the difference between knowing and knowing: part two

[luxover]

They head back inside the hotel a while later, Liam with his hands in his pockets and Zayn with an unlit cigarette behind his ear, and it’s comfortable, whatever mutual ground they somehow found themselves on.

"Have you sung since all of this?" Zayn asks, and he presses the button to call the elevator. His jacket has come unbuttoned, and Liam watches as he does it back up, just the top one.

"No," Liam says, and then just because he feels like it, before Zayn can even say anything in response, Liam starts jokingly singing Sinatra's Fly Me To The Moon, snapping his fingers in time with the song. Zayn laughs, and Liam is so surprised, how much singing makes him feel like himself again.

"Yeah, yeah," Zayn says, and he tugs Liam into the elevator by the front of his shirt. It's a familiar gesture, but it doesn't make Liam uncomfortable because it feels easy, unforced. Liam can see himself acting like this, with Zayn; it's not as big of a stretch as some of the other things.

He steps out of the elevator when it reaches their floor, and before he even realizes what's going on, someone is jumping on his back, almost giving him a heart attack.

"What're you doing?" a voice-Louis's voice-shouts. "Go!" And then a plastic sword is in Liam's field of vision, pointing forward as if Louis were getting ready to charge.

Zayn's laughing a little bit, and Liam turns to shoot him a look, but when he does, he sees Harry turning the corner down the hall with Niall on his back, and then it's like instinct just kicks in, and Liam runs.

It's hard, carrying Louis, because Louis is heavier than he looks and keeps twisting around to see behind them, and by the time they reach the end of the hall, Harry and Niall aren't all that far behind.

"It's time to stand and fight, men!" Louis says in as deep and as loud a voice as he can, his sword out in front of him. "For your women! And your children! And your-"

"But you're hardly standing, are you?" Liam cuts in, because he really can't believe the ridiculousness of it all.

"Well, no, but-" Louis starts but then the other two are right there, and Louis stops talking in favor of sword fighting.

Liam looks at Harry, who's got his tongue poking out of his lips as he looks up at the swords, and when Harry notices him watching, he smiles a big, goofy grin. Liam tries to smile back, but then Louis leans too far over his shoulders and almost causes Liam to lose his footing.

"You're terrible at this," Liam tells him.

"And that's why you're gonna lose," Niall says. "Eat steel, Louis ‘The Tommo’ Tomlinson!"

And then before Niall can do whatever amazing move one can only expect to follow a cry like that, Liam hooks one of his legs around the back of Harry's knee, and trips him; Harry and Niall hit the ground and Liam takes off at as fast a jog as he can manage, with Louis whooping and cheering the entire time.

"That was dirty!" Harry yells after them, and then Louis shouts back, "Suck it, Curly!" and Liam keeps running.

It's weird, the way all of this is like déjà vu. Not that Liam feels like he remembers any of this, or that it doesn't still feel like he's hanging with strangers, but there, in that moment, it's not awkward; it feels like maybe it could even be normal for him, and that eases a bit of the worry.

"To Zayn!" Louis shouts when they're back in sight of the elevators, pointing again with his sword, and Zayn rolls his eyes, shakes his head.

"You've got to be kidding," he says, but he turns around anyways so that Liam can jump on his back.

It works surprisingly better than expected, if Liam's to be honest, and Zayn manages to stay upright long enough for Harry and Niall to see, and for Louis to shout, "The three person Tower of Doom!"

Then, of course, they all topple.

Niall comes charging at them, and kills Zayn by stabbing him in the space between his arm and the side of his torso. Zayn, for his part, dies with dramatic flair.

"For Queen and Country!" Liam groans, getting into it, and they laugh. And that-it is like déjà vu, only more, because Liam has a memory of them doing something like this before, backstage somewhere-X Factor, definitely at The X Factor-only he doesn't know where the memory came from, because it feels like it never even left.

"Then lie back and think of England," Niall says, putting on a show before grabbing Liam's hair and pretending to slit Liam's throat. "Ireland!" he shouts, and it's only then that Harry gives him a bit of a shove, saying, "Shut up."

"I remember this," Liam says, letting them know that he’s remembered something, because even though he doesn't know how they are, he knows how people are, and if they really are close friends, they've got to be worried about him, at least a little bit. "I mean, at The X Factor."

There's a quick pause where no one says anything, and everyone looks at Zayn, like maybe Zayn's their spokesman or something. Zayn asks, "You remember The X Factor?"

"No," Liam says. "I mean-just that part. Just the sword fighting, after practicing one day."

Harry says, "That's good, though, right? At least they're coming back."

"Yeah," Liam says, because that's a relief. "It's weird, though, remembering it happening but not really remembering you guys." He thinks about it for a second, but then figures that the last thing he needs to do is overanalyze things, and so he says, "But you're right-at least I'm remembering something."

"I knew you would," Louis says, tossing an arm around Liam's shoulders. He smiles politely and then reaches down, pinches Liam's nipple. Liam yelps and Louis pats his chest softly. "Still need to remember that one, mate," he says. "Tomlinson classic," and Liam just elbows him in the side.

Later that night after dinner, they all pile back into Liam’s room and fight over who gets the bed.

“I’m fine on the floor,” Harry says, but that only makes Louis say, “Harry and I get the bed!” And it’s interesting, now that Liam’s had that talk with Zayn, how he notices the way Louis acts so much more, the way he practically sits on top of Niall a few times, or slips his arms around Zayn’s shoulders, and the way he constantly hangs off of Harry. Liam starts to wonder how he could’ve missed it before, but he knows: he only really focused on himself because he felt new, isolated; it didn’t even occur to him that maybe Louis was just like that with everybody.

“Uh, it’s my bed,” Liam reminds them as he sits down, because he feels like maybe everyone’s forgotten this fact, judging by the way the conversation’s going.

“I’m still fine on the floor,” Harry says again.

“Well, yeah,” Niall says. “You’ve got four pillows and half the blankets down there with you.”

Harry doesn’t respond, just shoots Niall an overly enthusiastic smile.

Liam gets them all now, he thinks. Zayn is quiet, reserved, not because he doesn’t have anything to say, but because he never really knows if he wants to say it; Harry’s smart and has got the best comebacks of them all, and then there’s Louis, the goofy one who they all gravitate towards, and Niall, the carefree one with an endless appetite, and Liam. Liam doesn’t know how he is, not anymore, but he supposes it doesn’t really matter; it’s been one day, and he’s probably pegged everyone else wrong, anyways.

“Harry and I get the floor then,” Louis says, and Niall shrugs, and dive-bombs the bed so hard that Liam almost bounces off.

They don’t talk too much after that’s all settled, because they’re all tired from the day and Liam’s tired from trying so hard to remember. Louis mentions something about a video for the fans, and Niall accuses Harry of stealing his Ray-bans, but that’s it, and Liam’s already asleep before he even realizes that he’s shutting his eyes.

Only then-

Liam wakes up in the middle of the night, and for a second, he’s not sure what woke him. Niall’s knee is digging into his back, but Liam’s suffered through worse, and so he can’t believe that could’ve done it. And then he hears it: Louis and Zayn, talking quietly on the far side of the hotel room.

“-just feel like shit, that I forgot to ask,” Louis whispers. Liam’s clearly not supposed to be hearing this, and so he doesn’t say anything, just pretends that he’s still asleep.

“Don’t,” Zayn whispers back. “We got Liam to worry about, you know?”

“Yeah, but still,” Louis says.

“But still,” Zayn agrees, and it’s quiet after that for so long that Liam almost falls back to sleep. And then Zayn says, “I’m fine, yeah? I just hate that I can’t do anything,” and Liam doesn’t know what he’s talking about, doesn’t have the slightest clue, but he wishes there was something he could do to help all the same.

Liam doesn’t sleep well the rest of the night; he wakes up a few more times, even though none of the others are ever awake, and he has these really crazy dreams, really vivid dreams about swimming pools and backyard bonfires.

“That’s not a dream,” Zayn says when the two of them and Harry are getting breakfast. Niall ordered room service to his own room so that he could stream a footie match on his laptop, and Louis’s still asleep in bed. Harry’s more or less asleep, too, his plate half-full and pushed away from him, his head down and pillowed on his arms.

“It’s not?” Liam asks.

“No, that’s Harry’s stepdad’s bungalow,” Zayn says, and Harry’s head shoots up, like he’s finally awake now that they’re talking about him.

“What about the bungalow?” Harry asks.

“I dreamt about it,” Liam says. “You were naked.” Harry lets out a loud bark of laughter at that and then covers his face with his hands.

“Oh, god,” he says, and he’s still laughing.

“Are you embarrassed?” Zayn asks, and he sounds like he can’t believe it. “You still get naked all the time.”

“I didn’t think you noticed,” Harry shoots back at Zayn, smiling a little, like he knows he’s being cheeky. “But it’s weird ‘cause like, he remembers me being naked, but at the same time, he doesn’t even know me.” Then he adds to Liam, “No offense.”

“None taken,” Liam says, because it’s all true.

“I didn’t know you,” Zayn reminds him. “Not at the bungalow.”

“Please,” Harry says, and he rolls his eyes, brushes his hair out of his face. “You didn’t care what I did; you were otherwise occupied that whole weekend, anyways.”

“Oh, fuck off,” Zayn says, his eyes darting to Liam, and he throws a grape at Harry, who manages to catch it at the last second and pop it in his mouth. “Did Paul tell you what’s doing today?”

“Interviews,” Harry says, “and signing’s tomorrow,” and then they both look at Liam, like he has anything to add to the conversation.

“Um,” Liam says. “I’m just going to call my mum and get some rest, and that’s it, really.”

Zayn groans and says, “Switch lives with me,” and Liam knows that Zayn’s joking, but it’s still strange, that someone like Zayn could even joke about wanting to switch lives with someone like Liam. Liam’s life isn’t boring, if only because he has no clue what’s going on, but at the same time, he’s just Liam, nothing exciting, and Zayn looks like he’s got everything going for him.

When they finish eating, Liam gets up and makes sure that his mobile is in his pocket, and then he heads out, tells Zayn and Harry that he’s just going to be in his room, if they need him. He heads out into the hall and goes to open his door, but when he does, Louis comes running up and squeezes himself inside before Liam can even get inside, himself.

“Can I hide in here?” Louis asks.

“Uh,” Liam says. And he’s about to say no, because he really does owe his mum a call, but he doesn’t, because suddenly the thought of being stuck in his room, where he spent practically all of the day before, is unbearable. “Yeah, of course. I’m actually just headed downstairs.”

“Thanks,” Louis says. “Ate Nialler’s breakfast when he was in the toilet, and now I’m on the run. Oops!”

“Yeah,” Liam says, and he laughs a little bit like he knows how that goes, even though he doesn’t.

So Liam leaves Louis to it and heads to the elevators, tossing his mobile back and forth between his hands. The elevator must already be there, because the doors open more or less right after he hits the button, and Liam rides it all the way down to the lobby, grabs an open seat that’s off to the side and out of the way.

When he calls his mum, he doesn’t even say hello, just opens up conversation with “They want me to do a signing tomorrow,” because he’s nervous about it and it’s his mum, and so she’ll forgive him for skipping the formalities.

“Alright,” she says to him, taking it all in stride. “You’ll be fine at that; you can still spell your name.”

“But Mum,” he says, and he appreciates that she sees this as easily done, because he doesn’t at all. “Mum, I don’t know anything about the band, or the other guys, or what I’m supposed to say or do or-”

“So ask one of the others,” she says. “I know Zayn’ll tell you, and he’ll take it seriously, too.”

“I know,” Liam says, mostly just for something to say. “It’s just-I don’t know how I do it all.”

“Baby,” she says. “You don’t know how you do it even when you do remember everything.”

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?” he asks.

“No,” she tells him. “But it should let you know that you’re exactly where you need to be.”

He doesn’t really say too much for a while after that, just listens to his mum talk about his sisters and the garden and the neighbor’s cat, and he watches the people crossing the lobby, families and old businessmen and employees. It’s a posh hotel, really, even more so in the lobby than in the rooms, if that’s possible, and Liam feels a bit out of sorts to know that he’s supposed to fit in there.

“I’m remembering things,” he says to her, during one of her pauses. “Not a lot, but some things.”

“I know,” she says. “Paul’s told me.”

And Liam asks, “How does Paul know?” Because he only vaguely knows Paul, hardly ever sees him for more than a second when he’s grabbing the others to head out.

“The boys tell him a lot, and I’ve got him on my payroll,” his mum jokes, before turning serious. “They’re worried, and that makes him worry, too.”

“Oh,” Liam says. He forgets that they’re supposed to be his family, and not just friends, or acquaintances. And he wants to ask her what he should do, or what he’s going to do, if he never remembers the important bits of the past two years, wants to ask if they’ll still feel the same way about him or if he’ll really be a stranger to them, then, only he doesn’t because he doesn’t want to know the answer and feels embarrassed to even be worrying about it in the first place, when no one else around him is.

So instead, Liam says, “Alright, Mum, I’ve gotta go. Sorry,” and she tells him that it’s not a problem, that she knows how it goes, and she asks him to call her if he ever finds any time in his busy schedule. It makes Liam feel guilty, because he’s hanging up for almost no reason at all.

He crosses the lobby to get back to the elevators, and when he does, someone shouts his name, just once, really loudly. He stops where he is, underneath this gigantic chandelier, and looks around for someone he might know.

He doesn’t know anyone, but a young girl is waving to him and walking over, and Liam doesn’t know what she wants, but figures that it’s too late to bail now. It only occurs to him when she gets closer that she’s probably a fan, and he shoves his hands deep into the pocket of his jeans because he doesn’t know what else to do.

“Oh my god, hi,” she says when she’s an arms length away. “Oh my god, it’s really you.”

“Uh, yeah,” Liam says. “Hi.”

“Hi,” the girl says again, and all of a sudden, she looks like she’s about to cry. She starts rummaging through her large purse, and as she does, she says, “I brought Louis some carrots, if you could give them to him? And I made you this-this drawing thing of you from the One Thing video and I just-I just love you guys so much, you completely changed my life, and I want to marry you, oh my god, you’re gorgeous.”

“Oh,” Liam says. “Thank you.” And when the girl’s not looking, he tries to discreetly look around the lobby for an escape route, or for an excuse to get away. She shoves a bag of full carrots and a small canvas into his hands, and he takes them because he thinks he’s supposed to, and that’s what he’d normally do.

“Can I have a hug?” the girl asks, and when Liam says yes, she really does start crying, just these big, heaving sobs that Liam thought people only did at funerals, and he doesn’t know how to handle that at all.

Luckily, in that moment, someone else slides their arm around Liam’s shoulders, and when Liam turns to see who it is, all he can see is Harry’s dimples and his mop of curls. He’s never been so relieved in his life.

“There you are,” Harry says to Liam. “Been looking for you everywhere.” And then he turns to the girl, who is just speechless, standing there crying, and he says, “Sorry to have to steal him away from you, babe, but he’s needed for an interview. That’s alright, yeah?” And Liam just watches as Harry makes his way through this conversation like he could do it half-asleep, and he can’t believe it, how this girl hangs on his every syllable, like what he says really matters, like she wants to commit every last word to memory. “Hey, want a quick hug before we go?” Harry asks. “And a picture?”

The three of them squeeze together so they can all fit in the picture, Harry’s long arm holding out the young girl’s iPhone, and then they’re gone, leaving the girl behind and heading into the open elevator.

The first thing Liam says is, “I can’t do an interview, no way,” because he can’t. He couldn’t even deal with one fan that didn’t ask him a thing; he’s not going to be of any use in an interview, or at a signing.

“We’re not doing an interview,” Harry says, a bit like he can’t believe Liam could be so dense. “You just looked like you might have a stroke if you stood there any longer.”

“Oh,” Liam says. “How did you even find me?”

“You sent out the One Direction distress signal,” Harry tells him, pressing the button for their floor.

Liam watches him in the mirrored walls and says, “But I don’t even know what that is.”

“That’s because it doesn’t exist, you idiot; I was joking,” Harry says, pulling a face and laughing a little. “We went to go hang in your room, and all we found was Louis. That’s like a real life nightmare, I’ll have you know. Anyways, we figured we should look for you; Zayn was doing a search out back, by the picnic table, last I checked.”

“Oh,” Liam says again, like a broken record. “You were really-you know. Good with her.” He waves his hand a little, vaguely.

“You get used to it,” Harry says. “Or, not really, but you learn how to deal with it.”

“Right,” Liam says. “Well, thanks.”

And Harry looks at him for a second with this look that Liam can’t really decipher, and then he says, “Yeah. Of course,” like he can’t believe that Liam’s thanking him for what he did, like maybe he thinks it’s not something that even needs mentioning at all.

The elevator doors open and the two of them head down the hallway and into Louis’s room, and that’s that.

Niall’s sitting on the bed with an open pizza box in front of him when they walk in, and Louis’s sitting next to him, an arm around Niall’s shoulders as he tries to convince Niall to give him a slice.

“Didn’t you just eat breakfast?” Harry asks, and he props the door open behind them by sliding over the latch, and then throws himself down into the open armchair in the corner.

“No,” Niall says, and to Louis, “Okay, one slice, you hear?” Niall then turns back to Harry and says, “That was like three hours ago. Besides, gotta eat now or you won’t get to eat until after the interview.”

“Ah,” Harry says, and then he gets up, heads over to the bed. “Can I steal a slice, then?”

“No,” Niall says, but he doesn’t stop Harry when he reaches for the box.

Zayn walks in then, and pauses to put the latch back in place so that the door actually closes behind him. He nods his head in hello to the group, but doesn’t say anything besides that.

“So where are you going today?” Liam asks, because he’s curious. They don’t seem as busy as he’d thought, or maybe they’re busier, Liam doesn’t really know.

“Some music show, I don’t know,” Zayn says, and he sits down on the edge of the bed. “It’s on channel, like, twenty-one or something, if you want to watch.”

“You don’t want to watch,” Louis says, picking a piece of pepperoni off his pizza. “It’ll be weird, I’m telling you.”

“Alright,” Liam says.

“Where were you just now, anyways?” Niall asks. “Zayn was looking for you.”

“Oi! I was looking for him, too,” Harry says. “Found him talking to a fan in the lobby.”

“Yeah, it was-um,” Liam says. “It was a bit much.” He scratches the back of his head and looks around the room, and they all laugh at him.

“I know how that goes,” Louis says, and then Liam says, “Oh, right.” He tosses the carrots to Louis, who laughs when he catches them; he doesn’t explain it, and Liam figures that’s because they’re all probably supposed to know already.

Someone knocks twice on the door and then the door opens, and Paul pops his head inside.

“Time to go,” he says. “Grab what you need and let’s his the road, boys.” Everyone groans a bit, and Niall tries to toe his shoes on while holding a slice of pizza in each hand. Paul smiles at Liam and asks, “Feeling any better?”

“Getting there,” Liam says, even though he doesn’t feel like he’s getting anywhere. It’s just the kind of thing he thinks he’s expected to say.

“Good,” Paul says, and he laughs a bit. “I need you back to help me keep these divs in line.”

“Yeah, I bet,” Liam says, and then he doesn’t say anything else because he has to jump out of the way as Louis tries to whip Harry in the back of the legs with his braces.

When they're all gone and he finally has a few hours to himself, Liam doesn't know what to do with his time. He goes through all his things, but none of them feel like his things, and so he tries to read a book, but there are corners that have been dog-eared, notes and random bits of paper stuck between the pages, and so Liam chooses not to even mess with it, because he doesn't know if they're marking anyone's spot or not. Then he tries to find something to keep him occupied on his phone, but it's not his turn in any of the games that are downloaded, and the rest of the stuff on there is just picture of the boys, Harry sleeping with an ice bucket over his head and Niall eating pizza and Louis in a fake mustache, and Zayn holding their album and Zayn in front of some statue and Zayn backstage at a concert, and Liam just puts his phone away because none of it means anything to him, and it hurts his head just thinking about it.

When enough time has passed, Liam opens up his laptop, and before he can even get frustrated that he doesn't know the password to his own computer, he sees the sticky note that's placed to the bottom left of the keyboard, password: swagmaster written in mashed-together handwriting.

For a second, Liam can't even believe that would be his password, but he types it in anyways and it works, brings up a background picture of the five of them, smiling like lunatics and holding a Brit Award.

A Brit Award.

Liam can't really believe it, and for a minute or two, he's convinced that he's looking at an edited photo or something, because the thought is just unreal. But then he snaps out of it, reaches for the tv remote so that he can put on whatever show the lads are on, because apparently they're big. And some part of Liam already knew that, because there's always a crowd waiting for them outside their hotel, and that girl stopped him in the lobby, but Liam can't-he just can't process it, that they're Brit Award-big.

He stops flicking through the channels at twenty-one, just as the four of them are walking off the makeshift stage and taking a seat next to the show's host.

"And that was One Direction, with their big single, What Makes You Beautiful," she says to the camera, and then she turns to the audience, asks, "Did you guys like it?"

The studio audience goes crazy at that, and it's packed, maybe a hundred or so random strangers, all there for One Direction. Liam can hardly believe it, even though it's real and he can see that it's real.

"But there are only four of you here," the host continues. "Where's Liam?"

"He's sick," Harry says into his mic.

"He's dead," Louis says, and the boys laugh.

Niall hits Louis on the shoulder and says, "Careful now! Someone'll believe that!"

They're all still laughing when the host asks, "Has that happened before? Have you heard any crazy rumors about yourselves?"

"I heard that I was actually a robot," Zayn says.

"It's kind of true," Harry says.

"It's a half-truth!" Louis corrects, and Zayn just rolls his eyes and tries not to smile. Liam doesn't know why he does that. He's got a good one; a good smile.

"A half-truth!" Niall repeats, still laughing, and then he says, "Hey, hey-remember that time you told that fan in Dublin-"

He doesn't even get to finish before the four of them erupt into laughter, and Liam desperately wants to know what' so funny.

"Well, what happened," Louis says in a voice like he's defending himself, "is that I may or may not have jokingly told a fan that Niall died of yellow fever, and a few hours later, everyone was trending, #RIPNiallHoran on twitter."

"But he wasn't even sick, is the best part," Harry adds. "He was just on the bus, having a lie-down."

Niall laughs again and says, "I woke up like, What's going on? That was a good one, though.”

The host laughs and then turns to the camera. She says, "Alright, unfortunately we have to take a break, but more with One Direction when we come back!"

The camera pans out over the audience and then shows a view of the street outside, and if Liam thought there were a lot of people in the audience, he was completely wrong; outside-outside is an even larger crowd, even more people, all there with signs for them, and wearing their t-shirts, and shouting their names, and Liam can hardly wrap his head around the fact that this is his life now, that he really is living his dream. Things like that don't usually happen to Liam, and he has to shut his eyes for a minute just to catch his breath.

Later, when the show is over and the guys are probably on their way back to the hotel, Liam shuts off the tv and climbs into bed with his laptop. It occurs to him that he’s never even heard his own music before-at least, not that he can remember-and so he pulls up his iTunes, searches for One Direction. There are more tracks there than he knows what to do with, things prefaced with DEMO and X FACTOR and LIVE, but Liam just finds the album, the finished product, and presses play. His own voice sings back at him, and Liam puts the entire thing on repeat.

He’s on his third listen through of the album when his hotel room door opens and Zayn walks in, waves and says, “Hey.”

“Hey,” Liam says back. And then, “How’d you get in?” he asks, not because he minds, but because he’d be worried if he ended up with a door that didn’t lock.

Zayn waves a card in the air and says, “We all have each other’s keys.”

“I don’t have anyone’s but my own,” Liam points out, and Zayn laughs a little bit, looking embarrassed.

“Uh,” he says, running a hand over the back of his neck, “I kind of meant that we all have yours. Since, you know.”

“Oh,” Liam says, and he doesn’t bother to argue it because it doesn’t really matter. Instead, he watches Zayn take his wallet out of his back pocket and toss it on the desk before throwing himself onto the couch. “Thanks for writing down my password, by the way. I would’ve never guessed that.”

“S’what you get, when you let Louis set it,” Zayn says. “How’d you know it was me?”

“Recognized the handwriting,” Liam tells him, and Zayn looks so pleased at that that Liam feels momentarily and irrationally proud. “I keep remembering things, I guess.”

“You guess,” Zayn says, and he laughs quietly, like he can’t believe the way Liam’s underselling everything. He jerks his chin to the laptop, which is still playing music, and asks, “Listening to the album?”

"Yeah," Liam says, and he's suddenly incredibly embarrassed, although he doesn't know why. "It's just-I've never heard it before."

"So what do you think?" Zayn asks.

"It's amazing," Liam says, because it is. That's him, on that record. That's him, singing and touring and getting paid for it. "I kind of can't believe this is actually my life now."

That makes Zayn smile, and he says, "Welcome to the club." Liam understands that it's not something he's ever going to get used to, and he's not sure it's something he even wants to get used to.

He could get used to this, though, to having Zayn smile at him and act like Liam belongs, like he actually fits in the same group that someone as charismatic as Harry fits into, or someone as funny as Louis.

"What?" Zayn asks, and he's still smiling at Liam, just a little. Liam wonders if that's normal; he wants it to be.

"Nothing," Liam says. And then before he can stop himself, he continues, "It's just that I don't understand how I-how someone like me-fits."

He wants to take it all back the second the words are out of his mouth, because that's so childish, feeling uncool. But he does feel uncool, that's the truth, because everyone else knows exactly what they like and what they want and what their role in it all is, and Liam's just... kind of just there.

Zayn doesn't say anything for a second, just sits on the couch and looks at Liam, but then he's moving, walking to the bed and pushing at Liam's shoulder, saying, "Shove over." Liam does and Zayn climbs in, the two of them pressed together as if there were no room in Liam's large bed, and Zayn grabs the laptop, shifts around until he can settle it half on his hip, and half on Liam's.

Liam asks, "What are you doing?" and it comes out like a whisper because they're so close to one another.

Zayn searches One Direction on YouTube, and opens a couple of different videos in a couple of different tabs. He whispers back, "I know you don't see it, and I know you still won't, even after you remember everything, but you're the most important one, out of all of us. I don't think the band ever would have gotten anywhere, if we didn't have you."

And it's nice, Liam thinks, that Zayn would say those things, but everyone in the band is so multi-talented that Liam doesn’t for a second think he’s holding any of them up.

"But, I mean, I'm just..." Liam trails off, and he waves his hands vaguely in the air, like maybe that will help Zayn understand. Zayn just shakes his head.

"There's no just with you," he says. "I don't think I'll ever understand how you can't see that, even after everything and all this time."

"It's part of my charm," Liam says sarcastically, and Zayn just smiles a bit at that, like maybe he thinks Liam doesn't know what he's talking about.

It hits Liam like a tidal wave, then, how badly he wants to kiss Zayn in that moment. Zayn talks like Liam means something, like he's perfect, and Liam's never been perfect before, not to anyone in his entire life. And he can almost see it, how it'd go if he kissed Zayn, how maybe, if Liam were lucky enough, maybe Zayn would kiss back and mold their bodies together and trail his fingertips over Liam's skin. Liam doesn't move, though, doesn't lean in or shift so that their hands touch. Liam just lies there, shoulder to shoulder with Zayn, as Zayn shows him clips of how he does fit, of them all go-kart racing and filming their music videos and swimming in the pool at Harry's stepdad's bungalow.

It doesn't go away, the feeling of wanting to kiss him, but Liam doesn't do or say anything about it because he doesn't have all the details, is still missing years of his memory, and he doesn't ever want to get them back only to realize that he made a mistake, or that he ruined everything. He's not sure he can think of anything worse than that, not now that he suddenly has so much to lose.

It would be nice, though, to kiss Zayn and have Zayn kiss him back. Liam tries not to think about it.

Part Three