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i f i had the secret, the secret to your love, i would plant the treasure beneath my heart. lock it all up and throw away the key i would never give it all --
Liam had barely taken five steps inside the house when he was approached by a little body, too strong to belong to a five year old girl. He held her up and kissed her cheeks, she giggled.
“Stop, daddy!” she cried with a smile.
“Where’s Eric?” he asked, following her through the house.
“He’s probably locked up on his room, mad because Cassie didn’t kiss him or something.” She said, rolling her eyes but with a fond smile on her face.
“Or something!” Eric shouted. Liam's laugh turned into a fit of coughs, Emma glanced at him.
“Is there something wrong, daddy? You look tired.”
“No.” Answered, “I’m okay, c’mon let’s eat.”
Eric gave him a simple, “Hey dad” and focused on the inside of the fridge when he walked in the kitchen. As usual, Emma helped Liam cook something eatable (what was mostly Emma throwing pieces of vegetables away). She cheered when they were done and smiled, making Liam’s heart flutter because her smile was exactly like Zayn’s. Flutter because he could almost picture another pair of hazel eyes watching them cook and someone else helping Eric while he was placing the plates and glasses.
They ate in silence (or as much silence as Emma could keep) and it just didn’t felt right. And Liam knew why. Knew why Eric was silent and why even himself couldn’t actually follow everything Emma was telling. Knew Eric was trying his hardest to look up from his untouched food and smile at his sister when she described their day.
After eating and cleaning (with Eric’s help), Liam sat beside Emma who was working on her “school project”. She was supposed to draw what happiness meant to her and, until now, the page was coloured with puppies and butterflies and a bright sun.
She just stared at him when he sat down. Even with her baby fat, the long eyelashes, the big brown eyes and the cherubim face, she looked way older when she asked, her voice fulfilled with worry “What is wrong, dad? Eric? Please, tell me.”
“No.” he answered, not sounding even a little bit sure. “Everything’s fine.”
Eric snorted but didn’t say anything, he glared at Liam for a long time, then took a deep breath and left the kitchen in a hurry.
“Don’t worry, daddy” Emma says in a quiet voice, “I bet it’s only one of those teenage problems.”
His lips quirk up sadly because oh, he wishes.
By nine Emma was ready to fall asleep and Eric was still locked in his bedroom. Liam didn’t even try to talk to him, since he knew exactly how Eric felt. He fell on his bed feeling a bit guilty and sad and wistful and tired and just. Hurt.
It didn’t took long before tears were prickling at the corners of his eyes, and he really tried not to cry, he did, he thought he was getting better at this. But then he wasn’t. And the tears were clumping his eyelashes together and he couldn’t stop them.
There was barely a knock on his door, then his bed was suddenly full with three bodies and he felt better because that bed was quite too big to sleep alone on it.
“Dad?” Eric whispered, “Are you okay?”
“You should be sleeping.”
“Tell us what is wrong, daddy” Emma said and Liam just wanted to wipe that worry away from her. He breathed that everything was fine, but Emma said in that grown up voice only kids can manage, “Eric told me something’s wrong. He said he misses someone and you do too. Why don’t you tell me? Is it mom or?”
And she didn’t sound five at all, Liam chuckled. “No” he said, “You never had a mom, babe.”
“Oh right, I’m sorry. Baba. Are you sad because of him?”
Her voice was so quiet Liam would’ve probably missed it, he turned himself so he was facing them and softly said, “Yes. And no. No one could actually get sad because of him. I just really wanted him here.”
“How was he like?”
“Zayn was… ridiculous.” He breathes, with a fond smile on his face. “He had the worst jokes ever. And used to pretend he was one of the tough guys, but he cried every time we watched Toy Story. He tried to hide it, but he actually sobbed like you.”
Emma giggles and snorts, “I don’t cry.”
“He denied like you too.” Liam replied smiling at her. And everything under his skin was simply really warm and he missed Zayn so but so much. “He loved hugs and pasta.”
“I love hugs and pasta, too!” she said, looking to both of them with a huge smile.
“Yeah, you do” he agrees and it kind of breaks his heart how she seemed to try her hardest to remember him and Liam understand, sure, she was only one but. He wished that wasn’t necessary.
“Can we see a picture of him?” Emma asked with hopeful eyes and even Eric’s eyes were wide with the chance. Liam chewed on his bottom lip before slipping out of bed and kneeing in front of a big box that he kept very carefully.
The top pictures were just Zayn’s. He was beaming at the camera, the lights highlighting perfectly Zayn’s features, his nose, his high cheekbones, his full lips and his long thick eyelashes. And Liam felt overwhelmed for just a split-second.
“Where was he?” Eric asked, pointing to the scenery behind Zayn.
“Our first date,” he answers, sounding wistful, “He took me there and it was a stupid music festival and one of the best days of my life.”
“What ‘bout this one, daddy?” Emma asked holding a picture of Zayn and Liam, where they were practically kissing but not really. They had bright, wide, matching grins on their faces and, for a moment, Liam thought he could still feel Zayn’s smile against his.
“It’s from my birthday party, the first one we were together for real.”
“That’s really cute,” she said, her eyes smiling more than her lips.
They looked together for more pictures and Liam felt the sudden need to spread all of them on the bed and tell every single story behind those smiles and those cute faces Zayn used to make when he wasn’t in the mood for photos, Li. He wanted to talk about the several amount of selfies they had and to show them the millions of Polaroid pictures they took of each other and together when they were a mess of limbs and sheets after they’ve just woken up.
Eric fished a CD case from the box. He looked at it for a moment and then said, his eyebrows scrunching, “Justin Timberlake? Are you serious?”
Emma and Liam laughed, “Yep, he was such fan. And he listened to Chris Brown and Maxwell and The Weeknd. And oh, he listened to Mariah Carey but he pretended he didn’t! It was a laugh.”
“Is she the one who screams?” Emma wonders at the same time Eric asked, “He liked R&B?”
“Huge fan. It was his thing.” He answered watching the way Eric’s lips quirk up and remembering how Zayn felt too cool because of this. Even though Liam definitely knew he was a really big dork.
“Aw, look at this one!” Emma grinned, lifting the picture to Liam’s eyes. “It’s Eric, isn’t it?”
In that one, Zayn was practically melting in the photo. He was hugging baby Eric like he couldn’t let him go, smashing their faces together and his smile was nearly burning the picture in Liam’s hands. His eyes looked so soft and warm and so much like home that Liam wanted to cry.
“Yeah, it’s Eric,” his voice cracking halfway through it.
“Am I in of those, daddy?” she asked quietly, searching in the box for her own face. Liam easily found his favourite. It had Zayn, Eric and Emma. It was one from when Zayn was teaching Eric where to put his hands and Eric was holding Emma for the first time.
The lighting was wrong and it was probably be the worst angle for that moment, but everything about that one made him feel buzzing inside and happy and proud and speechless because how much love could someone feel.
“You were a bit younger.” Liam says, smiling to her.
“And a lot quieter. Those were some good times.” Emma gave Eric her tongue, but she was smiling when she fished for another one.
Liam felt quite proud of Emma’s taste while she was lifting to his eyelevel only her favourites. There was one he assumed was taken by Louis, of Liam with his head on Zayn’s lap and Zayn peppering soft kisses over his face; one that was a close-up of Zayn’s face, his eyelashes brushing his cheek; one where they were both making kissy faces to the camera; one of the four of them, in a really tight hug that had their heads smacking against each other; one of Liam, taken by Zayn; and one that was especially focused on Zayn’s eyes, one that made Liam feel too hot under his skin. Because that was his Zayn. The Zayn that was supposed to be holding Emma right now, the one who deserved everything and anything. The only one who Liam wanted to share this moment with.
She picked another, not noticing how Liam only wanted to print those photos on his heart. This one had Eric and Zayn playing football on the park. And Liam couldn’t quite hear anything over the sound he had carefully kept on his heart as Zayn’s laugh and he almost could see Zayn’s eyes and feel Zayn’s fingertips all over him.
“You were so much better as a baby,” Emma jokes, but Eric pointedly ignores her by glaring at the picture on his hand.
“Why did he have to go?” he whispered so quietly that Liam thought he might have misheard it. But he looked up, his eyes and his words burning Liam’s - skin, heart, soul.
“Why didn’t you save him?”
Eric left the room in the blink of an eye, leaving Emma gasping at him and Liam feeling like he could cry. He took some deep breaths before looking at Emma. She had her lower lip out, pouting, and her eyes were sad and desperate for answers Liam thought weren’t necessary for a five year old. “Come on, do you want to sleep here with me?”
“Can I?” she asked, opening her arms so Liam could easily pick her up. He put her into bed and carefully throws the comforter over them.
“Daddy, what happened to baba?”
And Liam really tried to look for a better answer, but there wasn’t one. “He died. And saved us.”
“But why wa…”
“Go to sleep, babe. I love you,” Liam interrupts, kissing her forehead.
And she’s silent for a beat, before sighing, “I love you too, daddy. And baba.” Throwing her arms over his waist and falling asleep almost at the same time, her head on his chest and the mop of curls over her head tickling his nose.
He tried to sleep by some those mental relaxing stuff his mom told him to do after her yoga classes, but when another body curled up on his bed, Liam was still very awake.
“I’m sorry, dad. I didn’t actually mean all of that.” Eric says and his voice cracks.
Liam softly shakes his head, “I know you did and I’m sorry. Don’t ever think it’s easier for me, ‘cause it really isn’t.”
“I know, but it just… hurts like a bitch, you know?”
A snort leaves Liam unintentionally, “I do. I know you’re hurt and I wish I could do something for you. But I can’t, I really hate this, but I can’t do anything and it makes me feel even worse.”
So Eric softly says, “I think if you tell me, we’ll feel better. I just… I don’t know, just please. Tell me what happened.”
Liam’s heart fell because he didn’t see how this was helpful. He definitely didn’t want to remember how Zayn’s eyes fluttered shut and how he looked pale and how he wanted to just hug Zayn and protect him from the world. But Liam was so quite done with everything, that he let out a long breath and told Eric. Everything.
He told Eric that they were coming back from a family dinner at the Malik’s house when it happened. Told him that Zayn was smiling for no reason and was actually a bit tipsy, and told him how he protested when Liam said “you can’t even drive when you’re sober” and that they had laughed and Zayn massaged his scalp saying how he was a much better driver than everyone, excuse me. He remembers they had kissed after that, both of them smiling into it. Liam told Eric that, when the crash happened, everything kind of looked just like on the films, the window glass broking in thousands of tiny pieces, flying everywhere, and the lights shining so bright it made him blind, burning his eyelids, while the pain burned his leg, blood painting his jeans when glass cut deep on the skin. He told Eric how he couldn’t take Zayn out of that stupid seatbelt and how Zayn still looked fucking pretty even though there was blood on his cheek and lips. He pauses there, because he feels sick. Takes two deep breaths and stares at the ceiling while saying,
“You and Emma were sleeping in the backseat. And everything felt so quiet but so, so loud at the same time. When that shitty seatbelt finally gave up against me, Zayn said he couldn’t feel his legs. And he started crying and I cried and you were awake by now and then it all started to burn. One of those scenes we watched in millions of action films. And Zayn was screaming, telling me to go and to get you both the hell out of there. And you were crying so hard. And stupid Liam couldn’t stop staring at the stupid fire.” He made a quick pause, breathing in and checking down to make sure Emma was still asleep. “The truck’s alarm was so loud and it was so hot and not in a good way” he tries, smiling softly.
Liam recalled that everything was so noisy, but Zayn was saying “I love you, I love you forever” and Liam was answering “Don’t make me do this. I love you, I love you”. And Liam wants to laugh now, remembering that yes, they were probably going to die but they found time to kiss and to say I love you, I love you, you’re everything, I love you. Until Zayn shoved him out of the car and cried one last time, I love you, take them away, Liam, c’mon, I love you.
“And Emma barely could talk. So you were the one who took her out of her chair, while I tried to open the backseat doors and then Emma was crying and you and me and Zayn, and he kept saying to you “Take care of them, mate, I love you” and you were screaming to him, telling him to come with us and I couldn’t do a fucking thing.”
He’d cried out a “You are everything to me” and Zayn smiled lazily like he did every morning while Liam was struggling to keep Eric and Emma on his arms. Then everything burned. The caramel of Zayn’s skin tone, his bright smile and that thing he had with putting his tongue against his teeth, his gorgeous eyes (the most beautiful eyes Liam had ever seen), his stupid quiff, his laugh, his smooth skin, his tattoos, his stupid jokes. They burned like the cigarettes Zayn was trying to quit. The flames burned like they were born to. Quietly, suave, peaceful even.
Burned like tears were burning Liam’s cheeks.
Eric moved first, reaching out to hug Liam, trapping Emma between them. “I’m so sorry, dad.”
They fell asleep like that, in a complicated hold that made Emma shake her head beneath the amount of limbs over her when she woke up, tugging Liam’s ear, “C’mon, daddy! It’s breakfast time.”
And that was what brought Liam’s feet down to earth; because that was the reason he was still here. He was here because of the bright laughs they shared around the table, he was here because these two were everything he had left.
So when Emma finishes her drawing some days later and shows it to Liam and he sees four stick figures with names over their heads (baba, me, daddy, eric), he wishes he could share with Zayn what happiness meant for him. His smile fades when she says in a quiet voice, “I wish he was still here.”
But he meets Eric’s eyes watching them from the other side of the table and Eric smiles like Liam missed so much and he chuckles and looks to his sister and just says, “He always is.”
And when Liam looks to Emma’s hazel eyes and Eric’s bright smile (tongue against teeth, just like Zayn’s), Liam thinks he couldn’t agree more. Zayn always is with them.