Work Text:
It didn't come out like any of them imagined it ever would.
It wasn't horrible, and the entire world didn't suddenly turn against them.
They didn't get deported. The band didn't break up.
It wasn't fantastic, either, but it wasn't… it was not unbearable.
It was just sudden, and everywhere, and Louis hadn't told his parents yet, and it's all anyone talked about anymore, and they were tired.
Liam felt that exhaustion buzzing around all of them, not just Harry and Louis. Niall kept sighing, slouching down in his seat, not even drumming his fingers or attempting to fake a smile at the interviewer. Zayn was still trying to be attentive, trying to answer questions politely, but Liam could see the hard glimmer around Zayn's eyes that said I am sick of this, and Liam was frankly terrified of the possible deeper consequences of that look.
And Harry and Louis themselves… they had their hands clenched by their sides like they wanted to lean on one another, wanted to support each other (if not mentally, then at least out of simple weariness), but they both knew that would just bring the subject back, the probing questions, the inane comments they'd heard a thousand times before.
And it wasn't just Harry and Louis who weren't touching; Niall's head kept dipping towards Liam's arm, before he consciously dragged it back up again, determinedly keeping himself upright by sheer will. Zayn's arms were crossed, close to his chest and defensive, instead of his usual relaxed arm casually slung across the sofa. And Liam himself had his hands tangled together in his lap, awkwardly not knowing what else to do with them, except continue with their apparent unspoken agreement to not touch, not interact like they usually did, either in solidarity or—though Liam hoped this wasn't the case—worry what else could be interpreted about their relationships.
There was a large difference, Liam decided, between being the highly affectionate band everyone jokingly assumed was gay for each other, and being the band that was actually gay for each other (and the whole world knew it).
"Liam—a question for you. How do you feel about two of your bandmates dating each other?"
They'd all gotten questions like this before, though a bit less blunt, and never in group interviews. Harry's face flushed and he looked at the floor; Zayn's eyes darkened further, and Niall and Louis stared at the reporter with various degrees of dislike.
"I'm happy for them, of course," Liam said calmly, quietly. He could handle this question—they'd all been prepped for it, he'd answered it before, and even with the oppressive air that hung between everything he told himself it was fine, he wasn't nervous; there was no need to get angry or upset about it because it was fine and he could deal with this. "They deserve to be together, to be happy and in love. And," he hesitated, because he'd never said this part before, but he felt it needed to be said anyway, "and I'm proud of them, for how they're handling everything, for having the courage to say 'yes it's true' and not denying it or running away." Liam looked her straight in the eye. "They're my best friends and I love them. Obviously."
"We all love them," Niall clarified, leaning forward.
"Obviously," Zayn added, and Liam shivered at the bite in his tone.
The reporter looked caught off-guard, as if she didn't realise how offensive her question really was. Liam continued to look at her calmly, motionless, still worn out and nervous and unsure. But even as he perfected his impassive facial expression, he noticed a movement out of the corner of his eye that made his heart lift.
Louis had reached out and firmly taken Harry's hand.
Liam hardened his resolve, not looking away from the woman who's name he had long forgotten. He was the one who took care of them. Jokes aside, he really was probably the most serious, the most responsible. He was sick and tired of watching Harry and Louis go through this by themselves. The time for passive solidarity was long past. These were his friends, his band, and they all depended on each other.
Liam made it clear he was someone they could depend on.
———
They got back to their hotel rooms late that night. The crowds had been tough, even with the new security Paul had hired. Niall was practically stumbling as they reached their floor and separated. Liam sent him a worried glance, even as Harry sidled up to him and curled his arm around his shoulder.
"Hey," Harry greeted him softly.
"Hey," Liam replied, turning slightly. Harry smiled, and Liam smiled back. Harry leaned his head against Liam's shoulder and sighed, and he understood. Neither of them needed to voice the words of thanks and reassurance that they each silently conveyed.
After a moment, Louis came over and knocked his head against Liam's, smiling slightly and disentangling Harry from Liam gently, guiding him to their shared room. Liam watched them go, feeling a mixture of wistfulness and concern.
He turned towards his room slowly.
"Liam?" Zayn called out softly, his weariness exaggerating his accent. Liam swivelled his head slightly. "That was good, what you did back there."
Liam simply nodded.
"It was the right thing to do," he said easily. "And it was true," he added.
Zayn smiled softly, but it had a twist to it that Liam was too exhausted to figure out.
"Yeah," he responded. "Good thing they have you to be there for them, Liam."
Liam blinked slowly.
"Yeah," he echoed finally, but Zayn had already retreated into his room. Liam sighed, rubbed his eyes, and grimly prepared himself for another restless night of sleep.
———
They had a signing the next day, and a concert, and Liam wasn't quite sure which city they were in anymore, but he steeled himself and smiled his best smile for the screaming fans and reporters.
A lot of fans didn't treat them any differently than before, though some of them did tease Harry and Louis good-naturedly. Liam found himself distantly and abstractly fond of those fans, the ones who just accepted the truth for what it was and still loved them. He never knew how to thank them for just being normal, as normal as their fans ever were, of course, and he even smiled sometimes when they shouted out their weird name amalgamations. They'd done so before, and they did so after, and there was a comforting routine to it, as routine as their lives could ever be.
The bad ones: the ones who gawked, who asked invading questions, and who cried; seemed to outnumber the nicer ones by an overwhelming amount. That probably wasn't true, but that's what it felt like. And Liam hated having to look at Harry's face while a girl sobbed at him, hated the glares that were sent their way. He spent a lot of his time subtly edging between those people and Harry, who got the brunt of the attention.
But then there were the ones who quietly thanked both Harry and Louis for 'coming out' (they hadn't been outed by choice, but they had confirmed it, resulting in the media storm that was currently still raging around them). The ones who said they were an inspiration, who smiled behind less hurtful and hysterical tears.
Liam had shaken the hand of the first girl who thanked Louis that morning, not really able to give her a hug across the table, but trying to thank her as heartfelt as he possibly could. It had only been a couple weeks since this all started, and the support was still new, the thanks an untended side effect that neither Harry nor Louis really knew how to respond to. But Liam knew what they meant, how they felt, and he tried to convey all of this with a sincere smile and a clasped hand every time.
"I saw your interview yesterday," a girl told Liam as he signed her CD. He glanced up, and she smiled widely. "You were so awesome! I thought what you said was really amazing!" He blinked, and shrugged.
"Thanks," he replied, even as she moved on, swallowed by the crowd. He glanced left, where Harry was seated, and noticed his smile soften for a moment.
Then Niall laughed at something a fan said, and Liam felt the tightened pit of dread in his stomach loosen, even as the next wave of girls came forward.
———
The concert didn't go half as well.
Liam knew people threw things on stage, found it funny most of the time, actually, but he'd honestly thought people were past the part of history where they threw food to announce their displeasure.
He'd dodged the first few things well enough, but it eventually became an overwhelming deluge including everything from empty soda cans and water bottles to disgusting half-eaten hotdogs and, weirdly, pieces of bread. All of them had gotten hit by something at some point, and Niall looked so worried and upset, glancing at Harry and Louis throughout his solo, that Liam finally snapped. They were all falling apart because of this, and the worst thing any of them had done was fall in love.
After the song finished, Liam walked forward, gripping his mike like a lifeline.
"Do any of you," he said as lightly as he could, "know how hard love is?" The crowd was roaring, and he had no idea how much anyone could hear over the noise, but he went on. "It's pretty difficult. We sing all these songs about it, about how it hurts and how amazing it is and losing people and meeting other people and having sex and all the other parts of a relationship that make it the worst thing and the best thing in the world, sometimes at the same time." The crowd was quieter now, but that was all relative, Liam thought wryly, with hundreds of thousands of people. "And when you love someone, it's beautiful and wonderful and great and when you're happy, you deserve to be happy. And don't ever let anyone tell you otherwise," he added. "No matter who you love or how you love them. Because you're beautiful and you deserve it."
It wasn't the most eloquent of speeches, but he wasn't usually one for inspiration, certainly not off the top of his head.
He turned and looked Louis, who was closest to him, in the eye.
Louis smiled at him, looking like he was about to cry.
Liam leaned over and hugged him, before pulling away so Harry could take his place.
The crowd roared, but Liam didn't care anymore, even if he did move slightly in front of them, just in case the bottle throwers decided to start up again.
He tilted his head so he could see over the top of Harry and Louis' embrace, and looked straight at Zayn.
Zayn looked away.
Liam closed his eyes, telling himself that this was still a win.
———
"I hate this."
Liam flinched, turning around slowly. They were at a different hotel, even though it looked exactly like the last one, and the one before that. His key card was in his hand, ready to use, but Zayn's voice had frozen him, an annoying habit that Liam couldn't seem to break, even after knowing Zayn so long. He was still tired, still overextended, and he didn't want to deal with this confrontation, long in coming, right then.
"Which part, exactly?" he asked, dreading the answer, even though he probably knew what it would be.
"Almost every part," Zayn muttered back, and Liam told himself he'd been expecting that, and there was no reason for his heart to plummet or for him to feel like he was being punched in the stomach.
"It'll get better," Liam replied cautiously, trying his best at subtlety, though he was only slightly better than Harry at hiding anything. Which of course meant he was still terrible at it.
"But look at them, Liam. Look at all of us. They don't deserve this, and it's awful, and they still get all those nasty letters and messages and it's just—" he broke off with a sigh, threading his hand through his hair. "It's terrible and I hate what's happening to them."
"It's not all bad," Liam replied hesitantly. "You know that. There are people who are... mad, or upset, or whatever, but what about those kids who come up to them and thank them for coming out and being an inspiration? There are just as many supportive letters and people. We're not—everything's not bad. They can get through this. We can get through this. Once people just... get used to it, it'll be okay."
Zayn snorted.
"You're too idealistic, Liam," he said.
"And you're too afraid and hypocritical, Zayn," Liam snapped back, his weariness—and strung-out emotions—overwhelming him. "You're just scared that now they know about Harry and Louis they're gonna find out about you next. Well, fuck you." He turned back around.
"What if I am?" Zayn asked, relentless. "What if I am scared? We went into this to be—to make music, to do our best to be a band, and all we're gonna be known for are 'those gay kids'—"
"We won't be, not if we don't just, if we support them and continue on and don't let this break us," Liam said, slamming his hand against his door in frustration. "I don't know why you can't understand that. I'm trying my best to just... to just be there for them, and take care of them, and you're—"
"It's not your job to take care of them," Zayn said sharply.
"Yes it is my job, they need someone, they need—"
"They have each other," Zayn pointed out harshly.
"They still have us, too!" Liam yelled. "We're still a band, they're still our friends, I don't see why you can't just accept that."
"What are you even—" Zayn cut himself off with a shake of his head. "What are we even arguing about?" he asked desperately.
Liam chuckled hysterically, a weirdly angry sound.
"We're arguing about how we're too afraid to be in love anymore," he said softly, anger slowly dissipating from his voice as he sagged against his door in defeat. He was tired.
Zayn was silent for a long, intolerable moment.
"I'm not too afraid," he replied hesitantly. Liam snapped his head up.
"Coulda fooled me," he said dryly.
"I'm not—I'm. I am angry, and I am terrified of that happening to us." Zayn leaned against the wall next to him. "I'm scared of us coming out and everyone thinking we're all a bunch of gays, yeah, but it's more than that," Zayn ran his hand through his hair. "It's also... it's me being scared you'll figure out how tough this is for them, how big a commitment, and you won't... want this, anymore." He gestured awkwardly between the two of them.
Liam stared.
"How could you think that after the last couple of days?" he asked finally. Zayn glanced at him sidelong.
"There's a difference between support and protection and being the focal point," Zayn said finally. Liam snorted.
"We're all pretty much the focal point right now, Zayn."
"Yeah, but—"
"No, shut up," Liam said. "You have absolutely no—"
"You're good at being a protector, Liam," Zayn interrupted. "You're good at helping, and taking care of other people when they need help. That's what I've seen you do the past couple of days. But how... how could you apply that to us? If it gets out that we're... if this gets out, then we're in the same boat as Harry and Louis, and we drag Niall with us, you'll try to take care of everyone and put yourself in the spotlight as some sort of weird celebrity sacrifice, and you'll burn yourself out. And I can't do that to you."
Liam was torn between feeling touched and wanting to punch Zayn in the face.
"Shut up," he said again. "Don't make those sorts of decisions for me." He leaned forward and kissed Zayn fiercely, the hand not holding his key card curling around Zayn's neck tightly.
Zayn kissed him back, matching his intensity, before pulling away abruptly.
"But—"
"We'll deal with it when it happens, if it happens," Liam overrode him, leaning in to kiss him again.
"But—"
"We'll be okay, we'll handle it. If people just call us the gay band, then we'll be the gay band, and be the most popular gay band around. Why not?" Liam said, feeling oddly reckless and giggling for the first time in more than two weeks.
"Liam, I don't think you—"
"Stop making decisions for me," Liam said firmly, kissing Zayn again.
"You're not—"
"Zayn," Liam pulled away, staring at him solemnly even as his he continued to fumble with his hotel key card. "Shut up."
With that, he finally successfully inserted the key card card in his door and entered his room, dragging Zayn behind him.
The door swung shut behind them both with a definite click.