest. He knew that Liam’s recent treatments could cause occasional lapses in memory or moments of distraction, but he chose not to mention it, wanting only to enjoy their time together.

As they waited for their food, Liam was radiant. There was something in his smile, in the way his eyes sparkled, that made it impossible for Zayn and Paul not to smile as well. He was happy, excited, completely absorbed by the magic of the place. It was as if all the exhaustion of the journey and any discomfort he might have felt earlier had simply melted away, replaced by the thrill of being there, in such a vibrant and lively city. He observed everything around him with an almost childlike wonder, as if he were discovering the world for the first time, absorbing every detail, every colour, every sound.

"Are you seeing this? Look at that sky, what a perfect shade of blue," Liam said, pointing upwards. The afternoon stretched lazily, the sun still strong but no longer scorching, painting the sky with golden hues that contrasted with the deep blue above them. Small, colourful paper lanterns swayed gently at the entrances of shops and restaurants, casting shifting patterns of light and shadow on the time-worn stone pavements. The street was a blend of tourists and locals, some strolling leisurely, others hurrying through their daily routines.

Zayn watched him with a look of pure adoration. He loved seeing Liam like this, utterly present in the moment, free from worry, simply enjoying himself. He wanted to hold onto this image forever—Liam, his brown eyes glowing in the sunlight, a spark of excitement lighting up his face, speaking animatedly about everything around him as if narrating his own experience in a passionate documentary.

"It really is beautiful," Zayn agreed, draping his arm over the back of Liam’s chair, his fingers brushing lightly against his arm.

Paul, arms crossed and a slight smile on his face, looked at Liam with an almost paternal expression. "I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this excited, kid," he teased, shaking his head. "And I’ve seen you in plenty of situations."

Liam chuckled, leaning forward with a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Oh, Paul, maybe you just haven’t been paying close enough attention," he replied with a playful wink.

Paul laughed, shaking his head. "Maybe. But I like seeing you like this."

Zayn liked it too. So much that it made his chest warm just watching him talk that way, his eyes full of life. Liam was grinning so widely that his teeth were fully visible, and Zayn realised it had been a long time since he had seen that genuine, carefree smile, free of any hidden exhaustion or worry.

They continued chatting, Liam gesturing a lot as he spoke, as he always did when he was excited. He pointed at everything around them—the design of the shop signs, the warmth of the Thai people, the enticing aromas of spices wafting from the restaurant kitchen, mingling in the air.

When the young waiter returned to the table, balancing the dishes skilfully on his arms, Liam paused mid-sentence to watch him expectantly. The delicious aroma rising from the plates already had his mouth watering.

The Khao Soi arrived in a steaming bowl, its golden, creamy broth enveloping tender pieces of chicken and soft egg noodles, topped with a crispy nest of fried noodles. Small side dishes contained chopped red onions, lime wedges, and pickled mustard greens, ready to be added to taste.

The Pad Thai, on the other hand, was a masterpiece. The rice noodles glistened under the tamarind sauce, mingled with plump pink prawns, fresh bean sprouts, crushed peanuts, and a sprinkle of fresh coriander. A wedge of lime rested beside it, waiting to be squeezed over the dish, elevating the flavours to another level.

Liam picked up his chopsticks but hesitated for a moment, furrowing his brow as if trying to remember something. Zayn noticed the pause and, without a word, handed him a fork with an encouraging smile. Liam accepted the utensil, thanking him with a glance, and began to enjoy his meal.

"You’ll love it," the young waiter said, carefully placing the steaming bowls before them. "I hope you enjoy it."

Liam leaned forward, inhaling deeply before taking his first bite. "Wow," he murmured. "That smells incredible."

Zayn and Paul murmured in agreement, picking up their chopsticks and spoons.

Liam was the first to taste it, blowing lightly on the spoon before taking a bite. The moment the rich, creamy broth touched his tongue, his eyes widened in surprise at the explosion of flavours. The balance of curry, coconut milk, and spices was perfect, and the slight tang of lime lifted it even further.

"My God," he said after swallowing his first spoonful. "This is… incredible."

Zayn laughed, tasting his own dish in turn. He wasn’t as expressive as Liam when it came to food, but his look of satisfaction was enough to make the waiter smile with pride.

“You were right,” Zayn said to the young man. “Great recommendation.”

Paul, already halfway through his bowl, nodded. “We’ll definitely remember this restaurant.”

The waiter beamed, visibly pleased by the praise. “I’m glad you liked it,” he said, adjusting his apron.

As Zayn continued to savour his meal, he decided to ask, “Would you have any recommendations for things to do here in the city? Anywhere we absolutely shouldn’t miss?”

The young man seemed to think for a moment before listing a few tourist attractions, mentioning famous temples, street markets, and nature excursions. But then his eyes lit up as he spoke of something in particular.

“But the most special thing happens in two days… the Festival of Lights,” he said, smiling brightly. “It’s one of our most beautiful celebrations. You’ll love it.”

Liam, who had just picked up another bite of noodles, paused mid-motion and looked up. He smiled, this time a softer, almost tender smile. “That’s why we’re here,” he said gently.

The waiter grinned even wider. “Then you’ll love it. It’s magical. You’ll see the sky fill with lanterns, like a sea of moving stars. It’s a very special moment for us Thais.”

Zayn nodded, already imagining how much that festival meant to Liam. He knew how much his boyfriend loved the film Tangled , and the thought of witnessing something similar in real life made him emotional. He wanted it to be perfect, and he had plans to make that moment even more unforgettable.

“I can’t wait,” Liam said, the light in his eyes even brighter now.

And as Zayn watched him, he was certain this trip would become one of their most cherished memories together.

They finished their meal unhurriedly, savouring every moment of that perfect afternoon. The day’s heat had softened, making the atmosphere even more pleasant. The open-air restaurant was cosy, with rustic wooden tables adorned with small vases of colourful flowers, and a warm breeze carried the scent of spices mixed with the fresh fragrance of the nearby trees. The murmur of other diners blended with the occasional laughter of tourists delighted by the local cuisine, and everything seemed to fit perfectly into the scene Liam and Zayn were living.

Paul took his last sip of iced tea and cleared his throat, catching their attention. “I’m off to exchange some money,” he said, pulling his wallet from his pocket. “I completely forgot earlier, with everything that happened when we arrived.”

Liam waved a hand dismissively. “No rush, Paul. We’ll wait here.”

Zayn nodded, relaxed. “Go on. We’ll manage.”

Paul gave them a quick look, as if he wanted to say something more, but he merely shook his head with a small smile before walking away, disappearing among the bustling crowds of the street.

Now alone, Liam glanced at Zayn and smirked. Without a word, he dragged his chair closer, the wooden legs scraping against the stone floor until his body was practically pressed against his boyfriend’s. Zayn chuckled, watching him with amusement.

“Is this close enough for you?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

Liam let out an exaggerated sigh, leaning against Zayn’s shoulder as if he had finally found comfort. “Now it is.”

Zayn smiled and wrapped an arm around Liam’s shoulders, pulling him even closer as if ensuring he wouldn’t go anywhere. His hand moved up and down Liam’s arm, his thumb tracing idle patterns over the thin fabric of his shirt. Liam relaxed under the touch, tilting his head slightly, his eyes nearly closing at the gentle affection.

Then Zayn turned a little and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek, feeling the warmth of Liam’s skin against his lips.

Liam groaned immediately, scrunching his nose and pulling back slightly, feigning discontent. “I don’t want a kiss on the cheek.”

Zayn raised his eyebrows in mock surprise. “You don’t?”

Liam shook his head, his expression serious, though his eyes gleamed with playful mischief.

Zayn bit his lip as if considering it. Then, without hesitation, he leaned in and captured Liam’s lips with his own, smiling against his mouth even before the kiss properly began. Liam smiled too, melting into it without the slightest resistance.

The kiss was light at first, just the soft brush of lips, but it soon deepened into something more—an exchange of affection filled with intimacy and familiarity. There was no rush, no hesitation—only the certainty that they could do this, here and now, without fear. They didn’t need to worry about who might see, who might talk, whether there would be rumours or headlines the next day. For the first time, they weren’t hiding anything.

When they pulled apart, Liam’s eyes were still half-closed, a small smile lingering on his lips. “That’s much better.”

Zayn chuckled, running his fingers along the nape of Liam’s neck before kissing him again, this time shorter, but just as tender.

They were happy. Happy in a way they had never been before.

By the time the sun rose the next morning, bathing the city in soft golden hues, the internet was already flooded with photos of Liam and Zayn strolling through the streets of Thailand. Some images showed them walking side by side, their faces relaxed, their smiles effortless, as if nothing else in the world existed beyond that moment. Others captured the instant they had been seated at the restaurant the previous afternoon, Liam laughing with his head thrown back while Zayn watched him with an expression of pure affection. A few, a little more indiscreet, showed the kiss they had shared—a closeness that once would have been carefully avoided but was now simply natural.

Fans were in a frenzy over the images, theories spread in every corner, and Louis, Niall, and Harry had sent near-immediate messages upon waking to find social media exploding with new evidence of what they had always suspected. There were no questions or concerns, only playful teasing, heart emojis, and words of support disguised as jokes. But neither Liam nor Zayn cared. They hadn’t woken up intending to check social media or worry about any kind of reaction. The only thing that truly mattered was what was happening between them, the happiness they shared, and, of course, the Festival of Lights.

Liam had been looking forward to that moment since they had landed in Thailand, but that morning, as he opened his eyes and felt the excitement humming inside him, he knew the day would be special in a way even his imagination hadn’t been able to predict. There was something in the air, an indescribable feeling, as if every detail around him was falling perfectly into place, setting the stage for something grand.

The sky was an incredible shade of blue, with not a single cloud in sight, and the warmth was pleasant, gently heating the city without becoming oppressive. The sounds of life outside the hotel were lively but not chaotic—the hum of motorbikes gliding through the streets, the murmur of people speaking in different languages, the trickling of water from a nearby fountain. From his room, Liam could hear the world moving outside, and it only heightened his anticipation.

Everything seemed to indicate that this would be one of the most important days of his life.

The afternoon of the festival had finally arrived, and the hotel room buzzed with an electric energy as Liam and Zayn prepared for the long-awaited event. Standing in front of the mirror, Liam adjusted the final details of his outfit. The silk fabric gleamed under the soft lighting, highlighting the intricate patterns that adorned the garment. He had chosen colours that complemented his skin tone, and the result was nothing short of stunning.

Zayn, sitting at the edge of the bed, watched Liam’s every move with a gaze that held both admiration and deep affection. "You look absolutely beautiful, love," he said, his voice laden with sincerity. It was the third time in just a few minutes that he had expressed the sentiment, and each time, it somehow sounded even more genuine than before.

Liam, feeling heat rise to his cheeks, shifted his gaze from the mirror to Zayn, a shy smile playing on his lips. "You’ve already said that about a thousand times," he replied, attempting to downplay his embarrassment but failing miserably.

Zayn stood and approached him, wrapping his arms gently around Liam’s waist from behind. "And I’d say it a thousand more if I could. I can’t take my eyes off you."

Liam laughed, a light, carefree sound that filled the room. "You’re impossible."

Before they could lose themselves further in the moment, a soft knock at the door signalled Paul’s arrival. "Are you ready, boys?"

Zayn released Liam reluctantly, stepping back. "Yes, we’re coming."

The car ride to the festival site was filled with anticipation. Liam sat in the back seat, his eyes gleaming as he watched the city pass by through the window. The streets were adorned with colourful lanterns, and the air was thick with the scent of spices and flowers. He could hardly contain the excitement bubbling inside him.

Upon arriving at the festival, they were greeted by an explosion of colours and sounds. The area was teeming with market stalls displaying local crafts, while dancers in traditional attire performed on makeshift stages. The sound of traditional Thai music echoed through the air, creating a symphony that seemed to pulse in time with the hearts of those present.

Liam tugged Zayn by the hand, leading him towards one of the food stalls. "Look at this! We have to try it."

They approached a stall emanating the irresistible aroma of pad thai . The vendor, an elderly man with a warm smile, greeted them in Thai before serving two generous portions of the dish. Liam took his first bite, his eyes widening in delight. "This is incredible!"

Zayn smiled, watching the genuine joy on Liam’s face. "I’m glad you’re enjoying it."

As they wandered through the festival, they were drawn to a performance of fon lep , a traditional Thai dance. The dancers, dressed in elaborate costumes with long metallic fingernails, moved gracefully to the rhythm of the music, telling stories through their fluid gestures. Liam was mesmerised, his eyes following each movement with rapt attention.

Further along, a cultural parade was about to begin. Floats adorned with flowers and intricate sculptures made their way down the street, while participants in traditional dress waved to the crowd. Liam and Zayn found a spot on the pavement to watch, absorbing every detail of the celebration.

Amidst the festive atmosphere, there was a moment when Liam seemed to hesitate, his eyes losing focus for a brief second. He furrowed his brow as if trying to remember something important, but the feeling quickly passed, and he turned back to Zayn with a smile. Zayn, unaware of the fleeting distraction, remained blissfully caught up in the night’s magic.

As the evening progressed, the festival’s energy only grew stronger. Liam and Zayn continued exploring, taking part in cultural workshops, sampling different dishes, and immersing themselves completely in the richness of Thai culture. Every moment was a new discovery, a new shared memory they would treasure forever.

And though small lapses in memory occurred occasionally, they were so subtle they went unnoticed, overshadowed by the joy and love that filled that magical night.

As the sun set on the horizon, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink, Liam, Zayn, and Paul made their way to the main ceremony of the Lantern Festival in Chiang Mai. The twilight cast a gentle glow over the city, highlighting the beauty of the festive decorations adorning the streets and temples. The air was infused with the scent of incense and lotus flowers, creating a mystical and serene atmosphere.

As they approached the ceremony site, they were met with a breathtaking sight: thousands of people gathered around a vast open space, all dressed in traditional attire and holding carefully crafted lanterns. The air was thick with a palpable energy of anticipation and reverence.

At the centre of the space, Buddhist monks in saffron robes sat cross-legged on an elevated platform, their serene expressions reflecting years of spiritual discipline. Before them, a grand altar adorned with Buddha statues, fresh flowers, and flickering candles served as the focal point for the devotees' offerings.

The ceremony began with meditative chants sung by the monks, their deep, rhythmic voices creating a hypnotic melody that seemed to resonate within the soul of each participant. The sound of the chanting, combined with the soft chime of bells and the murmurs of the crowd, wove a spiritual symphony that enveloped everyone present.

As the chants continued, participants were invited to light their lanterns, symbolising spiritual illumination and the release of past burdens. Liam, a radiant smile on his face, carefully lit the candle inside his lantern, watching in awe as the flame took hold, illuminating the delicate rice paper that encased it.

Beside him, Zayn observed Liam’s every movement with quiet tenderness, noticing how his eyes gleamed with a mix of joy and contemplation. He knew how much this moment meant to Liam and felt profoundly grateful to be sharing it with him.

When the chanting concluded, one of the monks rose and addressed the crowd, offering words of wisdom on the importance of letting go, of compassion, and the pursuit of inner enlightenment. Though spoken in Thai, his teachings transcended language, touching the hearts of all who listened.

As night fully descended, the festival’s most awaited moment arrived: the release of the lanterns into the sky. The now-dark expanse above served as the perfect canvas for the spectacle of lights that was about to unfold.

Liam and Zayn stood side by side, holding their lantern together. Liam was visibly moved, his eyes glistening with tears of happiness as he watched the first lanterns ascend slowly, filling the sky with golden light.

"Ready, love?" Zayn asked, his soft voice breaking the reverent silence between them.

Liam nodded, unable to contain the smile spreading across his face. "Yes, let’s do this."

Together, they released their lantern, watching as it lifted gracefully, joining the thousands already drifting skyward. The sight was breathtaking—a sea of floating lights, each carrying the wishes, hopes, and prayers of those who had set them free.

Liam was mesmerised, his gaze following the path of their lantern until it blended with the rest. A profound sense of peace and connection settled within him—not just with Zayn, but with everyone around them, united in this collective act of release and renewal.

Turning to share the moment with Zayn, Liam was taken aback to find him kneeling on the ground, an expression of love and determination on his face. In his hands, he held a small velvet box, open to reveal a gleaming ring that reflected the lanterns' glow above.

Liam’s hands flew to his mouth, his eyes welling with fresh tears as the reality of the moment struck him. His heart pounded, a rush of surprise, joy, and emotion surging through him.

"My love," Zayn began, his voice steady yet filled with feeling, "from the moment I met you, my life changed in ways I never could have imagined. You brought light to my darkest days and showed me the true meaning of love and partnership."

He paused, taking a deep breath before continuing. "We've shared laughter, tears, adventures, and challenges. Every moment with you is a memory I cherish, and every day by your side is a gift I never take for granted."

A single tear slipped down Liam’s cheek, his heart overflowing with love for the man before him.

"In this festival, where we celebrate light, hope, and renewal, I can't think of a more perfect moment to ask you this." Zayn gazed deeply into Liam’s eyes, his voice trembling slightly with the weight of his emotions. "Would you do me the honour of being my partner for life? Liam, will you marry me?"

For a brief instant, Liam’s mind faltered, as though Zayn’s words were taking a moment longer to register. But then the reality settled in, and an overwhelming joy filled his chest, so intense it felt impossible to contain. The tears that had been threatening to fall streamed freely, and he let out a breathless laugh between his sobs, covering his mouth with his hands, utterly overcome. For a moment, he couldn’t speak—he could only look at Zayn, the man he loved with everything he had, kneeling before him with such adoration in his eyes that Liam’s heart ached with happiness.

He didn’t need to think, didn’t need to hesitate. The answer had always been in his heart. " Yes !" The word came out shaky, thick with tears, but unwavering. "Yes, Zayn, a thousand times yes!"

Zayn’s smile was so wide it seemed impossible for his face to contain it. With slightly trembling hands, he took the ring and slipped it onto Liam’s finger, which shook just as much as his. As the band caught the lanterns’ light, Zayn rose, and Liam, unable to hold back, threw himself into his arms, clutching him with all the strength he had.

The kiss that followed was intense, desperate, passionate. The cheers and emotional exclamations of those around them faded into the background, for in that moment, there was only them. Zayn’s lips pressed against Liam’s with urgency, his hands roaming across his back, holding him as though he never wanted to let go. Liam kissed him back just as fervently, feeling as if he might burst with love right there, in the midst of a festival that had already been magical, but was now one of the most important moments of his life.

When they finally parted, Liam rested his forehead against Zayn’s, still catching his breath. He laughed, happiness shining in his eyes, and Zayn laughed with him, the two of them gazing at each other as if they were the only ones in the world. "Are you serious?" Liam whispered, almost as if afraid this was all a dream.

Zayn smiled, cradling Liam’s face in his hands and brushing his thumbs over his cheeks. "More than anything in my life."

Liam took a deep breath, closing his eyes for a brief moment before opening them again, meeting Zayn’s gaze with all the love he felt. "Then I’m the happiest man in the world."

Zayn chuckled, pressing another kiss to Liam’s lips before pulling him into another embrace, burying his face in the crook of his neck. " Not happier than me."

Paul, standing a little distance away, watched the scene unfold with an emotional smile. He saw the way Liam’s fingers brushed over the ring, as if trying to absorb the reality of it. For a second, he frowned, noticing a flicker of hesitation, a brief moment of confusion—but then Liam’s eyes shone again, and he grasped Zayn’s hand tightly. Paul noticed it. A fraction of a second of uncertainty, of something not quite right. But then Liam was Liam again—radiant, in love, completely lost in the moment.

Around them, the lanterns continued to rise into the sky, illuminating the night like thousands of floating stars. The wind carried the murmurs of wishes and prayers, and Zayn knew, in that instant, that all of his dreams were coming true. Liam was here. Saying yes to forever. And nothing else mattered.

Chapter Text

Liam had never seen Zayn so happy, but that was exactly how he had been since the proposal. Zayn made no effort to hide it, no attempt to disguise or keep to himself any part of the overwhelming emotion that seemed to spill from him at all times, and Liam could see it in every detail. In the way he smiled at anything Liam said, even the most trivial things, as if simply hearing his voice was enough to brighten his day. In the way Zayn touched him—more than before—his hands always seeking contact, a caress, as if he needed to constantly reinforce that Liam was there, with him, and that this love was real, tangible, undeniable. It was palpable. It was greater than anything else. Liam had never felt so loved as he did now, and because of that, at times, he felt afraid. Afraid of how happy it made him and of how time, which seemed to move mercilessly forward, could take it all away from him and Zayn.

He tried not to think about it. He tried to focus on the happiness, on how beautiful his days had become, on the way Zayn held his hand when they went out together, as if he would never let go. But it was impossible to ignore. Because the changes were happening—subtle, almost imperceptible to others, but Liam felt every one of them. The fatigue came quicker. There were moments when he felt a strange heaviness in his body, as if he had to exert more effort to do simple things like getting out of bed or walking for long without needing a break. Sometimes, his mind felt clouded, as if it needed more time to process what was happening around him. He never mentioned any of it, because he didn’t want to ruin anything, didn’t want Zayn’s happiness to dim in the slightest. But deep down, he knew.

The doctors had given him a timeframe. Fifteen months. Maybe less, if the treatment didn’t have the effect they were hoping for. He knew he shouldn’t think about those numbers, because medicine was not a definitive sentence, and every body reacted differently. But it was hard not to think about it. It was hard not to imagine time slipping away bit by bit, like sand trickling through fingers, impossible to hold on to. He didn’t want Zayn to go through it, didn’t want to trap him in this reality, in the certainty that the future they planned together would always have a limit. But Zayn never seemed to care. Every time Liam tried to push him away—subtly or directly—Zayn refused. He would say, without hesitation, without any fear, that he wanted this. That he wanted to marry Liam despite the circumstances. That he would always want to marry him, no matter how much time they had.

And Liam believed him.

It was impossible not to believe when Zayn looked at him like that, with such certainty, with such love, as if Liam were the most precious thing in the world. When he spoke about the future with such ease, making plans, imagining trips, moments, little details that might seem mundane to anyone else but meant everything to Zayn. He talked about them buying a flat together, decorating every corner in their own way, adopting a dog, the films they still needed to watch and the songs they still needed to write. He talked about the wedding as if it were the most natural thing in the world, as if there were no reason to doubt, no reason to hesitate. And Liam, no matter how hard he tried to resist, no matter how that tightness in his chest returned every time he thought about the inevitable reality ahead of them, couldn’t help but be swept away by the force of Zayn’s love.

In the days following the proposal, everything felt different. Not because anything had truly changed, but because they were allowing themselves to live it without barriers, without hesitation. Before, there had still been that shadow of fear, of uncertainty, the need to protect themselves from something that felt too vast. But not now. Now, Liam could look at Zayn and see the light in his eyes without wondering whether it was right or wrong. Now, they could go out together without worrying so much about hiding, without fearing what others might think. Because nothing else mattered anymore. Nothing but them and this love that consumed them entirely.

The treatment had begun, and Liam felt its effects gradually. The weakness came in waves—sometimes subtle, sometimes intense. The nausea was constant, and Zayn was always there, holding his hand, preparing something to help him feel better. There were moments when Liam felt like he was falling behind, like Zayn was carrying everything on his own, that he should be stronger. But Zayn never showed any sign of weariness. He remained there, steady, unwavering, as if there was nothing in the world that could make him leave.

And perhaps that was the greatest proof of love of all.

Because Liam knew Zayn could have chosen another path. He could have chosen to walk away, to protect himself, to avoid the pain that would inevitably come. But he chose to stay. He chose to love Liam without fear, without reservation, without worrying about what would come next.

And Liam, no matter how much he wanted to protect him, no matter how much he tried to deny himself this right, knew he could do nothing but accept this love.

Because, in the end, Zayn was the best thing he had ever had in his entire life.

Liam and Zayn were back at the hospital for another chemotherapy session. Though it wasn’t the first time, familiarity with the process didn’t make the experience any less challenging. Each visit carried a mix of hope and apprehension, emotions intertwining as they walked through the white, silent corridors of the oncology centre. Paul was by their side, ever watchful, ensuring no one saw them, that no photos were taken, that Liam’s privacy was respected.

The treatment room was softly lit, designed to offer a welcoming environment for patients. Reclining chairs were arranged in neat rows, each equipped with IV stands and monitors displaying vital signs. The characteristic scent of antiseptic lingered in the air, a constant reminder of the battle being fought there.

Liam settled into one of the chairs, feeling the plush upholstery give under his weight. Zayn positioned himself beside him, holding his hand firmly, offering support and affection through that simple gesture. Paul remained close, standing, observing the surroundings attentively.

"Are you all right?" Zayn asked gently, his fingers brushing over Liam’s knuckles.

Liam nodded, attempting a smile, but Zayn noticed the hesitation.

"I just… don’t know. It always feels worse before it starts," Liam murmured, averting his gaze.

Paul leaned in slightly. "We’re here with you, Liam. Always."

The nurse in charge of the procedure approached with a warm smile, carrying a tray with the necessary instruments for the infusion. Before beginning, she checked Liam’s vitals, ensuring he was fit to receive treatment that day. Then, she prepared the IV access, carefully disinfecting his skin before inserting the needle with precision. Liam felt the sharp prick, followed by the cool sensation of the saline solution preceding the administration of the chemotherapy drugs.

Zayn squeezed his hand. "Take a deep breath, love. It’ll pass."

Chemotherapy for brain tumours involves specific drugs capable of crossing the blood-brain barrier to target malignant cells. These medications can be administered intravenously or orally, depending on the protocol established by the medical team. In Liam’s case, the treatment was delivered via intravenous infusion, with sessions scheduled in cycles that included rest periods to allow his body to recover.

As the medication began to flow, Liam felt a mild burning sensation coursing through his veins, a feeling he hadn’t yet fully grown accustomed to. Zayn, attentive to every reaction, kept his eyes fixed on his partner’s face, searching for any signs of discomfort that might indicate the need for intervention. Paul remained by their side, but his attention was divided between them and the surroundings, ensuring no one attempted to take a photo or approach. None of the five boys had made a public appearance since the announcement of the hiatus over two months ago. The media pursued them relentlessly, and Paul did everything in his power to keep Liam from being exposed.

Time seemed to stretch within that room. The rhythmic hum of the infusion pumps and the gentle murmurs of conversations between patients and their companions created an almost meditative atmosphere. Zayn used these moments to talk to Liam about trivial matters, trying to distract him and ease the tension inherent to the treatment.

"When we get out of here, I’m taking you for that cake you love."

Liam gave a faint smile. "I don’t think I’ll be able to eat much today."

Zayn kissed his hand. "I know. But you’ll try anyway. And I’ll be right there with you."

Paul crossed his arms, smiling. "And I’ll make sure no one finds out where we went."

Despite the controlled environment, chemotherapy’s side effects were inevitable. Liam had already experienced episodes of nausea, extreme fatigue, and changes in taste. Each session carried the uncertainty of how his body would react, and Zayn was always prepared to offer the necessary support—whether by bringing food that might ease his discomfort or simply by being present, offering his shoulder in the hardest moments.

The nurse returned periodically to monitor the infusion’s progress, adjusting the flow rate as needed and ensuring everything proceeded as expected. Her calm and professional presence provided Liam and Zayn with a sense of security, reinforcing their trust in the treatment they were undergoing.

After a few hours, the session ended. The nurse carefully removed the needle from Liam’s arm, applying a plaster over the puncture site. She advised him on post-session care, reminding him of the importance of staying hydrated and resting adequately in the following days.

Liam stood from the chair with Zayn’s help, feeling his body heavier and his mind slightly clouded. Paul walked beside them, alert to any curious glances or potential media threats. Each step was not just a physical effort but a symbol of the journey they were walking together, facing the challenges with unwavering courage and love.

As they left the hospital, the fresh air outside brought momentary relief, a welcome break after hours spent in the clinical environment. Paul glanced around, making sure it was safe.

"The car’s ready," he informed them. "No paparazzi in sight."

Zayn wrapped an arm around Liam’s waist as they walked to the car. "Do you want to go for a drive before we head home?"

Liam hesitated. He did. But he knew his body wouldn’t allow it.

"I think I need to rest."

Zayn nodded and helped him into the car. Paul took the driver’s seat, and they set off in comfortable silence, the scenery passing by the window. Zayn ran his fingers through Liam’s hair, watching his tired face.

The drive home was quiet, interrupted only by the soft sound of Liam’s breathing as he nestled against Zayn’s chest, eyes closed, body succumbing to exhaustion. Zayn felt his weight, the way he sought comfort, as if the warmth of his body could ease the nausea and fatigue left in chemotherapy’s wake. He ran his fingers gently through Liam’s thinning hair, a continuous caress, while keeping his arms firmly around him, as if he could shield him from the pain, the sickness, the exhaustion that clung to him like a heavy fog.

Paul drove in silence, focused on the road, but Zayn knew he was also paying attention to Liam. Paul was always there, ensuring no one got too close, that no one saw them, that no opportunistic photographer captured Liam in such a vulnerable state. Since the band’s hiatus was announced, none of the five had made public appearances, and Paul made sure it stayed that way—especially now, when Liam needed peace. But Zayn knew Paul’s concern went beyond work. He cared for Liam, for all of them. That was why he was there, driving them home, making sure everything was in order so Liam could get the rest he needed.

When they arrived, Zayn got out first, opening the door carefully before leaning in to hold Liam with all the tenderness in the world. Liam didn’t protest. In the past, he would have grumbled, said he could walk on his own, that he didn’t need to be carried. But now, he simply let himself be held, head resting on Zayn’s shoulder, arms loosely around him. It was the most painful proof of how weak he had become, of how the illness was slowly draining his strength. Zayn swallowed hard and carried him inside, feeling each beat of his own racing heart.

As soon as they entered, Karen, Geoff, Ruth, and Nicola came to meet them. Liam’s mother looked at her son with concern, but Zayn spoke first, as gently as possible.

"He’s exhausted, has a headache, and feels a little sick. I think he should rest."

Karen nodded, her eyes glistening with the sadness she tried to hide. Geoff ran a hand through his hair, exhaling heavily. Ruth and Nicola stood by, silent, respecting Liam’s space, though they longed to embrace him. Zayn felt their gazes on him—not in doubt, but gratitude. They knew Liam was being well cared for, and that meant everything to them.

"If you need anything, anything at all…" Karen started, but Zayn offered a small, reassuring smile.

"I’ll let you know. I promise."

He took Liam straight to their room and laid him down with the utmost care. Liam sighed softly as he sank into the sheets, mumbling something inaudible. Zayn pulled the blanket over him, adjusted his pillow, and stood there for a moment, just watching. There was something so fragile in the way Liam curled up slightly, as if his own body knew it had to protect itself from whatever was happening inside him.

Zayn picked up his phone and, still in the room, began typing messages. First to the boys.

Group chat 

From Zayn: Liam’s not well today. He’s not up for visitors. We’ll have to cancel movie night.

The replies came quickly, first from Niall. Zayn wasn’t surprised—Niall was always on his phone.

From Niall: Understood. Just let us know if he needs anything. Anything at all, Zayn.

From Louis: We knew this could happen. Tell him to rest. We’re here.

From Harry: Of course. Give him a hug from me when he wakes up.

Zayn sighed and set his phone down on the bedside table. He knew the boys never got upset when things like this happened, that all they wanted was for Liam to be okay. But Liam... he felt guilty. Zayn knew he did. He never said it, but Zayn could tell. The way he sometimes lowered his gaze, how he tried to push himself beyond his limits just so he wouldn’t be a "burden." But Zayn would never see him that way. And if he could, he would do anything to make Liam understand that.

Paul entered the room with careful steps, stopping beside Zayn.

"Everything all right?" he asked in a low voice.

Zayn simply nodded. "He just needs to rest. Thanks for everything today."

Paul offered a small smile, one of those quiet but meaningful ones. "Always."

Karen appeared in the doorway, looking at Liam for a moment before lifting her gaze to Zayn. "Do you want to get some rest? I can stay with him."

Zayn shook his head, resolute. "I’ll stay. He might need something."

Karen hesitated but then smiled softly. "I’ll bring you some tea, then."

Zayn nodded and turned his attention back to Liam. He knew the next few months would be tough. That there would be days like this and even worse ones. But there would also be good days. Days filled with smiles, laughter, and genuine happiness. And he would hold on to each one of them because Liam was everything. And he would do whatever it took to make sure Liam felt that every single day he had the strength to open his eyes.

Zayn stayed by Liam’s side for a few more hours, watching him sleep. The room was completely silent, except for Liam’s steady breathing and the muffled sound of the wind against the window. The soft glow of the bedside lamp cast a gentle light over his face, highlighting the pallor that chemotherapy and radiotherapy had brought, yet Zayn still thought he was the most beautiful person in the world. He ran his fingers delicately through Liam’s short hair, feeling the soft texture against his fingertips, and smiled at the small frown Liam made involuntarily whenever he felt a touch in his sleep. He didn’t want to wake him, but he also didn’t want to leave.

Carefully, Zayn stood up and fetched a clean pair of pyjamas for Liam. He knew the clothes Liam was wearing were already comfortable, chosen specifically for chemotherapy days, but he wanted to make sure he was as cosy as possible. Even during the process of changing, Liam didn’t fully wake up; he only murmured softly when Zayn lifted his arms to slip the shirt over his body. He mumbled something incomprehensible before sinking back into a deeper sleep. Zayn tucked him in with the plush blanket, making sure he was warm, and pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead before stepping away.

Leaving the room, Zayn took a deep breath and made his way to the living room. As he walked down the hallway, his eyes took in every little detail of the house, absorbing all the things that made it so special. Christmas was approaching, and the Payne family had put great effort into making the space feel festive and welcoming. Twinkling fairy lights lined the skirting boards and door frames, casting a warm glow over the cold nights. The Christmas tree, which he and Liam had decorated together a few weeks before, stood proudly in the main corner of the room, adorned with ornaments carefully chosen over the years. Some baubles held pictures of cherished family moments, others were gifts from friends, and there were those Liam had treasured since childhood. Zayn smiled, remembering how they had laughed while untangling the lights and debating which star to place on top.

Geoff and Karen were sitting on the sofa, chatting quietly, while Ruth and Nicola adjusted a few extra decorations on the shelves. As soon as they saw Zayn, they made room for him to join them. Karen, ever warm and welcoming, patted the seat beside her, inviting him to sit.

"How is he?" Geoff asked, his voice heavy with concern.

Zayn gave a small smile, running a hand through his hair. "He’s sleeping well now. The chemo was a bit rougher today, but he’ll be all right."

Karen nodded, pressing her lips together tightly to hold back any stronger emotions. It was always difficult to see Liam like this, but they all knew they were doing everything they could to support him. Ruth, always trying to lighten the mood, brought up the decorations and how much effort they had put into making the house even more beautiful this year.

"Did you see we added some new lights to the porch?" Nicola asked excitedly. "Liam said he wanted the house to shine brighter than all the others on the street."

Zayn chuckled, nodding. "Of course he did. He never does anything halfway."

The conversation flowed naturally, filled with memories and laughter. It was a precious moment, and Zayn felt part of this family in a way he never had before. They were close-knit, full of love for one another, and most of all, they were happy that Liam and Zayn were getting married. That love, that acceptance, meant everything to Zayn. Even on difficult days like this one, he knew he wasn’t alone. They were all in this together. And more than ever, he was certain he would never let Liam be alone, no matter what.

Zayn joined them in the kitchen, helping where he could. He stirred ingredients absentmindedly, his thoughts still on Liam. He didn’t want to leave him alone for too long, but he knew he needed to embrace these moments with his future family. Karen, noticing his distant expression, touched his arm lightly and smiled at him. "He’s fine, love. He’s resting, just as he needs to. And you need these moments too."

Zayn smiled, grateful for her kindness. "I know. It’s just... it’s hard not to think about him all the time."

Karen nodded in understanding. "We all think about him all the time."

As dinner neared completion, Karen went to check on Liam to see if he had woken up or needed anything, but he was still sleeping peacefully. A few minutes later, Ruth checked in on him too. Nothing had changed. Finally, after they had finished preparing dinner, Geoff decided to take a look, and when he gently opened the door, he saw Liam beginning to stir, his eyes blinking slowly as he woke. Geoff approached carefully and smiled as he watched his son wake up.

Liam returned the smile, his voice quiet. "Hi, Dad."

Geoff sat on the edge of the bed, running a hand affectionately through Liam’s hair before kissing his forehead. "Hey, son. How are you feeling?"

Liam sighed, closing his eyes for a moment. "Better... still a bit nauseous and headachy, but rested."

Geoff nodded in understanding. "You’ve had an empty stomach for hours. How about eating something? We’ve made dinner."

Liam gave a small nod. He tried to sit up slowly, first pushing himself upright on the bed, but he soon realised his legs were weak. Before he could say anything, Geoff had already lifted him effortlessly into his arms. Liam let out a quiet laugh, not protesting. He was getting used to this, and truthfully, he liked the affection from his father. It reminded him of his childhood, of how he used to ask to be carried until one day Geoff told him he was getting too big for it.

Now, though, no one minded. And secretly, Liam loved the feeling of being held like this, safe in his father’s arms. Deep down, he would always be the little boy seeking comfort in his family.

Geoff carried Liam to the kitchen with care, his strong and steady arms holding his son with the same tenderness as when he was a small child, falling asleep on the sofa after a long day of play. Geoff’s steps were calm, assured, and Liam allowed himself to rest in the security of his father’s embrace, his head resting lightly against his father’s shoulder. When they reached the room, illuminated by the soft glow of the Christmas lights decorating the adjoining living room, the scent of freshly prepared homemade food filled Liam’s senses, bringing him an almost immediate comfort. The familiar aroma of spices and roasted dishes surrounded him, an invitation to the warmth of a home that had always been so dear to him.

The dining table was already set with great care, every detail reflecting the love of the family. The neatly arranged plates, the cutlery aligned with precision, the napkins folded with delicacy. Karen and Nicola, who had helped prepare the dinner, smiled at the sight of him, and Ruth soon followed with a look of relief. Everyone had been waiting for him, hoping he felt well enough to join them for the meal.

With utmost gentleness, Geoff settled him into the chair beside Zayn, as if Liam were made of glass and might shatter at any moment. But Liam simply smiled, showing that he was all right, and looked at Zayn—his boyfriend—his fiancé, in fact! The thought warmed his heart in an indescribable way. Zayn smiled back at him, that smile that had always been his greatest refuge, then leaned forward slightly, placing a tender, loving kiss on Liam’s lips, which he immediately returned. There was a genuine happiness in that kiss, a feeling that radiated and spread through the room, touching everyone.

“Are you comfortable?” Zayn asked softly, his eyes full of affection.

“Yes, I’m fine,” Liam replied, lightly squeezing his hand over the table.

They then began dinner, and conversation flowed naturally around the table. Karen and Nicola soon mentioned that they had chosen Liam’s favourite dishes, and although he still felt nauseous and lacked much appetite, he smiled gratefully. He took a few bites, chewing slowly, trying to ignore the slight discomfort in his stomach. The food was delicious, as always, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to eat as much as he would have liked. Even so, he made sure to compliment the meal, his voice soft and sincere.

“It’s wonderful,” he said, casting an affectionate glance at his mother and sister, who smiled warmly.

“We made it especially for you, love,” Karen replied, gently touching his hand across the table.

However, small cracks began to appear. Liam, for a moment, forgot what he was about to say in the middle of a sentence and fell silent, blinking a few times in confusion.

“I… I was going to say…” he trailed off, furrowing his brow. “Ah, damn… I forgot.”

“That’s all right, love,” Zayn said naturally, sliding his hand over Liam’s leg beneath the table and giving it a gentle squeeze. “We were talking about the wedding. What do you think of having something small?”

Geoff, Karen, Ruth, and Nicola pretended nothing was amiss, shifting the topic smoothly, but there was a shadow of pain in their eyes, however subtle. They were all prepared for this, knew it would happen. Yet, seeing him struggle against himself was a cruel reminder of the battle he was fighting.

To dispel the tension, Zayn took the initiative and, with a light smile on his lips, commented on the wedding. “Speaking of which, I think we need to start thinking about the details, don’t we?” His voice carried genuine excitement, an attempt to bring joy to the moment.

Liam’s eyes lit up with happiness at those words. “That’s true!” He perked up instantly, forgetting the earlier frustration. “We haven’t decided anything yet! Where will it be? When? How will we do it?”

“I’d love an outdoor wedding,” Ruth said enthusiastically. “Something classic but not too formal!”

“And white flowers! Lots of white flowers!” Nicola added with a grin.

Karen nodded, her voice full of tenderness. “The most important thing is that it’s special for the two of you. We’ll help with everything.”

Geoff smiled, nodding. “And wherever it is, I’m sure it will be an unforgettable day.”

The comment opened the door to a wave of general excitement. Karen and Ruth were already suggesting ideas, Nicola mentioned something about the flowers, Geoff said he wanted something traditional, while Zayn and Liam laughed, delighted by everyone’s enthusiasm. The conversation was filled with plans, dreams, and possibilities, and Liam felt warmed by the moment, by the knowledge that, despite everything, there was still a future, still hope.

He looked at Zayn, and Zayn looked back at him, both smiling as if they existed only for each other. Zayn held his hand beneath the table, slowly intertwining their fingers, and Liam squeezed his hand in return. There was so much love between them that it was almost tangible, almost touchable. They leaned slightly towards each other, and Zayn kissed Liam again, a kiss filled with silent promises, unwavering certainties, and, above all, a love that transcended any obstacle.

In that moment, Liam knew that no matter what happened, he had his family. He had Zayn. And though the future was uncertain, the present was full of love and happiness. And that, above all else, was what truly mattered.

After dinner, everyone moved to the living room, still caught up in the conversation about the wedding preparations. Zayn helped Liam up from his chair, holding him carefully to ensure he was steady on his feet. Liam felt slightly better after eating, even though his meal had been small due to the nausea. Still, the energy he had regained was enough for him to walk to the sofa with Zayn’s support. He would have preferred not to need the help, but he knew it was better than being carried, so he tried to focus on the positive. After all, considering he had undergone a chemotherapy session that day, he had expected to feel much worse.

Once Liam was settled on the sofa, Zayn sat beside him, staying close, ready to assist if necessary. Ruth brought him a blanket, gently covering his legs.

“To keep you warm, little bro,” she said with a smile, and Liam smiled back, feeling the affection in those small gestures. He picked up a notebook from the coffee table and began scribbling some notes while joining in the conversation. Since starting treatment, writing had helped him keep his mind occupied. He jotted down little reminders and ideas, even if he sometimes forgot where he was going with them.

“Have you thought about where you’ll get married?” Nicola asked eagerly, crossing her legs on the sofa.

“We’re thinking of something more intimate,” Zayn replied, wrapping an arm around Liam and pulling him gently closer. “But we haven’t decided yet.”

“We could have it in the garden here at home, Li,” Karen suggested hopefully. “I’d love to see you two get married here. It’s so beautiful.”

Liam nodded with a smile, but for a moment, his expression seemed lost. His eyes wandered around the room before returning to his mother.

“The garden… it… would be lovely,” he said, taking a bit longer than usual to complete the sentence. Everyone noticed the brief hesitation in his response, but no one mentioned it.

Zayn squeezed Liam’s hand lightly, bringing him back to the moment. “It would be perfect,” he affirmed, and Liam smiled in gratitude for him not drawing attention to the small lapse.

The conversation continued animatedly as Geoff handed out cups of tea or glasses of juice to everyone. Liam kept holding his notebook, scribbling a few words while listening to his family talk. When he reached out to pick up his glass of juice from the coffee table, his fingers faltered, and the glass slipped for an instant. Before it could fall, Zayn was quick to catch it and help Liam steady his grip.

Liam let out a sigh and looked at Zayn. “I… I thought I had it properly.”

“And you did,” Zayn said gently. “You just had a little slip, it happens.”

Liam nodded, trying to ignore the lump in his throat. “Thank y—” He stopped, furrowing his brow, as if the word had vanished from his mind. After a few seconds, he blinked a couple of times and completed, “Thank you.”

“If you want, son, I can hold the glass for you.”

Liam gave a small smile. “I think I’ve got it now.”

Zayn kept his hand close, just in case. He knew that every little thing like that frustrated Liam, but no one wanted to make a big deal out of it. They just wanted him to feel comfortable.

Liam couldn’t shake the thought that he and Zayn shouldn’t be getting married. Because the sabotaging part of his mind kept insisting that he was dying, that he had little time left, that he couldn’t do this to Zayn—be a burden in his final months, turn Zayn into his carer when they were meant to be lovers. He couldn’t be selfish like that. But the good part of his mind was overjoyed about the wedding—Zayn was the love of his life, and no matter the circumstances, Liam always wanted him by his side. It was a part of his mind that he could even consider a little selfish—because he would marry Zayn even knowing he was going to die, and that wasn’t fair to Zayn. Zayn deserved someone who could live a whole lifetime with him. But at the same time, Liam was incapable of living without him. Liam needed Zayn by his side as much as he needed air to breathe. And if that made him selfish, then so be it.

These thoughts followed him on both good and bad days, but they were worse when fatigue consumed him, when he felt the weakness in his body and the nausea tightening in his throat. It was in those moments, when every movement seemed to demand energy he didn’t have, that the doubt became almost unbearable. How could Zayn want this for himself? How could he accept sharing his life with someone who, with each passing day, lost a little more of his strength, his vitality? Zayn’s gaze always said it didn’t matter, that he was there by choice, out of love, but Liam was still afraid. Afraid that, at some point, the suffering would become too much and that Zayn would regret it.

But at the same time, how could he refuse something that made him so happy? How could he give up the only future he had left? Marrying Zayn wasn’t just a lifelong dream. It was a gift, a breath of air amidst all the uncertainty clouding his days. When he imagined the wedding, he saw himself and Zayn hand in hand, surrounded by family and friends who still remained close. He saw the smiles, heard the laughter, felt the warmth of Zayn’s embrace and the security it brought. No matter how tired or weak his body felt; when he was in Zayn’s arms, he still felt whole.

And so, he wouldn’t say no. He wouldn’t give this up, wouldn’t give up Zayn. Because if his life had become uncertain, if his future was a question mark with no answers, at least there was one unwavering certainty: he loved Zayn. And Zayn loved him back. And maybe, just maybe, that was enough.

Even though he had slept the entire afternoon, Liam tired quickly. A consequence of the illness, the treatment, the effort he was making. A combination of things. Karen was the first to notice, watching her son’s every movement closely. The way he rubbed his eyes lightly, how his shoulders seemed heavier with each passing minute, the way his voice grew slightly more sluggish as he tried to keep up with the conversations around the room.

“I think it’s time for you to rest, darling,” Karen suggested gently, reaching out to touch Liam’s arm.

Liam didn’t deny it. He was exhausted. He tried to stand up on his own, but at the slightest sign of unsteadiness, Zayn was already at his side, ready to lift him into his arms.

“I can do it, love,” Liam protested, though without much conviction.

Zayn only smiled. “I know you can. But let me help you, yeah?”

Liam sighed but allowed it. Zayn took the little notebook from his fiancé’s hands, holding it carefully before, with all the gentleness in the world, lifting him into his arms. Liam was so tired that he didn’t even try to resist anymore; he simply rested his head on his boyfriend’s shoulder and closed his eyes. The warmth of Zayn, the security he felt in his arms, was comforting. Everyone bid him goodnight with kisses and sweet words. Ruth ran a hand through Liam’s hair, smiling tenderly. Geoff squeezed his hand, and Nicola pressed a soft kiss to his forehead.

“Goodnight, sweetheart. Sleep well,” Karen said, watching Zayn carry Liam down the hallway with a gaze full of love and concern.

In the bedroom, Zayn laid Liam down on the bed and tucked him in with care. Liam sighed, sinking into the soft mattress, and had already closed his eyes before Zayn even pulled the duvet over him. Zayn looked at the notebook in his hands and, curious, opened it. He knew Liam had been trying to write something while they were in the living room, and now he saw the scribbled words in his familiar handwriting. They were song lyrics.

The letters were a little shakier, a little less steady. But still, they were Liam’s. A lump formed in Zayn’s throat as he realised the effort Liam was making to keep writing, to keep being himself despite everything.

But Zayn didn’t want to read too much. Liam hadn’t said he wanted to show him the song yet—though he also hadn’t said he couldn’t look. So, respectfully, Zayn simply closed the notebook and placed it on the bedside table.

He lay down beside his fiancé, watching him for a moment. Liam was exhausted, but his face now had a peaceful expression as he snuggled into the warmth of the bed. With immense affection swelling in his chest, Zayn pulled him closer, holding him gently. Liam, already half-asleep, instinctively nestled against him without even opening his eyes.

“I love you,” Liam murmured softly, almost inaudibly.

Zayn smiled, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. “I love you more.”

He turned on the television, letting some random film play, the volume low enough not to disturb Liam. He would stay awake a little longer, just to make sure Liam was comfortable, just to be there, savouring his presence. No matter how much time they had. What mattered was each moment they could share together.

And Zayn would do everything to make sure each one of those moments was special.

Zayn and Liam watched a bit of TV until they fell asleep together, cuddled up, wrapped around each other. The warmth of each other’s bodies was comforting, a reminder that, despite everything, they were there, together, breathing the same air, sharing the same space and the same love. Sleep came easily to both of them because being together always guaranteed them better nights.

The next morning, Liam woke first. The room was still bathed in soft twilight, the first rays of sunlight filtering through the curtains. He blinked a few times, his body still heavy with the exhaustion of the night before, but at the same time determined not to wake Zayn. Slowly, he slid out of bed, moving carefully so as not to disturb him.

He felt a little nauseous as he stood up, a weakness running through his limbs, but he decided he could handle it on his own. Moving slowly, he made his way to the bathroom, using the furniture and walls for support when necessary. Each step required more effort than he would have liked, but still, he pushed forward. The shower was slow, warm, and relaxing. The hot water helped ease some of the tension he hadn’t even realised he was holding in his shoulders.

When he stepped out of the bathroom, feeling a little better, he found Zayn still asleep. Liam’s heart clenched at the sight of him lying there, peaceful, breathing steadily. He smiled softly, climbing back into bed as carefully as possible. He moved closer, pressing a gentle kiss to Zayn’s face. Then another. And another. He began scattering lazy, affectionate kisses all over his fiancé’s face, waiting for the moment he would wake up.

Zayn let out a quiet hum, shifting slightly but still not opening his eyes. Liam chuckled, continuing his mission to wake him in the most loving way possible. “Wake up, love,” he murmured against Zayn’s warm skin.

“Hmm… just a little longer,” Zayn mumbled, smiling sleepily.

Liam laughed, pressing more kisses to his face and neck. “If you don’t wake up, I’ll have to kiss you until you give in.”

Zayn cracked one eye open lazily and smiled. “That doesn’t sound like a punishment to me.”

They gazed at each other for a few seconds before Liam closed the distance, sealing their lips in a slow, languid, and lazy kiss—so typical of mornings like this. They kissed for a little while longer, exchanging smiles between each kiss, savouring the tranquillity of the moment before the day truly began.

Liam then ran his hands over Zayn’s shoulders, frowning as he felt the tension accumulated there. “You’re all tense,” he remarked, pressing his thumbs gently against the skin.

Zayn sighed, closing his eyes at the touch. “I think it’s all the built-up stress.”

Liam smiled softly. “Then let me help with that. I’ll give you a massage to help you relax.”

Zayn opened his eyes, looking at him with a pleased glint. “You do know I never turn down one of your massages, right? Your hands are magic.”

Liam chuckled and reached for a body lotion they kept on the bedside table. “Lie on your front, then.”

Zayn obeyed without hesitation, settling in comfortably as Liam positioned himself over him. Spreading some of the lotion onto his hands, Liam began gliding his fingers over his fiancé’s shoulders and back, applying just the right amount of pressure to ease the tension in his muscles.

Zayn let out a sigh of relief, melting completely under Liam’s touch. “God, that feels so good.”

Liam smiled, continuing his rhythmic movements. “You work too much, love. You need to relax more.”

Zayn let out a quiet laugh. “If I’d known that relaxing more meant getting massages like this every day, I would’ve stopped stressing ages ago.”

Liam laughed along with him, leaning down to press a light kiss to the nape of Zayn’s neck before continuing the massage. “I might have to start pampering you like this more often, then.”

They spent the next few minutes like that, in comfortable silence, simply enjoying the intimacy and shared affection. It was in these small moments that Liam felt the most whole, the most secure, the happiest.

The soft whispers of dawn had barely begun to creep through the blinds, casting a warm glow across the rumpled sheets as Liam's strong, calloused hands glided over Zayn's bare back. His touch was a symphony of comfort and sensuality, kneading the knots from Zayn's taut muscles with the finesse of a maestro conducting a love sonnet. Each stroke was a gentle caress, a silent declaration of his adoration for the man beneath him, whose breaths grew steadily shallower as the tension seeped from his body like sand through an hourglass. The quietude of the room was a testament to the intimate sanctuary they had built together, a space where the rest of the world could not intrude.

Zayn's skin was a canvas of sighs and shivers as Liam's fingertips danced along his spine, tracing the delicate line where his shoulder blades met the soft flesh of his back. His thumbs dug in deeper, pressing against the tightness that had gathered there, coaxing out a low groan that resonated in the stillness. The air grew thick with the scent of arousal, a potent perfume that mingled with the faint aroma of their shared body wash and the lingering traces of their evening embrace.

Liam's strokes grew bolder, more insistent, as he felt the heat rising between them, his own desire swelling like the crescendo of a love song. His hips moved in a slow, involuntary rhythm, grinding against the firm cushion of Zayn's ass, feeling the responding throb of his fiancé's cock beneath the thin barrier of their pajamas. It was a silent conversation of need and want, a dance of flesh that neither of them could resist for much longer.

With a sudden urgency, Zayn arched his back, pressing into Liam's touch. His hands found the hem of his shorts, his fingers trembling slightly as he began to lift them up. The fabric slithered away, revealing the rigid length of his arousal, standing proud and eager for attention. Liam's eyes widened, his own cock straining against the confines of his own pants, his breath hitching in anticipation of what was to come.

Sensing the shift in the atmosphere, Liam leaned in, his mouth watering as he took in the sight of Zayn's cock. It was a vision of masculine beauty, a testament to the passion that burned within them both. He wrapped his hand around the base, giving it a firm squeeze before leaning down to kiss the tip, his tongue flicking out to taste the bead of precum that had gathered there. The intimate gesture sent a jolt of pleasure through Zayn's body, his eyes rolling back in his head as he moaned deeply.

With a growl of desire, Liam took Zayn's cock into his mouth, his tongue swirling around the head as he began to suck. He took him in deep, his cheeks hollowing as he worked the shaft with a passion that was as fiery as it was gentle. The wet sounds of their intimacy filled the room, a stark contrast to the early morning silence outside their bedroom door. Zayn's hands found Liam's thinning hair, his grip tightening as he began to thrust upwards into the warm, welcoming cavern of his lover's mouth.

Liam's eyes never left Zayn's face, drinking in the pleasure reflected there. He knew every inch of Zayn's body, every quiver and sigh, and he used that knowledge to drive him closer to the edge. His other hand reached down to stroke his own cock, mirroring the rhythm of his mouth on Zayn's shaft. The sensation was exquisite, a delicious torment that had him fighting back his own climax, eager to watch Zayn fall apart first.

The tension grew, a coil of heat and need that stretched taut between them. Liam's jaw began to ache, his mouth going numb from the effort, but he didn't stop. He couldn't. The sound of Zayn's moans grew louder, his hips jerking upwards as he neared the precipice. And then, with a shout that was muffled by the pillow pressed against his face, Zayn came, his body convulsing as he emptied himself into Liam's willing mouth. The taste of him was sweet and salty, a flavor that Liam would never tire of, no matter how many times he brought him to this point of ecstasy.

The aftermath was a blend of heavy panting and soft whispers, as Zayn's body slowly relaxed beneath him. Liam kissed his way back up Zayn's torso, savoring the salty tang of his skin. His own cock was aching for release, but he knew that would come in due time. For now, he was content to bask in the warmth of their shared pleasure, the bond between them stronger than ever.

Their hearts hammered in unison, echoing the tempo of their love as Zayn wrapped his arms around Liam's neck, pulling him into a deep, lingering kiss. Their tongues danced together, tasting the remnants of their passion as the dawn grew bolder, painting the room in a soft, golden light that seemed to envelop them in its warmth. This was their morning ritual, a silent promise of the love that awaited them in the hours to come. And as they broke apart, breathless and smiling, they both knew that this was just the beginning of a day filled with passion and connection that would leave them both craving for more.

Zayn's whispers grew more insistent, a gentle yet commanding plea for a deeper intimacy. "Sit on my face, baby," he murmured against Liam's lips. The words sent a shiver down Liam's spine, a thrill that made his cock twitch in anticipation. He didn't hesitate, standing up and shimmying out of his pants and underwear before positioning himself over Zayn's eager mouth. The first touch of Zayn's tongue was like a jolt of electricity, a spark that ignited a bonfire of sensation deep within his core.

As Liam lowered himself onto Zayn's face, the world outside their bedroom disappeared. All that existed was the heat of Zayn's mouth and the wetness of his tongue as it caressed and explored every inch of his ass. Zayn's hands found his thighs, gripping tightly to keep him in place as he pushed his tongue deep, lapping and swirling with an enthusiasm that spoke volumes of his desire. Liam's legs began to quiver, and he had to brace himself on Zayn's chest, his fingers digging into the firm flesh to keep from falling as the pleasure grew almost too intense to bear.

The feel of Zayn's tongue was a symphony, a masterpiece of sensation that Liam never wanted to end. But as his own orgasm began to build, he knew that the crescendo was approaching, and he could no longer hold back. His hips began to rock, his movements becoming more erratic as the waves of pleasure washed over him. He watched, through half-closed eyes, as Zayn's eyes gleamed with satisfaction, his cheeks hollowing with each eager suck. And when Liam finally came, it was with a shout that seemed to shake the very foundations of their world.

Their passion didn't end with the final tremor of Liam's climax. Instead, it grew, a wildfire that consumed them both as they rolled over, panting and laughing. They were two men, lost in the throes of love, their bodies entwined in a dance as old as time itself.

Zayn's cock had grown hard once more, a testament to his unquenchable hunger for Liam. He whispered in his ear, the words a plea wrapped in a demand, "Sit on me, baby." Despite the tremble in his legs, Liam obeyed, his movements languid and sensual as he positioned himself over Zayn's erect length. Their eyes met, a silent conversation of love and need, before Liam began to lower himself, inch by delicious inch, onto Zayn's cock.

The moment of penetration was a symphony of pleasure and pain, a perfect harmony of two bodies becoming one. They moaned in unison as Zayn's cock breached Liam's tight entrance, the pressure building as he filled him completely. Liam's eyes fluttered shut, his body arching backward as he took a deep breath, savoring the sensation of being claimed by the man he adored.

With gentle yet firm hands, Zayn guided Liam's movements, their bodies moving in a rhythm that was as natural as breathing. They explored each other in a series of intimate positions, their skin slick with sweat and their gasps of pleasure piercing the quiet of the early morning. First, Zayn lay on his back, with Liam straddling him, their eyes locked as they moved together, a silent choreography of love. Then Liam leaned forward, his hands braced against Zayn's chest, allowing him to take control, to drive into him with a force that was both tender and overwhelming.

Each thrust was a declaration of love, a promise etched into the very fabric of their souls. They moved in a slow, deliberate ballet, their bodies speaking a language that only the two of them understood. Zayn's hands never left Liam's hips, his grip firm yet gentle as he held him close, cherishing every moment of their union. They were lost in a world of sensation, a realm where only they existed, a universe unto themselves.

Their lovemaking was a testament to the depth of their feelings, a physical manifestation of the love that bound them together. They were in no rush, savoring the connection that grew stronger with every beat of their hearts. And when the time came for Zayn to claim his own release, it was with a gentle nudge, a whisper of consent from Liam that sent him spiraling over the edge.

With a final, desperate thrust, Zayn came, his orgasm a silent scream of love and passion that resonated through his entire being. He filled Liam completely, their bodies trembling as the last vestiges of pleasure claimed them. They stayed that way for a long moment, their hearts racing in time, their bodies one.

As the aftershocks of their lovemaking faded, they collapsed into a tangled heap of limbs, their bodies still entwined. They lay there, their breaths mingling, their hearts beating in perfect sync. The early morning light painted them in a soft glow, a visual representation of the love that surrounded them. It was in moments like these, in the quiet aftermath of passion, that they truly knew they were home.

But the stickiness that remained from their earlier escapades grew more pronounced as the air grew cooler, reminding them of the mess they had made. With a chuckle, Zayn whispered, "Bathroom?" His eyes gleamed with mischief, hinting that their exploration of each other wasn't quite over.

Liam nodded, a grin playing on his lips, and they disentangled themselves from the sheets, their bodies moving with a fluid grace that spoke of a familiarity that went beyond the physical. They padded into the en suite bathroom, the tiles cool against their bare feet, the scent of their passion lingering in the air like a warm embrace. The shower was already running, the steam billowing out to envelop them in a warm, wet cocoon.

Zayn stepped into the shower first, the water cascading down his muscular body, washing away the evidence of their love. Liam watched him, his eyes roving over the planes of Zayn's chest, the way his abs rippled with every breath. He stepped in behind him, the water beating down on his back, mixing with the droplets of cum that still clung to his skin. They kissed, the water sluicing between them, as Liam reached for the soap, his hands trembling with the need for more.

Their shower was supposed to be a brief respite, a chance to clean up before the day began. But as Zayn turned to face Liam, his eyes darkened with a hunger that had not been satiated. He grabbed Liam's wrist, guiding the soap-covered hand to his cock. It was already hardening again, a testament to his insatiable lust for his fiancé.

Liam didn't protest, instead, he began to stroke Zayn's length with the same tender passion that had brought them to this point. Their kisses grew more urgent, their bodies pressed together under the pounding water. But the shower stall was too confined for what Zayn had in mind. With a wicked smile, he stepped out, pulling Liam with him.

The bathroom was a blur of motion as they stumbled to the sink, their bodies slipping and sliding on the wet tiles. Zayn's cock was a demanding force between them, nudging at Liam's still sensitive ass. Liam moaned, the sound bouncing off the walls, as Zayn lifted him onto the counter, his legs wrapping around Zayn's waist.

The mirror reflected their image, a tableau of desire and love. Liam could see the way Zayn's eyes darkened with need, the way his body tensed with every stroke of Liam's hand on his cock. And as Zayn pushed inside him, the soap acting as a surprisingly adequate lubricant, Liam couldn't help but watch the reflection. It was erotic, watching Zayn's cock disappear into his body, seeing the pleasure etched on his fiancé's face as he claimed him once more.

Their voices grew louder, their words a delicious mix of dirty talk and sweet nothings. "Take it, baby," Zayn murmured, his voice a low growl in Liam's ear. "Look how good you take me."

Liam's cheeks flushed at the words, his eyes locked on the mirror as he watched himself become lost in the moment. He was a slut for Zayn, and he didn't care. He loved the way Zayn made him feel, the way his body responded to every touch, every thrust. The cum that had dripped down his thighs was a badge of honor, a symbol of their love that was now being washed away by the steamy water.

Their movements grew more frantic, the sink countertop digging into Liam's skin as Zayn fucked him with an intensity that seemed to defy the very fabric of reality. The world outside the bathroom ceased to exist, their universe collapsing into the tight space between their bodies.

And when Zayn finally came, his orgasm was a symphony of sounds that seemed to shake the very foundations of the room. His cock pulsed inside Liam, filling him with warmth, making him feel more complete than he had ever felt. The sight of their joined reflection, Zayn's face a mask of ecstasy, was almost too much for Liam to handle. His own climax was a silent scream of pleasure, his body tightening around Zayn's length as he spilled his seed onto the tiles beneath them.

Panting and smiling, they kissed again, the taste of each other still on their lips. The shower was forgotten, the need for a real clean-up a distant memory. They remained there, leaning against the sink, their hearts racing, until the last tremor of pleasure subsided. Only then did they make their way back to the shower, their bodies slippery with a mix of sweat and cum.

The warm water cascaded over them, a gentle reprieve from the intensity of their passion. Zayn took the washcloth, his hands tender as he began to clean Liam's body. He washed away the evidence of their love with a softness that made Liam's heart swell. He knew Zayn was taking care of him, knowing that the previous round had taken a toll on him. Liam leaned into the touch, his eyes closed as Zayn's hands moved over his skin, erasing the stickiness with gentle strokes.

But as Zayn reached between his cheeks, the soft cloth grazed against his sensitive hole, and Liam couldn't help but gasp. His body was still singing with pleasure, and the sensation was almost too much. He opened his eyes to find Zayn looking at him with a hunger that had not yet been sated. Zayn's own cock was already hardening again, standing proudly against his stomach.

Without a word, Zayn dropped the washcloth and took Liam into his arms, lifting him effortlessly. The water beat down on them as Liam wrapped his legs around Zayn's waist, his arms around his neck. They kissed again, a kiss filled with the promise of more to come. And as Zayn pushed into him once again, Liam's moan was swallowed by the spray of the showerhead, muffled by the steam that surrounded them.

Against the cool tiles, their bodies moved together in a dance that was both fierce and gentle. The water washed away the sweat and cum, but not the passion that burned between them. Each thrust sent shockwaves of pleasure through Liam, his moans echoing in the small space. Zayn's hands roamed over Liam's body, gripping his hips, his chest, his ass, as if he couldn't get enough of the feeling of their skin against each other.

Their eyes locked, and Liam knew that Zayn could see the love in his gaze. He bit down on his bottom lip to keep from crying out as Zayn hit his prostate, the sensation so intense it was almost painful. But the pain was a sweet one, a reminder of their connection, a bond that went beyond the physical.

Their bodies moved as one, a symphony of need and desire. And when Liam came again, the sound of his pleasure was a crescendo that filled the room. Zayn followed shortly after, his cock pulsing inside him, his orgasm a declaration of his love. They remained there, in the warm embrace of the shower, their bodies entwined, the water washing away the remnants of their passion, until their breathing had returned to normal and the world outside the bathroom was no longer a distant memory.

They kissed again, a gentle, lingering kiss that spoke of the love that had brought them to this place. And as they turned off the water and stepped out of the shower, the steam billowed around them, a veil of intimacy that seemed to promise that this was only the beginning of a day filled with passion and love.

Zayn reached for a towel, wrapping it around Liam's waist before securing one around his own. He knew Liam was exhausted, both from their earlier activities and from the sheer emotional intensity that had fueled their lovemaking. But as he looked into his eyes, he saw a spark that hadn't been extinguished, a hunger that had yet to be fully sated.

Chapter Text

After Christmas and New Year had passed, leaving behind memories of wonderful celebrations where the entire family had enjoyed themselves and shared every moment with love, Liam and Zayn began thinking about their wedding. They had decided to wait until the festivities were over, mainly due to workers’ holidays and the logistical challenges involved. Now that January had arrived, the idea of finally organising this special moment felt more real and exciting.

They scheduled a meeting with the same professional who had officiated Zayn’s parents' wedding twenty years ago. Every time he looked at the photos from that special day, Zayn felt nostalgic and enchanted. His mother had been pregnant with him at the time, already five months along, and Doniya, his older sister, had been the only child present, a little girl of almost two years old. The images showed a grand event filled with love, with his parents exchanging adoring glances. The thought that he and Liam would now have their own ceremony was deeply moving.

The wedding was not yet being actively planned, but knowing that the moment was approaching made them both feel a mixture of excitement and nerves. The idea of choosing a venue, deciding on details, sending out invitations, and planning the ceremony felt both thrilling and a little daunting. However, above all, it was a dream they were ready to bring to life together.

The family was just as excited. Geoff and Karen often asked how they envisioned the big day, while Ruth and Nicola were already suggesting ideas for the decorations. Every conversation about the wedding filled the house with a light and hopeful atmosphere, something that everyone cherished deeply.

Liam and Zayn knew that soon the meetings, choices, and important decisions would begin. But for now, they simply enjoyed the anticipation, allowing themselves to feel every emotion tied to the thought of becoming, officially, husband and husband.

Liam and Zayn woke slowly that morning, the room still bathed in the soft twilight filtering through the curtains. Liam blinked a few times, feeling his body even heavier than usual. Fatigue was something he had grown accustomed to, but that day, it felt as if his muscles had decided to refuse to cooperate. When he tried to move, he felt the stiffness in his joints, and an involuntary sigh escaped his lips. Zayn, still half-asleep beside him, frowned at the sound, slowly waking up and turning towards him.

“Baby? Are you okay?” Zayn murmured, his voice still husky with sleep but filled with concern.

Liam tried to smile, but the gesture came out a little forced. “I am, just... slower today. I... think.”

Zayn studied his fiancé’s face carefully, noticing the evident exhaustion in his brown eyes. He didn’t like seeing Liam like this. He wished he could do something to ease that burden, but he knew there wasn’t much he could do except offer his unconditional support.

“If it’s a bad day, we can cancel our plans. Stay in bed, watch something, rest.”

Liam shook his head immediately, frowning as if the very idea was absurd. “No. We’re not cancelling anything. We’ve put off too much already. I want... to do this today.”

Zayn sighed, knowing that arguing would be pointless. If Liam was determined, then he would support him. “Alright. But we’ll take it slow, yeah?”

Liam nodded, allowing Zayn to help him up. They walked slowly to the bathroom, where Zayn turned on the shower and adjusted the water temperature. He helped Liam undress, holding him firmly when he nearly lost his balance while lifting one leg. Then, he guided him under the warm water, his hands moving gently as he washed every part of his fiancé’s body. Liam relaxed under Zayn’s touch, allowing himself to be cared for without protest.

After the shower, Zayn dressed Liam in comfortable clothes, helping him brush his teeth since his movements were less coordinated. Liam remained quiet throughout the process, feeling slightly frustrated but choosing not to dwell on it. He wanted to enjoy the day.

When they went downstairs for breakfast, the family was already gathered around the table. Karen smiled upon seeing them, and Nicola immediately pulled out a chair for Liam, helping him settle in. Geoff, in turn, poured a glass of juice and handed it to his son with a kind look.

“How are you feeling today, love?” Karen asked, serving a portion of toast and eggs onto Liam’s plate.

“Tired, but fine,” Liam replied. He tried to pick up a piece of toast, but his hands trembled slightly, so Nicola helped, cutting it into smaller pieces to make it easier for him. Liam accepted the help without complaint, smiling at his sister in gratitude.

Breakfast passed in a calm atmosphere, despite the small challenges. When they finished, Zayn helped Liam up again, supporting him as they made their way to the living room. It was an important day, as the professional who would be assisting with their wedding plans was set to arrive. And, to everyone’s surprise, Yaser, Zayn’s father, had also decided to join the meeting, eager to reminisce about the preparations for his own wedding.

As they waited, Liam nestled into the sofa beside Zayn, feeling the warmth of his fiancé’s presence giving him strength. Yes, he was tired, but he was also happy. Planning this wedding meant so much to him, and nothing, not even his own self-destructive thoughts, would make him give up on making it a reality.

As soon as the clock struck ten in the morning, the doorbell rang softly through the house, the sound echoing through the quiet rooms. Zayn, who was sitting beside Liam on the sofa, helping him keep his hands steady as he scribbled something in his little notebook, lifted his gaze towards the door.

"That must be her," he remarked, sliding his hand across Liam’s back before standing up.

Liam looked up at him, blinking slowly. He was sluggish that morning, his mind clouded by exhaustion, by the treatment, by the frailty that had settled into his body like a persistent shadow. But he forced a smile, the same smile he always offered Zayn when he wanted to show that he was fine, that he wanted to be there, present, living that moment.

"Go on," he murmured, his voice a little hoarse from fatigue.

Zayn nodded and made his way to the door, adjusting the sleeves of his long-sleeved shirt as he took a deep breath before opening it. Outside, a woman elegantly dressed, with an organised folder in her arms and a warm smile on her lips, waited patiently beside Yaser, who, upon seeing his son, opened his arms in a welcoming gesture.

"My son!" Yaser exclaimed, pulling Zayn into a firm embrace, which Zayn returned immediately. The familiar scent of his father enveloped him, bringing back childhood memories, the security of home, the man who had always been by his side.

"Baba," Zayn smiled, squeezing his shoulders as they pulled apart. Then, he turned to the woman beside him.

"You must be Mrs…"

"Margaret Evans," the woman completed with a friendly smile. "But please, call me Maggie. I'm the celebrant who helped your parents with their wedding twenty years ago."

Zayn felt a warmth spread through his chest at that. He had grown up seeing those wedding photos, hearing stories about how it had been one of the happiest days of their lives. Knowing that the same woman would be helping them now made everything feel even more special.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Maggie," he said, gesturing for them to come inside. "Please, make yourselves comfortable."

Yaser and Maggie stepped into the house, taking in their surroundings. The Christmas decorations were still partially up, though some had already been put away. The house exuded a homely warmth, an atmosphere that made anyone feel welcome.

As they entered the living room, Maggie’s eyes landed on Liam, who was still seated on the sofa, his hands resting on the open notebook in his lap. He lifted his head upon hearing them and forced a smile, trying to appear as natural as possible, though his posture betrayed just how exhausted he was.

Yaser was the first to approach, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to Liam’s forehead. "Good morning, dear," he said softly.

"Good morning, Yaser," Liam replied, his voice quiet but sincere. He liked Zayn’s father, always so warm and present.

Maggie stepped forward next, smiling at him. "And you must be Liam," she said, her voice filled with kindness.

"I am," Liam confirmed, trying to adjust himself on the sofa. Zayn, noticing his effort, sat down beside him and slid an arm around him, offering support without making it obvious.

"I’ve heard so many beautiful stories about you two," Maggie continued, settling into an armchair in front of them. "And I’m very excited to help you organise this special celebration."

Liam offered a small smile, glancing briefly at Zayn before turning back to Maggie. "We’re excited too," he said.

"Then let’s get started." Maggie opened her folder, taking out some notes as she crossed her legs elegantly. "Before we talk about the ceremony details, I’d love to learn more about you. How you met, how you decided to get married, anything you’d like to share with me."

Zayn and Liam exchanged a glance. It was Zayn who spoke first.

"We met in the band, of course," he began, playing with the sleeve of his shirt. "But… our relationship started off a little complicated. We didn’t get along at first."

Maggie raised an intrigued eyebrow. "Oh? How so?"

Liam chuckled softly, shaking his head. "We annoyed each other a lot," he admitted. "He thought I was too much of a goody-goody, and I thought he was unbearable."

Yaser laughed at that. "It’s true, Zayn talked about you a lot back then," he commented. "And when someone talks about someone that much… it usually means something."

"It did," Zayn agreed, looking at Liam fondly. "I think there was always something there, even when we didn’t want to admit it."

Liam sighed, resting his head on Zayn’s shoulder. "Eventually, we stopped arguing and started understanding each other. And then… well, the rest is history."

Maggie smiled. "Stories like yours are what make weddings so special." She made a few notes before looking up again. "Now, tell me—how do you picture this day? What matters most to you in the ceremony?"

Liam took a deep breath, thinking. There were many things he wanted, but above all, he wanted it to be a happy day.

"I just want it to be a day full of love," he said at last, his voice gentle.

Zayn squeezed his hand. "And it will be," he promised.

Maggie nodded, smiling. "Then let’s make sure it is."

And with that, the real discussion about the wedding began.

Maggie picked up a pen and started jotting down notes. The atmosphere was calm, cosy, and the conversation flowed naturally, as if they were simply sharing dreams among friends. Liam rested against Zayn, and Yaser watched them both with a gaze full of affection, as if he were reliving memories of his own love story with his wife.

"So, before we get into decorations and specific details, we need to decide on a key point," Maggie began, twirling the pen between her fingers. "The venue. Do you have anything in mind?"

Zayn and Liam exchanged looks. They hadn’t exactly discussed it yet, but it took only a second for them to smile at each other, because the answer was there, unspoken, just waiting to be said aloud.

"Here," Zayn said.

"In our home," Liam added softly.

Maggie tilted her head slightly, intrigued. "Do you mean inside, or…?"

"In the garden," Zayn clarified, glancing towards the large glass doors leading outside. The morning sun cast a glow over the well-kept grass, and the breeze gently stirred the leaves of the trees. It was a place where they had spent so much time together, sharing long conversations, laughter, even comfortable silences.

"It makes sense," Liam added, his voice slightly dreamy. "This place is our home. It’s where we feel safe. Where we have our memories."

Maggie smiled at how in sync they were. "It sounds perfect. May I see the space?"

Zayn stood, extending a hand to help Liam. He knew Liam was tired, but he also knew he wanted to be involved in every detail. Liam took his hand and rose slowly, with the careful movements of someone who knew their own limits.

Yaser followed them silently as they stepped outside. Fresh air filled their lungs, and the scent of damp earth mixed with the faint perfume of flowers, making everything feel even more special.

Maggie surveyed the space with an analytical eye. "It’s a beautiful garden," she remarked, taking it all in. "Spacious, yet intimate. I think it perfectly suits the idea of a more private wedding."

Liam nodded, a small smile on his lips. "We want something simple, nothing grand or overly elaborate. Just a special moment with the people we love."

Maggie made more notes, nodding. "It’s all coming together beautifully."

Liam’s heart quickened. He could picture it now—the way it would be. The love in the air. The way Zayn’s eyes would shine as they met his.

They were planning a wedding.

Their wedding.

Maggie continued jotting down details as she slowly walked around the garden, observing the space attentively. A gentle breeze rustled the leaves of the trees, and the distant chirping of birds created a natural background melody for their conversation. Yaser remained silent, but the brightness in his eyes betrayed his emotions. He watched the boys—because yes, Liam was a son to him—planning something so special, and it warmed his heart in a way he could hardly describe.

"About the seating," Maggie began, scribbling in her notebook, "since it will be a more intimate gathering, we could opt for simple, well-decorated chairs, perhaps something rustic to complement the natural setting. What do you think?"

Liam, still leaning against Zayn, nodded slowly. "Something comfortable, but not too bulky. We don’t want the garden to feel crowded."

"Exactly," Zayn agreed. "Something that keeps the space feeling open and light."

Maggie smiled. "Perfect. Now, what about the altar? Would you like a floral arch? A table? Any specific structure?"

Zayn glanced around, picturing the scene. He could already see Liam standing there under the soft glow of dusk, his eyes gleaming, a shy smile on his lips. He wanted something that would complement the simple beauty of that image.

"Maybe an arch, but nothing too extravagant," he said. "Something delicate, with purple flowers and green foliage. Just enough to add a special touch without overshadowing the moment."

Liam smiled, giving his fiancé’s hand a gentle squeeze. "I like that idea."

"We can certainly do that," Maggie noted. "Now, what about attire? Do you have anything in mind?"

Zayn chuckled softly. "I think that’s the part we’ve thought about the least so far."

Liam nodded. "We don’t want anything too formal, but we also don’t want it to be completely casual. Just… something comfortable and nice."

Maggie gave a knowing nod. "I see. We can explore some lighter options—something elegant but without the extreme formality of heavily structured suits."

"That would be great," Liam said. "Something that fits the garden, the simplicity of the ceremony."

"I’ll research some ideas and bring them to you later," Maggie assured them.

Yaser, who had been quietly observing, finally spoke, his voice warm and full of emotion. "It’s beautiful to see you both planning all this. It feels like just yesterday we were organising my wedding with Trisha."

Zayn smiled at his father. "Do you remember how it felt? The emotions?"

Yaser nodded, his eyes shining with reminiscence. "Every detail. The nerves, the anticipation, the joy. But above all, the love. Because in the end, that’s what truly matters. Everything you’re planning will be beautiful, but the most special part will always be what you feel for each other."

Liam felt warmth spread through his chest at those words. He knew they were true. The wedding would be beautiful, but what mattered most was that he would have Zayn by his side.

Maggie smiled gently, closing her notebook for a moment. "And what about the vows? Would you like something traditional, or will you write your own?"

Liam and Zayn exchanged a glance, and this time, Liam answered. "We’d like to write our own."

"Excellent choice," Maggie praised. "That always makes the ceremony even more emotional."

Zayn wrapped an arm around Liam, pulling him just a little closer. "That’s the goal, I suppose. We want it to be heartfelt, but not over the top. We want it to be special without losing our essence."

"You’re doing everything right," Maggie assured them. "I have no doubt it will be an unforgettable wedding."

Liam took a deep breath, feeling a mix of emotions. He was tired—his body not as strong as he wished—but he was happy. Planning this wedding, even in its simplicity, made his heart beat a little faster.

And when Zayn squeezed his hand, he knew everything would be perfect.

Maggie continued taking notes, asking occasional questions to clarify details, while Liam and Zayn exchanged glances that conveyed more than words ever could. The wedding was simple, small, without the grandeur of formal events, but every little detail meant something to them. And at the end of the day, what truly mattered was that they would be together.

Yaser stood nearby, watching everything with a quiet but undeniable sense of pride. He saw in his son a happiness he had never witnessed before—a special glow that only existed when Liam was around. It was as if Zayn had finally found a home that wasn’t a place, but a person.

"About the décor," Maggie resumed, adjusting her glasses and flipping through the pages of her notebook. "The flowers will be predominantly purple, but would you like another colour to complement them? White, perhaps? Or something more vibrant?"

Liam tilted his head slightly, thoughtful. "White works, doesn’t it? It creates a nice contrast without taking attention away from the purple."

Zayn nodded. "Yes. Something delicate, nothing too excessive."

"Great." Maggie quickly noted it down. "And the lighting? Since it’ll be at dusk, we can work with soft, warm lighting—fairy lights strung between the trees, lanterns along the pathway, decorative candles..."

Liam smiled at the idea. "Candles would be lovely. It would make everything feel more intimate, more romantic."

"I like the idea of the fairy lights too," Zayn added. "But nothing too harsh—just enough to cast a soft glow as night falls."

"Perfect." Maggie made another note. "Now, about the music. Have you thought about what you’d like played during the ceremony? A special playlist? A live musician?"

Liam and Zayn exchanged a look. Music was important to both of them, and choosing something for such a special moment felt like too big a decision to make in just a few seconds.

"Maybe something instrumental," Liam suggested. "Violin, piano… something that blends into the atmosphere without being too overpowering."

Zayn smiled, leaning in to press a kiss to the top of Liam’s head. "Sounds perfect."

Yaser sighed, smiling. "Your wedding is going to be so beautiful. Small, intimate, but full of meaning."

Liam felt warmth bloom in his chest. "That’s exactly what we want. Something that’s ours."

Maggie closed her notebook for a moment and looked at them with a satisfied smile. "I think we have a wonderful starting point. There are still details to finalise, of course, but we’ve already established the foundation for a wedding that will be beautiful and filled with love."

Liam smiled, feeling his heart beat a little faster. He was tired—he felt the weight of his illness on his body—but in that moment, everything felt light. Because he was here, planning his future with Zayn.

And that was all he needed.

The conversation naturally shifted to one of the most important aspects of the celebration: the food. With her experience and keen eye for detail, Maggie began asking about their preferences.

"Do you have any idea what you’d like to serve at the wedding?" she asked, opening a notebook to take notes.

Liam exchanged a quick glance with Zayn before shrugging. "I think we want something more relaxed. Nothing too formal, you know? But also nothing too simple. A balance between the two."

"Maybe a buffet?" Zayn suggested. "Something where people can help themselves, but with carefully selected options."

"That sounds great," Maggie agreed, jotting it down. "Do you have any dietary restrictions among your guests? Or anything you definitely want on the menu?"

"Well..." Liam began thoughtfully. "I know Harry loves vegetarian food, so it’d be nice to have some options for him. Niall loves proper home-cooked meals—classic British dishes, really. And Louis... well, he eats just about anything, but I know he adores chocolate desserts."

Zayn smiled. "Then I think a dessert table would be a great idea. And I definitely want something with berries."

Liam looked at him fondly. "You love berries."

"I do," Zayn agreed, intertwining his fingers with Liam’s on the table. "And you love lighter foods. So I think a menu with fresh options, a few traditional dishes, and a good variety of desserts would be perfect."

Maggie nodded. "And drinks? Would you like a bar with cocktails, just wine and champagne, or something simpler?"

"A small bar," Liam answered. "Nothing excessive. Just for those who fancy something different to drink."

Zayn smiled, seeing the sparkle in his fiancé’s eyes. He knew Liam was making an effort to be involved in the planning, even when fatigue crept in from time to time.

They continued discussing options—flavours, dishes tied to fond memories, and what they envisioned for the occasion. Maggie noted everything attentively, making suggestions and ensuring each detail was considered with care.

When they finished, she closed her notebook and smiled at them. "This was a great meeting. Now that I have a better understanding of what you want, I can research some inspirations and start putting together suggestions for the wedding details. You’ve both been really cooperative, and that helps so much!"

Liam smiled. "Thank you, Maggie. You really make everything seem easier."

She laughed. "It’s my job! And I love weddings that reflect the couple’s personality. This one is going to be beautiful."

They exchanged hugs and kind words as they said goodbye, and as soon as Maggie left, Liam sighed, feeling exhausted but happy.

"It was productive, wasn’t it?" Zayn asked, pulling Liam into a hug.

"It was. And do you know what the best part was?" Liam smiled against Zayn’s chest.

"What?"

"The flower colour," he whispered. "You chose purple."

Zayn held him a little tighter. "Because I knew it would make you smile."

Liam closed his eyes, feeling his heart lighten. Marrying Zayn was the best decision of his life.

It was strange to think that in such a short time, everything would truly start to come together. Until now, the wedding had felt like a distant idea, but they could finally visualise every detail—the flowers, the food, the atmosphere.

Liam sighed, letting his head rest on Zayn’s shoulder. "I think it’s official now. We’re really getting married."

Zayn chuckled softly, slipping an arm around his fiancé’s waist. "Did you think I was joking this whole time?"

"No, but now it all feels more real," Liam admitted, playing with Zayn’s fingers. "Before, it was just a concept—something we knew would happen. But now... now we will have a date, a venue, an idea of how it will be. It’s becoming real."

"Are you happy?" Zayn asked, his voice gentle.

Liam closed his eyes for a moment. "Very."

Zayn squeezed his hand, feeling the warmth of his touch. "Then everything is exactly as it should be."

They remained there for a few more minutes, enjoying the comfortable silence, until Liam’s exhaustion started to weigh on him. He tried to hide it, but Zayn noticed the way his blinks became slower, his breathing a little heavier.

"Shall we go to bed?" Zayn suggested, already standing to help him.

Liam hesitated for a moment, as if wanting to stay just a little longer, but eventually, he nodded. "Alright."

They made their way upstairs slowly, Zayn always attentive, ready to support Liam if needed. When they reached the bedroom, Liam went straight to the bed, sinking into the pillows with a satisfied sigh. Zayn smiled at the sight of him so relaxed and went to the wardrobe, pulling out one of the lighter blankets to drape over him.

"Get some rest," he said, sitting on the edge of the bed.

Liam opened his eyes just enough to look at him. "Will you stay with me?"

Zayn smiled. "Where else would I be?"

Liam let out a contented hum and closed his eyes again, feeling Zayn’s fingers gently combing through his hair. It was in moments like these that he truly felt his luck.

The whole world could be falling apart, but as long as he had Zayn by his side, nothing else mattered.

Zayn remained there, seated beside Liam, watching as his breathing grew slower and deeper as sleep enveloped him. The room was silent, illuminated only by the soft light filtering through the curtains. It was a moment of tranquillity, a stark contrast to the excitement of the past few hours—the wedding discussions, the decisions made one after another, the smiles exchanged between them. Now, everything seemed to slow down, and Zayn allowed himself to relax as well, leaning back against the headboard while his hand continued to gently stroke Liam’s brown hair. He didn’t want to leave, didn’t want to stop feeling his presence so close—the warmth of his body beneath the blanket, the way Liam seemed to trust him completely, allowing himself to rest without worries.

Zayn’s thoughts drifted as he gazed at Liam, recalling every detail of that morning’s conversations. Choosing the garden as the wedding venue made sense—it was a place filled with good memories, where they had spent so many afternoons together, where Liam liked to sit and feel the sun on his face while Zayn sketched beside him, where so many conversations about the future had taken place. The idea of keeping the ceremony simple, surrounded only by those who truly mattered, also felt perfect. They didn’t need anything grand, didn’t need luxury or excessive formalities. All they wanted was to be surrounded by the love of those who had always been there, celebrating the moment without pressure or unrealistic expectations.

And then there was the choice of flowers. The smile on Liam’s face when Zayn mentioned purple was still etched in his mind. Zayn knew that colour had always meant something special to Liam—a shade tied to fond memories, to moments of comfort and security. It was a small detail, but one that meant so much. And it was these little details that made everything feel even more real, that made each decision seem not just right but inevitable, as if every element of the wedding had always been there, simply waiting to be discovered.

Time passed slowly, and Zayn realised he didn’t want to move. He didn’t want to leave that room, that bed, that moment where Liam slept peacefully beside him, as if there were no worries, as if the entire world had shrunk to this small space where only the two of them existed. He knew they still had much to plan, many decisions to make, but for now, none of that mattered. All he needed was to be there, holding Liam’s hand, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath his fingers, knowing that no matter what, he would never let go.

Zayn remained there, listening to the deepening rhythm of Liam’s breath, every detail of that moment imprinting itself on his mind as if it were a painting he would recreate later. The world seemed quiet, as if time itself respected Liam’s exhaustion and allowed him to rest without hurry. The truth was, Zayn knew these moments were precious. In recent months, everything had become more delicate—every gesture, every glance, every smile from Liam was a gift he treasured carefully, making him cherish even the simplest moments, like this one, lying together in silence, merely feeling each other’s presence.

But even in all this tranquillity, Zayn’s mind couldn’t stay entirely still. The wedding discussions still echoed in his head, along with the realisation that they were finally taking a step they had wanted for so long. When Maggie left, full of ideas and already eager to help them plan, Zayn felt how much more real everything had become. It was no longer just a distant promise or an undefined plan. They were truly getting married, and with each decision they made, they moved closer to that day—a day that, for him, couldn’t come soon enough.

He thought about the garden, the space that would be prepared for the ceremony. He could picture Liam standing there, dressed in white—or whatever colour he chose—with that shy, enchanting smile, waiting for him. It was such a perfect image in his mind that it felt like a dream. But it was real. They were building this moment together. They didn’t need anything extravagant, just a place where they could say their vows with sincerity, surrounded by those who loved them. Simply knowing they were creating a wedding that truly reflected who they were and what they meant to each other filled Zayn with a quiet happiness.

He knew Liam wanted everything to be special but without unnecessary complications. It was something so deeply theirs, so intimate, that every detail seemed to fall into place naturally. Take the choice of flowers, for instance. Purple was a colour that held such meaning for Liam, and seeing him smile when Zayn mentioned it was enough to confirm he had made the right choice. Zayn had always loved seeing Liam smile, but lately, those moments felt even more precious. Every time he saw that genuine expression on his fiancé’s face, he felt as though he was holding something fragile and invaluable—something he would protect with everything he had.

Zayn let out a quiet sigh, staring at the ceiling for a moment before turning his gaze back to Liam. He looked so peaceful, his breathing steady, his face relaxed. Slowly, Zayn moved his hand, tracing gentle fingertips down Liam’s arm—a light, almost imperceptible caress. He wondered if Liam was dreaming of the wedding, if in his mind he could already picture every detail as vividly as Zayn could.

Morning would come, bringing new decisions, new conversations. They still had to finalise the food, figure out how to arrange the garden space, decide on the smaller details that would make the wedding uniquely theirs. Zayn didn’t mind how long it would take to organise everything. The only thing that mattered to him was that Liam was happy.

Sleep eventually began to overtake him as well, and Zayn closed his eyes, still attuned to the gentle sound of Liam’s breathing. He knew the path to the wedding wouldn’t be perfect, that there would be challenges along the way, but none of that mattered. They were together, and that was enough.

As the days passed, each small decision shaped the wedding further, turning something that once felt like a distant dream into a tangible reality. Liam and Zayn spent hours discussing details, choosing what truly mattered to them, discarding formalities that didn’t fit a wedding meant to be so deeply personal and special.

Maggie was always present, assisting with ideas and suggestions while making it clear that the final say would always be theirs. She understood that this moment was unique and needed to be exactly as they envisioned. The garden became the heart of every discussion. In the afternoons, when Liam felt well enough, they would walk through it, observing every corner and imagining where everything would be—the entrance, the seating for guests, the space where they would stand to exchange their vows. Liam loved these walks, and Zayn noticed that even though it took effort, it was always worth it to see his eyes shine with excitement.

Choosing the flowers was one of the most special moments. When Maggie asked about colours and types, Zayn didn’t hesitate before saying he wanted most of them to be purple. Liam immediately smiled, surprised and touched by the choice. He knew how much that colour meant to him, how deeply it was tied to his story, to his identity. Seeing Zayn choose something so symbolic warmed his heart, and he reached out to squeeze his fiancé’s hand, not needing to say a word.

Beyond the flowers, there was the matter of food. Neither of them wanted a formal dinner, but they also didn’t want anything too simple. The perfect solution seemed to be a buffet of finger foods, offering a variety that would cater to everyone and keep the celebration relaxed. They sampled different dishes, discussed flavours, and decided they wanted a mix of everything—traditional comfort foods for family, lighter options for those who preferred them, and, of course, desserts that would make anyone lose themselves in their sweetness. Liam was particularly excited about this part—he had always had a soft spot for sweets.

The invitations were another important decision. They wanted something simple yet elegant, something that represented the essence of their wedding. They opted for handwritten invitations, adding a personal touch that made each one special. Maggie suggested delicate textured paper, and Liam adored the idea.

As the days went by, Zayn noticed Liam balancing his energy between excitement for the wedding and the challenges of his health. There were moments when he needed to stop and rest, moments when exhaustion crept up on him suddenly, but he never let it overshadow his happiness. He wanted to savour every detail, to experience each choice alongside Zayn.

Trisha’s dress, Zayn’s mother, became one of the recurring topics in family conversations. Zayn knew how much that day meant to his mother, and she was determined to be present in every detail. She helped Liam envision what his own attire for the ceremony might be, offering suggestions and sharing stories from her own wedding.

And so, through choices, conversations, and shared moments, Liam and Zayn’s wedding began to take shape. Each detail was a piece of the puzzle, coming together to create a day that would be remembered forever—a day that did not need grandeur to be perfect. 

It only needed the two of them, together, promising each other a love that was already eternal.

Paul arrived unannounced, but that was nothing unusual. He didn’t need an invitation, nor a scheduled time to visit the boys—after all, they had been his responsibility for years, and even now, with the band on hiatus and so many changes happening, he remained part of the family. Zayn opened the door for him, a little surprised but genuinely happy to see him. Since everything had changed, since Liam had changed, Paul made a point of checking in on them—seeing if they needed anything, making sure the weight of it all wasn’t becoming unbearable. The truth was, Paul cared. He always had, but now more than ever.

“Paul!” Zayn smiled, stepping aside to let him in. “To what do we owe the honour?”

“Oh, I thought I’d drop by to see you.” Paul shrugged, that familiar smile on his face—the same one that always came with a joke or an observant glance. “It’s not like you two go out much these days.”

Zayn laughed, knowing it was true. Since Liam… well, since everything had happened, going out wasn’t so easy. Not because Liam couldn’t, but because Zayn refused to leave him alone for too long. He already felt a tightness in his chest when he went to the kitchen and was out of Liam’s sight for more than a few minutes. Paul knew that, and that was exactly why he teased him.

“We’re becoming recluses,” Zayn admitted, closing the door behind Paul. “But have a seat—I’ll get us something to drink.”

Liam, sprawled on the sofa with a blanket draped over his legs, looked up with interest. Paul smiled at him.

“Hey, Li. How are you?”

“Good,” Liam replied, sitting up a little straighter. “And you?”

“Surviving,” Paul joked, but his eyes said something else. He observed Liam for a moment longer, just enough to see that he was having a good day—his skin warm with colour, his eyes alert, his voice steady. That was always a relief.

Zayn disappeared into the kitchen, and Liam knew this was the perfect moment. He leaned forward slightly, lowering his voice.

“Paul, I need to ask you a favour.”

Paul raised his eyebrows. “That always means trouble.”

Liam chuckled quietly. “Not this time. I want you to take me to the studio this week. And help me keep it from Zayn.”

Paul blinked, clearly surprised. He glanced towards the kitchen briefly, as if to ensure Zayn wasn’t on his way back yet, then leaned in a little more.

“Why exactly do you want to hide this from Zayn?”

Liam sighed, already expecting the question. “Because it’s a surprise.”

“A surprise,” Paul repeated, sceptical.

“Yes. I want to do something for him, but he can’t suspect a thing. And considering he’s practically become my shadow, I need help distracting him.” Liam smiled slightly. “I think that’s going to be the hardest part.”

Paul couldn’t help but laugh. “That’s true. He follows you everywhere.”

“Yeah. I like it, you know?” Liam glanced away for a second, staring at his hands. The truth was, he liked it a lot. Zayn could have left—he had every reason in the world to. But he never did. He never would.

“He could’ve walked away,” Liam admitted, his voice quieter now, more sincere. “But he never did. He never would.”

Paul saw the truth in that. He saw the weight of what Liam was saying. The love he felt for Zayn was something so immense it seemed to fill the entire room.

“He wants to be with you,” Paul said simply.

Liam smiled. “Until the very last second.”

They sat in silence for a moment, until they heard Zayn’s footsteps returning. Paul gave a small nod, as if he had already made up his mind.

“All right,” he said. “I’ll take you to the studio.”

Liam smiled, and when Zayn walked back into the room, the two of them were already chatting about something else, as if nothing had happened.

But Paul knew. And now, he was part of the secret.

Zayn returned from the kitchen with a glass of water for Liam and another for Paul, balancing them carefully in his hands before handing them over. Liam took his with a small smile, murmuring his thanks, but for a brief second, his fingers didn’t grip firmly enough, and the water swayed close to the rim. Zayn didn’t hesitate before steadying Liam’s hand, making sure the glass didn’t slip. It wasn’t anything serious—not this time—but Paul saw it. He saw the slight delay in Liam’s reaction, the extra second it took for him to realise something might slip. He always saw.

Paul cleared his throat and leaned back on the sofa, taking a sip of his own water before dropping the news. “Niall texted me, asking me to bring you two to his place.”

Liam frowned. “Now?”

“Yes. That’s why I came here,” Paul explained, setting his glass down on the coffee table. “But I wanted to check on you before mentioning it.”

Zayn and Liam exchanged glances. It wasn’t like Niall to call them last-minute without giving more context. He was always the type to explain everything, to make sure things were clear.

“Did he say why?” Zayn asked, his eyes narrowing slightly.

Paul shrugged. “No. Just said to bring you and that was all I needed to know.”

The silence that followed didn’t last long. If this had been any other situation, any other moment, maybe Zayn would have refused to go without knowing more details, or maybe Liam would have insisted on asking why. But in recent months, they had learned to accept the unexpected. Sometimes, things just happened without explanation. And besides, this was Niall.

“Well,” Liam sighed, rolling his shoulders slowly. “If Niall wants us to go, then we go.”

Zayn nodded, not questioning it any further.

Paul waited while Liam got to his feet, noticing how he took a little longer than before. His body was still strong, but now there was hesitation in his movements, a lightness that shouldn’t have been there. It was as if he were perpetually in a state of exhaustion, as if the energy he tried to show had to be constantly drawn from a reservoir that was running dry.

And then came the little signs.

Liam’s jacket was draped over the back of the sofa, exactly where he had left it earlier, but when he glanced around, he frowned. “Where… where’s my jacket?”

Zayn grabbed it before Liam could search any further. “Here.”

“Oh.” Liam blinked, surprised, then let out a small laugh, shaking his head. “God, I—I thought I left it somewhere else.”

Paul said nothing. Neither did Zayn. Neither of them needed to speak to acknowledge that this wasn’t just a common lapse in memory.

They left together, and on the way to the car, Liam reached into his pocket for the keys but dropped them. Paul automatically bent down to pick them up before Liam even had time to react.

“Thanks,” Liam said, a little embarrassed.

“No problem,” Paul replied, trying to keep his voice light.

But as he drove towards Niall’s house, his mind pounded with what he already knew.

Terminal cancer. Brain cancer. Liam.

Those words should never have been in the same sentence. They should never have been the reality of a boy so full of life, of someone who, not long ago, had been the embodiment of strength and resilience. They avoided those words. Zayn avoided them. Liam avoided them. They all did their best to pretend it didn’t exist.

But the cancer was there.

And it was impossible to ignore.

Niall’s house was always welcoming, always full of life. By the time Paul parked, Liam and Zayn barely had a moment to step out of the car before Niall appeared at the door with an excited grin, waving as if he hadn’t seen them in weeks.

“You’re finally here!” he exclaimed, hurrying down the porch steps. “I’ve got an amazing surprise for you!”

Liam blinked, intrigued, exchanging a quick glance with Zayn before laughing. “A surprise?”

“Yes! Come on, come quickly!” Niall gestured eagerly, already making his way towards the back garden, not giving them time to ask any questions.

Paul shrugged, as if to say he had no idea either, then followed after them.

Niall’s garden had always been spacious—a place where he loved hosting barbecues and quiet nights around an improvised fire pit. But now, among the tallest trees, something new stood out.

A treehouse.

Not some flimsy, makeshift structure, but a real house—with well-finished wooden walls, a small window, a sturdy roof, and a safe ladder leading up to the entrance.

Liam froze for a second, his eyes wide with surprise, as if struggling to process what he was seeing. Then, without warning, a huge smile spread across his face.

“You’re joking!” he exclaimed, excitement spilling into his voice.

Niall grinned, pleased. “I’m not! It’s real! I always wanted one when I was a kid but never had the chance.” He looked at Liam, his eyes shining. “Now we do.”

Liam stepped closer to the ladder, running a hand over the wooden base, as if he needed to feel it to believe it. “This is incredible…”

“You haven’t even seen the inside yet!” Niall insisted.

Climbing up, however, was a challenge.

The ladder was secure, but for Liam, any extra effort was a battle. The chemotherapy left him weak, and his coordination wasn’t what it used to be. He eyed the steps, mentally calculating the effort it would take, and Zayn noticed instantly.

“We’ll go slowly, okay?” Zayn said, positioning himself behind him. “Paul will go up first so he can help pull you up. I’ll stay here to make sure you’re steady.”

Liam nodded. He didn’t like needing help with things he used to do without a second thought, but if there was one thing he had learned in the past few months, it was to accept what he couldn’t change.

Paul climbed up first, his steps steady, and positioned himself at the entrance. “Ready?”

Liam placed his foot on the first step and began to climb. With each movement, Paul extended a hand to help pull him up, while Zayn remained just below, ready to steady him if needed. Liam tried to hide his exhaustion, but the truth was, by the time he reached the top and Paul pulled him inside, he needed a moment to catch his breath.

Zayn climbed up soon after and knelt beside him, his hands firm on Liam’s shoulders. “Are you all right?”

Liam smiled, breathless. “Yeah… Just need a second.”

“You did it,” Niall said brightly, flopping down beside him. “Welcome to our treehouse!”

And what a treehouse it was.

The interior was surprisingly spacious—not huge, but comfortable. A soft rug covered the floor, cushions were scattered in the corners, and even a small television was mounted on a stand. A string of warm yellow lights lined the walls, casting a cosy glow throughout the space. A video game console was connected to the TV, and a pile of blankets was neatly folded to one side.

“This is perfect,” Liam said, his eyes shining. “It’s a childhood dream come true.”

“I knew you’d love it!” Niall cheered.

They spent the entire afternoon there.

They played video games, laughed at silly jokes, and talked about everything and nothing all at once. At some point, Paul climbed up with a tray of snacks and drinks, insisting they all eat something. Zayn stayed close to Liam the entire time, watchful for any signs of fatigue, but Liam was happy. Truly happy.

By the end of the afternoon, as the sun was setting, exhaustion finally won.

Blankets were pulled over, cushions were rearranged, and one by one, they all surrendered to sleep.

“Love…” Liam called Zayn softly, almost asleep, blinking slowly. Zayn looked at him, smiling and brushing their lips together.

“Yes?”

“Happy birthday…” 

Zayn smiled more, his heart had definitely missed a few beats, he was sure.

"It's just tomorrow, love." 

“"But I wanted to be the first to say... Because I love you…”

Liam closed his eyes slowly, nestled in Zayn's arms, his breathing calm, his face peaceful.

Happy.

Chapter Text

The days began to pass, and they did their best to make the most of each one. It wasn’t easy.

Leaving the house always felt like a delicate operation, not just because Liam tired quickly and his health was unpredictable, but because there was a constant need for discretion. The fans didn’t know about his illness, and they wanted to keep it that way. If they were seen, if someone recognised them and shared something online, the internet would erupt with theories and speculation. And Liam didn’t want that. He didn’t want pitying looks, didn’t want to be treated as if he were broken. He wanted the world, at least from the outside, to still see him as before.

But despite the difficulties, they tried.

They camped out in the garden on a starry night, setting up tents and spreading soft blankets across the ground, pretending they were in a real forest, far away from everything. Niall brought a guitar and played old songs while everyone sang softly, their voices blending into the darkness. Zayn lay beside Liam, watching how the stars reflected in his eyes, and thought that, no matter how cruel time could be, in that moment, Liam was happy.

They went to a drive-in cinema, something Liam had always wanted to do but had never had the chance. They chose a classic film—one that didn’t really matter, because the experience was what counted. They brought blankets, a pile of snacks, and settled in the car, with Liam resting against Zayn’s shoulder, the two of them sharing popcorn that Zayn held in his lap. Liam didn’t manage to watch the whole film—nausea hit before the halfway mark, and he had to step out of the car for a few minutes to take deep breaths and steady himself. But when he returned, Zayn just looked at him with a soft smile, as if nothing had happened, and offered him a handful of popcorn as if that would fix everything. In a way, it did.

And on the good days—when Liam could stand without dizziness and when the headaches gave him a break—they planted a small garden together.

They dug into the earth with their own hands, chose flowers of every colour imaginable, and in the middle of the lawn, they planted a tree.

“It will grow right here,” Liam said, pushing some earth aside with his fingers. “And it will be here for a long time.”

No one said aloud what they were all thinking, but the silence that followed was full of meaning.

Zayn wiped his hands on his trousers and looked at Liam for a long moment before finally speaking. “It will stay here. Just like you.”

Liam smiled, and no one tried to correct Zayn.

They were trying.

Time kept passing, each day bringing a new battle, but also moments they tried to hold onto with all their strength. Between chemotherapy and radiotherapy sessions, between good days and bad ones, between small victories and silent defeats, their wedding day arrived.

Liam was more nervous than he had ever been in his life.

It was the kind of nervousness that not only made his heart race but also unsettled his stomach in a way he couldn’t tell if it was the anxiety or the illness. Perhaps it was both. But at that moment, nothing felt worse than the waiting.

He was in the room where he was getting ready, sitting on the edge of the bed, trying to steady his breathing. His suit was impeccable, tailored perfectly to his body, yet he kept tugging at the sleeves impatiently, as if something were out of place. The knot of his tie felt too tight. His hands were cold.

“Breathe, mate,” Louis said beside him, holding out a glass of water. “You look like you’re about to bolt any second now.”

Liam took the glass but only held it, not drinking. “I don’t know… I just…” He ran a hand over his face, trying to gather his thoughts. “I’m just… really nervous.”

Louis smiled. “Well, that’s to be expected. You’re about to marry the love of your life. If you weren’t nervous, I’d actually be worried.”

“But what if I faint? What if I trip? What if—”

“If that happens, everyone will pretend they didn’t see it. And I’ll laugh. But quietly.”

Liam shot him a look of reproach but couldn’t help the small smile that broke through. Louis had always known how to calm him, even in the worst moments.

Karen and Geoff were there too, watching their son with a mix of pride and concern. Karen stepped closer, running a hand through his hair—a gesture she had done ever since he was little. “My love, you’re going to be fine. Look at you… you look wonderful.”

Liam closed his eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath. “I just… I just want it to be perfect.”

“And it will be,” Geoff assured him. “Because you two love each other. And in the end, that’s all that matters.”

Liam nodded, trying to absorb everyone’s words, trying to believe that, yes, everything would be fine.

But when the moment arrived, and he was in the hallway waiting for Zayn so they could go in together, he felt his legs tremble.

His heart pounded in his chest, each second stretching into eternity as he held his breath, waiting for the exact moment when everything would change forever.

Zayn was nervous. It was impossible not to be.

But, above all, he was happy.

Because he had waited for this moment for years. So many years that it felt as if each one of them was etched into his skin, into his memory, into every little recollection built alongside Liam. He could pretend to be a rational person, could try to act as if he were restrained and patient, but the truth was, if it had been up to him alone, this wedding would have happened long ago—perhaps at seventeen, when he still looked at Liam as if the entire world revolved around him. Because, to Zayn, it always had.

Liam had always been the love of his life, from the earliest days of the band, from the silly arguments that concealed something far greater than either of them had been able to admit at the time. From the moments when Liam annoyed him to the moments when he made him laugh like no one else in the world could.

Zayn had spent years by Liam’s side—waiting, longing, loving. And now, finally, he could tell the world that Liam was his forever.

His heart pounded as he finished adjusting his tie in the mirror, his hands restless despite his suit being immaculate. He knew he didn’t need to worry about that—Liam didn’t care about perfection. But still, he wanted this day to be unforgettable.

Niall was beside him, sitting on the bed, watching Zayn move about the room as if trying to find something to occupy his hands.

"You’ve been pacing for ten minutes," Niall remarked, crossing his arms with an amused smile.

Zayn stopped and looked at him. "I’m nervous."

Niall laughed. "Of course you are. You’re about to marry the love of your life."

Zayn closed his eyes for a second, taking a deep breath. "I’ve waited so long for this."

"I know." Niall stood up and placed a hand on Zayn’s shoulder. "And now it’s happening. And it’s going to be perfect. Because you two are perfect for each other."

Zayn smiled, feeling a tightness in his chest. He didn’t know what he would have done without his friends by his side all this time.

Then, finally, the time came.

He left the room, his heart pounding, and found Liam in the corridor.

Liam was already there, waiting, and when their eyes met, everything around them seemed to fall into silence for a moment.

Liam smiled.

And it was the most beautiful smile Zayn had ever seen.

Without a second thought, Zayn stepped forward and intertwined their fingers.

"Hi," Liam said, his voice low but full of emotion.

Zayn smiled back. "Hi."

They stood there for a moment, just looking at each other, feeling each other’s presence, feeling the warmth of their joined hands. Neither of them needed to say anything more.

Then, together, they walked onto the veranda, where their friends and family waited in the garden, where a simple but beautiful altar stood, adorned with soft lights and flowers.

The garden was bathed in gentle lights, lanterns hanging from the branches of trees, small candles flickering on the tables. The altar was decorated in a simple yet utterly enchanting way—white and lilac flowers intertwined with the delicate fabric that draped softly over the wooden structure, creating a scene that seemed straight out of a dream. The scent of the flowers lingered in the air, mingling with the freshness of the newly cut grass and the faint aroma of lavender candles scattered throughout the space. The chairs were arranged in delicate rows, and among the guests were only those who truly mattered, those who had stood by them through every important moment, who had held their hands on the hard days and shared their smiles on the good ones.

Liam and Zayn walked to the altar together, side by side, their hands clasped so tightly it was as if neither of them wanted to let go. Liam’s heart pounded so fast he could hear his own pulse in his ears, and the only thing keeping his legs from giving way was the firm presence of Zayn beside him. He was there. He had always been there. He always would be.

The murmur of conversation among the guests faded as they approached, and a reverent silence settled over the space, filled only by the sound of the wind gently rustling through the leaves. Zayn’s gaze was fixed on Liam, and Liam felt that if he looked for too long, he might lose himself in it forever. But it didn’t matter, because Zayn was the only place he wanted to be.

The officiant, a woman with a firm voice and kind eyes, smiled at them as they reached the altar. She gave a brief nod, as if recognising the significance of the moment, as if understanding that this wasn’t just a wedding—it was the culmination of something that had long existed between them, something that had always been meant to happen.

When she began to speak, her voice was clear and warm.

"We are gathered here today to celebrate the union of two souls who have found in each other a love so deep, so true, that it transcends time, distance, and every obstacle. Liam and Zayn, you have chosen each other, day after day, and today, you reaffirm that choice before those who love you most. Your love is proof that when two hearts are destined to be together, nothing can keep them apart."

Liam felt a lump form in his throat, his eyes already filling with tears before either of them had spoken a single word. He tightened his grip on Zayn’s hand, who slightly turned his palm to stroke Liam’s fingers with his thumb—a small gesture, but full of comfort.

"And now, Liam and Zayn have prepared their vows," the officiant continued, looking at them with warmth. "Liam, would you like to go first?"

Liam swallowed hard. His chest was so tight he feared he wouldn’t be able to speak, but when he met Zayn’s gaze, he knew he didn’t need anything more than the truth. He took a deep breath, exhaled slowly, and with a trembling voice, began.

"Zayn… I don’t know how to put into words everything you mean to me, because I don’t think there’s a word in the world that can do it justice. But I’ll try. Because you deserve every beautiful word that exists." He took another breath, trying to contain the tears that were already threatening to fall. "From the first day I met you, I knew you would be someone important in my life. Even when we argued, even when we pretended not to care about each other, I knew. I knew there was something about you that called to me, something that made the world feel right when you were near."

Zayn smiled, his eyes glistening with the same emotion Liam felt in his chest.

"I love you, Zayn," Liam continued, his voice growing stronger, more certain. "I love you in a way I never thought possible to love someone. I love every little thing about you, every habit, every smile, every glance. I love the way you hold me when I’m afraid, the way you have never, ever left me alone, even when I thought you should. I love you for being the strongest, most incredible, most loving person I know. And I promise that, for as long as I have, I will keep loving you with everything I am."

He paused for a second, blinking rapidly to clear his vision, then smiled, because despite everything, he was happy.

"I choose you, Zayn," he finished, his voice thick with emotion but full of certainty. "Today and always."

Zayn let out a shaky laugh, bowing his head for a moment as if trying to steady himself. When he looked up again, his eyes were wet, but his smile was so radiant that it made Liam’s heart race all over again.

The officiant nodded at Zayn, giving him the cue to begin his vows.

"Liam…" Zayn started, but his voice broke halfway through. He let out a short, nervous laugh, raising a hand to his face to wipe away a tear that had escaped before he could stop it.

Niall chuckled softly in the background, and that made Zayn relax just a little, take a deep breath, and continue.

"If it were up to me, we would have married at seventeen," he said, drawing soft laughter from the guests and from Liam, who nodded as if to say, 'I know.' "But you were always the rational one between us, so I waited. I waited all these years because I knew that, in the end, it didn’t matter when or how it happened—what mattered was that you were, and always would be, my destiny."

Liam pressed his lips together, trying to contain the wave of emotion rising in his chest.

"I love you more than anything in this world," Zayn continued, his voice laden with sincerity. "And I always will. With every piece of me, with everything I have. You are the best part of my life, the reason I want to be a better person every day. You’ve taught me so much, Liam. About love, about patience, about courage. And I promise I will spend every second of the time we have together loving you the way you deserve to be loved. With all my heart."

He paused for a moment and smiled slightly. "So yes, I choose you. Today, tomorrow, and always."

The silence that followed was filled only with the pulsing emotion in the air.

The officiant took a deep breath and smiled. "With the words exchanged and the vows made, I now pronounce you officially married. You may kiss."

Zayn didn’t wait a single second. He cupped Liam’s face with both hands and kissed him as if sealing something that had existed long before that moment. And Liam kissed him back with the same intensity, because right then, in that instant, nothing else mattered.

They were, without a doubt, the happiest people in the world.

The kiss sealed the moment in a way no words ever could. The entire world could have vanished around them, and still, Liam and Zayn would have remained there, together, locked in that instant that seemed to exist outside of time. The sound of applause and whistles from the guests felt distant, like an echo of happiness surrounding them, but nothing was more real than the warmth of Zayn’s hands holding his face and the way his lips moved against his with such tenderness, such certainty. When they finally pulled apart, Liam blinked a few times, his eyes damp, but smiling so widely that his face ached.

Zayn didn’t look any different—he had that gleam in his eyes, that smile that was pure love, pure Zayn. They rested their foreheads together for a second, their smiles still lingering on their lips, breathing the same air, and then Zayn whispered an "I love you" that made Liam’s chest tighten with emotion. He whispered it back, and in that moment, with Zayn’s fingers still lightly pressed against his skin, Liam knew that no matter what happened, he would never be alone.

The guests approached soon after, and the embraces became an endless wave of shared happiness. Louis was the first to pull them into a tight hug, ruffling Zayn’s hair and holding Liam carefully, as if he were made of glass and at the same time the most precious thing in the world. Niall came next, emotional, his eyes slightly red but his grin so wide it almost hurt to look at. He murmured something about never doubting this day would come and how he had always known the two of them belonged together, and after a second, he grumbled that he was getting too sentimental and needed a drink. Harry hugged them both tightly, whispering sweet words of congratulations and love, and the cycle of greetings and well-wishes continued until every person there had expressed their affection in some way.

The celebration began soon after, and everything was exactly as Liam had imagined it would be. Small, intimate, but full of life. The lights remained glowing throughout the garden, creating a cosy, almost magical atmosphere. The tables were decorated simply, yet every detail seemed placed with love—small floral arrangements, scented candles, framed photographs scattered delicately, capturing significant moments from Liam and Zayn’s journey together. The music was lively, and it didn’t take long for the first people to step onto the makeshift dance floor in the centre of the lawn.

Liam and Zayn were the first to dance, of course. It was tradition, and Liam didn’t mind following it—not when it meant being in Zayn’s arms, feeling his body so close to his, letting himself be guided by the gentle rhythm of the music while the world around them blurred into lights and laughter. Zayn held his waist delicately, his fingers moving in slow circles over the fabric of Liam’s suit, and his eyes were locked onto his in a way that made Liam forget everything—time, worries, the pains that sometimes still lingered.

But reality, no matter how much they tried to ignore it, was still there. And Liam realised this when, in the middle of the dance, he felt a slight tremor in his hands as he tried to intertwine them with Zayn’s. He frowned for a moment, trying to steady them, but Zayn noticed before he could say anything. With the same effortless ease as always, without drawing attention, Zayn simply held his hands more firmly, guiding their movements without allowing Liam to feel frustrated about it. They didn’t need to say anything. Zayn just smiled, a small smile but full of meaning, and Liam knew that everything was fine.

The night continued in a whirlwind of beautiful moments. Louis took it upon himself to keep the energy of the party high, pulling everyone onto the dance floor and ensuring no one stayed still for too long. He made a point of dragging Liam into an exaggerated dance in the middle of everyone, twirling him in a theatrical way that made Liam laugh out loud, and when he joked about how he had always known Liam would have a fairytale-worthy wedding, Liam only rolled his eyes, grinning, because Louis was right. That was exactly what it was.

Niall, in turn, was determined to give a speech—and, of course, not before refilling his beer glass a few times to make sure he’d find the right words. When he finally climbed onto a chair, calling for silence, everyone turned to him, already expecting something iconic.

"I could spend all night talking about these two," he began, pointing at Liam and Zayn with a smile heavy with emotion. "But I won’t, because, one, I know no one wants to listen to me for that long, and two, because everyone here already knows what I know: that these two idiots love each other more than anything in this world."

Laughter rippled through the guests, but there was such pure truth in Niall’s words that no one dared interrupt him.

"I watched this love grow," he continued, now in a slightly more serious tone. "From the very start. I saw when they pretended not to care, I saw when they began to realise they cared more than anything, I saw when they finally admitted it. And now I’m seeing this love being celebrated in the most beautiful way possible. And honestly? I couldn’t be happier for you."

He raised his glass, and everyone followed, toasting to Liam and Zayn’s happiness, to love, to friendship, to everything that made that moment so special.

The hours passed without anyone noticing. The night wore on, but no one seemed ready to let go of the joy of the celebration. The food table was thoroughly raided—especially by Niall, who swore he would go back for more cake at least three times before finally being satisfied. Paul, watching everything from a distance with that watchful gaze he had always had over the boys, also seemed more relaxed than usual, as if he knew that no matter how difficult the future might be, in that moment, everything was right.

Liam, at some point, found himself sitting on one of the garden benches, watching the party around him, the familiar faces laughing, dancing, celebrating. A gentle exhaustion weighed on his body, but it was a good kind of exhaustion, the kind that came after a day full of happiness. He was so lost in thought that he almost didn’t notice when Zayn sat beside him, sliding an arm around his shoulders and pulling him close.

"Alright?" Zayn asked, his voice low, intimate.

Liam looked at him and smiled. "Absolutely perfect."

Zayn studied his face for a moment, and Liam knew he was searching for any sign of discomfort, any hint that he might need to step in. But all he found was happiness, so he simply nodded and pressed a soft kiss to Liam’s temple.

"They’re right, you know," Liam said after a moment, his voice barely a whisper.

"About what?"

"That we’re the happiest people in the world."

Zayn smiled, pressing their foreheads together. "We always have been."

The conversation and laughter around them felt like a distant hum as Liam turned to Zayn, his face illuminated by something beyond ordinary happiness. There was an anticipation there, an almost childlike excitement that Zayn recognised well—it was the look Liam had when he was about to do something special. He was already smiling before Liam even spoke because, whatever it was, Zayn knew it was something coming straight from the heart.

"I've got a surprise for you," Liam said softly, the tip of his fingers brushing lightly against Zayn's hand before he stood up, leaving a quick kiss on his lips. Zayn followed his movements with his eyes, curious, feeling that familiar warmth spread through his chest.

Liam walked towards the small stage set up in the garden for the party, passing by guests who were still enjoying themselves, unaware of what was about to happen. He climbed the steps slowly, and as soon as he took hold of the microphone, the movement around him quieted. Everyone turned their attention to him, waiting, and Zayn realised that even without knowing what Liam was about to do, there was a kind of collective anticipation in the air.

"I wanted to do something special for tonight," Liam began, his voice clear through the sound system. He looked at Zayn, his eyes shining with a mix of nervousness and emotion. "And since there's no better way to express what I feel than through music… I wrote one."

Zayn felt something tighten inside him. The world seemed to slow down for a second as Liam’s words settled in his mind. He wrote a song. For him.

A brief silence filled the space, and then, before anyone could react, Liam took a deep breath and began to sing.

How do you love someone?

In the first instant, his voice filled the air alone—raw, sincere, laden with emotion. And then, as if it had only been waiting for Liam’s cue, the instrumental began to accompany his words, soft at first, but gradually building, enveloping everything around them.

How do you love someone so much it makes you hate them?

Because you can't replace them

Why do I still hold on?

Why do I still hold on to things when they're wasted?

Maybe I misplaced them

The melody was delicate and intense at the same time, a perfect blend of gentleness and strength, like a reflection of what existed between them. The chords flowed in harmony with Liam’s voice, and every note seemed to carry a piece of their story, a piece of the love they shared.

But it was the lyrics that made Zayn hold his breath.

He didn’t recognise the song, but he recognised the emotions behind every word.

It was a confession, a reminder. It was Liam opening his heart in the purest way possible, singing about shared moments, silent promises, the certainty that, no matter what happened, they would always find each other.

Liam’s voice trembled slightly in some parts, but not from insecurity—it was pure emotion, overflowing in every verse. He sang looking straight at Zayn, as if only the two of them existed there, as if nothing else mattered.

Zayn felt his eyes sting, his chest tightening with every line. He knew Liam better than anyone, and he knew how much it meant for him to compose something so personal, how much those words came directly from his soul.

When the last note echoed through the space and silence settled over the garden for one endless second, no one moved.

Liam was still holding the microphone, taking deep breaths, as if trying to recover from the intensity of the moment. Then, he looked straight at Zayn and smiled—small, shy, but full of love.

"I wrote this song for you," he said. "It was my surprise. Did you like it?"

Zayn’s laughter came uneven, half-choked by the wave of emotion washing over him. He didn’t answer with words. He couldn’t.

He stood up almost automatically, crossing the space between them in quick strides, without hesitation. He climbed onto the stage without caring about the eyes watching them and, the second he was close enough, he pulled Liam in for a kiss.

It was a kiss that said everything Zayn couldn’t put into words at that moment.

The guests erupted in applause and excited cheers around them, but Zayn barely heard them. The whole world could have been watching, but in that instant, there was only Liam.

When they pulled apart, Liam smiled, resting his forehead against Zayn’s. "I suppose you liked it, then."

Zayn laughed, still holding his face in his hands. "I loved it," he said simply. "I love you."

As soon as the applause began to die down and Liam and Zayn stepped off the stage, still breathless from the intensity of the moment, they were met with a wave of hugs and congratulations. The first to reach them was Geoff, Liam’s father, who pulled his son into a tight embrace, his strong hands gripping Liam’s shoulders as if trying to convey, in a single gesture, all the pride and love he felt.

"Liam, son… that was incredible," he said, his voice thick with emotion. Geoff had never been a man of many words, but at that moment, the shine in his eyes spoke more than any speech ever could. He pulled back just enough to look at Liam properly, studying him as if trying to memorise every detail of this moment. "I've always known you were special. And seeing you here, so happy, marrying someone who loves you like this… there’s nothing I could wish for you more."

Karen followed soon after, her expression softened by emotion, her eyes glistening. She touched Liam’s face gently, as if he were still the little boy she used to cradle in her arms, and then she turned to Zayn with the same tenderness.

"I’ve never seen you both so happy," she said, before smiling at Zayn and taking one of his hands in hers. "Zayn, thank you for loving my son like this. Thank you for taking care of him. For standing by his side, for making him smile like that."

Zayn, who had always shared a special bond with Karen, gave her hand a gentle squeeze, his throat too tight to respond immediately.

"I love him more than anything," he finally said, with a certainty that left no room for doubt.

Then it was Ruth and Nicola’s turn to step forward, embracing Liam and then Zayn, their voices overlapping in a mix of happiness and affectionate teasing about how small Liam looked in Ruth’s crushing hug.

"You did it, little brother," Nicola said, her gaze shining with pride. "We always knew you two were meant for each other."

Liam laughed, emotional, pulling his sisters closer before turning to Zayn, who was still visibly affected by the intensity of the moment.

But they barely had time to catch their breath before another wave of warmth surrounded them.

Zayn’s family arrived in a whirlwind of emotions, led by Trisha, who didn’t hesitate to take her son’s face in her hands and press a kiss to his forehead.

"My boy," she murmured, her voice thick with pride and affection. "You’ve found your happiness, and there’s nothing more important than that."

Zayn closed his eyes for a moment, absorbing his mother’s words, before turning to his father, Yaser, who approached in silence but with a look so full of meaning that no words were necessary. He placed his hands on Zayn’s shoulders and nodded—a small gesture, but one that said everything.

"I’m proud of you, son," he finally said, before turning to Liam and adding, "And I’m happy knowing that Zayn has someone like you by his side."

Doniya was the first of Zayn’s sisters to step forward, hugging Liam with an enthusiasm that took him by surprise.

"I swear, it still feels surreal seeing you two married!" she laughed, pulling back to look at them both. "But at the same time, there was no other way it could have been. You were always like this, always meant to be together."

Waliyha, fifteen years old and caught between shyness and joy, smiled as she hugged Liam, holding his hand for a moment.

"You make my brother happy," she said simply. "That’s all that matters."

And then came Safaa, only eleven, with the excitement of someone who saw a wedding as a real-life fairy tale. She took both Zayn and Liam’s hands and looked between them, her eyes shining with wonder.

"You’re like a prince and a prince," she declared, with the sincere purity of a child.

Laughter came easily, and Zayn pulled his sister into a hug, ruffling her hair lightly.

"Does that mean I’m a king now?" he teased, and Safaa rolled her eyes with a grin.

"It means you both are," she corrected.

The night carried on, filled with love, congratulations, and the certainty that no matter what the future held, Liam and Zayn would always have their families by their side, celebrating every moment, every achievement, every instant of happiness.

The party still pulsed in the garden, with soft lights strung between the trees and laughter blending with the music playing in the background. The scent of flowers that decorated the space drifted through the cool night air, and the guests continued celebrating, chatting animatedly, raising toasts to the couple’s happiness, dancing under the stars. But for Liam, the night was beginning to weigh on him in a different way.

At first, he tried to ignore the pressure in his head, a discomfort that started as a slight twinge but, as the hours passed, grew into a dull, insistent pain. He blinked a few times, trying to shake off the sensation, but he couldn’t ignore how his vision blurred in moments, how the party seemed to drift further away, how he had to concentrate just to keep up with the conversations around him.

Zayn, who knew every nuance of Liam’s face, noticed almost immediately. He saw the way Liam blinked too slowly, the small furrow of his brow that signalled his discomfort. He also noticed the way his fingers drifted to his temples in an almost instinctive gesture, rubbing them as if trying to ease something invisible. There was no need to ask. Zayn already knew.

"Liam," he called softly, leaning in closer, his voice low enough for only his husband to hear. "Your head?"

Liam hesitated for a moment before nodding, his gaze tired but still full of love.

"It hurts," he admitted, his voice coming out rougher than he intended. "More than usual."

Zayn needed no further convincing. They had already enjoyed so much of the night. It was their wedding, a moment he knew would live in their memories forever, but nothing—nothing—was more important than Liam feeling well.

"Let’s go to our room," he said gently, his hand already reaching for Liam’s, fingers intertwining in an instant. "It’s time to rest."

Liam hesitated for a second, his gaze sweeping over the party, their friends and family still so full of energy, as if reluctant to leave this moment behind so soon. But then he felt the reassuring squeeze of Zayn’s hand and realised that, in the end, nothing else mattered.

They bid farewell to each guest, Liam smiling at each person who congratulated them again, thanking them for being there, listening to the well-wishes as if he could store them inside himself. Zayn stayed by his side the entire time, his hand never letting go of Liam’s, his gaze always watchful, making sure Liam was well enough to stand.

When they finally stepped inside the house, leaving the music and voices behind, a comforting silence wrapped around them.

In their room, exhaustion settled over Liam like an inevitable weight. But it wasn’t a bad kind of exhaustion. It was the kind that came after a day overflowing with emotions, a day filled with love and happiness.

Zayn helped Liam out of his suit with slow, careful movements, his fingers unbuttoning his shirt with a tenderness that felt like a caress. Liam smiled at him, small but full of affection.

"You’re too handsome," he murmured, his voice already laced with sleep.

Zayn chuckled softly, shaking his head as he finished helping him. "You’re the one who is," he replied, pulling out the comfortable shirt Liam usually wore to bed and helping him slip it on.

When they were finally ready, they lay down together, and Liam immediately curled up against Zayn’s chest, his breathing slow and deep, absorbing the familiar scent that always calmed him. Zayn ran his fingers through Liam’s hair, feeling the strands weave between his fingers, an automatic, almost reverent gesture.

"I love you," Liam whispered, his lips brushing softly against Zayn’s skin.

Zayn closed his eyes for a moment, taking in those words in the deepest way possible.

"I love you too," he replied, pressing a kiss to Liam’s hair.

The darkness of the room was comforting, bringing an almost tangible tranquillity. The only light came from the gap in the curtain, where the moon cast a soft glow, tinting the space with silvery hues. Silence was absolute, interrupted only by the steady rhythm of Zayn’s breathing beside Liam—a sound so familiar and reassuring that it felt like a part of him.

Liam blinked slowly, feeling the weight of sleep still present, yet the persistent ache in his head kept him from fully surrendering to the deep rest he longed for. It wasn’t as intense as before, just a dull discomfort—something he had long since learned to live with. Even so, the darkness helped, easing the pressure, allowing him to simply lie there, breathing in time with Zayn, absorbing the moment.

Turning carefully, taking care not to sink too deeply into the mattress, Liam allowed himself to look at the man beside him. His heart clenched in a sweet way at the sight of Zayn sleeping so soundly, so relaxed. He had always said that Zayn looked like an angel when he slept, and every time he saw him like this, he knew it was true. His long lashes rested against his golden skin, closed eyelids hiding the eyes Liam loved so much. His lips—the ones that had so often spoken his name with such tenderness—were slightly parted, and Liam could hear the warm, even breaths escaping from them.

Zayn’s chest rose and fell in a slow, steady rhythm, and Liam found himself mesmerised by the movement, as if it were the most beautiful thing in the world. And perhaps it was. Because it was proof that he was there—so close, so present, so his. The dark hair was slightly tousled against the pillow, a few strands falling across his forehead, and Liam felt an almost irresistible urge to brush them aside, but he hesitated, not wanting to disturb him.

For a long while, he simply lay there, watching, feeling his chest swell with a love so vast it barely fit inside him. How could he love someone like this? How could he feel so much for just one person? But this was Zayn. His Zayn. The man who had chosen to stay by his side, who would never leave him, who was here now, sleeping peacefully beside him, as if there was nothing in the world that could ever part them.

A small, drowsy smile formed on Liam’s lips as he leaned in a little closer, his eyes tracing every detail of Zayn’s face. He wanted to remember this image forever—every line, every curve, every breath. Because, in that moment, nothing existed but them.

Unable to resist, Liam moved even closer, until his lips met Zayn’s in a gentle kiss—a soft, lingering touch full of tenderness. Just a brush of lips, a silent gesture that spoke volumes. Zayn sighed in his sleep, his lips shifting slightly beneath Liam’s, as if, even unconscious, he recognised the affection.

Liam smiled against his skin, his heart warm, before settling back down, fitting himself into Zayn’s arms with near-reverent care. He slid in closer, letting Zayn’s warm breath caress his skin, feeling the comforting heat of his body against his own. When Zayn’s hand, even in sleep, moved to rest on his waist, Liam knew he was exactly where he was meant to be.

He closed his eyes slowly, letting sleep pull him under once more—but this time, he didn’t fight it. Because he knew that when he woke, Zayn would still be there. Because, on this night, in this moment, they were the happiest people in the world.

Chapter Text

The room was bathed in the soft dimness of the morning, light filtering through the closed curtains in delicate hues, casting a golden glow in the twilight. The silence was broken only by the steady rhythm of Liam’s breathing, warm and constant against Zayn’s skin. He blinked slowly, feeling his consciousness settle as sleep gradually faded, and then the memory of the previous night hit him in full force.

They were married.

The thought brought an immediate warmth to Zayn’s chest, something that spread like fire through every cell of his body, a feeling so intense it almost made him laugh out of sheer happiness. He could still hear Liam’s vows echoing in his mind, every word full of love, every promise laden with meaning. He could still taste the kiss that had sealed it all, feel the grasp of his hands, see the emotion in the brown eyes that now belonged to his husband.

His husband.

Zayn smiled against the pillow, unable to contain the joy bubbling within him. For so long, he had dreamt of this moment, imagined what it would be like to finally call Liam his husband, to know that they belonged to each other in an even deeper way than before. And now here he was, lying beside the love of his life, feeling Liam’s peaceful breaths against his chest, his arms relaxed around him, as if this were the place he was always meant to be.

He could get up. He could leave the bed, start the day, do something productive. But why? Why waste even a single second away from the man he loved so dearly, especially now that he could call him his husband?

Zayn ran his fingers through Liam’s soft hair, feeling the silky strands between them. Liam stirred slightly in his sleep, pressing closer against him, and Zayn smiled again, his heart overflowing with affection. He loved how perfectly Liam fit into his arms, as if he had been made to be there.

The truth was, even after all this time together, after everything they had been through, Zayn still felt incredibly lucky to have Liam. No matter the hardships, the pain, the bad days—Liam was his home, his happiness, his reason to keep going. And now, more than ever, he was determined to make every moment count, to ensure that Liam knew, every single day, just how deeply he was loved.

He closed his eyes for a moment, simply breathing in time with Liam, letting himself be enveloped by the comforting warmth of his body, by the absolute sense of security that only existed when they were together. Nothing in the world mattered more than this. Nothing ever would.

And so, with a soft smile on his lips, Zayn decided he would stay there for as long as possible, simply revelling in the privilege of having Liam in his arms.

The room was still wrapped in a comforting tranquillity, the warmth of their intertwined bodies beneath the sheets making it difficult to even think about getting up. But Zayn knew he couldn’t delay much longer. Time was running, and as much as he wanted to spend the entire day just basking in the feeling of having Liam there, held close in his arms, they had a plane to catch. A honeymoon to embark on.

He sighed softly, burying his face in Liam’s hair for a few more seconds, inhaling the familiar scent he always carried, before finally deciding to move. His fingers traced lazily over the bare skin of his husband’s back—and thinking of that word still made him smile—slowly sliding upwards until they reached his neck, where he began drawing small circles with the tips of his fingers, trying to wake him as gently as possible.

“Liam…” His voice came out low, husky with lingering sleep. He pressed a kiss to his temple, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath his lips. “Love, we have to wake up.”

Liam mumbled something unintelligible into the pillow, his body shifting only slightly, as if trying to hide from Zayn’s call. The singer smiled, amused by his resistance.

“I know, I know… But if we don’t get out of bed soon, we’ll miss our flight,” he continued, his hand moving to Liam’s face, tracing the familiar contours before pressing a gentle kiss to his lips.

This time, Liam responded, still drowsy, his lips moving lazily against Zayn’s—a slow, unhurried kiss, broken only by the hint of a smile. When they pulled apart, Liam blinked a few times, his expression softening as he saw Zayn so close.

“Good morning, husband.”

Zayn’s heart clenched with a warmth so intense he almost forgot he actually needed to wake him up. He let out a quiet laugh, his thumbs brushing over Liam’s cheekbones before he kissed him again, savouring the simple fact that he could.

“Good morning, my love,” he replied, feeling utterly consumed by happiness.

They gazed at each other for a moment, still lying there, their exchanged smiles carrying the incredulity of those who could barely believe this was real. They were married. Officially husband and husband. And though the feeling was surreal, there wasn’t a single trace of uncertainty—only overwhelming, absolute joy.

Liam chuckled, rubbing a hand over his face before stretching lazily. “I suppose this means we actually have to get up, doesn’t it?”

“Unfortunately, yes.”

Liam pulled a mock grimace but soon sat up, his sleep-mussed hair and slightly heavy eyes making Zayn look at him with immense fondness, taking in every detail—this was their first morning as husbands, and he wanted to remember every second of it.

With one last stolen kiss, he got up as well, extending his hand towards Liam, who took it without hesitation. Hand in hand, they walked to the bathroom, ready for their first shower together as husband and husband.

Hot water streamed down the glass, forming tiny transparent rivers as steam began to spread through the space. Zayn adjusted the temperature before pulling Liam inside, their bodies moulding effortlessly against each other, already so familiar.

The first few minutes were quiet, just the sensation of warm water relaxing their muscles, of hands moving languidly over each other’s skin. Zayn let his fingers trace the path of the water over Liam’s chest, up to his shoulders, massaging gently before sliding to his neck and finally framing his face.

“I love you,” he murmured, feeling the need to say it, even though Liam already knew.

Liam smiled, leaning forward until their foreheads touched, eyes closed as he absorbed the moment. “I love you too. So much.”

And then, unhurried, with no need for words, they simply stood there, letting the water wash away any remnants of sleep, any hesitation. Just two men, completely in love, ready to step into the next chapter of their lives. Together.

The house was still quiet as Liam and Zayn descended the stairs, already prepared for their journey. The familiar aroma of fresh coffee filled the air, mingling with the comforting scent of toasted bread and melting butter. The kitchen was bathed in the soft light of morning, and the scene before them was that of a typical family breakfast—something that, even after all these years, Liam never failed to cherish.

Karen sat at the end of the table, setting out cups and pouring coffee for Geoff, who was reading a folded newspaper beside her. Ruth and Nicola were sitting together, laughing quietly at something one of them had said while finishing their plates. When Liam and Zayn entered the room, all eyes turned towards them, and it was as if a wave of warmth and affection wrapped around them instantly.

“Look at the newlyweds!” Ruth teased, grinning.

“How does it feel to be a married man now, Liam?” Geoff asked, folding his newspaper and looking at his son with pride in his eyes.

Liam chuckled, pulling out a chair to sit beside Zayn. “I’m still processing it, to be honest. But I think the answer is… very, very happy.”

Zayn smiled at that, squeezing Liam’s hand beneath the table. “Well, I’m absolutely certain I’m the happiest man in the world right now.” He added, earning a fond look from Karen.

"Oh, boys," she sighed, shaking her head as if trying to contain her emotions. "You have no idea how happy we are for you. The wedding was wonderful, everything so beautiful..."

Nicola nodded, resting her chin in her hands. "It really was. And that song of yours, Liam? God, were you trying to make us all cry?"

Liam smiled, a little shy. "It was meant to be a special surprise."

"Well, you succeeded," Ruth said. "I've never seen Zayn so emotional."

Zayn chuckled softly, stirring his coffee with a spoon. "That wasn't my fault. That idiot made me cry in front of everyone."

"You loved it," Liam retorted, winking at him, and Zayn simply smiled, unable to deny it.

The conversation carried on cheerfully, reminiscing about moments from the wedding, laughing at amusing details, like Niall’s uncoordinated dancing or the moment Louis almost knocked over the cake by accident. Each memory seemed to bring a fresh wave of happiness, as if they were still living that magical night.

"And what about the honeymoon?" Geoff asked at last. "Can you tell us where you're going yet, or is it still a secret?"

Liam and Zayn exchanged a knowing look before Liam answered. "Still a secret. But we promise to send photos."

Karen smiled, pouring more coffee for her sons. "Just enjoy yourselves. Savour every second."

Before they could prolong the conversation any further, the sound of a car horn outside signalled that Paul had arrived. The moment to leave had finally come.

Zayn let out a breath, giving Liam’s hand one last squeeze under the table before standing up. "I suppose that’s our cue."

There was a round of tight hugs, kisses on the forehead, and wishes for happiness. Liam lingered a little longer hugging his mother, feeling the familiar warmth of her embrace before finally stepping back and heading to the door, with Zayn by his side.

Paul was waiting outside, leaning against the car, his sunglasses hiding his eyes, but the lightness of his smile revealing his good mood.

"So, ready for the best trip of your lives?" he asked, opening the door for them to get in.

Liam and Zayn shared a glance and grinned.

"More than ready," Liam replied, and with that, they set off for the airport, embarking on a new chapter together.

The journey to the airport unfolded in a mix of contemplative silence and restrained anticipation. In the back seat of the car, Liam rested his head on Zayn’s shoulder, his eyes half-closed as he felt the gentle vibration of the vehicle moving through the streets. The fatigue was still there—it always would be—but he wouldn’t let it stop him from enjoying the trip. He had waited so long for this moment, for both the wedding and the honeymoon, and now that it was finally happening, he refused to let anything prevent him from savouring every detail of this new chapter with Zayn.

Even so, they had to admit that things would be different. This wasn’t an ordinary honeymoon. They couldn’t simply go out alone, carefree, as any other newlywed couple might. There were limitations, necessary precautions, and above all, the constant presence of something that couldn’t be ignored, no matter how much they tried. Cancer wasn’t just a distant word—it was an inescapable reality. Liam knew that. Zayn knew that. But that didn’t mean they would give up on living, that they would stop cherishing every moment they had left.

That was why Paul was coming with them. Not to invade their privacy, not to be an obstacle between them, but to ensure Liam was safe, that any need would be met without them having to worry. He would be there to provide support when necessary, to ease the burden of difficulties when they arose. And that wasn’t a problem. Zayn accepted it without hesitation, because what mattered, more than any idealised notion of romance, was that Liam was well. His safety would always come first.

As the car approached the airport, the sky was already painted in a soft blue, heralding the start of a new day. The sun’s reflection spread across the large glass windows of the terminal, and the steady movement of passengers coming and going marked the typical bustle of travel. For them, however, everything seemed to slow down, as if that moment existed in its own time, separate from the world around them.

Liam took a deep breath as he stepped out of the car, feeling the crisp morning air against his skin. The unmistakable scent of the airport—a blend of freshly brewed coffee, jet fuel, and the faint mix of different perfumes lingering in the air—brought with it the familiar thrill of setting off for a new destination. And what a destination it was. Bora Bora. A true paradise. A place that had always seemed too far away, too luxurious, but now, it was real.

They were ready to savour every second. To turn this trip into a precious memory, a fragment of happiness that no one could take from them. The hardships didn’t matter. Whatever lay ahead didn’t matter. In that moment, they were together—and that was what made it all worthwhile.

The plane cut through the blue sky, gliding above scattered clouds like brushstrokes of cotton against the infinite expanse. Inside the cabin, Liam and Zayn were settled in the spacious seats of first class, their fingers intertwined on the armrest, as if that silent touch alone was enough to keep the world balanced. The discreet murmur of other passengers blended with the soft hum of the engines, creating a tranquil and intimate atmosphere.

Liam leaned his head back against the seat, watching Zayn beside him. He seemed completely absorbed in the view beyond the window, where the deep blue of the ocean had begun to appear between the clouds. There was something fascinating about seeing him like that—his eyes shining with anticipation, his features relaxed, almost as if he were allowing himself, just for a moment, to forget everything they had faced in the past few months.

Zayn noticed Liam’s gaze and smiled faintly. "What?" he asked softly.

"You're beautiful," Liam replied simply, and Zayn rolled his eyes, but the smile remained, tinged with a subtle blush.

"You only say that because you want to see me blush."

"Maybe." Liam grinned, satisfied.

Paul, who was seated a little ahead of them, merely shook his head with a small smile, pretending not to hear their affectionate exchange. His presence was essential, and they all knew it. It wasn’t just about Liam’s physical security but the reassurance that, should anything happen, they would have immediate support. Of course, it wasn’t the traditional, romantic honeymoon they might have once imagined, but the circumstances required adjustments, and that was fine. They were together, and that was what mattered most.

"So," Zayn said, changing the subject as he gave Liam’s hand a gentle squeeze, "have you thought about what you want to do first when we arrive?"

Liam hesitated for a moment, thoughtful. "You know… I think I just want to feel. I want to step onto the sand, feel the sun, breathe in the air of Bora Bora and know that I'm really there. No rush, no obligations."

Zayn smiled, his eyes softening at that response. "Sounds perfect."

The journey continued peacefully, and a few hours later, when they finally landed, anticipation turned into reality before their eyes.

The airport was small, almost intimate, surrounded by palm trees swaying in the warm breeze. As soon as they stepped outside, the tropical heat embraced them, a stark contrast to England’s mild climate. The scent of the sea lingered in the air, mingling with the fragrance of exotic flowers blooming everywhere.

Paul quickly handled the formalities, ensuring they were discreetly taken to the private boat that would carry them to the resort. During the ride across the crystal-clear waters, Liam leaned over the edge of the boat, letting the salty breeze tousle his hair. Zayn watched him with a quiet smile, his chest warm at the sight.

"Are you happy?" Zayn asked softly, moving closer so that only Liam could hear.

Liam turned to face him, and in that moment, with the sun reflecting off the sea and in Zayn’s love-filled gaze, he knew his answer with absolute certainty.

"I’ve never been this happy."

The flight had been underway for some time when Liam started to feel unwell. At first, it was just a mild discomfort in his stomach, a vague sensation he tried to ignore. Perhaps it was simply nerves about the journey or the fact that he hadn’t eaten properly since breakfast. But as the minutes passed, the discomfort intensified. A persistent nausea took hold of his body, making it difficult to keep his eyes open, and an unpleasant knot formed in his throat.

Zayn noticed immediately. He always did. One glance at Liam, who was now squeezing his eyes shut and taking deep breaths as if trying to suppress something, was enough for worry to take hold of him. Before he could ask if everything was all right, Liam was already undoing his seatbelt with trembling hands, murmuring an almost inaudible, “I need to go to the bathroom,” before rising hastily.

Zayn didn’t hesitate. The moment he saw Liam stumble slightly as he moved, he followed, watching every step carefully. The aisle of the plane felt too narrow, the seats like obstacles in the way, and he hated the feeling of not being able to simply carry him there. But Liam was still trying to maintain his independence, and Zayn respected that.

As soon as they entered the small, cramped bathroom, Liam barely had time to shut the door before his body succumbed to the uncontrollable nausea. He dropped to his knees in front of the toilet, gripping its sides as the vomiting came forcefully. The sound was painful to hear, and Zayn felt his heart clench at seeing him so vulnerable, his shoulders trembling, his breathing broken by involuntary gasps.

Zayn knelt beside him immediately, ignoring the limited space, ignoring any personal discomfort. With one hand, he gently brushed the damp strands of hair from Liam’s forehead, while with the other, he rubbed slow, soothing circles over his back.

“It’s all right,” he murmured softly, his voice full of warmth and affection. “Just breathe, love… it’ll pass soon.”

Liam coughed lightly, still leaning against the toilet, and Zayn waited patiently until he finally stopped being sick. When Liam pulled back slightly, exhausted, Zayn took a tissue and gently wiped the corners of his mouth, making sure he was at least somewhat comfortable before helping him stand.

“Better?” he asked, holding him securely around the waist when Liam swayed slightly.

Liam simply nodded, his eyes closed as he rested his forehead against Zayn’s shoulder. He hated these moments. He hated feeling like his own body was betraying him, hated that Zayn had to see him like this. But at the same time, he knew Zayn would never let him go through it alone.

Carefully, Zayn helped his husband rinse his mouth and then guided Liam back to his seat. The walk back felt longer, and Liam felt drained, as if all his energy had been taken along with his nausea. The moment he sat down again, Zayn knelt in front of him, ensuring he was comfortable before pulling the blanket up over him with the utmost care.

“Get some rest, love,” he whispered, leaning in to press a soft kiss to Liam’s forehead. Then another on his cheek. Then one more on the top of his head, and another on the tip of his nose. Small gestures he knew made Liam feel just a little better.

Liam gave a faint smile, his eyes still closed, murmuring an almost inaudible, “Love you.”

Zayn smiled too, holding his hand tenderly, intertwining their fingers as he watched Liam nestle into the seat.

“Love you too,” he whispered back, giving Liam’s hand a gentle squeeze. “Sleep a little. I’m right here.”

And Liam did, comforted by the knowledge that Zayn would always be there, always looking after him. Always.

After a long and tiring flight, the plane finally landed in Los Angeles, one of the common stopovers for those travelling from London to Bora Bora. However, the relief of being on solid ground brought no comfort to Liam, who still felt nauseous and suffered from a persistent headache. The next leg of their journey was in a few hours, so they decided to head straight to a nearby hotel, allowing him to rest before continuing their travels.

During the drive from the airport to the hotel, Liam remained silent, his eyes half-closed as he tried to manage his nausea. Zayn sat beside him, his expression filled with concern, holding Liam’s hand firmly, offering silent reassurance. Paul, always efficient, had already arranged the transport and was handling the details of their stay.

When they arrived at the hotel, it became clear that Liam was too weak to walk on his own. Without hesitation, Zayn slid an arm under Liam’s knees and another around his back, lifting him with care. Liam rested his head against Zayn’s shoulder, closing his eyes as he focused on his breathing to keep the sickness at bay. Paul took the luggage and walked ahead, ensuring the way to their room was as quick and smooth as possible.

Once inside, Zayn carried Liam straight to the bed, laying him down gently on the soft sheets. He adjusted the pillows so Liam was slightly propped up, a position that might help ease the discomfort. Paul placed the bags in the corner of the room and, after a brief nod to Zayn, discreetly left, giving them privacy.

Zayn sat on the edge of the bed, watching Liam’s pale face. With careful movements, he removed Liam’s shoes and pulled the duvet over him, ensuring he was warm. Then, he went to the bathroom, dampened a cloth with cold water, and returned to place it on Liam’s forehead, hoping to ease the headache.

Liam slowly opened his eyes, meeting Zayn’s tender gaze. “Sorry for ruining everything,” he murmured, his voice weak and laden with guilt.

Zayn shook his head, leaning in to press a gentle kiss to Liam’s forehead. “You haven’t ruined anything, love. Your health is what matters most right now. Just rest, I’m here with you.”

Feeling a little more at ease, Liam closed his eyes again, allowing the exhaustion and the comforting presence of Zayn to lull him into sleep. Zayn remained by his side, holding his hand, watching as Liam’s breathing settled into a steady rhythm. He knew the journey ahead would be long, but as long as they were together, they could face whatever came their way.

The silence of the room was interrupted only by the muffled sound of the television playing at a low volume. Zayn was seated in the armchair beside the bed, watching Liam sleep deeply. Since placing him there, he had barely moved, and although Zayn knew rest was essential for him, he was also aware that Liam needed to eat. Besides, his own stomach was already signalling hunger, reminding him that he, too, hadn’t eaten in a while.

Taking care not to make a sound, Zayn picked up the hotel phone and ordered room service. He chose something light for Liam, something he could eat without upsetting his stomach, and something more substantial for himself. After hanging up, he turned his attention back to Liam, who remained motionless, his breathing steady. His face was serene, his delicate features softened by deep sleep. Zayn sighed, running a hand through his own hair as he waited for the food to arrive.

The order didn’t take long to be delivered. The waiter brought the tray to the room door, and Zayn took it, thanking him before carefully closing it. He carried the food to the small table in the corner of the room and sat there, turning on the television to watch anything that might distract him while he ate. The meal was simple but satisfying. Zayn ate slowly, his gaze constantly drifting back to Liam, waiting for any sign that he would wake up. But Liam didn’t stir, lost in a deep sleep that made him seem oblivious to everything around him.

When Zayn finished eating, he rested for a moment, waiting a few more minutes in the hope that Liam would wake on his own. But he continued to sleep, his lips slightly parted, his breathing calm. Zayn knew Liam needed rest, but he also knew that if he let him sleep without eating anything, he would wake even weaker. So, with all the care in the world, he approached the bed and sat beside Liam, touching his face gently.

"Love," Zayn called softly, sliding his fingers through Liam’s soft hair. "Hey, you need to wake up for a little while to eat, just a little." Liam stirred slightly, furrowing his brows, but didn’t open his eyes. Zayn smiled faintly, leaning in to kiss his forehead. "Come on, baby, just a little, I’ll help you."

With great patience, Zayn picked up the light food he had ordered for Liam and prepared a small portion, bringing it to his husband’s slightly parted lips. Liam let out a quiet murmur, still more asleep than awake, but accepted the food in his mouth and chewed slowly, as though he barely had the strength to do so. Zayn smiled fondly, massaging his arm with his free hand. "That’s it, my love, take it slow, no rush."

The process was slow. Liam was so drowsy that, between each bite, he seemed almost to drift back to sleep. But Zayn didn’t mind. With all the patience in the world, he continued feeding him, piece by piece, gently encouraging him to chew and swallow. Liam never fully opened his eyes, but he responded to Zayn’s touch, leaning slightly towards him each time he received another small portion of food.

After a long while, the food was finally gone. Zayn smiled in satisfaction, gently wiping any traces from Liam’s lips before caressing his face with tenderness. "Very good, baby, you ate it all. Now you can sleep again." Liam sighed, an almost inaudible sound, and allowed Zayn to guide him properly onto the mattress. As soon as Liam’s head touched the pillow, his muscles relaxed completely, and he sank back into deep sleep, as if he had never woken. Zayn smiled faintly, pulling the blanket over Liam, ensuring he was comfortable and warm.

For a moment, he simply remained there, watching Liam sleep, feeling a mix of love and concern tightening in his chest. But seeing Liam rest so peacefully gave him some sense of calm. With one last kiss to his hair, Zayn switched off the lights and lay down beside him, ready to join him in sleep. The next day, they would continue their journey to Bora Bora. And Zayn only hoped that Liam would feel a little better when he woke.

The sun had barely begun to rise on the horizon when it was time to leave. The hotel room was steeped in a tranquil silence, interrupted only by the soft sound of Liam’s breathing as he remained deeply asleep in bed. Zayn, who had been awake for some time, watched him fondly, torn between wanting to let him sleep and needing to wake him for the journey. But Liam needed rest so much that Zayn decided it would be best to carry him rather than force him to wake too soon.

With the utmost care, he leaned over the bed and slid one arm beneath Liam’s knees while the other supported his back. Liam let out a sleepy murmur as he was lifted but didn’t even open his eyes, simply nuzzling his face against Zayn’s shoulder, breathing deeply. The warmth and scent of Liam so close to his neck made Zayn close his eyes for a moment, holding him delicately against his chest before heading for the door.

In the hallway, Paul was already waiting for them, finalising the hotel check-out. He spoke quickly with the receptionist, sorting out the last details of payment and luggage. The bags had already been taken to the car, and Paul cast an observant glance at Liam as soon as he saw Zayn carrying him. "He’s still sleeping like that?" he asked, lowering his voice so as not to wake him.

"He’s exhausted," Zayn replied, adjusting Liam more comfortably in his arms. "Really nauseous and weak. But he usually gets better after a good rest." His fingers traced small circles along Liam’s face, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath his touch. He wanted to believe that, after some time, Liam would feel well enough for them to enjoy their honeymoon as planned.

Paul nodded, signing the last of the hotel papers before motioning for Zayn to follow him to the car. They took the lift down and crossed the quiet lobby, where only a few staff were present at such an early hour. Outside, the cool air wrapped around them, and Zayn felt Liam curl slightly against his chest, seeking more warmth. He smiled faintly, shielding him with his own body as he walked to the car.

Upon reaching the vehicle, Paul opened the back door for Zayn to settle Liam inside carefully. He got in first, keeping Liam on his lap and ensuring he was comfortable before fastening the seatbelt around them both. The car set off, and Paul, always attentive, glanced into the rear-view mirror. "So, how is he now?"

Zayn looked at Liam, still nestled against his chest, his lips slightly parted in deep sleep. His fingers returned to caress his husband’s face tenderly, as if comforting him even in sleep. "Still very drowsy," he murmured. "But he’s had days like this before. When he gets a good rest, he usually improves."

Paul nodded, driving calmly through the quiet streets. The airport was still a few minutes away, and Zayn allowed himself to simply sit there, holding Liam in his arms and appreciating the silence. But just before they reached the terminal, he felt the need to confirm something. With a sigh, he leaned in slightly, calling Liam softly. "Love?" His voice was low and gentle, as if afraid to wake him too suddenly.

Liam shifted slightly, making a sleepy sound before barely opening his eyes to look at Zayn. His gaze was unfocused and drowsy, but he blinked slowly, trying to pay attention to what Zayn was saying.

"Are you sure you’re okay to travel?" Zayn asked, the concern evident in his tone. "If not, we can cancel and go back home."

Liam frowned immediately, as if the idea didn’t even make sense to him. Still groggy, he shook his head and whispered, his voice hoarse from sleep, "No. It’s our honeymoon. I’ll be fine… We’ll enjoy it."

Zayn sighed, observing him for a moment, as if considering insisting. But Liam’s determined – albeit sleepy – gaze made him relent. If he wanted to continue, Zayn would respect that. He simply leaned in and pressed a kiss to Liam’s forehead, murmuring softly, "Alright, love. Let’s go on our honeymoon."

When they arrived at the airport, Paul got out first to sort out the formalities while Zayn patiently woke Liam enough to get him out of the car. He was still sluggish with sleep but managed to stay minimally awake as Zayn helped him out and wrapped an arm around his waist, supporting him against his own body. "Everything will be alright," Zayn murmured against Liam’s hair as they walked together towards the departure gate.

They passed through security without any trouble, and Paul ensured all the paperwork was in order for them to board as quickly as possible. Zayn kept Liam close the entire time, making sure he didn’t exert himself too much. Once on the plane, they found their seats, and Liam all but collapsed against Zayn the moment he settled in.

"You can sleep a bit more, baby," Zayn whispered, covering Liam with a blanket as he watched him curl up in his seat. "When you wake up, we’ll be closer to paradise."

Liam needed nothing more. He closed his eyes, and, in the warmth of Zayn’s embrace, he drifted off to sleep once more, secure in the knowledge that, no matter what, their honeymoon would still be perfect.

The plane sliced through the sky smoothly, the rhythmic hum of the engines almost comforting. Inside the cabin, silence prevailed, with only a few passengers still awake at that hour. The lights were dimmed, creating a cosy atmosphere, and the air conditioning kept the space cool but not cold.

Zayn was comfortable, though he remained attentive to his husband, who was still sleeping peacefully beside him. One arm was draped around Liam, holding him lightly, while his other hand idly scrolled through his phone without much focus. Most of the flight was still ahead of them, and he knew the rest would do Liam good, so he didn’t mind simply watching the time pass.

After a while, however, he felt Liam stir. First came a deep sigh, then a slight movement of his head against Zayn’s shoulder, and finally, Liam blinked slowly as he woke. He frowned for a moment, as if processing where he was, but soon his eyes found Zayn’s, and a small yet genuine smile appeared on his lips.

“Hey,” Liam murmured, his voice still thick with sleep but much steadier than before.

Zayn smiled back, his concern instantly easing as he saw that Liam seemed better. “Hey, love. How are you feeling?”

Liam stretched slightly before answering. “Much better.”

And Zayn could tell it was true. There was more colour in Liam’s face, his eyes looked more alert, and he no longer had that weary, heavy expression from before. Relieved, Zayn brought a hand to his husband’s face, his fingers gliding gently over Liam’s cheek in a subtle caress.

“That’s good to hear,” he said before pressing a brief kiss to Liam’s temple.

Paul, who had been silently observing their exchange, smiled. “So, does that mean we can have dinner now without feeling guilty?”

Liam let out a quiet laugh, sitting up properly in his seat. “Actually, I’m hungry.”

Zayn raised his eyebrows, pleased by that. “Really?”

“Really.”

Excited by the change, Zayn immediately called over a flight attendant and ordered something for them to eat. The meal was simple, but Liam ate well, and that alone was enough to make Zayn relax. He was truly better, and nothing made Zayn happier than seeing that.

After they finished eating, Paul suggested playing something to pass the time. They decided on a card game, quickly getting lost in competitive rounds and quiet laughter. Paul was surprisingly good, but Liam managed to beat him now and then, which led to light-hearted teasing and challenges for the next round.

When they tired of cards, they switched to dominoes. The makeshift board on the plane’s fold-out table soon filled with tiles, and Zayn enjoyed watching Liam’s intense concentration. He was so focused that he even bit his lip while thinking about his next move, which made Zayn smile.

“What?” Liam asked, noticing his gaze.

“Nothing,” Zayn replied, shaking his head with a small grin. “I just like seeing you like this.”

“Like what?” Liam frowned, puzzled.

“Happy.”

Liam’s smile in response made Zayn fall in love with him all over again.

Paul won most of the domino matches, which gave him a smug air that only fuelled their laughter. When they grew tired of the game, they decided to change things up and picked up a puzzle magazine Zayn had bought before boarding.

“Word search?” Liam suggested, already flipping through the pages.

“Let’s do it,” Zayn agreed, grabbing a pen.

Paul, however, was already starting to doze off in the seat beside them. They chuckled as they watched him sink into his chair and decided not to disturb him, focusing instead on their puzzle while Paul slept peacefully.

They leaned over the magazine, searching for hidden words among the scrambled letters. Liam occasionally chewed the tip of the pen while hunting for a tricky word, and Zayn was amused by his reactions. Sometimes, Liam would exclaim, “Found it!” triumphantly, pointing to the word in the grid, and Zayn would always pretend to be impressed, even if he had spotted it first.

After solving a few word searches, they decided to try a Sudoku. Liam loved the challenge of numbers, and Zayn enjoyed watching his expression shift as he worked through the grid. They spent some time immersed in the puzzle, sharing smiles and quiet conversation as the plane continued its journey across the sky.

Eventually, as sleepiness crept in again, Zayn closed the magazine and intertwined his fingers with Liam’s.

“How about we rest for a bit now?” he suggested, watching Liam fondly.

Liam nodded, smiling. “Good idea.”

They settled into their seats, and Zayn pulled the blanket over both of them. Liam nestled against him without hesitation, and Zayn wrapped an arm around him, holding him close.

“Goodnight, husband,” Zayn murmured, his voice full of tenderness.

Liam smiled against his shoulder. “Goodnight, husband.”

And then, wrapped in the comfort of each other’s presence, they let sleep take them once more as the plane carried them towards their dream destination.

The plane touched down smoothly on the runway, and the announcement that they had arrived in Bora Bora echoed through the cabin. Liam, who had been resting peacefully against Zayn, lifted his head instantly, his brown eyes gleaming with excitement. He sat up straight, looking out the window with an expression of pure delight, like a child seeing the ocean for the first time.

“Oh my God, Zayn! We’re here!” His voice overflowed with excitement, and he clutched his husband’s arm tightly, as if he needed to physically share his joy.

Zayn couldn’t help but grin widely at the sight of him. He was already happy to be there, but seeing Liam so thrilled, so genuinely overjoyed, made his heart swell with happiness.

“Yes, love, we’re here,” Zayn chuckled, watching Liam practically vibrate with excitement.

The wait to disembark felt like an eternity for Liam, who could hardly sit still. He bounced his leg impatiently, looking between Zayn and the window, murmuring things like, “I can’t believe we’re actually here,” and “I’ve been waiting for this for so long.” Zayn simply watched him, enchanted, holding his hand and tracing light circles over his skin with his thumb.

When they finally stepped off the plane and felt the warm, salty sea breeze against their skin, Liam took a deep breath, savouring the moment. The air here was different, thick with the scent of the ocean and freedom. He turned to Zayn with a smile that couldn’t have been bigger.

“This is going to be incredible,” Liam said, and Zayn nodded, his eyes shining with happiness.

“It’s going to be the best honeymoon ever,” he promised.

Paul accompanied them to the resort, which stretched over the turquoise waters, charming bungalows built on stilts connected by wooden walkways. The scenery was breathtaking, and Liam could barely contain his excitement at the sight of where they would spend the next few days.

“This feels like a dream,” he murmured, his eyes taking in every detail.

Zayn, watching Liam more than the view, smiled. “And the best part is, it’s a dream we’re living.”

After checking in, they were taken to their bungalow. The interior was stunning, with a rustic yet elegant décor, an enormous bed, and a panoramic view of the ocean. Sliding glass doors led to a private deck with direct access to the water.

Liam let out a breath of wonder. “Zayn, look at this.”

“I am looking,” Zayn replied, but his eyes were fixed on Liam, absorbing every bit of his awestruck expression.

Their luggage was set aside without much thought—despite the fatigue of the journey, the thrill of being there took precedence. They exchanged knowing glances, and it was Liam who voiced it first:

“Shall we go to the beach?”

Zayn laughed. “I thought you’d never ask.”

Liam was so eager that he was the first to rummage through his suitcase, grabbing his swim shorts and tossing Zayn’s to him. Within minutes, they were changed and ready to enjoy their first day on the island.

Liam picked up a light scarf and tied it around his head. He knew that the beanie he usually wore didn’t quite suit the beach, and he still wasn’t ready to expose his bare head. The scarf was an alternative that made him feel comfortable, and Zayn, watching him adjust the fabric in the mirror, simply gave a small smile, understanding the gesture without the need for words.

Before heading out, they grabbed a parasol. Liam insisted on carrying it, determined to take care of himself without disrupting Paul’s experience.

"I can hold that for you, Liam," Paul offered, but Liam just smiled.

"I know, but I want you to enjoy the trip too, Paul. I don’t want you spending all your time just looking after me."

Paul smiled, shaking his head affectionately. "Alright, but if you get tired, let me know."

Liam nodded, and then they set off, ready to enjoy the day.

The irony of being in a sunny destination when Liam couldn’t be in direct sunlight didn’t escape them. But for him, the most important thing wasn’t the sun itself—it was the experience. His doctor had approved the trip as long as he took the necessary precautions—staying in the shade, staying hydrated, avoiding direct exposure. And for Liam, that was more than enough.

They walked along the white sand, Liam holding the parasol firmly, shielding himself from the strong light. The sea ahead of them sparkled under the afternoon sun, a blue so clear and crystalline it seemed almost unreal. The sound of the waves gently lapping against the shore blended with the distant laughter of other guests enjoying the day.

Zayn looked at Liam and felt a warmth in his chest that had nothing to do with the tropical climate.

The salty sea breeze blew gently, carrying the distinct scent of the ocean and the rhythmic sound of waves breaking against the fine, white sand. The sky was clear, a deep blue without a single cloud to dim the glare of the scorching sun—which Liam wisely avoided with the help of the parasol he held firmly in one hand. He was sitting on the beach towel spread out on the sand, his legs stretched out, bare feet sinking slightly into the warm grains. Beside him, Zayn lounged in a relaxed position, his body leaning slightly towards Liam, his eyes always attentive to his movements.

Paul, a little further away, was enjoying the crystal-clear water. He swam leisurely, diving beneath the surface now and then before resurfacing with a satisfied smile. Not far off, other resort guests played in the water—some paddling on stand-up boards, others simply floating and letting themselves drift with the gentle movement of the waves.

But to Liam, the rest of the world blurred into a mere backdrop of colours and sounds. The only thing that truly mattered was the man beside him.

Zayn looked breathtaking under the golden sunlight, his skin already beginning to take on a lightly bronzed hue. His dark hair was tousled, windswept, and the few lingering droplets of saltwater on his skin glistened in the natural light. He wore only his swim shorts, leaving his arms and chest exposed, each line and curve of his tattoos standing out against his warm skin.

Liam watched him in silence for a few seconds, a small but genuine smile forming on his lips. Zayn noticed his gaze and arched an amused eyebrow.

"What?" he asked, leaning a little closer, his voice laced with curiosity.

Liam shrugged, but the way his smile widened betrayed his fascination. "Nothing... just looking at you."

Zayn chuckled softly, shaking his head before moving even closer, resting one hand on the towel near Liam’s hip. "And what do you see?"

Liam tilted towards him, his eyes tracing every detail of his face, from the perfect curve of his eyebrows to the light stubble shadowing his jaw. "I see the most beautiful man in the world," he replied without hesitation, his voice low but filled with sincerity.

Zayn smiled, biting his lip before letting out a soft laugh. "I think you need to look in the mirror more often," he teased, though his eyes shone with emotion.

Liam rolled his eyes, feigning impatience, before cupping Zayn’s face in his hands, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath his fingers. "I think you need to accept that I love you," he countered, and before Zayn could respond, he leaned in and captured his lips in a kiss.

The taste of the sea was still there, mingling with the unique flavour of Zayn. His lips were soft, firm against his own, moving with slow, lazy intent, savouring every second. Liam sighed into the kiss, feeling Zayn’s fingers slide to the nape of his neck, stroking his skin with delicate care. The warm breeze wrapped around them, and for a moment, time seemed to slow down.

They parted with a satisfied little smile, their eyes locking in a gaze filled with affection.

"I accept," Zayn murmured, brushing his nose against Liam’s before pulling back just enough to take in his face. "But only if you accept that I love you too."

Liam laughed, resting his forehead against Zayn’s. "I think I can accept that."

Zayn smiled, pulling him even closer, leaving a quick kiss on the tip of Liam’s nose before flopping onto his back on the towel with a contented sigh. Liam just laughed and lay beside him, keeping himself shaded beneath the parasol.

They stayed there, side by side, exchanging quiet words, laughter, and stolen kisses, soaking up the warmth of the afternoon and the simple happiness of being together. Paul, noticing how utterly absorbed they were in each other, smiled from afar before swimming out a little further, giving them some privacy as he dived once more into the clear water.

In that moment, nothing else mattered—just their love, the warm breeze, and the peaceful sound of the ocean in the background.

Liam gazed at the sea with longing, his eyes shimmering with the light reflected on the crystalline water. The gentle waves broke upon the shore in a steady, inviting rhythm, and the occasional laughter of distant bathers blended with the warm breeze that blew softly around them. He had never been the type to resist a silent invitation to have fun, and at that moment, the sea seemed to be calling him in an irresistible way.