I Found the Earth (Not Leaving Now) - mmaree (2024)

Chapter 1

Chapter Text

“A defining characteristic of love is to assimilate oneself, as much as we can, into the things we love.”

- Frédéric Ozanam

Liam is eating a late supper when he sees it, the shooting star. He had thought shooting stars could only be seen at night and during certain seasons. When he was a kid, his dad would always let him stay up to watch the major meteor showers: the Perseids in August, the Leonids in November. Liam would count the ‘stars’ and make a wish. His wishes seldom came true. Even so, he always believed there was something magical about those bits of cosmic dust in the atmosphere.

It wasn’t just space, though. Liam would marvel at all the wonders in the sky. On his tenth birthday, his dad bought him a model airplane. Liam treasured it because he imagined it was just like the real ones they produced at the aerospace factory where his dad worked. (By the time Liam started working there, he well knew that they only manufactured parts.)

Yes, Liam always loved watching the sky, which was good because there wasn’t much else to do on the small, slightly neglected farm he had recently inherited from his great uncle.

He’s not exactly sure why he agreed to take it on, the fifty hectares of land just outside of Wolverhampton, except…it was something different. It was a challenge, but then, Great Uncle Norm must’ve believed he could take it on. Besides, Liam had been going through the motions for years: working at the factory, visiting the pub on Tuesdays and Fridays, making the short trek to Molineux to support the Wolves on the weekend, then clocking in again on Monday morning. He still dated occasionally—mostly when his mum or workmates set him up with someone—but he rarely found anyone he clicked with enough to bother with a second date. At twenty-eight, he felt…stilted, trapped.

Being unexpectedly named in his great uncle’s will was an opportunity dropped into his lap. It was a chance for a new beginning, and he jumped at it. His parents tried to convince him to sell it, but the solicitor nixed that idea, saying he’d never get anywhere near what the farm or the land itself was worth. Apparently, it was a bad time to sell a farm, especially one that was ‘under-producing’ and needed ‘modernising.’ Liam wasn’t too bothered by the news. The way he looked at it, he had inherited a three-bedroom house, free and clear. And while he oversaw the farm, he could take a course in something he was interested in or learn a new trade.

That was almost a year ago. In the time since, Liam has learnt that overseeing a farm—even a relatively small, somewhat dilapidated one like his—isn’t a piece of pie. It’s hard work, but at the same time, he has never been in better shape—physically or mentally—in his life. Still, it’s good, honest hard work, and there is nothing better than being able to work under a blue sky rather than the grey roof of the factory.

Yes, he’s always had a thing for the sky, which is probably why he doesn’t miss this particular sky sighting. Maybe it’s because it’s the summer solstice. Or maybe it’s because a little voice told him he should look out his kitchen window, the one with the yellow gingham-print curtains he was going to replace but somehow grew attached to, at that exact moment. Or simpler still, maybe he caught a glimpse of an unusual brightness out of the corner of his eye.

Liam watches the ball of light as it traces the sky, then starts to dip below the tree-line. It’s larger than any shooting star he has ever seen before.

He makes a wish.

Briefly, he wonders if it could be something else, but it’s never anything else—not around Wolverhampton, anyway. And so, he goes back to his bangers and mash and to debating whether he should return Niall’s call before or after he does a quick tidy-up of the kitchen.

☆☆☆

It is several minutes later before he hears the noise. It’s not exactly loud, but it’s not soft either.

It’s coming from outside. It’s definitely coming from somewhere on his farm.

It goes on for several seconds, then stops. The noise reminds him of the time Scooby, his French bulldog, was chasing after some poor field mouse that got into the farmhouse. Scooby lost his footing and slid across the newly-mopped wood floors, knocking over everything in his way until sliding into the backdoor with a thump. (The mouse escaped, but Scooby kept pining after it anyways. Ever since they arrived on the farm, Scooby has been trying to make friends with every creature around, from the toads to the chickens to the goats. So far, the plucky little bulldog hasn’t had much luck, but Liam has to admire his perseverance.)

Liam listens, but all he can hear now is the wind—the dull scratching of some branch on an upstairs window, the screen door banging a bit as it always does. There’s the gentle hum of the kitchen appliances and Scooby’s soft snuffling from the doggy bed by the fireplace. Other than that, there is silence. Liam can’t even hear any chickens squawking from the nearby coop. As the dallying twilight creeps in, the farm is strangely still.

But then, he hears a barely audible groan that prods him to his feet.

If this were some old American western, he’d grab his trusty shotgun from the wall and charge outside with his trusty cattle dog barking at his heels. As it is, he steps around his sleeping Frenchie and removes a utility knife from the knife block.

Then, he ventures outside.

Liam is halfway down the drive by the time he realises he left his mobile charging in the kitchen. If it’s an animal—it’s probably an animal—he could have used his phone’s torch to scare it off. Sure, it might not have worked with a deer, but isn’t that what one does with coyotes? Or, are you supposed to whoop and yell and wave your hands about like a right nutter?

(And speaking of which, where the bloody hell is Louis when you need him?)

Actually, Liam’s pretty sure there aren’t any coyotes in England. Maybe they’ve gone extinct like the wolves or maybe there weren’t any coyotes in England to begin with. Aren’t they native to the Americas? As a farm owner, he should probably be better versed in these things.

It’s probably a fox, come to think of it, some pesky little predator who’s annoying the dickens out of the chickens again. Except the chickens aren’t squawking. And that was a rather loud noise for a fox.

That’s when Liam hears another groan. He tenses. It’s close, likely coming from the direction of his fruit-and-vegetable garden. Honestly, he feels more put-out than frightened by that revelation. While much of the farm has been a work-in-progress, Liam has put his pride, sweat, and tears into that garden.

Yes, he’s got a modest orchard of apple and cherry trees as well as several hectares of wheat, but that’s about it. It took him months before all the paperwork and finances were sorted, but then, he discovered that Great Uncle Norm had left credits everywhere, including a lorryload of vouchers at the agricultural supplier. During those months, the unsown fields had been ‘healing’ while Liam listened to various recommendations from his inherited farmhands, the area farm shops, a DEFRA representative, and the local branch of the Royal Horticultural Society. They each gave a different but equally strong opinion. They each told him to plant this or that for reasons that Liam always had to research afterwards. (It’s past mid-June now, and he really should finalise that decision soon as his options are fast dwindling.)

Anyway, that’s why he’s a bit narked that some wild animal has managed to sneak into his patch—oversized victory garden, really—because it’s where he has been practising growing things, working with the land. It’s also where he gets almost all of his produce for the local farmers’ markets.

He tentatively opens the wooden gate, and it creaks shut behind him. Although the daylight is fast fading, he can see the various vines and plants, most of which are weeks or even months away from maturation. He has a few rows of Junifer redcurrant bushes, however, that are already bearing fruit.

And naturally, that is where he quickly spies something that doesn’t belong.

The object looks like a silver sheet that’s been draped over one of the bushes. Liam edges closer, hand patting the outside of his jean pocket to double-check that the knife is still there. He’s halfway down the narrow path when he sees that the material is thin as silk and nearly see-through. It billows with a strong gust of wind, suddenly revealing a figure lying among a trampled section of the bush.

The figure, clad in a dark bodysuit, lets out another groan, and Liam rushes forward without a second thought.

“sh*t, sh*t, sh*t,” Liam panics because where on Earth did this guy come from? There’s nothing around for miles. “Are you okay? Did you hurt yourself? Is that a parachute?”

“Yes, I believe that would be the closest word for it,” the lad answers in a polite tone. He struggles to move, then lets out another groan that Liam identifies as one of frustration now. “I believe the strings of my parachute have become entangled with these branches. Would you be so kind as to extricate me?”

“Oh, of course,” Liam says, suddenly aware that he is still holding the utility knife. It takes a good minute, but eventually, Liam manages to cut through the mess of string and twigs. Then, he carefully pockets the knife and steps back to give the other man some space.

“Thank you…?”

“Liam.”

“Thank you, Leeyum,” he finishes, and Liam is struck by how different his name sounds on the stranger’s lips. “It is most fortuitous that you happened to come along just now.”

Liam scratches the back of his neck. “Oh, well…you, uh, sort of crashed into my garden.”

“Oh, I am very much sorry about your garden, Leeyum,” the man says as he pulls away from the small, odd-looking parachute. On closer inspection, it looks more like some kind of paraglider rather than a proper parachute.

“Never mind about the garden,” Liam shushes him. “The bush will grow back. I am more concerned about you.” It doesn’t appear that the man has any major injuries, but it’s difficult to tell as daylight turns to dusk. “Are you okay to stand?”

“Yes, why would I not be?”

Liam is about to reply that he just fell out of the sky in a weird glider-parachute the size of a large tablecloth, but then, he thinks better of it. The guy could be in shock after all.

Liam sticks out his hand, and the stranger studies it for a moment before grasping it with a strength that Liam wouldn’t have given him credit for at first glance. A shock of static electricity accompanies the touch, but Liam does his best to ignore it. “I was actually going to help you up, mate,” Liam explains when the man starts shaking his hand.

“Yes, thank you,” he replies sheepishly. “Being vertical would be desirable.”

Liam helps the man to his feet—not that he needs to exert much effort in the process. That’s when he gets a good look at the other lad. Liam would guess he’s somewhere around his age. The stranger still retains the essence of boyishness, but the sharp lines of his jaw could only belong to a man.

“Thank you, Leeyum,” he says before surprise stumbles over his features.

“Is something wrong?” Liam asks, hypnotised for a moment by the man’s intense eyes. They had appeared dark at first, but now, they’re like two pools of liquid gold.

The man shakes his head but doesn’t stop staring at him. “No, it is impossible.”

“What’s impossible?”

“Nothing. It is just that you looked….” He tilts his head to the side.

“Yes?” Liam presses.

“I was going to say ‘familiar,’ but that is quite impossible, as I stated.”

Liam feels inclined to agree with him. Because if Liam had seen this handsome stranger before, even for a millisecond, he surely would have remembered it.

“I apologise. It is just that your face reminds me of someone I have seen before.”

“A friend of yours?” Liam asks.

The man mulls this over. “Hopefully.”

Liam decides to give the guy’s bizarre response a pass considering the bizarreness of their meeting. “You, uh, never told me your name.”

“Oh, my apologies again. I am called Zayn.” He goes to shake Liam’s hand again, and that is when Liam sees it, the red liquid oozing over the back of his hand.

“You’re bleeding!”

Zayn looks down. “Oh, it is only stained by the miniature tomatoes.”

“These are actually berries—redcurrants,” Liam tells him without judgement. After all, he knew sod-all about farms before he owned one.

“Oh?” Zayn replies, using his sleeve to wipe the redcurrant juice from the back of his hand. “Again, I would like to offer my condolences for damaging your garden, Leeyum. I did not intend to land in it, but my calculations were in error and the wind had its own ideas.”

That’s when Liam remembers. “Wait—did you parachute out of that shooting star?” Zayn co*cks an eyebrow, and Liam tries to get ahold of himself. “I saw a light that looked like a meteor. It might’ve belonged to some sort of small aircraft, though.” Liam thinks about it again and realises the idea is ridiculous. No ordinary aircraft could move in that way or at that speed. He’s pretty sure that’s the case anyway. He looks at Zayn, but the other man isn’t volunteering anything. “So…is there someone I should contact to let them know you’re okay?”

“It is not necessary.”

“Okay…but I think we should at least get you checked out.”

“Like a book?” Zayn asks, puzzled. “You want to check me out at a library?”

“No, uh—my bad. Sorry, I didn’t realise English is a second language for you. You speak it very well.”

“Do I?” Zayn says, looking chuffed to bits. “To be precise, English is my eleventh language, but I think it is, perhaps, my favourite."

“Wow.” It’s about all Liam can think to say because it doesn’t seem like the guy is having him on. “Yes, so what I meant was”—he searches for a better verb—"I think it would be good if someone examined you. You know, to make sure you don’t have any injuries and such.”

“You may examine me if you wish,” Zayn replies agreeably.

“Sorry, I’m not qualified,” Liam tells him, but he sort of wishes he was. He had toyed with the idea of becoming a firefighter or paramedic when he was younger, always fancied the idea of helping others. (And now that he thinks about it, maybe farming isn’t exactly at odds with that goal.)

“You want to help others!” Zayn exclaims, clapping his hands together, and Liam wonders if he accidentally spoke his thoughts out loud. But before he can ponder too much on that, Zayn’s got his bodysuit unzipped to his navel, revealing a defined chest and a galaxy of tattoos that Liam would love to explore.

However, Liam is keen enough to realize that those thoughts are very very improper under the circ*mstances. “Whoa, I’m not a doctor!” he protests, blushing despite himself. “Could you, uh….” He makes a zipping motion with his hands and averts his eyes until he hears that it’s safe to look at the other man again.

“I would prefer not to be checked out by a doctor, Leeyum.”

“I think it would be a good idea,” Liam tells him. “I’d be more than happy to ring the ambulance service or even drive you to hospital myself. The closest one is a bit of a distance, though. Or, if you don’t want to be taken to A&E, we could try Codsall. There’s a clinic there, but on second thought, it might be closed by now.” Liam stops his rambling to give Zayn a chance to respond.

“No, thank you.”

“Are you sure?” It’s probably ridiculous, but Liam’s beginning to feel a bit responsible. It’s not like he hit the guy with his truck or anything, but even so, Zayn had an accident of sorts on his property, and Liam feels like he ought to at least try to get him some medical attention. “Zayn, I’d feel better if we took you somewhere where you could get an x-ray or whatever.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know,” Liam replies, trying not to sound as exasperated as he feels, “because you fell from…God-only-knows where? Because you might be severely concussed or have internal bleeding?”

Zayn appears unfazed. “I would prefer not to go to hospital, Leeyum.”

“You sound like that character from a short story I was assigned to read in sixth form,” Liam grunts, “the one where the guy keeps nattering on about how he ‘would prefer not to’ do everything.”

“Melville’s Bartleby?”

“Yeah, that’s the one,” Liam says, more than a little impressed. (He’d never admit it to his mates, but he kind of enjoyed that one. Maybe it would be more accurate to say that it bothered him. Anyway, it stuck with him for days.) “How’d you know that?”

“Oh, I have read many of the ear—early stories.” Suddenly, he frowns. “That is a very sad story, Leeyum. I prefer the ones with the happier endings. There are too many sad stories in this universe,” he sighs, looking up wistfully at the purpling sky.

Liam clears his throat. “I really think we should take you to hospital.”

“I would prefer not to go to hospital, Leeyum,” Zayn repeats firmly, and it is clear from his tone that Liam is not going to win this particular argument.

Liam accepts defeat. (He doesn’t really have a choice.) He’s sure Zayn has his reasons for not wanting to seek medical help, but whatever those reasons are…well, that’s none of Liam’s business. “Okay…do you have some place to go, then?”

“Yes.”

Liam waits for the other man to expand on his one-word answer, but he just stands there. “I could order you an uber,” Liam offers. “It’ll probably take a while, though, just to warn you.”

“An uber?”

Liam stares at him, wondering how someone around his age wouldn’t know what an uber was. “Yeah, the rideshare app? It’s kinda like a cab?”

“Oh, an uber!” he cries, eyes lighting up with recognition. “I read about those!”

“Yeah…so how ‘bout it?”

Zayn looks so happy he can barely contain himself. “To where would we go in an uber, Leeyum?” Suddenly, he gasps. “Could we ride to a library?!”

Somehow they’ve gotten back around to libraries again. “Um. I think the library is closed now,” Liam tells him, and Zayn’s face falls in disappointment. “Are you staying somewhere in the village? Is there anyone you want me to contact?”

“Unfortunately, I do not have any contacts.”

“But you said you had somewhere to go?” Liam asks, scratching his head. This conversation is making him feel like he’s the one with concussion.

“Yes, Leeyum. I have many places I want to go here.”

Liam assumes Zayn must be one of those adventuring tourist types, but for the life of him, he can’t figure out why someone like that would holiday in rural Staffordshire. “Let’s go inside and get you cleaned up, yeah? Can you walk okay?”

“Yes.”

Liam gathers the parachute material into a ball, then starts walking toward the gate, expecting Zayn to follow. Instead, he hears a loud thump and rustling of branches behind him and quickly spins around.

“I am fine,” Zayn insists before Liam can protest.

“Well, you made it to the next bush, so there’s that.”

Zayn brushes a few leaves out of his dark hair and takes stock of where he landed. When he realises that it is, indeed, exactly one bush over, he starts laughing.

“Need to get your land legs?” Liam jokes, helping him to his feet again.

“Yes, gravity is working against me.”

“Love that song, ha!” And because Liam’s never needed an excuse to break out into song, he immediately starts singing the first couple of bars from the John Mayer tune.

Zayn seems slightly confused, but he’s also smiling. “You have a pleasing voice.”

Liam tries not to blush. “We should go on up to the house. Let me help you?” he offers, placing a steadying hand on the other man’s back when he gets a nod. They start walking, slowly at first. “If you want, you could stay at mine tonight,” Liam says before quickly adding, “I, uh, have a spare room. It’s not much, and I highly suspect that it hasn’t been redecorated since the eighties, but you are more than welcome to it.”

Liam doesn’t know why he’s just gone and offered a bed to a complete stranger. It’s mad, but the maddest thing of all is that he’s nervous the man will decline the invitation.

“Thank you, Leeyum. I would very much like to stay at yours tonight.”

☆☆☆

‘Tonight’ turns into a fortnight. Zayn doesn’t ask to stay, but he doesn’t seem to be in a hurry to leave either.

Liam hardly minds. It’s been nice, not being alone in this big, draughty farmhouse. Moreover, Scooby is suddenly starting to show an interest in something aside from his cozy bed by the fireplace and the animals (and pests) on the farm who don’t exactly reciprocate his affections.

Zayn loves dogs, apparently. Well, he loves Scooby, at least.

It’s blatant that the other man doesn’t have much experience with dogs. Zayn asks him how big Scooby will grow, and Liam has to explain that the Frenchie isn’t really a puppy anymore. (Liam had adopted Scooby back when he was living in a cramped bedsit. Now that they’re living on a farm, Liam has to admit that the dog does look like a mismatch for the place.)

Liam thinks it’s too sweet for words, the way Zayn is so careful and gentle around the sturdy little bulldog. At first, Zayn constantly asks permission to pet Scooby, or feed him, or pat his head. Soon, Zayn can barely go anywhere without a fawn-and-white bulldog barrelling after him. The pair watch the full moon rise from the window-seat, their faces painted with wonder in the moonglow. Liam looks up, trying to see if it’s a supermoon or other special moon, but it’s not. Still, he gets it. The sky looks different here than it does in the city. It’s so much wider and uninterrupted, just like the quiet countryside. Just like the loneliness Liam’s been feeling since he moved to the farm.

(Just like the loneliness Liam’s been feeling since before he moved to the farm.)

In the evenings, Zayn curls up with Scooby on the couch and reads to him. (Liam’s never been so jealous of a dog in his life.) Indeed, Zayn is already making a dent in the modest library Liam’s great uncle left behind. Liam gradually starts listening in, too. Not wanting to intrude, he starts off in the mustard-coloured armchair by the fireplace. Little by little, he moves closer until they’re sat like bookends on the couch, Scooby wedged between them.

As Zayn reads aloud, Liam tries to place the other man’s accent. His reading voice in English is lilting and lovely, and yet…his expression and intonation are just the slightest bit off. At times, Zayn sounds like he may have been born up North because Liam will detect hints of a Yorkshire accent, and it makes him miss Louis more than usual. At other times, Liam hears a tone or inflection that causes him to wonder if the man might be Irish or Indian or Icelandic. Liam starts to think Zayn may be a world traveller, passing through any number of countries, picking up and shedding accents with the ease of someone with a good ear and a penchant for languages.

For the first few days, Liam forces Zayn to take it easy. Unsurprisingly, Zayn keeps insisting he’s fine. And yes, there are hardly any visible bruises or scratches, but the man still seems a tad off-balance. After another day or so, the clumsiness all but disappears, and Liam finally agrees to let Zayn help out around the farm. Liam gives him easy jobs to do at first: feeding and tending to the animals, collecting the eggs, basic gardening, and other chores. Zayn’s a quick learner, and he tackles each task with exuberance and a strength Liam wouldn’t have given him credit for.

More often than not, Liam finds him playing with the billy goats or cooing at the chickens before Scooby scares them off with a too-enthusiastic bark.

Little things start changing around the farmhouse. It’s brighter, happier…but not in a loud way. Things change in quantifiable ways, too. Liam starts raising the thermostat a couple of degrees because Zayn always seems to be chilly at night no matter how pleasant the evening or how many layers he wears. Liam now makes breakfast and supper for two each day. (For lunch or tea, he throws together something simple like sandwiches.) He doesn’t mind, has been practising his cooking, in fact, since he moved out here, and Zayn always gives him a grateful smile. Sometimes, Liam even gets a delighted moan from the man as Zayn tastes each dish and asks what it is. And it’s never anything fancy, to be honest, usually just egg-and-cheese baps or a full English maybe, then a stir-fry, meat pie, or pasta dish for the evening meal. (If he’s lucky, Liam can usually get a second or even third meal out of the supper leftovers.) Based on his reactions, Liam guesses the fare must be different from whatever the man is used to eating.

It's not long before Zayn takes over lunch duties. Liam also discovers that Zayn has a knack for baking, which isn’t too surprising based on the number of episodes of The Great British Bake Off the man watched while convalescing those first few days. There’s always something in the oven—pies, scones, a Bakewell tart. It works out because there is an endless supply of fruits on the farm and an even more endless supply of neighbours, friends, and farmhands willing to take the goodies off their hands.

One morning, Liam awakes to the polite patter of raindrops against his bedroom window. He rises from bed and pads across the squeaky floorboards. He doesn’t bother getting fully dressed, just tugs on a shirt and joggers and slides into his slippers. He’s careful not to wake Zayn as he passes the spare room, then descends the creaky wooden staircase.

By the time he’s in the kitchen, the rain seems to have stopped so he cracks open the small window above the sink. He can smell the dew in the air, the honeyed fragrance of wildflowers, as well as something more earthy: the scent of soil and animals and farm.

He whips up a pancake batter, adding freshly-picked blueberries from the farm. He concentrates on his task, soothed by the sizzling of the pancakes cooking on the griddle. A rooster crows, daylight starts to filter in, and then, Zayn is trampling down the stairs before he zips out the door.

Scooby raises his head at the disturbance, snuffles, yawns, and lays his head back down. Liam goes back to flipping pancakes.

“Leeyum!” Zayn shouts from outside.

“Just a minute!” Liam calls back. He didn’t hear any panic in the man’s voice, so he quickly finishes up the last batch and turns off the burner. He uses a flannel to wipe the grease off his hands before going outside to join his houseguest. “What’s up?” he asks, looking around. When he reaches Zayn, he notices the man is staring up at the sky.

“It’s a rainbow,” Zayn whispers, his voice and manner almost reverent. He points, but it’s not really necessary because once spotted, it’s all Liam can see. The scene is more vivid than a watercolour painting but just as soft and dreamy. The clouds appear almost fake, like silvery-white candy floss dotting a cobalt sky.

The Rainbow, though, puts all of it to shame. “Reckon it’s a double rainbow, actually,” Liam says. “Don’t see many of those,” he adds, but he’s not sure if that’s exactly true. Are they really all that rare, or did Liam just forget to keep looking for them somewhere between childhood and adolescence? He’s a skywatcher by nurture or nature, but maybe he’s a little out of practice. Maybe, he needs to take a second or minute or hour to really notice the beauty all around him.

He looks at Zayn, and maybe it’s just his imagination, but he’s pretty sure he cans see the rainbow of colours reflected upon the man’s golden irises.

“It is beautiful, Leeyum,” he says, still gazing up at the fading rainbow. “It is the second most beautiful vision I have ever seen.”

Liam has an itch to ask him what the first is, but he doesn’t want to trespass and ruin an already perfect moment.

They go back in and eat the blueberry pancakes. The sun hasn’t even fully risen yet, but Zayn declares this to be the best day of his life.

And Liam feels inclined to agree with him.

☆☆☆

“He’s obviously a serial killer.”

It’s the first thing Niall says after Liam finishes telling him about Zayn, and Liam already regrets mentioning his new houseguest to one of his oldest friends. “You haven’t even met him, Niall.”

“That’s because I don’t usually go palling around with serial killers, mate.”

“No, seriously,” Liam insists, checking to make sure Zayn hasn’t come in from outside yet. “He’s like the sweetest, gentlest person on Earth. Like, he totally lost his sh*t the other day when he saw a rainbow, and he nearly wee’d himself when he thought I was going to take him to visit the library.”

“Ah, good at deception and earning your trust, eh? Gotta be a spy, then. The black bodysuit he was wearing when you found him definitely tracks. He could be working for the Russians. You said he speaks English well, but kinda formal, yeah? That’s always a sign of a foreign agent.”

“He speaks eleven languages.”

“Swiss agent, maybe?” Niall tosses out, and Liam reckons that comment’s not even worthy of a response. “Bro, you’re telling me you don’t think it’s suspicious that some strange dude just parachutes into your tomato bushes?”

“Redcurrant bushes,” Liam corrects. “Tomatoes grow on vines. Zayn did think they were tomatoes at first, though,” he tacks on fondly.

“Liam, the particular fruit or veg is of no importance.”

“Technically, they’re both fruits.”

Niall snorts. “Well, who died and made you master farmer?”

“Great Uncle Norman Payne,” Liam says drily.

“Well, that was rather morbid, Liam. I liked your Great Uncle Norm.”

Liam can’t help but roll his eyes even though it’s wasted on the phone. “I think you met him once when we were teenagers, mate. I barely knew the man myself.”

“Payno, I must tell you I am concerned,” Niall goes on, and Liam hates when he gets like this, all mothering. “Please recall that I supported you when you had that mid-life crisis last year—”

“I was twenty-eight!”

“—and decided to f*ck off to the country and become a farmer—”

“I don’t want to be a farmer,” Liam interrupts because they’ve been through this before. “I was merely seizing an opportunity, being spontaneous while I work out what to do next.”

“Liam, my nearest and dearest mate since birth—

“We met in high school, Niall.”

“Fine,” Niall huffs. “Since the day I moved from Mullingar to Wolverhampton at the tender age of fifteen and you and Tomlinson took me under your collective wing, I have not detected a single spontaneous bone in the entirety of that well-fit body of yours. Don’t make me ring up the Tommo in Italy, or wherever he and Harry have f*cked off to now, to back me up on that statement because I will.”

Liam rolls his eyes again. He doesn’t know how he has gotten pegged as the sensible one of their friend group because he’s really not all that sensible…well, not all the time anyway. It’s simply that he’s not as brash and reckless as his mates. He thinks through things before diving into decisions. (In retrospect, he probably should’ve sat on the idea of taking on a farm a bit longer, but he has help in the form of farmhands and he’s learning as he goes. Besides, he’ll turn thirty in a few months, and he really should start listening to his gut more. His gut told him it was the right decision for the moment, and now, his gut is telling him that Zayn is not a dangerous assassin or some such twaddle.) “Zayn’s a great guy, honestly. Plus, Scooby adores him.”

“Liam, your dog once tried to make friends with a porcupine. I would hardly call him a reliable judge of character.”

“No, you should see them together, though. They’re absolutely precious.” Liam thinks about the other night when he found the pair nestled together, fast asleep on the couch. Liam didn’t have the heart to wake them, so he just covered them up with the yellow-and-green throw his nan crocheted for him when he was a baby, then headed upstairs to his bedroom.

“Aha,” Niall says. “I get it now.”

“Get what?”

“I can hear the fond in your voice, Payno. You fancy him.”

“What are you going on about? Fancy who?”

“Creepy double-agent guy, who else?” Niall answers like it’s obvious. “By the way, I saw a documentary the other day about how the Nazis parachuted their spies into unpopulated places in the English countryside so they could, like, penetrate the enemy from within and all that.”

“First of all, World War Two ended like…a long time ago,” Liam says after giving up on figuring it in his head. (Maths was never his best subject.) “Second of all, you’re being ridiculous.”

Niall exhales loudly. Liam can tell his friend is as done with this conversation as he is. “At least ask this Zayn dude what he does for a living, please.”

“Niall.”

“Liam, please just humour me on this.”

“Fine,” Liam grumbles because it’s Niall, and Liam would do most anything for him—within reason, anyway.

“And promise me you won’t do anything crazy.”

“I’m the sensible one, remember?”

Niall chuckles. “True, just…watch yourself, yeah? You’re too good a person to be offed by an axe murderer in a creepy farmhouse.”

“Love you, too,” Liam mumbles back. As he ends the call, he notices a movement outside the front window. It’s Zayn playing fetch with Scooby although neither one of them really seem to get the gist of the game. Zayn tosses a stick, then Scooby bounds into him. Zayn giggles like a kid and goes to collect the stick. Then, Scooby patiently waits for him to throw it before bounding into him again. It’s senseless and too adorable for words, and it takes everything Liam has to tear his eyes away from the scene. He really should start prepping supper, and in any case, he doesn’t want to be caught staring.

Because if anyone’s acting a bit creepy in the old Payne farmhouse, it’s definitely him.

☆☆☆

“So…what do you do?” Liam asks, trying to sound as casual as possible. To be honest, he is a tad curious about Zayn’s past, but he doesn’t want to sound like a suspicious douche doing a background check either. After all, Zayn is his guest. Liam hopes it doesn’t come across like he’s digging because the last thing he wants to do is make Zayn feel uncomfortable or offend him.

“I am uncertain of your question,” Zayn says. He’s in the process of stacking the cooled redcurrant scones he baked earlier into a Christmas tin. Liam wonders if he chose that particular tin on purpose or if he’s finally run out of storage containers. “I do many things.”

“Oh, well could you tell me one thing you do, then?”

“Yes,” Zayn answers. “I paint.”

“Like, houses?”

“Yes, sometimes I paint houses,” Zayn replies as he finishes arranging the scones and presses the lid closed.

“Only sometimes?” Liam asks before realizing he might need to be more specific. “Do you paint on houses or pictures of houses.”

“I paint pictures of them,” Zayn answers. “Mostly, I paint trees and rainbows and dogs and birds and faces.” He examines Liam’s face then, as if he is studying it for a portrait.

“Oh, you’re an artist!” Liam beams, happy to have learnt something about his mysterious visitor.

Zayn gives him a strange look. “Yes, but I am many things. Everyone is.”

“Okay…but what do you do?”

Zayn blinks up at him in confusion, and Liam is certain he’s never seen eyelashes like that anywhere on Earth before, and just for the briefest of moments, he wonders if Zayn is an angel fallen from heaven before he remembers himself. (There’s no such thing as angels and even if there were, they wouldn’t be dropping onto Liam’s farm.)

“Like…for a job,” Liam tacks on, filling the awkward silence. “What do you get paid to do?”

“Oh,” Zayn says happily, comprehension lighting up his honey-coloured eyes. “Nothing.”

“Are you, like, a student then?” Liam’s question receives another strange look. He wracks his brains, trying to find a way to explain what he means. “Are you still at university, studying to become something?”

Zayn blinks at him again with those fantastically long lashes again. “But I am already something,” he says slowly, “everyone is.”

“Is there, like, one specific thing you’re learning about, though? Are you a linguist, maybe?” Liam guesses, recalling that Zayn said he spoke eleven languages.

Zayn’s forehead wrinkles as he considers the question. “Why would I only learn about one specific thing when the universe is filled with infinite possibilities, Leeyum?”

Liam thinks of a way to rephrase the question. “Okay…well, is there one thing you spend more time doing or learning about than other things?”

Zayn’s face brightens. “Yes! Earth studies. That is something I learn and write about nearly every day.”

“Oh, you mean like geology?”

“Yes, but why would I only study rocks when there is so much more to learn about the Earth and its people, Leeyum?”

They’re just going in circles at this point, so Liam decides to ditch the merry-go-round ride. “You should probably get some rest. We can talk more later.”

“Yes, rest is desirable,” Zayn agrees.

Not for the first time, Liam is struck by Zayn’s formality and odd way of phrasing things. He’s also struck by how difficult it was to get a simple answer to a simple question. He reckons it’s just a language thing, though. And Liam can only guess how difficult it must be, being a stranger in a strange land. “Goodnight, Zayn. Sweet dreams.”

“Goodnight, Leeyum,” Zayn yawns, eyelids already starting to droop. “May the moons guide you and the stars watch over you always.”

It rolls off his tongue like it’s not the first time he has said it, like it’s an expression or blessing from wherever the man hails from. And that reminds Liam that he still doesn’t know. He’ll have to ask him tomorrow.

He’ll be sure to ask him tomorrow.

☆☆☆

Liam doesn’t ask him tomorrow. He doesn’t ask Zayn the next day either. In fact, it’s been nearly three weeks since the man crash-landed into his garden, and Liam hasn’t learnt very much at all about his background. That should probably be concerning, but the funny thing is that Liam’s not the least bit bothered by it. His mum would be furious with him if he told her he was letting a complete stranger stay with him. The thing is…it’s a heck of a lot less lonely on the farm since Zayn’s been around.

But Liam can’t pretend it’s simply the presence of another person anymore. No, it’s Zayn. Zayn and his habit of sleeping past ten every day even though he’s living on a farm. (To be fair, Liam has been nicknamed the ‘eight-o’clock kid’ by some of the older farmhands.) Zayn and his quirky way of phrasing things. Zayn and his incessant baking. Zayn and his eternal optimism. Zayn and his almost childlike wonder.

Zayn in Liam’s old joggers and jumpers. Zayn and his plethora of tattoos. Zayn and his stupid gorgeous face that Liam really should stop staring at.

Liam’s not sure how he would explain any of that to his mum. Or to his sisters. And yes, Liam has confided somewhat in Niall, but his friend still doesn’t get it, not completely. (Niall keeps threatening to make a surprise visit to the farm even though he lives two hours away in London.) Half the time, Liam’s not sure how to rationalise it himself. Often, it feels like Zayn and him have known each other since reception. Other times, it’s like the other man isn’t even from the same planet.

Liam has to teach him how to play video games and use the antiquated microwave. Zayn doesn’t have a mobile (or he lost it), and he doesn’t seem in a hurry to get one either. In fairness, it’s not an absolute necessity, owning a mobile, because the farmhouse has a landline that still operates even though Liam is positive he’s never been billed for it. (He suspects that BT either forgot to shut it off or that his great uncle paid several years in advance.) Zayn doesn’t have a laptop either, so Liam lets him use his to look up recipes and things.

Liam is showing Zayn a shortcut on the remote when a news report comes on the telly. It’s about that UFO from a few weeks ago, the one that was spotted over Wolverhampton. Liam thinks it might be the only newsworthy item that has come out of Wolverhampton since the Wolves were promoted to the Premier League. “It’s probably another weather balloon or whatever,” he dismisses, changing the channel. For some reason, however, it switches back on its own. Liam is about to try changing it again when he realises that Zayn is watching the newsreader with avid interest:

“The prime minister is working with the G7 to find a solution to the increase in unidentified, unpermitted air traffic. The object that was spotted over Wolverhampton has not yet been identified or claimed by any nation. We will continue to inform you of any developments on that story.”

“They think they own the skies,” Zayn murmurs, shaking his head.

“They do own the skies,” Liam shrugs. “The craft was in British airspace, and the last one sighted was flying in Canadian and American airspace.”

Zayn appears almost sympathetic as he says, “No one owns the skies, Leeyum.”

“What about the birds?” Liam teases.

Zayn’s face softens as he thinks about it. “Yes, maybe the birds.”

Liam is still admiring his expression when, out of nowhere, the Netflix startup sound comes on, startling him. Liam looks at the remote in his hand and reckons he must have pressed the button on accident.

“Great British Bake Off marathon?” Zayn asks hopefully. “I baked some pies with the fruit we picked yesterday.”

Liam snorts. “Of course you did.”

Zayn blushes, and it must be the lighting because it looks like he’s wearing lavender rouge for a second. “I will be right back.”

While he waits, Liam queues up the next episode. A minute later, Zayn returns with two plates. Each holds a slice of warm, gooey cherry pie with a scoop of vanilla ice cream on top, and Liam thinks he’s in love.

(Actually, he knows he is.)

☆☆☆

The following Saturday, they drive into the village with a loaded pickup. It’s Zayn’s first trip into town, and Liam worries that the man is a shade more excited than he ought to be. The local farmers’ market is fairly vibrant though, stands offering a variety of produce and natural products.

“This is incredible,” Zayn says, eyes like saucers as he takes it all in.

Liam glances around. The market isn’t even open yet. Of the sellers who have arrived, most are busy unloading and setting up their displays. “If you’re impressed with this, just wait until you see the one in Wolverhampton. It’s massive. There are craft stalls and everything.” Liam always has a hard time not doling out half his profits on jars of specialty products like elderberry honey for his mum or unique gifts for his niece and nephew.

Zayn helps him set up the stand. It doesn’t take long because Liam’s only hired a mini-stall since it’s still early in the season. For the day’s market, Liam has brought some vegetables and soft fruits—mostly redcurrants. He is hoping to sell at least a few dozen cartons of those.

The first hiccup comes when Liam sees Zayn hand a cucumber to an elderly gentleman.

“Did he pay for that?” Liam asks under his breath after the pensioner thanks Zayn and walks away with the bag in one hand and a cane in the other.

“No, but I could tell he was in need of one,” Zayn says, cool as the cucumber he just gave away.

“So…you just gave it to him, free of charge?”

“Yes,” Zayn answers matter-of-factly.

Liam wants to scrub his face with his hands, but he can’t because he has to handle food and all. He doesn’t think the concept is a difficult one, but Zayn clearly isn’t getting it. “So, um, try not to do that too often, yeah?”

“I will try, yes.”

“But you did a nice thing, so there’s that,” Liam adds because it was a nice thing. And honestly, they’ve plenty more, and Zayn seemed so certain about the man needing it.

Liam does try to handle the majority of the transactions, but the cucumber incident is only a small part of the reason why. The major reason is that Zayn seems quite unfamiliar with British currency. Liam assumes it’s because the other man hasn’t been in the country very long. (And yeah, for about ten seconds, his mind flits to Niall’s warning that he should learn more about Zayn’s past. But then, Liam will see Zayn waving at a toddler or cooing at a kitten or laughing with a few grey-haired grannies, and Liam knows he doesn’t really need to know much beyond that.)

They sell out just before noon, and afterwards, Liam drives the now-empty pickup to the library. Zayn looks like he might cry from happiness. They walk in, and Zayn immediately starts piling books on tables until Liam finds a librarian and inquires about the borrowing limit. In the end, Zayn ends up checking out an almanac, two graphic novels, an ephemeris (Liam had to ask what that was, and apparently, it’s got something to do with the alignment of stars.), a short story collection, several dusty novels, a cookbook, a couple of picture books, a medical manual, and Ray Bradbury’s The Silver Locusts, aka The Martian Chronicles.

Their final stop is Sainsbury’s for the weekly shopping. It’s the first time Zayn has accompanied him to the supermarket, and the man ogles everything like it’s new and exotic. (Liam really needs to find out where he’s from.) Whenever Liam tries to pry out of him what he likes or dislikes, Zayn defers to Liam’s judgement or says something along the lines of ‘whichever you think I would prefer.’

Liam parks the cart in front of the biscuits. “Okay, now for an important question: Jammie Dodgers, Ginger Nuts, Jaffa Cakes, or Chocolate Hobnobs?” Liam lays them all out in a row so Zayn can select one based on the packaging.

Zayn, however, seems like he has reached the point where he is beyond overwhelmed. In fact, the man looks like he might collapse from decision fatigue at any given second, so Liam tosses the Hobnobs into the cart and calls it a day. After all, they’ve got a stockpile of baked goods back at the house. With that in mind, he steers the cart away from the biscuits and practically sprints past the confectionary aisle to the front of the store.

They’re waiting in the queue when it happens. Liam is just getting his wallet from his back pocket when he hears Zayn gasp, “They found it!”

Liam looks up to find Zayn holding a newspaper, scanning through it at lightning speed.

The gruff-voiced cashier apparently scans at lightning speed, too. “You gonna buy that, mate, or just hold up the queue while you wrinkle the pages?”

Zayn doesn’t answer as he stares at the picture on the front page.

Liam quickly snatches the newspaper out of his hands and places it on the conveyor belt. “Sorry!” he says because he hates to be that person. He pays and collects the bags, then coaxes Zayn out of the shop. “Is everything okay?” he asks, hoping there wasn’t some air disaster. The other man seems to be pretty shaken up by whatever he has just seen or read.

“Zayn,” Liam repeats, moving closer to him now, “are you okay?”

“I do not know,” Zayn finally responds. With shaking fingers, he points to the picture of a small craft being dragged out of a lake. “They found my spaceship,” he whispers. “How long do you think it will be before they find me?”

Chapter 2

Chapter Text

The drive home is almost chaotic.

Actually, it is chaotic.

Liam drives like someone is chasing them even though he’s almost certain that Zayn is just being paranoid…or something. Regardless, Zayn is upset, and Liam is swerving through traffic like those pissers he can’t stand. The pickup has been acting weirder than usual, too. For the first five minutes, the interior lights kept flashing on and off. Once, the radio came on at full blast even though no one laid a hand on it. Then, the windscreen wipers decided to flip on at full speed before abruptly stopping. And for some nonsensical reason, Zayn kept apologising throughout all of it.

Zayn is quiet now, but he still looks like he’s on the verge of a complete meltdown.

Somehow, they make it home in one piece. Liam really needs to take his truck to a mechanic, though, because he’s convinced that it’s haunted or has been taken over by gremlins. (Honestly, he’s afraid to look under the bonnet.)

By the time Liam sits him down at the kitchen table, Zayn seems to have settled down. Liam lets the cheery gingham curtains and a jubilant, drooling Scooby do the work for a few minutes while he bungs groceries into cupboards, then busies himself with making tea.

Liam has just placed a cuppa in front of Zayn when the man calmly folds the newspaper he’s been reading and sets it down on the table.

“I am sorry, Leeyum. I am prepared to speak now.”

Liam immediately takes the chair next to him and waits, hands fidgeting with his own cup.

“First, I must tell you that I am what your people would call an alien.”

Liam frowns at him. “Zayn, I don’t know who called you that, but I don’t like that word. All this rubbish about ‘illegal aliens’ by bigoted, xenophobic politicians makes me sick to my stomach. It’s insulting and makes a person sound like they’re not even bloody human.”

Zayn seems to think about that for a second, then says, “But I am not human, Leeyum.”

“Zayn!” Liam gasps, laying a hand on his shoulder because he needs to hear this even if Liam is absolutely rubbish with words. “Never say that! No matter where you came from, if you’re a refugee or running away from something, I am sure you had good reason for leaving and seeking asylum here in the UK. And if you couldn’t go through the proper channels, then I understand and I’m not going to judge you. Think of this farm as a—what’s it called?” Liam asks, scratching his head. “Oh yeah—sanctuary. This farm is a safe place for you. Always.”

Liam is almost frightened by how much he means it. He would let Zayn stay for as long as he liked. And if Zayn needed protecting from whomever, well then…Liam would be the man for that job, too. (If his mum or Niall could hear his thoughts right now, they would be appalled. It’s mad, the idea of trusting someone so much after barely knowing them two weeks, and yet...Liam is sure he means it. He means it with every fibre of his being.)

“Leeyum, if you prefer I not speak that word, I will not. I will try again.” He snaps his fingers, something Liam taught him how to do only days ago. “I am an extraterrestrial, as in I was not born here on this planet.”

Liam tries not to let his expression give away what he’s thinking. After all, Zayn has surely been through some trauma, and Liam has no right to judge how he is choosing to cope with it. “Okay.”

Zayn frowns with his eyes, and Liam notices his irises have darkened to the colour of mocha. “You do not believe me.”

“Maybe you could give me a few more details,” Liam suggests because he doesn’t know what else to say, and it’s possible that, once again, the meaning got lost in translation. “What planet are you from—I mean, if you weren’t born on Earth?”

“It does not convert to English easily,” Zayn says, and Liam gives him points for creativity. “But you may call it Planet Z.”

Ah. No confusion, then. The very human-looking man sitting at Liam’s kitchen table is clearly convinced that he is from outer space. “So…how long did it take you to get to Earth?”

“Not long. Perhaps, six or seven weeks.”

“Six or seven weeks! How is that even possible?!” Liam isn’t an expert on space travel by any means, but he knows enough to understand that it would be impossible to travel from a distant galaxy in a matter of weeks (or months or years).

“I took a shortcut.”

“A shortcut?”

“Yes, there is a wormhole that ends right at your solar system. It was most convenient.” Zayn scrutinises his face, then frowns again. “You still do not believe me.”

“I believe that you believe you are an alien,” Liam says, hoping that will satisfy him. He should probably be appeasing rather than provoking him, but Liam wants to be as honest as he can with someone he now thinks of as a friend.

“I sense that you are going to need proof,” Zayn says tiredly. “Observe the teapot,” he commands, and Liam does as he’s told, keeping his eyes peeled to the brown betty in the centre of the kitchen table. Zayn seems to concentrate on it with all he’s got, and Liam half expects it to explode…which doesn’t happen, thankfully. It does teeter, however, and Scooby starts to bark. By the time Liam’s shushed him, the teapot has settled, rattling to a gentle stop. The whole thing could easily be explained by a passing train (except they’re in the middle of nowhere) or even Scooby knocking one of the table legs. It is hardly conclusive proof of otherworldly powers.

Liam clears his throat. “Well, that was, um, really something. Maybe you should have a nice lie-down, though. I’m sure you’re probably knackered after the busy day we’ve had.”

“Ugh,” Zayn groans, “it is dissipating. I will attempt to influence the microwave. Electronic devices are normally easier.”

“Zayn, you really don’t need to—”

“Please, Leeyum.”

There’s an urgency in his tone, and Liam doesn’t have the heart to object. He supposes it won’t do any harm to humour the man a bit longer. Zayn’s already focused on the microwave anyway, irises going more golden than usual, and it takes everything Liam has to peel his gaze away from them and turn to watch the microwave. After another ten seconds, the digital clock blinks a couple of times—or at least Liam thinks it does. He really can’t be all that sure.

“Did you see that?” Zayn asks, blinking his eyes like they hurt.

“Maybe?” Liam replies, and he’s about to go into the whole spiel about getting some rest when he sees Zayn calmly rise from the table and move toward the knife block on the far counter.

Liam’s heart races, concerned that the man is not in the best state of mind and that he could likely hurt himself or others. (And if Niall turns out to be right about the whole serial killer thing, then Liam is going to be very annoyed…and possibly very deceased.)

And then his worst fears come to fruition when Zayn steadies the knife blade against his skin and starts to press down.

Horrified, Liam acts. He jumps up, grabs Zayn’s arm, and the knife coasts across the counter. He’s got his body pressed against Zayn’s, and his head is fogging up by the sheer proximity of being this close to the other man.

He fights through it. “What the f*ck do you think you’re doing?!” Liam demands, adrenaline rushing through him. “You could’ve hurt yourself!” He looks down and sees that Zayn did, in fact, cut himself. It doesn’t appear to be a deep cut, thank God, but it does appear to be one of those wounds that likes to bleed like the dickens.

Except, the problem is that the blood isn’t exactly red. No, it’s a shade of blue-violet, and Liam nearly keels over at the sight.

“Holy sh*t,” Liam whispers. He looks up at Zayn’s face, and it’s a mixture of satisfaction and relief, his eyes now a dark honey colour.

“My sincerest apologies, Leeyum, but I did not know how else to prove it to you,” Zayn tells him. “Also, if you could direct me to the plasters, it would be very much appreciated.”

Liam snaps back into action, immediately tending to Zayn’s wound. He sees it’s not much more than a paper cut as he cleans it. He looks at the blood on the antiseptic wipe before he tosses it into the bin, notes his ungloved hands….

“It is not toxic,” Zayn says, and Liam nearly jumps out of his skin. “My blood,” Zayn clarifies. “It contains copper, which causes the blood to appear more bluish.”

Liam swallows. “How…how’d you know I was thinking about that?”

“I was afraid this would happen,” Zayn murmurs, going to sit back down at the table.

Liam warily takes a seat opposite him. “So…you’re an alien,” he says slowly. “And you can tell what I’m thinking.” For some reason, the latter thought is the one that most disturbs him. It makes him uncomfortable, the thought that Zayn could have been reading his mind or controlling him somehow.

Scooby’s tail flops against the hard wood as he watches them, sensing something is going on. Now, Liam wonders if his dog only likes Zayn because the man used his powers on the animal somehow. Liam also wonders if what he feels for Zayn is genuine or just some manipulation.

“It is not like that,” Zayn sighs.

“What do you mean it’s not like that? You literally just read my mind—again!” Liam’s chair scrapes against the floor as he backs away from the table.

“It is not as simple as that, Leeyum.”

“Then what exactly did you do?”

“You must understand that we, the people from my planet, are able to…sense things better than most humans. It is akin to a strong intuition, and it is not infallible. But yes,” Zayn admits, head lowered. “I do feel a special connection to you, and I do not believe that is typical from the accounts I have read.”

“So, can you or can you not read my mind, Zayn?”

“As I stated, it is not as simple as that. I can read your emotions, your speech patterns, your expressions…and intuit things. Do you not have a saying on Earth that the eyes are the window to the soul?”

Liam nods, careful not to give too much away before he understands what’s going on.

“Yes, well, sometimes I interpret your feelings and deduce thoughts, but no, I am not a telepath or even a true empath, really. I cannot read your exact inner dialogue or anything like that.”

Liam feels the fight-or-flight response in his body easing up. He believes Zayn; he’s almost sure he does. And ironically, it is more of a gut feeling rather than anything the other man has specifically said.

Still, between the secret Zayn’s been hiding and his supernatural-like powers, Liam is wary about accepting everything the alien says at face value. “What about the thing you just did with the teapot? You made it rattle. That can’t be explained away by intuition.”

“I guess you would call it telekinesis, but as you observed, it is not my strong suit.”

Liam is inclined to agree with him there. “Do all people from your planet have the same increased intuition and abilities?”

“To varying degrees,” Zayn shrugs. “It developed over time.”

Liam is pondering that when something suddenly dawns on him. “Wait—were you mucking with my pickup on the way back?” He doesn’t wait for Zayn to respond, though, because he’s already sussed the answer to that question based on how many times the man apologised on the way home. “Bloody hell, I thought it had become possessed like that Plymouth Fury in the Stephen King movie.”

“When I am overly…stressed, some of my abilities become enhanced,” Zayn explains. “My environment—especially anything electronic or mechanical—can display unintended effects.”

“So, it wasn’t intentional?”

“No,” Zayn says earnestly. He looks positively glum as he adds, “I am sorry I allowed my emotions to get away from me earlier. When I saw that newspaper, I was afraid that the peace I had found on this farm with you was being threatened.”

“And is it?” Liam asks, gaze gravitating toward the newspaper on the kitchen table. On the front is the picture that made Zayn panic at the supermarket: strange wreckage being dragged from a lake. Liam is almost afraid to touch it. He’s got an idea that grabbing it, reading the front-page article that’s printed there in black and white, would make this incredible scenario terrifyingly real, and he’s not ready for that quite yet. “Is it safe for you here?”

“I am not certain. They do not seem to have much to go on since the ship is badly damaged. They theorise that it might be a Cold War spy-craft of Soviet origin, but the Russians deny it. No other nation or entity has claimed it. The author of the article, however, states that this reluctance to admit ownership is not unusual in such circ*mstances.” He looks to Liam for confirmation.

“Yeah, that sounds reasonable.”

Zayn nods. “What is the distance to”—he checks the newspaper again— “Belvide Reservoir?”

“I’ve run the trail-loop there a few times. I’d say it’s maybe seven miles north of here?”

Zayn’s shoulders seem to lose their tension. “That is close, but perhaps, it is not so close as to be alarmed.”

Liam thinks it’s a little close for comfort but doesn’t voice it, not wanting to make Zayn more worried than he already is. Liam speculates how far out from the crash site the authorities will search, and the words ’ten-mile radius’ ring in his ears. The distance seems great, however, when he considers how far the spaceship travelled after Zayn had bailed. “How on Earth did you survive that drop without so much as a scratch?” Liam asks, disbelief and…something else clawing at his throat. “You don’t fly, too, do you?” he half-jokes.

“I cannot fly, no.”

Liam knows him enough by now to realise there is something he’s not sharing. “Let me guess…you can bloody glide or levitate or something?”

“To a degree, yes,” Zayn answers, and with that, Liam is certain he has heard enough for one day (or one lifetime, more like). “Leeyum, would you like me to leave? I do not wish to put you in danger.”

Liam looks over at him, and despite all his enhanced abilities, Zayn seems small and harmless. “From what I gathered, there is little threat of danger.”

“That is true; however, I do not wish to make you uncomfortable either.”

Scooby begins to whimper, puppy-dog eyes on Liam even though he’s pawing at Zayn’s leg. Liam wonders how much his dog would hate him if he told Zayn to leave right now. (Liam wonders how much he’d hate himself, too.)

Liam takes a deep breath. He doesn’t know what to say, but he has to say something. “You can stay,” he manages to say, and once again, it’s a gut decision more than anything. “Let’s, uh, talk later, yeah? I’m sort of feeling overwhelmed.”

“Yes, of course,” Zayn agrees. “Thank you, Leeyum.” He rises from the kitchen table, chooses one of his new library books, and takes it outside. Scooby trots after him.

Liam sits back down and stares at the kitchen table. He can’t recall the last time he felt this confused and alone.

☆☆☆

It takes a minute for Liam to process it, the fact that Zayn’s an alien. (It takes the rest of the day and halfway into the next, to be precise.) In a way, Liam feels cheated because of course the one time he falls for someone—truly falls for someone, that is—they turn out to be an alien.

But then, he always figured that Zayn was too perfect to be human. (He always figured that Zayn was too perfect to ever be his, too.)

Zayn, to his credit, gives him time and space.

Space—it’s funny, but just thinking that word gives Liam pause, forces him to go back and reprocess things he thought he had already dealt with. It’s a mindf*ck, this whole situation. It’s not only that Zayn isn’t human, it’s also the idea that there are other beings out there, other humanoid beings.

And yeah, Liam has always been one to wager that life on other planets existed, but being confronted with the fact face-to-face is something else. If he’s honest, it’s a little scary. It changes his perspective on nearly everything. He starts to question things he had always taken for granted: philosophical proofs, scientific truths. All of a sudden, the universe seems incredibly larger but also incredibly smaller at the same time.

Liam lies on his bed and thinks about wormholes, and violet blood, and eyes that change from gold to black and back again. He also thinks about friendship, and ‘special connections,’ and ardent wishes on falling stars.

And finally, Liam leaves his bedroom. When he finds Zayn, the first thing Liam does is check on the man’s self-inflicted cut from the day before. He’s honestly not surprised, though, when he finds that the wound has already healed.

☆☆☆

The next morning, Liam is in the middle of plating breakfast when he hears a string of three knocks at his front door.

It’s not exactly unusual, having someone come to the house early on a weekday morning. It’s not his farmhands, though; Liam knows the individual knocking pattern of each hired hand as well as he knows the texting style of his closest friends. The knock doesn’t sound like any of the neighbouring farmers either; their knocking is always accompanied by some friendly banter. It’s not any member of his family either. they ring the doorbell.

No, this knock is definitely a police knock.

He sneaks a glance out the bay window and his suspicions are confirmed. Pulse quickening, he leaves the sliced tomato on the cutting board and heads to the front door. On the way, he glances upstairs and is relieved to see that Zayn’s bedroom door is still closed.

He takes a deep breath and plasters on a smile as he opens the door. “Good morning, how can I help you?”

“Good morning,” the one wearing plain clothes and a greasy smile greets him. “I am Detective Constable Lemmings, and this is Constable Hughes. We’re from the Staffordshire Police.” He flashes a badge. “Mr. Payne, is it?” he asks, and Liam nods. “Do you mind if we come in?”

Maybe it’s the fact that Liam’s got an extraterrestrial boarder or maybe it’s just his inherent distrust of law enforcement, but he hesitates. “May I ask what this is about, officers?”

“We’re investigating a…crash in the area,” DC Lemmings informs him, glancing at the uniformed officer. “We are looking for any information that might help with the investigation.”

Liam is not sure why they can’t ask him their questions on the front porch, but he worries he’ll look like he’s hiding something if he doesn’t let them in. He makes a hasty decision—not his favourite kind—and invites them inside. He reckons it’s best to get this over and done with now rather than raise their suspicions and trigger a follow-up visit from a higher-ranking detective or someone from the Home Office.

“Thank you, Mr. Payne,” Constable Hughes says politely as he wipes his boots on the welcome mat before stepping inside. “We won’t take up too much of your time.”

Liam closes the door, then waits. They are standing rather awkwardly in the foyer, just a few steps from the kitchen. There’s a brewed pot of tea in the centre of the large wooden table, but Liam’s not about to offer them any if it means the men will stay one second longer than necessary.

DC Lemmings, unsurprisingly, takes charge of the questioning. “We wanted to know if you witnessed anything out of the ordinary lately.”

Liam pretends to think about the question. “No, I can’t recall anything,” he answers after counting to five in his head.

“Did you happen to see an aircraft or…anything else flying overhead?”

Constable Hughes adds, “This would have been on or around the twenty-first of June.”

“Is this about that UFO from a few weeks ago, the one they think is a Cold War relic?” Liam asks, trying to move the questioning along. “If so, I heard about it in the news, but I’m afraid I didn’t see anything.”

“So, you’ve nothing out of the ordinary to report?” Constable Hughes verifies. “Are you the only one at home right now?”

“Yes,” Liam answers and then instantly wants to kick himself when he notices that DC Lemmings is staring in the direction of the kitchen where there are very obviously two place settings on the table.

“So, Mrs. Payne isn’t home?” DC Lemmings asks, tone sharpening with suspicion.

“I’m not, uh, married.”

DC Lemmings’ face pinches in like a rodent’s. “Expecting someone, then?”

“No.” Liam pretends to just notice the extra setting. “Oh! Well, they’re sleeping at the moment, and I didn’t think—”

A door creaks open from upstairs, and Liam wants to scream at the horrible, dreadful, awful bad timing. Zayn soon appears at the top of the stairs, looking soft with his fluffy bedhead and Liam’s fleece dressing gown.

“Oh, I am sorry!” Zayn yelps, freezing in his tracks when he spies the police officers. “I must go back and dress.” He flees back into the room, swinging the door shut behind him.

Constable Hughes coughs and steps forward. Even though he’s the lower-ranking officer, he’s got a local accent as well as several years of living on the detective. “I know you’re new to these parts,” he tells Liam, “so I’ll just let you know that folks around here don’t give a jingle-jolly if you’ve got a missus or a mister. All’s we care about is that you’re good people.”

Liam decides to take the ‘out’ that’s been given to him. “Thank you. Yes, sorry, the man you saw is my…boyfriend, just come up from London. I didn’t want to wake him, especially since he wouldn’t be of any help because, like I said, he hasn’t been here that long.” Liam can feel his heart beating in his ears, and he sincerely hopes he doesn’t look as guilty as he feels. “I can, uh, call him down if you’d like, though? I’m sure it’ll only take him another minute or two to get decent.”

“No, that won’t be necessary,” DC Lemmings replies, and Liam can tell he’s wanting to check off another address on the list. “We’ve more knocking on doors to do. You have a good rest of your day, Mr. Payne.”

“You, as well,” Liam returns.

Before leaving, Constable Hughes tips his head. “Old Norm was a good one. We’ll miss him, but it’s good to know this place is staying in the family.”

Liam thanks him, then waits a tick so he doesn’t appear too eager when he closes the front door. “Zayn, you can come down now!” he shouts upstairs after they’ve driven away. Then, he goes back to plating the full English breakfast he prepared. It’s been sitting out for a few minutes, but there’s not much he can do about that.

Soon, he hears Zayn tiptoe into the kitchen. “Is it…safe?” he asks in a hush. He’s still wearing Liam’s teal dressing gown, and his ebony hair is even more of a mess than it was before.

“It’s safe,” Liam confirms, shooing Zayn into a chair before the breakfast he’s made gets any colder. “And something tells me it’s going to be safe from now on.”

☆☆☆

There’s something about early summer on a farm in the West Midlands. Yes, it’s supposed to be black country, coal country, but here on Liam’s little farm, with the apple trees efflorescent with pure-white blossoms and the cherry trees dotted in deepening pinks, one would never guess.

Zayn’s excitement for every new gift the season brings is contagious. He marvels at each budding plant, delights in the batch of baby chickens they’ve been blessed with. And when another goat becomes pregnant, Zayn asks the veterinarian more questions than a nervous dad expecting his first child.

The days drift by like dandelion fluff floating on a summer breeze. Liam doesn’t ask when Zayn plans to return to his home planet—or if he plans to return since Liam doesn’t have a clue how he’ll get back, what with his spaceship being destroyed and all.

One Sunday toward the end of July, they are invited to a family brunch. Zayn bakes pies for the occasion, including a pie each for his sisters to take home with them. Liam’s mum makes a roast and a crack about how this must be the man who has kidnapped her son. (It’s not true. Liam rings his mum up at least twice a week, and he’s already made plans to attend the Wolves’ opener with his dad.)

As they’re hugging goodbye, Liam’s mum makes him promise to bring Zayn along for the birthday celebration she’s planning for him. Liam agrees even though, one, he is well past the age of family birthday parties and, two, he’s been trying to forget about the milestone birthday that’s looming. Liam’s sisters tell him Zayn’s a keeper even while Liam insists they’re not a couple. “He’s wearing the button-up I gave you last Christmas, baby brother,” Ruth points out, and Liam doesn’t really have an explanation for that. (Not one she’d believe, anyway.)

Before leaving Wolverhampton, they make a pit-stop at the shopping centre. Liam tries to seem pleased when Zayn finds a knitted jumper he loves, or jeans that fit, or an outfit that really suits him. (To be fair, everything suits him). It’s not that Liam dislikes parting with the money—after all, Liam’s been saving up and Zayn has more than earned his keep. It’s just that Liam will miss seeing Zayn in his clothes.

(He needn’t have worried. Zayn still ends up wearing an item from Liam’s wardrobe more often than not.)

☆☆☆

It is several more days, days of contentment and cloud-gazing and binge-watching The Guardians of the Galaxy franchise, before Liam asks the first burning question:

“Why would you want to come to Earth anyway?” They’re lazing on the grass, just the two of them. Scooby has gone off to make friends with a purple butterfly, and Liam suspects he’ll soon switch to chasing glowworms.

“It is…mostly a holiday.” Zayn hesitates, and Liam is tempted to ask what the ‘mostly’ means, but then the man continues. “I wanted to see your trees and your mountains. I wanted to explore fields of Earth flowers. I wanted to meet your animals here on Earth—especially the dogs. I especially like the dogs. I wanted to study your technology. I wanted to fly over your cities and see the lights and imagine what the people are doing in their Earth dwellings. I wanted to feel your sun’s warmth on my skin and walk barefoot in a meadow. I wanted to witness an Earth sunrise and an Earth sunset. I wanted to know what it is to be an Earthling, even for a short time, but I do not think I ever will.”

“Why?”

“Because Earthlings do not seem to recognise how wonderful it all is, do they?” Zayn asks, growing pensive. “Only when they are young, perhaps. And after they are grown, they are not granted the time or they forgot. But then, it is probably the same with the people on my planet.”

“What is your planet like?”

“It is warmer—than England anyway,” Zayn laughs, tugging the blanket around him. “Golden sandy beaches stretch for miles, but the oceans are not blue. They are more silver, and our skies are like platinum. Everything shines and sparkles with our suns. It might be most like your Dubai, but then, it is not like it at all either. Our days last for longer than two Earth months and when one sun sets, another is rising or high in the sky. Our nights are blips between days. Darkness is a fleeting rarity and is either worshipped or feared. Our sky is never painted like an Earth sky.”

“And based on your reaction when you first witnessed one, I’m guessing rainbows aren’t a thing?”

A smile nudges at Zayn’s lips. “Yes, rainbows do not form in our skies. I always thought it was strange, that there were stories about monetary vessels at the end of rainbows.”

“Pots o’ gold, you mean?” Liam asks, chuckling to himself about the idea of little green men on Earth—or out in space, for that matter. “Yeah, it’s all bosh.”

“Yes, but the part I found the strangest was how Earthlings failed to recognise that the real treasure was the rainbow itself.”

“You’re amazing, you know that,” Liam says because he can’t not say it. He says it because it’s true.

“So are you.” Zayn blushes, and his cheeks turn the slightest tint of lavender. (And Liam is sort of in love with that.)

“Because I’m an Earthling?” Liam can feel his insecurities rise to the surface, that niggling thought that Zayn may only like him because he’s human and convenient.

“No, because you are Leeyum,” Zayn replies, palm gently skimming over the tips of the blades of grass. He seems tentative now, timid even. “You may recall that I spoke of you being familiar to me when we met.”

“Yes, didn’t you say that I looked like someone you knew?”

Zayn shakes his head. “I saw your face in a dream once,” he confesses shyly, his long eyelashes casting shadows upon his sharp cheekbones. “It was a nice dream.”

“You dream? The people from your planet, I mean.”

“Yes, of course we dream.”

“How nice of a dream, was it, Zayn?” Liam teases.

Zayn blushes again, and this time his cheeks bloom violet. “It was not that kind of a dream.”

“Do you think it means anything, the fact that you saw me in your dream?”

“Yes,” Zayn answers after a brief pause, “I believe it means that I was meant to find you.”

“And now that you’ve found me?” Liam presses, trying not to reveal how deeply the answer matters to him. He has never believed in things like fate before, but then, he never fully believed in the existence of human-like beings on other planets either.

“I feel like I have found my place, the little corner of the universe where I belong.”

“On a farm in Wolverhampton,” Liam deadpans.

“You underrate your farm,” Zayn scolds him. He stretches out his legs, careful not to disturb a stray dandelion or a spray of blue forget-me-nots. “It is green, and lush, and alive, and very beautiful. My planet, as I have stated, lacks such colours and variety. It has an excelling greenhouse effect, and so, we have had to devise ways to counter or reverse the undesired impacts.”

“You mean like clean energy?” Liam asks.

“Exactly,” Zayn smiles. “I will say this ‘clean energy’ is something we have been trying to gift to you for decades; however, your governments and corporations have not been eager to receive suggestions on new technologies that would help extend the habitability of your planet.”

Liam isn’t surprised by that news. “Distrust, reluctance to change, and the wish to make a profit are common qualities of our political and business leaders.”

“Or perhaps, my people have failed in convincing your people of their value. I will admit that we have only a feeble understanding of how your various political and economic systems on Earth work.”

“Your knowledge on the subject is impressive.”

Zayn gives a modest little shrug. “It is one of my areas of interest.”

“Yes, Earth studies,” Liam chuckles, winking at him.

And then a comfortable silence takes over. They watch the sun descend toward the horizon in all its fiery, radiant beauty. The golden sun reminds him of the colour of Zayn’s eyes, and Liam thinks he could stare into it for an eternity.

Too soon, it is gone, and the warmth recedes with it. Suddenly, Liam is acutely reminded of just how transient any joy in life is, how impossible it is to hold onto something that is so shiny, and warm, and beautiful.

Zayn shivers beside him. “It does not matter so much to me if I reside on a farm on Earth or somewhere else.”

“No?” Liam looks down at him, studies the other man from this angle even though the light is already making it difficult to do so. Still, he wants to have something to keep with him for those dreary days in the future after Zayn leaves. He’d rather not think about that right now, though. Instead, he tries to do what Zayn does, tries to intuit what the other is thinking and feeling.

“No, the little corner of the universe I have found is not this farm but wherever you are, wherever you go.” Zayn giggles softly, then bumps shoulders with him. “Right next to you, Leeyum.”

“Always?” Liam chances, but he worries it’s too much, even for a moment like this.

Zayn sighs, gaze still fixed on the vacant horizon. “For as long as I am allowed.”

Liam tries not to read too much into it. He really doesn’t want to ask the questions that haunt him in the wee small hours of the night, but he thinks them.

He thinks them, and the whispering wind seems to echo them back:

When will you return home? When will all of this fade away like the dream it is?

When will you leave me?

☆☆☆

August brings the heaviest of the harvest. Branches hang heavy with ripening fruit. Wheat waits to be reaped. Liam doesn’t have time to work in his fruit and vegetable garden at all, even with the extra farmhands he’s brought in for the next month or so for combine season. It’s a godsend to have Zayn around to tend to the garden and the animals, to pick the early-season apples and pick up some of the cooking and cleaning around the house.

(It’s a godsend to have Zayn around.)

August also brings the Perseids. It’s the first time Liam has watched a meteor shower with anyone but his dad, and he hasn’t even done that for years. Neither of his girlfriends were ever interested in skywatching or anything to do with nature, really. In retrospect, such things should have been a sign that they were incompatible. But then, Liam’s always thought he was the type of person who was incompatible with everyone, the type of person who would need to change himself in order to be loved.

Two years ago, he watched the Perseids from the back of his old pickup in an empty car park. Last year, he watched them from the porch of the farmhouse, sat in the old rocking chair like he was about to turn seventy-nine rather than twenty-nine. He remembers that the empty rocking chair beside him was the only company he’d had. He thought about moving it farther down the porch but decided it would be a waste of energy. After all, he needed it for the occasional friend or family member who’d come up to visit him on the farm—a wellness check, generally.

This year, he’s on the porch again, but Zayn is occupying the other rocking chair. It’s a lovely night, warm and dark enough that the meteor shower is the sole standout on the celestial stage. He glances over at Zayn, and Zayn smiles shyly back at him, the glittering specks of light reflected in his eyes. Liam has an urge to hold the other man’s hand, but he doesn’t know if he’s allowed, if it’s something Zayn would want. He realises then that he’s fallen completely and hopelessly in love with the man next to him, so much so that he nearly forgets about the meteor shower. But then, he catches a glimpse of a particularly radiant object shooting across the sky.

He makes a wish.

Liam’s birthday closes out the month, and Zayn accompanies him to Wolverhampton. It’s only awkward once when Ruth asks for Zayn’s Instagram, but then, his sisters are falling all over themselves to say how much they admire Zayn for not being enslaved to social media. (Meanwhile, Nicola bites Liam’s head off if he so much as forgets to ‘like’ one of her posts.) It’s nice, the party, because it’s small. His dad’s there, and Andy stops by. Ruth has brought the kids, too, and he loves getting the chance to play with them while they’re still young enough to adore him for no other reason than the fact that he’s their uncle. (They instantly adore Zayn, too, and Liam tries not to think too much about that.) For once, his mum doesn’t invite any eligible bachelors or bachelorettes, and Liam knows it’s because she thinks Zayn and him are together even though he keeps telling her that it’s merely a mutually beneficial living arrangement. As Liam blows out the candles on his birthday cake, his only wish is that Zayn will be there for the next one.

With September comes the village ploughing match. Liam doesn’t place dead last in the competition this year, which is a marked improvement over his first year. He’s made progress over the past year in more ways than one. Zayn quirks his lips and smiles whenever Liam recites some of what he’s been learning from his online agriculture class. It hasn’t been a surprise that the information has been valuable, but it is a surprise, perhaps, that Liam finds it so interesting. Zayn encourages him to take another class in the winter.

On Niall’s birthday, Liam rings up his friend to wish him a happy birthday and to make sure he’s received his gift. Niall thanks him profusely, then orders him to get his arse down to London before the end of September.

Liam reminds him that it’s the middle of harvest season and that the M40 works both ways.

Niall then reminds Liam that he lives on a farm in the middle of nowhere. Niall also shares that he’s been recently promoted. “A few days won’t kill ya, Payno, and I won’t be able to skive off for weeks. Actually, a short break might be just what you need. Oh, and bring Zayn along,” he tacks on, and it sounds more like a command than a suggestion. “You two can make a holiday of it, entertain each other and what-not while I have to work.” Not for the first time, Liam asks him what he does, and as usual, Niall brushes it off with “boring computer stuff, you know.” (Liam doesn’t really know.)

Before they hang up, Liam promises his best mate that he and Zayn will be down for a long weekend as soon as the worst of the harvest season is over.

Chapter 3

Chapter Text

It’s not Liam’s first trip to London by any stretch of the imagination, but it almost feels like it is. Zayn has been over the moon ever since he found out they were going to ‘the London,’ and Liam is looking forward to doing all the touristy things that his older sisters and best mates always cringed at. Visiting the capital with Zayn will be like seeing the city through new eyes.

If they ever manage to get out of Euston Station, that is.

It’s already been a long day. They had spent the better part of the morning on the farm, Liam administering last-minute instructions to Old Tom, who isn’t really old at all. Old Tom is Liam’s most-trusted farmhand, however, and the man agreed to watch over the farm and Scooby while they were away. After that, they drove to Liam’s mum’s house in Wolverhampton where they planned to leave the pickup for the next several days. Then, his mum roped them into having lunch with her, reasoning that they’d have to eat anyways and that it was the very least they could do because she barely gets to see them as it is. (Liam tries to remember when she smoothly transitioned from guilt-tripping only him to guilt-tripping both Zayn and him.) Eventually, she dropped them off at Wolverhampton Station where they made their train by the grace of God and the skin of their teeth.

The train ride had been relatively uneventful, with Zayn gazing out the window at the passing countryside. After Zayn started reading the book he’d brought along, Liam found himself nodding off. When he awoke a short time later, he was horrified to discover he had been using the other man’s broad shoulder as a pillow. Zayn just smiled at him, saying he hadn’t minded at all.

Still, Liam was sure to stay awake for the remainder of the journey.

After a slight delay at Stafford, the train eventually chugged into London Euston around half five. That was over an hour ago, and they have yet to set foot outside of the station.

It ‘s taken nearly as long as the journey itself for Liam to drag his inquisitive travelling companion past the WH Smith and the food kiosks. Like the dozens of pigeons that have wandered inside, Zayn is flitting everywhere, leaving his luggage behind every thirty seconds. Liam finally gives up and juggles it all himself: Zayn’s rolling suitcase, his own holdall, and the hatbox that’s chockful of scones, less one tin of the apple-honey scones Zayn gave to Liam’s mum. (Zayn originally wanted to bring a six-pack of pies for Niall, but luckily, Liam managed to talk him out of that idea.)

It's early evening by the time Liam is able to wrangle the bags and Zayn out of the station. They hail a black cab and head to homebase—Niall’s suspiciously large flat straddling the cities of Camden and Westminster on Kilburn High Road. It’s not exactly the poshest of areas, but it’s central, close to the underground station, and there’s an Irish pub (or five) within walking distance. The flat itself, though, is impressive. It’s a newly renovated two-bedroom with all the mod cons and even a tiny back garden. Liam halfway suspects his friend must be involved in some semi-legal side-hustle in order to afford the place all on his own.

“This is sweet, bro,” Liam says after Niall’s finished the mini-tour, ending at the doorway of the cosy guestroom that Niall’s decorated in warm neutral tones. “Cheers again for the invite and all.”

“Piss off—you’re always welcome at mine,” Niall shushes him. “Oh, by the way…you two don’t mind sharing, do ya?”

Liam swallows as he surveys the double bed. “Don’t you have a king? Might make more sense to bunk with you, no?”

Niall pats him on the shoulder. “Liam, I love you like a brother, but I require a minimum of seven hours of uninterrupted slumber, and you, sir, are a fidgeter. Also, I snore.”

Liam has known Niall for years, and yet, the man still remains an enigma to him at times. “I don’t mind if you snore, mate. What’s that got to do with anything?”

“It has everything to do with everything,” Niall contends, but Zayn starts to laugh before he can go on.

“Leeyum, if Niall snores, then you will fidget and awaken him.”

“Clever one, innit he?” Niall hums, and Liam thinks his friend doesn’t know the half of it. “Yes, and then it will turn into a vicious cycle, and you know how cranky I become when I am sleep-deprived. In short, I am doing us all a favour by giving you lot the guestroom.”

“I’m good with sleeping on the couch,” Liam volunteers, but Niall isn’t having any of it.

“Once again, I will remind you that it is called ‘the guestroom’ for a reason,” Niall says, arms folded across his chest like he’s daring Liam to argue with him. “Besides, that is a new leather couch, and I paid a pretty quid for it. What if you drool?”

“I don’t drool!” Liam sputters, and he can feel his cheeks heating up.

“Scooby drools like a leaky tap, and you know what they say about dogs and their owners,” Niall says sagely.

Liam is so done with this visit already. “I don’t resemble my dog, Niall.”

Zayn co*cks his head to the side, a smile flirting at his lips. “You do a bit, though.”

“Cheers,” Liam mumbles. He doesn’t want to say that his feelings are hurt over something so trivial, but…they sort of are. He’s never been all that confident about his looks, no matter how many times he’s been told he’s fit or attractive. It just sort of stings because it’s a reminder that Zayn’s out of his league. Liam thinks Zayn looks like a god, and apparently, Zayn thinks Liam looks like a dog.

“No!” Zayn blurts out, and Liam guesses this sudden turnaround is because he has picked up on Liam’s thoughts. “Physically, it is primarily your colouring and your eyes. You have puppy-dog eyes—that is the expression, I think? And you share some personality traits. Scooby is very kind and brave and loveable and cuddly. You both are like sunshine to me.”

Niall pretends to gag. “Yeah, so as I was saying, I figured you two would be more than fine with sharing.”

Liam is still processing what Zayn said. All he knows is that he can’t possibly sleep in the same bed as the other man now, not with his heart currently racing with possibilities. Zayn just compared him to sunshine. Huh. Liam can totally be normal about that. (He just can’t be normal about that if they’re sleeping in the same bed.)

The problem is that he’s sort of caught in a catch-22. If Liam chooses to sleep in the guest bed with Zayn, it’ll be pure torture. If he keeps coming up with excuses not to sleep in the guest bed, it’ll seem like he’s being a proper douchenozzle.

“Leeyum, I do not mind occupying the same bed,” Zayn says. “Yes, it is limited space, but I think we can manage.” He thanks Niall again, then heads into the guestroom with his suitcase.

Liam glares at his supposed friend. For once, he can read him like a comic book. “You’ve planned it this way on purpose, didn’t you?” he accuses under his breath.

Niall shrugs. “The bed’s more comfortable than the couch,” he says with a grin before reaching up to pinch Liam’s cheek. “Also, you’re welcome, mate.”

☆☆☆

They end up staying in the first night. Thanks to Liam’s mum, both he and Zayn are still stuffed from lunch. Instead of ordering takeaway, they graze on Niall’s endless supply of salty snacks and Zayn’s scones. (‘Where have you been all my life?’ Niall jokes after taking his first bite of an apple-cinnamon scone.)

They catch up with what’s been happening in their lives as a footie match streams in the background. (It’s some preliminary round FA Cup tie with Niall’s club, Derby, so Liam doesn’t much bother with it; Zayn cheers when either team scores; Niall shakes his head in disgust at both of them.) Later, Niall suggests they try out a couple of his new PlayStation games. Zayn must be a good-luck charm because, for once, Liam wins most of the rounds while Niall curses in Irish.

It's when they’re getting ready for bed that Liam finds it, the air mattress. It’s brand-new, still in the box. Niall shrugs. Liam glares at him while he inflates the mattress, then fights with Zayn over who gets to sleep on it. Zayn can be stubborn, so Liam has learnt to pick his battles. This, however, is a hill he is willing to die on: Liam is sleeping on the bloody air bed.

Niall suggests flipping a coin. He finds a 10p-piece in his pocket, carefully places it on his thumbnail, and flicks it high into the air. Zayn calls tails. The coin comes down in a clatter on the wooden floorboards. Zayn wins, claiming that means he gets the air mattress. Liam objects, saying the winner of the coin toss should get the real bed. Zayn argues that the winner should have the right to choose.

With Niall mediating, they finally establish that the winner chooses. Then, they start over.

Niall flicks the coin up in the air again, even higher this time. Zayn calls tails. He wins again, and Liam quickly calls for best of five.

Niall shoots him a warning look but flips the coin anyway. It comes up tails. Again.

“Two out of five,” Zayn smirks, his eyes glowing.

In fact, they are glowing. “You bloody cheated!” Liam protests. Zayn shrugs, but the twitch of his lips tells Liam that he definitely meddled with the outcome.

Niall rolls his eyes. “He didn’t even touch the coin, mate.”

“He didn’t have to,” Liam mutters. He has only witnessed it a few times, but he’s well aware that Zayn can move things with his mind, that his telekinetic ability increases when he’s upset or agitated. “You got anything bigger than 10p, Niall? Maybe a quid?”

Niall collects the coin from the floor. “I don’t think the value of the coin’s gonna make a difference, ya git.”

“Humour me.”

“Fine,” Niall grouses. “Y’know, this is why I conveniently ‘forgot’ about that bleedin’ blow-up mattress in the first place.” He digs into his pocket again and finds a one-pound piece. It’s much heavier than the other coin, and Liam figures it’s got to be more difficult to manipulate.

Niall flips the coin, and it arcs through the air, landing on its edge. It wobbles for a second and appears just about ready to fall heads-up when it suddenly shifts the other way, smacking the floor with a clang.

“Tails!” Niall shouts. Liam’s mouth drops open. Zayn looks smug as f*ck.

Liam vows never to agree to another coin toss with Zayn again.

☆☆☆

While Niall works during the day, Zayn and Liam tackle the museums—well, as many of the ones with free admission as they can manage anyway.

They spend most of the morning at the National Gallery, then stop for brunch at a café around Trafalgar Square. They take the tube to Kensington, and in one fell swoop, they hit the Natural History Museum, the V&A, and the Science Museum.

By the time they return to Niall’s flat in Kilburn, Liam feels about as dead knackered as he would after a full day of harvesting on the farm. Niall takes one look at them, then makes the executive decision of calling a pizza-and-poker night. Zayn wins nearly every hand even though Liam only taught him how to play cards last week.

The next morning, they visit the British Library. Liam has to remind him repeatedly that even though it is technically a library, he cannot check out any of the rare books or manuscripts.

The remainder of the day is reserved for exploring the British Museum, and Liam is pretty sure he’s saved the best for last. Zayn is like a child in a sweetshop, dragging Liam to the various floors, to nooks and crannies of the building Liam didn’t even know existed. Zayn marvels at each and every artefact, and Liam, who has always been fascinated by ancient civilisations, gets caught up with it all, too. From time to time, Zayn blurts out things like: ‘The Rosetta Stone! Yes, that was one of ours!’ (Liam tries not to think too much about these occasional comments or he’s sure his head will explode from the sheer mindf*ckery of it all.)

That night they decide to continue the trend of keeping their evenings simple. That’s why they’re down the road at Niall’s favourite Irish pub. That’s also why Liam is about to throw his non-alcoholic lager at the portrait of Sir Colin Campbell if one more bird or bloke tries to chat Zayn up.

But, unfortunately, that’s not the worst of his problems.

The thing is…Liam’s an idiot, and he really should’ve seen this coming. He made the massive gaffe of agreeing to stay at Niall’s because Niall insisted and because Liam was foolish enough to think he wouldn’t notice anything different about Zayn even though his friend has always been observant. Niall could spot an error in sheet music or an irregularity in web code better than most people could spot their own vehicle in a crowded car park.

Also, Liam really needs to have a talk with Zayn about the whole intuiting thing. Zayn clearly finds Niall amusing because he keeps laughing at his dumb jokes—the ones he gets anyway—but there have been a few times when he’s picked up on Niall’s thoughts, too. Zayn must vibe with Niall because he’s usually a little more guarded with new people and even Liam’s family. Liam doubts it’s the alcohol because, as far as he can tell, Zayn’s only had a few sips of the Guiness Niall ordered for him after he admitted he’d never tried it before.

“Could you please direct me to where the water closet is located?” Zayn asks about an hour into the night, and Liam makes a mental note to practise some common informal phrases with him.

“You mean the loo, mate?” Niall chuckles. “In the corner over that way.”

“Thank you.”

Liam jumps up from the booth to follow him. “I’ll just, uh, show him where it is.”

“He’s already halfway there, Liam. Have a seat.” Niall meets his gaze, and once again, Liam knows it’s an order, not an invitation.

Liam sits back down.

Niall finishes off the community chips, then downs the rest of his sixth pint (and counting), and Liam is beginning to wonder if the man has a hollow leg to go with his ever-expanding wallet. “What’s the deal with Zayn?” he asks, getting to the point quickly. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say he’s not human.”

To Liam’s credit, he manages not to drop his lager. “Yeah, he’s not real,” Liam deflects, laughing a little too loudly even for an Irish pub. He could pass it off as being a bit potted, but he hasn’t had any alcohol for over a year, and Niall knows it.

One of Niall’s eyebrows arches like a cartoon villain. “What aren’t you telling me, Payne? Am I harbouring an international fugitive wanted by Interpol?”

“Of course not,” Liam scoffs. Then, he takes a chug of his lager so Niall will stop scrutinising his expression.

“Actually, he doesn’t look capable of violent crime, now that I’ve met him.” Niall strokes the non-existent hair on his chin. “If he is a criminal, it’s probably something more along the lines of jewellery robber or art thief.”

“You’re being ridiculous,” Liam scolds him because his friend’s talking absolute rubbish. Zayn would never mastermind an art heist. (And okay, there’s the slight possibility that Zayn would ‘borrow’ a rare book or two from the British Library if given the opportunity, but he’d definitely return it. Eventually.) “Niall, you promised me you’d give him a chance, that you wouldn’t be like this.”

“That was before you started getting economical with the truth, mate.”

Liam just grunts into his drink.

“What?!” Niall demands, throwing up his hands like he’s not being a complete twat. “We’ve been mates long enough that I can tell when you’re holding something back. And if you’ve got your panties in a twist over the fact that I said your boyfriend is giving jewellery thief, then I meant that as a compliment. I’d say the same about the Tommo.”

“Zayn’s not my boyfriend,” Liam mumbles.

“Really?” Niall mutters. “That’s the only thing you got from all that?” He takes a swig of Zayn’s nearly full pint, then lowers his voice a notch. “All I’m saying is that there is definitely something a wee bit off about that guy.”

“I told you. He’s…not from around here.”

“It’s not only the way he acts,” Niall insists, leaning over the table. “Dude, have you seen his eyes? I swear I’ve seen them change—”

“Zayn!” Liam exclaims with a little too much enthusiasm. He’s happy Zayn has found his way back to the table of course, but more than that, Liam is relieved he won’t have to face the one-man firing squad any longer.

Zayn gives him a lopsided smile as he slides back into the booth, and the crisis is diverted.

(For the moment, at least.)

☆☆☆

Once they’re safely tucked away in the guestroom, Liam shares the close call he’d had with Niall at the pub. Zayn comes up with a simple but ingenious solution:

“Why do we not tell him the truth?”

“You’re okay with that?” Liam gapes. “I mean, are you positive?” He’s not going to do anything without making certain it’s what Zayn wants. After all, it’s Zayn’s secret, not his.

“Do you trust him not to tell?”

“Yeah, Niall would never betray a confidence.”

Zayn nods as if the matter is closed. “My…instincts lead me to believe you are not wrong about him. If you wish, you may tell him tomorrow. The news might be less unsettling coming from a close friend,” he muses, and in the moonlight, Liam can see how pale and tired he looks.

Liam makes a mental note to slow the pace down for the remainder of the trip. There is time enough to fit in the most important things. Besides, there’ll be other trips to London. (He hopes there’ll be other trips anyway.) But convincing Zayn to take it easy will be the difficult part. The man certainly likes to live each day to the fullest, but Liam gets it. Everything is new for him. “Why don’t we call it a night?” he suggests when he sees Zayn’s eyelids drooping. “Here you take the bed,” Liam insists because he has already slept in it two nights in a row.

Zayn doesn’t argue. “Perhaps, I will lie down for a few minutes,” he concedes. Liam reaches down to grab the extra blankets and pillows from atop the air mattress, and Zayn gathers them up like he’s nesting before lying back down. Zayn prefers being extra warm, especially when he’s sleeping; he likes to leave a light on, too. Liam suspects it tricks his body into feeling like it’s back on his home planet.

Liam studies him now, his endlessly long eyelashes fluttering against his cheeks. His breathing sounds shallow, almost raspy, and Liam wonders if that’s normal or if his body is still adjusting to being on Earth. Zayn has had to become accustomed to a new climate, air composition, and even a marginal difference in gravity. Overall, Liam is awestruck at how seamlessly Zayn has managed to assimilate into life on Earth. And yet, Zayn still hasn’t lost any of the qualities that Liam discovered (and instantly loved) about him in those first few days. He’s still beautiful, inside and out.

He's still the most amazing person Liam will ever know.

“May the moons guide you and the stars watch over you always,” Liam whispers, lifting the duvet up until it reaches the dips of his lovely collarbones.

And maybe it’s just his imagination, but he thinks he sees Zayn’s lips curve into a contented smile in his sleep.

☆☆☆

Liam tells Niall the very next morning.

He hadn’t slept well, but it had little to do with sleeping on the air mattress. It’s distracting enough, sleeping in the same room as Zayn, but Liam had been tossing and turning all night. He’d been trying to find the best way to tell Niall about the whole Zayn-not-being-human thing.

When Liam walks into the kitchen, Niall is already awake despite drinking his weight in Guiness the night before. It doesn’t surprise him, though, since Niall’s always been the early bird of the group. And all things considered, the man looks none the worse for wear if you don’t count the way he’s staring at the coffee machine and tapping his fingers on the counter like he needs a caffeine fix yesterday.

To his amazement, Niall takes the news a heck of a lot better than Liam expected. (He certainly takes the news better than Liam did at first.)

“Makes sense,” Niall says before going back to making coffee. “f*cking Flavia,” he mutters, trying to get the single-serve coffeemaker to brew. After opening and shutting all the compartments and pressing each button at least twice, the machine starts gurgling.

“That’s it?” Liam asks in disbelief, and Niall shrugs as he stares at the machine, willing it to go faster. Liam muses how Zayn might be able to do just that, use his trifling telekinetic powers to speed up the process. “Seriously, mate? I tell you Zayn’s not from this planet, and that’s your only reaction?”

“I mean…it’s better than being a serial killer, right?”

“Well, yeah,” Liam admits because obviously. “But I thought you’d have some questions or whatever.”

“Oh, I do,” Niall tells him. “Although I reckon I’ll get better information out of him than you.”

“Just don’t be rude, yeah? He’s a nice guy, and—”

“You’re in love with him. Yeah, yeah. I got that.”

“Niall—”

“Liam, I’m just looking after your interests,” he explains calmly. “Also, the interests of Earth.” The coffeemaker starts spluttering loudly then, covering up Liam’s own spluttering protests. “No worries, bro,” Niall comforts him before collecting his steaming cup, “I’ll be nice to your alien loverboy.”

By the time Liam finishes making his cuppa with just the right amount of milk and sugar, Niall’s already on his second mug of coffee. They decide to sit out in the back garden. It’s just a table and some green space really, but it’s a nice escape from the city, even if the hustle-and-bustle of Kilburn High Road can still be heard from inside the high walls. A slightly deflated football rests in the corner, and Liam wonders how the man can possibly kick around a ball in this postage stamp of a back garden.

They chat for a while, catch-up on how their families are and what their mates are up to. It’s nice, but it’s even nicer when Zayn stumbles outside with sleepy eyes and sleep-mussed hair.

“Dia duit ar maidin,” Niall greets him, probably more out of habit than anything else.

“Dia is Muire daoibh,” Zayn yawns back, sidling into Liam’s side. Liam offers him his cup, and Zayn smiles dopily at him before tipping it to his lips.

“So, you speak Gaelic, then?” the Irishman asks.

“A little,” Zayn answers. “It is a very beautiful language.”

They linger outside a few minutes more until Niall suggests they go back inside the house where they won’t be ‘overheard.’ Niall winks knowingly at Liam, and Liam is already dreading whatever questions his friend has lined up for Zayn.

They are headed inside when Niall stops suddenly. “Damn dandelions,” he curses, stooping to pull up a yellow-capped stalk that’s wedged between the grass and cement.

Zayn looks to Liam, confusion lining his brow.

“Many people consider them weeds,” Liam explains to him.

“Yep,” Niall confirms. “Dandelions are the blight of suburbia.” London isn’t exactly ‘suburbia,’ but Liam doesn’t bother to correct him on that point.

“But they are beautiful,” Zayn objects, watching forlornly as Niall tosses the flower into the bin. “Scooby and I often walk through the orchard back home, and there are hundreds of dandelions growing by the cherry trees. The cherries have all been picked, but the dandelions still brighten our day.”

Liam’s a bit stuck on the fact that Zayn referred to Liam’s farm as ‘home,’ so he barely catches Niall’s snarky remark:

“Sounds like someone has been slacking in their weeding duties—eh, Payno?”

Liam rolls his eyes at his city-slicker best mate. “They’re a companion plant for the cherry trees,” he replies. “The dandelions protect the soil and bring nutrients up to the surface.”

“Huh,” Niall says. “You really did take to this whole farming thing like a duck to water, didn’t ya?” For some reason, his best mate sounds more surprised about that than the fact that aliens exist.

And in a way, Liam is too.

☆☆☆

“So, Zayn,” Niall begins once they’re all settled in the living room, “are you acting as a scout for your planet? Like, are you trying to uncover whether your people would be able to take over our planet, or inhabit our minds or bodies, or something?”

“Niall!” Liam hisses. He’s about to apologise to Zayn, who’s on the opposite end of Niall’s fancy leather couch, but the other man looks more confused than offended.

“Why would we want to do any of that?” Zayn asks, his brows furrowed. “We are not conquerors, colonizers, or bodysnatchers. Besides, we have our own planet which will likely outlast yours.”

Niall nods, seemingly satisfied. His next questions, however, proves that he isn’t quite done with the mini-interrogation. “So, no ulterior motive at all? You’re not going to come drain the oceans or anything like that?”

Zayn laughs like it’s the most hilarious thing he’s ever heard. “Sorry, it is just that the logistics of that are impractical, if not impossible, and why would we take water from your planet anyway? Earth does not even have the most liquid water in its own star system.”

“Really?” Liam asks. “There is a planet in our solar system with more water then Earth?”

“It is not actually a planet, but yes, Leeyum. I believe you call it Europa; it is a satellite or moon of the planet Jupiter.”

“Wow.”

“Wow,” Niall agrees, leaning back in his armchair. “Glad we got that all sorted. Now, I don’t have to feel bad about liking you. Also, maybe you can tell me how you do that cool thing where you make your eyes change colours.”

“Niall,” Liam groans because the question sounds...personal or rude or something. On the other hand, Liam is rather curious. “Zayn, you don’t have to answer that…unless, like, you want to.”

Zayn’s expression is one of fond indulgence. “I do not consciously control it. The colour change is a common genetic mutation in my species. It is more of a physiological response, I believe.”

“I think it’s, uh, sensitive to your emotions, too,” Liam remarks, and he can feel his cheeks heat up.

Niall raises an eyebrow at him before giving his attention back to Zayn. “That’s so f*cking cool. It’s like you’ve got a built-in mood ring.”

Zayn laughs, and there’s just the slightest hint of self-consciousness in it. His gaze meets Liam’s, and there’s a shy question in his eyes. His eyes are golden now—not bright gold like Liam’s seen them before, but a more comforting shade, the colour of a sun-kissed wheatfield just before harvest.

And Liam answers. Not with clumsy words but with his heart, his soul:

Your eyes are beautiful. You are beautiful. Every part of you is perfect.

He thinks Zayn understands.

☆☆☆

The three of them visit Portobello Market, meander around Notting Hill. Occasionally, Zayn will stop to make a little sketch in the guidebook he’s got his nose stuck in, and Liam always takes a picture of that location, just in case Zayn needs it later for reference. Niall takes loads of photos himself, most of them silly selfies of the three of them.

They walk south, past Kensington Palace, Niall acting as self-appointed tour guide. Liam suddenly spots a blue plaque on a building, indicating that they’ve come across the house where Oscar Wilde once lived. Zayn’s nose is still buried in his guidebook, so Liam gently tips his chin up to point out the little piece of literary history they’ve stumbled upon. Zayn smiles up at him over the top of the book, eyes sparkling in the afternoon sun. It takes everything in Liam not to lean forward and kiss him.

(If Niall wasn’t there, Liam is almost certain he would have done just that.)

Later that evening, Niall escorts them around to all his favourite haunts. They hang out, enjoy each scene. Liam vibes with all of the places they visit, really digs the music at one of the clubs in particular, but a part of him itches for the tranquillity of the farm. Maybe he’s getting old or maybe he’s just always been the boring type, needing a quiet night after a string of loud ones.

Liam never thought it would happen, but he misses his farm. He misses Scooby, and the goats, and the chickens, and Alfie, the bloody rooster that wakes him up every day at the arse-crack of dawn. He misses his garden, and the fruit trees, and riding around in a tractor, laughing about everything and nothing with Zayn at his side. He misses the sky, and the soil, and the peaceful evenings spent relaxing on the couch after an honest day’s work, just Zayn and him.

London has been fun, but now, Liam’s ready to go back home.

☆☆☆

The next morning, they say goodbye to Niall and to London.

Niall’s eyes are glossier than normal as he keeps up that constant prattle of his. He tells Liam not to be a stranger, and they hug like Liam’s travelling across an ocean rather than just taking a train a couple of hours away. Niall bearhugs Zayn, too, and Liam hears his best mate whisper the same words he whispered into Liam’s ear only moments before:

“Take care of him. He needs you.”

As Zayn pulls away, Liam realises that something isn’t right. Zayn seems…guilty; he nods acknowledgment at Niall, but his whole countenance has gone dull, ashen.

He won’t look at Liam.

And Liam spends most of the train ride home wishing he knew why.

☆☆☆

Things aren’t quite the same after they return home from London. It’s like some invisible dynamic between them has shifted. It’s like a broken zip that’s just a bit off. Maybe it still functions, but it will never hold things together in the same way until you rip the two sides apart and start anew. But then, the zip may never work again after that.

The change is hard to observe and even harder to describe. It hides in the intangible cracks between them. It seeps into the silences that once were comfortable. It pelts the windows and roof when it rains. (It rains nearly every day.)

Zayn sleeps in longer and longer each morning. He doesn’t go outside or help as much with the farm either. It’s a gradual decline, almost untraceable like all the other changes. Liam wonders if the other man is avoiding him or the situation or something else.

It’s not always noticeable. At times, it feels like nothing has changed between them, that they’re the same as they were during that long, blissful summer. They talk, and laugh, and enjoy homecooked meals together, and stargaze well into the night.

Things aren’t quite the same after they return home from London, but sometimes, Liam pretends they are.

☆☆☆

“Are you the first to visit Earth?” Liam asks one night after supper. Technically, Zayn’s still picking at his food, but he’s been doing that for the past fifteen minutes.

Overall, the past few days have been good—better than good, actually. Last Saturday, Zayn accompanied him to a farmers’ market. Now that it has finally stopped raining, Zayn has been out and about around the farm more, too.

Maybe that’s all it was—the incessant rain and Liam’s imagination running wild.

“Am I the first person from my planet to travel to Earth?” Zayn restates, and Liam’s almost forgotten he asked the question in the first place. “No, far from it.”

Liam gulps. He always suspected there was something a bit off with the postman. Then, there’s Louis’ fiancé, Harry….

Zayn shakes his head, picking up on Liam’s thoughts. “You misunderstand me. There are a handful of us here. Not many. Most people from my planet do not bother with lower life forms although there has been more interest since you recently evolved to resemble us.”

“Recently?” Liam scoffs.

Zayn shrugs. “You did not even have a language when we were building domed cities. But you progressed swiftly—perhaps, too swiftly. I once wrote a dissertation on how your progress has often outpaced your understanding of the laws of the universe as well as your own planet’s fragilities. But I digress.” He quiets for a moment, brow furrowed. “What was it you wanted to know again?”

Liam sincerely hopes Zayn isn’t using his powers of intuition right now because all Liam can think about is how pale and wan the other man looks. Zayn’s pupils appear too black and too bright at the same time, and his cheekbones are almost too defined. The man mentioned writing a paper on a topic Liam could barely comprehend, then a second later couldn’t recall the original question.

Liam studies the knots in the kitchen table. Ever since they returned from London, Liam has been growing more and more concerned. He’s not sure if he can hide that fact from someone as perceptive as Zayn. (He’s not sure if he should.)

When Liam sneaks another glance at Zayn, he sees him rubbing his temples. “You look proper knackered. I’ll get the dishes tonight, and you can finish answering my silly questions tomorrow.”

“No,” Zayn answers, snapping to attention. “I…um….” He squints, and Liam can almost see the cogs turning in that brilliant brain of his. “I have it! You wanted to know about previous expeditions to Earth.”

“Yes, but if you’d prefer to—”

“I am fine.” Zayn waves him off, and Liam can’t help but think about how many additional nonverbals the man has picked up since he arrived. “A century or two ago, we visited with more frequency,” Zayn begins, and he’s gone into story mode now. “Our explorers would take books from your libraries. At first, I do not think they understood the concept of borrowing. Soon, Earthlings began to notice an increase in unreturned library books, so it was decided that we would gift you the invention of the internet.”

Liam can’t hide his incredulity. “You gave us the internet?”

“Yes, and we also intervened once before that as well. I should probably not be disclosing this, but Alan Turing was one of ours.”

“Turing—like, from the Second World War? The codebreaker and computer genius?”

“Yes, that is he,” Zayn confirms. “You did not treat him well, however, and because of your laws against hom*osexuality and your continued wars, it was recommended by the High Council that tourist excursions be halted indefinitely. Occasional research-related trips were still approved. After you were given the internet, it was possible to do research from lightyears away, and so, travelling to Earth became unnecessary.”

“I’m guessing hom*ophobia isn’t a thing on your planet, then?”

“No, it is not.”

“How about, um, sexual preference and orientation?”

Zayn looks at him funny, then goes back to pushing the peas around on his plate. “We do not necessarily categorise these things, but for example, I would probably identify as bisexual or pansexual in your society.”

Liam takes a long swig of cold water, trying to block out his inappropriate thoughts before Zayn can read them. “So, uh, you could get an Earth woman pregnant in theory, right? Could there be hybrids walking around on Earth?”

Zayn raises an eyebrow at that. “No, it does not work like that. The theory is that our two species cannot reproduce even when the complementary sexual organs are present because our DNA differs. It is not believed, however, that any of your bodily substances would be toxic to us or vice-versa.”

Liam stores that information for possible future use. Then, he silently drinks his water while Zayn starts picking at his plate again.

Liam yearns to ask him so many more questions about Planet Z—questions about social norms and technology and religion and gender—but he doesn’t want to overwhelm him either. Despite the lack of colour and vegetation, the planet Zayn left behind sounds more like a utopian society than anything they’ve got going on Earth. Not for the first time, Liam wonders why anyone would leave all that for whatever he’s found here.

“Peace,” Zayn replies in answer to Liam’s unspoken thoughts, and it doesn’t even faze Liam when he does it this time, “and what you would call fate. As I told you before, I believe I was meant to travel here. Earth has been calling to me for as long as I can remember.”

For once, Liam decides to throws all caution to the wind. “You told me once that you saw me in your dreams—before you came to Earth, I mean.”

“Yes.”

“Well, don’t you think that has to mean something?” Liam asks, hoping Zayn will connect the dots for him or tell him he’s wrong or say anything to get him out of this purgatory. But something tells Liam that he’s right about this feeling being mutual, that he’s not the only one who recognises how space and time must have conspired to bring them together. He can’t be reading the signs wrong. He can’t.

“Yes, I believe it has meaning, the way I was pulled to you,” Zayn answers, and instead of what Liam was hoping for, there’s only sadness in his tone. “Leeyum...,” he begins but then he falters.

“Zayn, I love you,” Liam blurts out before his courage melts away.

Zayn stares at his plate. “It would be better if you did not.”

“I can’t help how I feel. I love you Zayn. I’m in love with you,” he clarifies, just to make sure nothing is lost in translation.

“I am sorry.”

“So, you don’t feel the same way?” Liam asks, and he hates the way his voice catches, but he needs confirmation either way.

Zayn pushes his plate away and sighs. “It does not matter if I love or do not love.”

“But do you love me?”

“It is better if I do not.”

“Why?” Liam demands.

Zayn frowns at his hands. “I have upset you. Perhaps, I should go.”

“Upstairs?” Liam asks. Zayn still won’t look at him, and Liam feels his heart and his hopes for the future shatter into a million pieces. “You meant leave for good, didn’t you? You’ve been planning to leave for a while now, just walk out one day without saying a bloody word.”

Zayn’s silence is all the answer he needs.

Liam thinks back to that last day in London, how Zayn has never seemed quite the same since. “You could’ve told me,” he whispers. “I wouldn’t have kept you here if you didn’t want to stay.”

“It is not that, Leeyum. I wanted to stay. I still do, but I just think it would be better overall if I left.”

“Are you in danger?” Liam asks, suddenly worried that someone might have tracked him down even though that seems like a concern of the distant past. “Are you afraid that someone might find you here?”

“No, it is not that.”

“Then what is it?”

It seems like hours before Zayn finally answers him. “Leeyum, there is no future.”

Liam feels like everything would be okay if Zayn would just look at him. “How can you say there’s no future for us? I know it wouldn’t be easy, and maybe you don’t even actually feel the same way, but—”

Zayn shakes his head exasperatedly. “No, Leeyum. You do not understand.” He rises from the kitchen table and walks to the hutch, apparently deciding to sort through some library books.

Liam follows after him. “Then make me understand.”

“There is no future because”—Zayn stops mid-sentence, closing another library book and adding it to the designated return stack— “I will be reaching my expiration date. Soon.”

“Your expiration date,” Liam repeats, still confused. “You mean you have to, like, return to your planet or whatever by a certain date? Are they delivering a spaceship to you? Maybe you could ask for an extension or maybe I can—”

“No, it is not that,” Zayn cuts him off, frustration furrowing his brow. “Leeyum, I am dying.”

Liam blinks at him. “That doesn’t make sense,” he says because it doesn’t. “You’re…you look fine.”

Zayn turns around to face him. “I am deeply sorry. I should have told you sooner.”

“Sooner?” Liam repeats, and the word tastes like ash in his mouth. “Zayn,” he says slowly, “how long have you known?”

“I have known since before I came to Earth,” Zayn confesses, and all Liam can think about is how exhausted he looks, how exhausted he has looked for weeks. “I did not tell you at first because I had calculated that the information was not pertinent.”

“And after that? It’s been three months.”

Zayn lets out a little sigh. “I did not tell you because I did not wish to make you sad.”

Liam stares at him blankly, trying to make sense of it all. The sadness hasn’t really hit him yet—only a sense of confusion and disbelief. “If you were dying, why would they let you just take a spaceship and fly down here?”

“I came to Earth to die, Leeyum. This was my”—he scrunches his nose, trying to come up with the words— “my dying wish.”

And suddenly Liam get it, gets that this trip was probably some intergalactic make-a-wish kind of thing. “You’re into Earth studies,” Liam mumbles, reflecting back on one of the first things Zayn told him about himself. Of course this is where Zayn would choose to go. “f*ck. And they let you come down to Earth to…to….”

“Expire,” Zayn finishes for him.

If there is sorrow or pain in his words, Liam can’t detect it. The fact makes Liam angry for a reason he can’t put his finger on (or for a reason he doesn’t want to admit, even to himself). “You don’t care. How can you not care?”

A wrinkle creases Zayn’s forehead. “I care that this news upsets you.”

“But you don’t care about yourself.”

“I have accepted it,” Zayn says simply.

“Well, aren’t you going to fight?”

Zayn looks at him, sympathy shining in eyes which have now turned as dark as a starless sky. “Fight the universe, Leeyum?”

“Sure, why not? Think about our planes and space shuttles, for crying out loud. Isn’t that fighting the universe in a way, fighting the fact that beings like us aren’t supposed to fly?”

Zayn shakes his head like he feels sorry for him. “That is different.”

“Wouldn’t you like more time, though? With me?” Liam tacks on in a whisper. And for a fraction of a second, there is a disturbance in the other man’s placid countenance.

“I have accepted it,” Zayn repeats, but it is not quite as confident as before.

“Well, I haven’t,” Liam spits back. “Do you have some type of illness? Maybe it is something we can cure here on Earth.”

“Leeyum, your best doctors on Earth would not be able to understand let alone cure it.”

“So, you are sick?”

Zayn hesitates as if he is divulging too much even though he has barely revealed anything at all. “Yes, I am what you would call ‘sick’ here on Earth, but it is no disease you have a name for on this planet.”

“Well, what are your symptoms?” Liam asks, opening the notes app on his mobile. He figures he can google them later, maybe use a symptom checker or something. He could also try crowdsourcing a diagnosis. He has heard about things like that, about people finding impossible answers from an expert or random stranger on the other side of the globe.

“Leeyum,” Zayn says softly, stepping closer.

“Maybe someone will know a treatment or even a cure,” Liam persists, trying to add a title to his note, but for some reason his screen has turned blurry. “It’s gotta be worth a shot, yeah?”

“Leeyum, I am not even human,” Zayn reminds him, gently taking the phone from Liam’s trembling hands and placing it on the table.

It still hasn’t sunk in, the unthinkable thing Zayn has just told him, when Liam sinks into the solidness of Zayn’s chest. He listens to the man’s heart beat on the wrong side of his body, and it’s not as strong as it might be, but it’s steady. It’s there.

And before Liam can stop them, the tears start to flow.

He cries for a man he’s only known a few months. He grieves for the future they’ll never have.

Chapter 4

Chapter Text

They say that the second stage of grief is anger. And although the denial stage only lasted hours, Liam is insensibly angry for days. He doesn’t take it out on Zayn, though, because he has never been that guy. He does, however, take his anger out on the dishes, and the weeds, and the wooden fence he’s been mending.

And yeah, he can’t help being a little impatient when Scooby takes forever to decide to come inside after Liam has been calling him until he’s hoarse. He also can’t help being miffed that Zayn deliberately hid the truth from him. Time and time again, Zayn said he was fine when he wasn’t. Maybe if Liam had known the truth, he wouldn’t have fallen so hard. (Except he knows that’s not true, that falling for Zayn was beyond his control. Heck, Zayn even dreamed of him from afar, and if that isn’t some kismet sh*t, then he doesn’t know what is.)

Still, Liam is narked enough to force an explanation, and that’s exactly what he does one evening while they’re folding a load of linens and towels. Liam’s told him to go rest, but Zayn stubbornly insists on helping with household chores Liam could easily handle himself. “You told me you came here on a holiday,” Liam grumbles, and it’s not exactly a seamless lead-in, but Zayn instantly knows what he’s going on about.

“I am sorry if I caused you pain.”

Liam doesn’t want to think about the pain. He’d rather stick with the anger for now. “I still don’t get it, the bit about them just handing over a spaceship to you,” he says, and he realises he might not be over the denial stage yet, not completely.

“It is the way of my people,” Zayn shrugs as he folds another towel. It’s lime green, which is a ridiculous colour for a bath towel, but those were the ones Zayn wanted, and now all Liam can think about is the fact that he’ll have all these lime-green towels when he’s alone in this too-big, too-draughty farmhouse.

And suddenly, Liam has to drop whatever it is he’s folding because he’s making an absolute mess of it.

“It will be all right, Leeyum,” Zayn assures him, and Liam doesn’t know how the other man can make promises like that. It’s not all right. Zayn’s got his hands on Liam’s shoulders, talking him down, and all Liam can think about is the fact that Zayn is the one comforting him when it should be the ther way around.

Liam takes a deep breath and exhales slowly. “I’m good,” he says. They both know it’s not true. But if Zayn is allowed to be fine when he clearly isn’t, then Liam is, too.

They go back to folding the laundry.

“I was gifted a spaceship by the High Council because I have contributed much to my planet,” Zayn shares, sensing that Liam needs more. “But beyond that, I showed a need and a desire to go to Earth.”

“Need?”

“There is a greater concentration of oxygen in the composition of the air on Earth, much higher than on my own planet. My people have evolved not to require as much, but I do not discount that the surplus oxygen levels have been beneficial. My scientists theorised as much, and indeed, I was on oxygen therapy before I departed.”

“Do you feel better since landing on Earth?”

“I do. The disease progression seems to have slowed, anyway. How much of that is attributable to oxygen I could not determine.” Zayn looks at him then as if Liam is the reason for alleviating some of his symptoms, but Liam isn’t foolish enough to believe such a thing—let alone that Zayn would believe it.

Liam clears his throat and backpedals to his original point. “So again, they just, like, gave you a spaceship.”

“Yes, they bestowed upon me a ship.”

“And you’re a pilot?”

“Leeyum, as I have told you, I am many things. So are you. So is everyone.” Zayn smiles sheepishly. “But I also had to eject and sacrifice my ship, so perhaps, I am not so much a pilot.”

Liam laughs, despite himself. “I’m glad you did,” he says and he realises he means it no matter how much it hurts. “Otherwise, I might not have met you.”

“I am glad, too, although I believe we would have met regardless.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Because, as I have told you, I saw your face in a dream. In multiple dreams.” Zayn touches his cheek, and there is something so incredibly gentle about the gesture, just like the man himself. “I was meant to find you.”

“Be with me tonight?” Liam whispers.

Zayn doesn’t answer at first. He pulls his hand away, appears thoughtful as he carefully folds the last towel, then adds it to the tall pile in the basket. “If you are asking what I believe you are asking, we should have a conversation first.”

“We already did. You said it would be safe.”

“In theory, yes.”

“So, let’s test it out, yeah?”

Zayn heaves a sigh. “Leeyum.”

“Zayn, if you don’t want to, don’t feel pressured. I mean if you’re sex-repulsed or simply not into me or not in the mood or—”

“—Not human?” Zayn supplies wryly. “You may find my naked body unappealing.”

“You’ve seen me with my kit off,” Liam points out. “Do you find my naked body unappealing? I’m attracted to you, Zayn. The rest doesn’t matter. I just want to be with you while…while….” Liam trails off, the rest of the sentence sticking in his throat.

“I am attracted to you as well, Leeyum. It has been difficult for me at times, being so close to you, wanting more.”

“Then be with me now.” Liam’s hands settle on Zayn’s hips, and they feel so natural there, like it’s the only place they’ve ever belonged. He has cuddled with Zayn more times than he can count, but they’ve never been in quite this position before. There has never been this irresistible pull between them. They’re in a cramped laundry room, really just a wash space off the mudroom, and yet, they might as well be on a dancefloor at one of those trendy clubs in Soho.

There’s something palpable in the air, more than just the scent of clean citrus mixed with static electricity. He feels some undeniable force pushing them together. He wants Zayn more than he’s ever wanted anything else in his life. He needs Zayn. There’s no way that Zayn doesn’t feel it, too.

But Zayn steps back, and the connection is broken, lost like a dropped call. “It is better if—”

“Oh, dear God,” Liam pleads, “don’t start that again.” He had heard enough of that pointless drivel the other day. “I know it would be better if I didn’t fall in love with you, but it’s a little late for that. And you’ve just admitted that you’re attracted to me, so I don’t get why you won’t let yourself have this.” He’s not giving up, not without a fight or one good reason.

“There is…there is something I have not told you. We, my people, are not built the same way as humans—biologically, that is.”

“Pretty sure I’ve glimpsed you peeing standing up, mate,” Liam smirks. “I can work with another dick, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

Zayn blushes, and Liam falls for him for the thousandth time. “I should have described the difference as a physiological variance.”

“Love it when you talk dirty,” Liam jokes, and Zayn swats at him before suddenly burying his face in his hands. “What is it, Zayn? You can tell me. You can tell me anything.”

“If my body chooses you, it will be for keeps,” Zayn says, and Liam can just make out the muffled words. “My people…we generally mate for life.”

“Okay…,” Liam says, trying to work out what Zayn is trying to tell him. Then it hits him like a meteorite: “And you wouldn’t choose me.”

Zayn drops his hands from his face, and there is pure anguish in his shining eyes. “Leeyum, I would choose you over and over again.”

“Then what’s the problem?” Liam demands. He feels like Zayn is trying to let him down easy, but it’s just making things harder on them both.

“You should have the right to fall in love again,” Zayn answers, voice cracking. “I do not want to take that from you. I do not want to cause you more pain than I already have.”

“Zayn, I love you, but none of this is making any sense. I am human, remember? In theory, I could fall in love many times.”

“I do not think you could if we were to consummate our soulbond. It is considered both unwise and selfish to do so if the bond will be broken shortly thereafter. The soul left behind…suffers.”

Liam swallows. “Suffers?”

Zayn nods solemnly. “The grieving intensifies with a short-lived bond.”

Liam realises they need to backtrack. He leans against the washing machine, feeling the cool metal against his bare arms and hoping it will clear his head. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe it’s better if we wait,” he relents. He doesn’t want to. He hates to waste another day, to miss a chance they may never have again. But they need to sort through this. Liam needs to understand, and Zayn needs his fears laid to rest. “What makes you think we would have a…a soulbond? How do you know that’s even a thing?”

“It is not uncommon where I am from. It is rarer on Earth, but it does still occur when people choose to recognise it.”

“But we’re not even from the same planet!” Liam argues because the more Zayn explains it, the less sense it all makes.

“If anything,” Zayn sighs, “I believe that would be indicative of an even more powerful bond.”

“How so?”

“Leeyum, I saw your face from forty lightyears away. It was crystal clear, accurate in every exquisite detail. I felt the warmth of your brown eyes, the fullness of your lips. I saw every laugh line and every freckle. For me, it could only be you. For me, it will always be you,” Zayn swears, tracing Liam’s jaw with the tenderest of touches. “It is enough to know that. I do not need more, not if it will steal from you the chance to live a normal life and love again.”

Zayn blinks away the tears forming in his eyes, and it is all Liam can do to gather him up in his arms and hold him like there’s no tomorrow.

☆☆☆

That night is the first night they sleep together. The term might not be the best way to describe it, but Liam’s never been a master of words. Nothing sexual happens. They don’t even kiss because Zayn is so afraid of cementing some bond and sealing some fate.

It’s more than merely sharing a bed, though. Much more. They spoon. They snuggle. They sleep, entwined in each other.

And by the end of that week, Zayn has moved the majority of his modest belongings into the master bedroom.

Liam only questions why it took them so long to get here.

☆☆☆

They figure it out, little by little, puzzle-piece by puzzle-piece.

Zayn tells him that he wasn’t expecting to have this long, that every day on Earth is a gift. He admits that his symptoms seem to subside the closer he is to Liam. His fatigue fades; the dull ache in his bones abates. Sometimes, it wears off after several hours, and when that happens, Liam will work around the farm. It’s almost as if Liam is recharging some sort of curative battery before he returns to Zayn’s side. Proximity doesn’t heal Zayn, perhaps, but it’s like a painkiller. That thought makes Liam wonder if taking a paracetamol would help. (It doesn’t.)

They discover the hard way that there is a downside to the proximity thing. Liam slips out of bed early one morning, happy to see that Zayn is still sound asleep. He goes downstairs to make breakfast, but the empty cupboards remind him that he’s missed the last couple of trips to the supermarket. He decides to do a quick grocery run to pick up a few necessary staples and top-up on some other items. He’ll be quick. Zayn won’t miss him at all.

He’s pulling into the car park when it starts. It’s only a hint of a headache at first. It’s definitely tolerable, though. He’s at the till when it starts feeling like the onset of a migraine.

It eases up as he drives home. By the time he pulls into the garage, the headache is barely there.

When he walks inside, however, he finds Zayn curled up in a foetal position on the couch, Scooby nosing at his shoulder. Liam drops the bags of groceries and rushes to him, murmuring apologies as he holds him. Zayn, still shaking, tells him that it’s okay, that he didn’t know.

Liam curses himself. “I should’ve figured it out faster, should’ve questioned it more when I felt the migraine coming on.”

“It works both ways?” Zayn manages to get out, and he sounds so horribly defeated.

“It was manageable,” Liam reassures him because it was…mostly. “But there’s no way I’m leaving this farm without you,” he promises, taking in Zayn’s shattered appearance. “Do you think this is that soulbond thingy?”

“Yes, and I suspect the bond is growing stronger.”

Liam doesn’t tell him, but he’s glad. Whatever the consequences, it means that he can provide some comfort for Zayn. Liam doesn’t know how long they stay like that on the couch. They’re both quiet, thinking a storm of thoughts.

Scooby is unusually quiet, too.

Liam looks around for the Frenchie and finally spots him over by the mudroom. Scooby seems to be lapping up something on the floor. It’s seeping from one of the bags Liam left by the garage door, and he realises it must be the carton of ice cream he bought. He could honestly care less, but he doesn’t want Scooby to get sick, so he reluctantly gets up and cleans up the mess.

☆☆☆

It’s Zayn’s idea, to return to the scene of the crime.

Liam is far from sold on the suggestion when Zayn brings it up. It’s not that Belvide Reservoir is a long or arduous trip. It’s just that he’s concerned. Yes, it’s been over three months since the spaceship was discovered. Yes, they haven’t received any follow-ups from the police or any other agency. And yes, he (sort of) understands why Zayn would want to visit the reservoir.

Zayn doesn’t beg or pout; it’s not his style. However, he does casually mention (threaten) to ask Old Tom to drive him there if Liam ‘would prefer not to go.’ Liam is certain Zayn wouldn’t actually do something like that. (Liam is mostly certain Zayn wouldn’t actually do something like that.) After all, it’s a good six miles to the nature reserve as the crow flies, and Zayn fared even worse than Liam the last time they were separated by a similar distance.

On the other hand, it might be fun to take a little excursion. They could walk the trail and take advantage of the nice weather. Also, Zayn has been having a string of very good days, so—

“Thank you, Leeyum!” Zayn shouts gleefully, jumping up and hugging him. “Can we go today?!”

Liam hadn’t had the chance to verbalise anything yet, but he really should be used to that by now. In fact, Liam’s not even positive that he would have agreed to go.

But then, it’s hard to be frustrated with Zayn when his eyes are f*cking twinkling with happiness. Besides, it’s a good day. It’s a really good day.

(And since Liam has learnt to count his blessings, he knows that’s all that really counts.)

☆☆☆

They do end up going that afternoon. The weather is beautiful, sunny and unseasonably warm for the cusp of Autumn. They ditch lunch and instead opt for an early supper at the pub at the trailhead.

The Oakley Arms is a picturesque country pub with upscale British fare, and really, Liam is tempted to order half the menu. He settles on the steak, ale, and mushroom pie because he loved it the last time and he’s a little boring like that. Zayn orders a quiche and manages to eat most of it. (It’s a really good day.) By the time they’ve shared a sticky toffee pudding, admired the scenery, and chatted with a few familiar faces from the village, Liam is more than ready to work off the rich, hearty meal.

Because it’s a weekday in Autumn, the footpath seems to be less busy with visitor traffic from the surrounding cities. They enjoy a leisurely stroll through wooded areas and across fields. They do pass a few people with dogs on leads, and Liam promises that they can take Scooby along with them next time. Eventually, they reach the reservoir. There, they amble around the public path, hands joined and swinging between them.

It’s nice, the way they fit: Zayn’s fingers intertwined with his; Zayn’s head on his shoulder; Zayn’s laughter filling all of Liam’s empty spaces. Liam’s never been able to hold hands with anyone before—not without it feeling awkward or like it’s a task expected of him.

He’d never admit it, not even to Niall or Ruth, but he’s never been able to kiss anyone without the same thoughts and feelings going through his head. Without realising it, Liam’s gaze falls to Zayn’s lips, ever-so-slightly chapped and cherry-blossom pink. He wonders if Zayn’s lips would fit with Liam’s in the same way that every other part of him does.

(He wonders.)

The remainder of the evening passes by like the dream it is. They linger longer than they should, long past sundown. Liam can see the bright moon reflected on the dark water. It looks so much like a giant pearl that he is tempted to dive for it and retrieve the majestic treasure for the prince of a man beside him.

“Leeyum,” Zayn whispers, nudging him to get his attention. He then waggles his eyebrows at the water, and Liam already knows where this is going.

“No.”

“Why not?” Zayn’s lower lip juts out, and Liam wonders where and when he picked that up.

“Because it is against the rules. And actually”—he glances around the deserted reservoir— “I’m not even sure that we’re supposed to be in this area. The sign on the last gate was hard to read.”

“It was unlocked, though.”

“Even so, swimming is definitely against the rules.”

“Is it? I do not see any signs. Also, no one is here.”

Liam scans the environs. Zayn’s right—there’s no one around. Still, Liam can almost hear his dad whispering in his ear, reminding him that the measure of a man is how he acts when no one’s looking. In his other ear, though, he’s got Louis, telling him not to be a wet blanket. “It’s not only a rules thing,” he objects. “Pretty sure there’s like algae and bacteria and all that.”

“I sense that it is fine,” Zayn says, and there’s a surety in his tone.

Liam ponders whether the man does actually have some sort of capability like that, like those superheroes who can detect tasteless poisons. It might be similar to a Spider-Sense where he can sense danger. That would be pretty sick, too.

Of course, it is also likely that the man is simply blagging his way into getting what he wants.

“Leeyum, I am going in,” Zayn announces as he immediately starts stripping, and Liam’s caught between politely gawking and covering his eyes.

In the end, Liam does neither. He turns his back and searches the surroundings for police. Or anyone really. And Zayn’s daft if he thinks Liam is going to join him. Beyond the public embarrassment, there’s the unsanitary nature of it all, and the wild animals, and how cold the water must be.

His runaway thoughts are cut off by an unmistakable splash. By the time Liam spins back around, Zayn is waist-deep in the water. He looks almost triumphant, the tosser, and Liam sort of wants to throw the stick he just stepped on at him. And snog him. (Mostly snog him.)

“How are you not freezing your arse off?” Liam demands because Zayn is always dressed in at least two extra layers, no matter the weather. Yes, it’s unseasonably warm for the first week of October, but it’s still f*cking October.

“My body will adjust,” Zayn calls back, and once again Liam deliberates on whether the extraterrestrial’s got another super ability that he neglected to mention. Maybe Zayn is able to regulate his temperature in water. Liam studies him from the shore, sees him shivering. “I will be fine, Leeyum,” he says, and even his voice sounds a bit shivery. “But it would be best to join me before it gets any colder.”

Liam reminds himself that he has always been the sensible one. He doesn’t do things like go for an after-hours swim at a nature reserve. He doesn’t do things like skinny dip in public lakes. Plus, it’s got to be illegal—Zayn, shirtless, looking like that in the moonlight really should be illegal, and—

“Ah, f*ck it,” Liam mutters to himself, scuttling down the marshy area to the water’s edge. There, he strips to his pants, leaving them on in case there are leeches, or snapping turtles, or any other creatures he would very much like to keep away from his dangly bits. He leaves his pile of clothes on a large rock, then looks back down at Zayn who is watching him unapologetically. “Like what you see?” Liam teases. He’s not an overly confident person, not in general, but he knows he looks better than decent with his kit off.

“Yes,” Zayn answers, and his voice sounds the slightest bit strained. “You are always handsome, Leeyum, but you are very…appealing without clothes.”

“Um…cheers.” When he feels his cheeks start to flush, he quickly sloshes into the water, hoping the cold water will shock him into remembering that he’s a grown-arse man.

It’s cold. That’s all Liam can focus on for a good thirty seconds. Not only is he freezing his arse off, but he is also freezing his bollocks off. “You’re absolutely mental, you know that?!” he complains, teeth chattering.

Zayn’s eyes sparkle with mischief. “How else was I going to get you to join me? Besides, it is not so horrible after a while.”

Liam takes his word for it and tries moving about in the water. He even does some half-arsed water aerobics to try to raise his core temperature. It makes Zayn erupt into a fit of giggles, which is a win-win in Liam’s book.

After a while, it is tolerable. (Barely.) Liam begins to see the perks of the situation. First and foremost, there’s the fact that Zayn’s topless. Sure, Liam has seen glimpses of the man changing before, especially now that they’ve been sharing a room. However, Liam’s never had the privilege to study him in the past, not like this. It’s difficult not to stare at his chest, covered in swirls of unexamined ink and goosepimples from the cool night air. Zayn’s nipples are hard, pebbled and inviting in the worst kind of way.

Zayn looks so very human right now, and Liam wants him. Liam wants him even though he shouldn’t, even though he’s not supposed to.

Liam forces himself to look away, tries to stop the constant buzzing of want want want filling his mind, burning throughout his body. He breathes slowly, closes his eyes, and concentrates on the sound of the water lapping against the shore.

“It is most tranquil, is it not?” Zayn asks after a while.

He nods. It feels tranquil, private. It’s like the reserve has been reserved for just them. Liam opens his eyes and almost has to adjust to the brightness of the moonlight. It casts itself across the lake, riding the ripples on the surface. Above the water’s edge, the shadowy treetops sway and stretch up towards the midnight-blue sky, straining to touch the heavens.

Liam looks down to find his own piece of heaven. Zayn is backlit by moonlight now, creating a halo-effect. There’s the softest of smiles on his lips, and he’s so near and yet so far: an arm-length and a lightyear away.

Zayn starts to move farther into the lake. “Before we go into the deeper water, I should inform you that I do not swim.” He mentions it in such an offhand, casual way that it takes Liam a beat to process it.

“What do you mean you don’t swim?!” Liam chokes out. He knew this was a dodgy idea, but it’s getting worse by the second.

“Technically, I have never gone swimming before.”

“Never?” Liam demands, grabbing Zayn’s arm and holding on so he won’t move any farther away from the shore.

“No, swimming pools do not exist on my planet. However, I am able to levitate when needed, so I believe I should be fine.”

Liam takes a deep breath, tries not to focus on the fact that the water almost reaches Zayn’s shoulders now. “And if you’re too tired or unable to levitate?”

“I doubt that will happen.”

“But you’ve never been swimming, Zayn?”

“That is correct.”

“Which means you’ve never tried to levitate while in water?”

“That is also correct.”

Liam pinches his nose with his free arm and tries to stay calm. “When was the last time you tried to levitate? Please don’t tell me it was when you first came to Earth.”

Zayn doesn’t answer for a beat. Then, he says, “I think it will be fine. And if it is not, we can always go back to where it is shallow.”

“If you don’t drown first.”

“Leeyum, you would not allow me to drown,” Zayn tsks, and he’s so sure of it, so certain of Liam.

“You can’t panic, though,” Liam says, regarding him sternly because this is important. “It’s bloody difficult to save someone who’s panicking.”

“I am detecting that you have a backstory on this.”

“O, do I,” Liam mutters as the memory rises in his chest like bile. He makes certain Zayn isn’t going anywhere, then loosens his grip on the man’s bicep. “Yeah, so this one time when we were teenagers, Louis, Niall, and me went up to this water park, right? Well, Louis was only a fair swimmer, but because he was a reckless git back then, he followed me into the wave pool. Anyway, Louis swam all the way out to the back of the pool before the wavemakers were activated. I saw this massive wave strike him, and I waited for him to come back up. He never did.”

Liam’s heart starts to beat a frantic tattoo, just thinking about the nightmarish moment. “I realised he must be struggling, so I dove after him. While I was trying to save him from drowning, the wanker kicked me in the ribs and gave me a black eye. All my teachers thought the worst. My mum gave me this massive telling-off, then grounded me for lying. Both my parents were convinced I was taking my boxing training to the streets, and they only believed me after Louis came over and explained what happened. The whole ordeal was bloody awful from start to finish.”

“But you rescued your friend,” Zayn reminds him.

“Barely,” Liam grunts.

Zayn smiles, and it’s somehow both sympathetic and cheeky at the same time. “I promise I would never fight you while you were trying to save me, Leeyum.”

Liam hopes that’s true. (He really hopes that’s true.)

Zayn splashes him. “Now, stop sulking and follow me,” he says playfully.

Anywhere, Liam thinks, wading after him.

☆☆☆

Despite never having set foot in a pool, Zayn appears to be doing just fine. With only a few small pointers from Liam, he has picked up the basics of treading water. Of course, the fact that Zayn is not afraid of drowning is probably helping tremendously. He’s letting the water do the work of keeping him afloat because he knows he’s got his levitational skills (and Liam) to fall back on.

But just in case, Liam still keeps one eye and arm on him.

When they get to the middle of the lake, Zayn stops as if they’ve reached some predetermined destination. The man must forget to continue to move his legs because he dips below the surface momentarily before bobbing back up.

“I would recommend not drinking the water,” Liam says drily, placing both hands on the man’s waist to steady him.

Zayn is kind enough to look sheepish. “Sorry, I was thinking.”

“Try not to do that until we’re back on shore,” Liam jokes, removing one of his hands to brush back the sopping wet hair that’s plastered to Zayn’s forehead. “What were you thinking about?”

“That if I were a spaceship, this would be a good terminus for my final journey,” Zayn answers, looking up at the sky with starry eyes. “Sometimes…sometimes, I think about what would have happened if I had been unable to depart my ship.”

Liam sucks in a breath. Zayn’s never spoken about what happened before the crash. Liam never asked, thinking it might be unpleasant to recall the details of parachuting out of a doomed spacecraft. “Unable?”

Zayn shivers, still staring off into space. “Something went wrong once I entered the Earth’s atmosphere, and I never fully regained control after that. I tried to eject but could not free myself from the harness. The ship…she knew we were crashing and locked everything. I had spent too long trying to save her, and as a result, I missed my window before the emergency protocols set in.”

“But you got out,” Liam says, reminding him of the part that truly matters, just as Zayn did for him earlier. Even so, it must’ve been a truly traumatic experience. It’s probably naïve of him, but Liam never imagined a scenario as terrifying as that. “How did you manage to escape?”

“It just released. I do not know how—I was not even pressing the release button on the harness—but it suddenly retracted,” Zayn tells him, managing to stay afloat with miraculously little effort now.

“Telekinesis?” Liam guesses.

“Telekinetic powers are generally neutralised on our spaceships, but it might have been that. On the other hand, it could have been the spaceship overriding a command. “I did not stop to ponder it, though. I bailed and landed in your garden. Otherwise…I would have ended up here, in the lake.”

“You got out,” Liam repeats because he can tell that Zayn needs to hear it. Liam wants to cradle him to his chest, but he’s not sure if it’s the right thing to do, if he’s allowed. “There’s something I’ve meant to ask you.”

“Yes?”

“If you…if you had the chance to return to your planet, would you go?”

“No,” Zayn replies without hesitation.

“Why not?”

Zayn gives Liam one of his lop-sided smiles. “Because I would miss you too much, Leeyum.”

Liam doesn’t know how to respond to that, the light-hearted confession that feels like so much more. He feels a sudden ache—not in his limbs from swimming, but deep in his heart. Instead of a phantom pain, a relic from a past hurt, it’s a future ache. It’s the pain of knowing.

He’s going to miss Zayn when he’s gone, but tonight is not the night to think about that, not with the moon shining so gloriously bright. Zayn is here now, and he’s planning to stay as long as he can. They still have time. They still have this moment.

And Liam’s not going to waste it. “Zayn?”

“Yes.”

“There’s something else I’ve been meaning to ask you.”

“The answer is yes, Leeyum,” Zayn says like he already answered the question once, and maybe he did.

Liam doesn’t wait—he’s waited long enough. He plunges towards Zayn, pressing his hands to his cheeks. Then, Liam kisses him hard, hard like he means it, hard like there’s no tomorrow.

He pours every wish and want and hope into the kiss. He gives all of himself. Because if it’s the only time he gets to do this, he wants Zayn to feel how much he loves him, wants him to know that he’s Liam’s moon, and sky, and entire universe.

Zayn’s lips taste like sticky toffee and endless tomorrows. Zayn’s arms, circling Liam’s neck, feel like a safety net. Zayn’s heart, beating in synchrony with his, feels like home.

And for a moment, Liam forgets where they are. It’s like time and space and gravity have ceased to exist, and it’s just them, floating through the night. Just them, weightless and wrapped in each other.

(And he never wants to come down again.)

☆☆☆

Even with the full moon guiding them, it’s dark, muddy, and a little treacherous finding their way back to the trail. They don’t talk much. Liam has to check his GPS and turn on his torch more than once, just to make certain they are following the designated footpath and not trekking through some random field. Eventually, they reach the pub’s car park and then it’s a short drive home to the farm.

Liam feels disgusting. He smells worse. (And honestly, so does Zayn.) They both have dirt, and swamp, and marsh, and God-only-knows what else caked all over them. The mudroom looks like it got the worst of a fight: There’s outerwear messily splayed on top of the washing machine and dryer, muddy tracks all over the white tile, and two pairs of mud-spattered boots that will need to be hosed down. (In hindsight, Liam should’ve worn his wellies.)

The first thing Liam wants to do is hop in the shower, but he’s only got the one full bathroom and he’s a gentleman, so… “Zayn, you want to take a shower first?”

“We could go at the same time, if you wish.”

“I only have one shower, though.”

Zayn just stares at him, his face a blank canvas.

“Showering together is, uh, not a common practice. I mean, it can be,” Liam says, stumbling over words like he stumbled over stones on the way back. “It might be done with, like, two lovers or—” He stops abruptly because Zayn is still staring at him, but there’s a smile itching at the corner of the man’s lips.

“Leeyum, I am well aware of human customs surrounding bathing, especially here in England, and I am asking you if you would like to shower with me.”

“Just shower, yeah?”

“Is that what you prefer?”

Liam had thought he had made his wishes pretty clear on that matter. Only days ago, he had all but begged Zayn to be with him and had been rejected. But then, that kiss happened. “I thought you told me that we shouldn’t, you know….” He’s struggling. (He’s struggling bad.)

“That was before we knew the bond was already being forged between us. I do not think either of us could stop it now if we tried.”

“Would you…would you want to stop it?” Liam asks because he has to know. He feels like Zayn wants to be with him for the right reasons, but he needs to be sure. He doesn’t want the other man to feel pressured into this by fate, or Liam, or anything else.

“No, I only held back because I wished to spare you, to save you from suffering.” Zayn’s expression turns almost sorrowful, but then, the clouds pass and he’s looking at Liam with eyes that sparkle like the sun. “I want to be with you. Here. Now. In every way.” He steps closer into Liam’s space, looking up at him through impossibly long lashes. “So—shower with me?”

And Liam couldn’t say no even if he wanted to.

☆☆☆

The water is hot, almost burning, but that’s the way Zayn likes it. Right now, that’s the way Liam likes it, too. It’s like a steam bath after what felt like a polar plunge. It heightens his senses. It cleans in ways cold water can’t.

At first, that’s all they do: help wash the day’s grime off each other. Liam shampoos and conditions Zayn’s hair, massaging his scalp, exploring all the little places he’s never been able to touch before. Zayn, in turn, washes Liam’s cropped hair with too much shampoo and gentle tugs that go straight to his dick.

It’s all Liam can do to wait for the suds to rinse out of his hair before he sinks to his knees. He doesn’t get the chance to do much beyond that, though, because Zayn pulls him to his feet and starts kissing him needily.

Liam kisses back, but he’s eager for more as he presses up against the other man, their erections slotting together. It’s almost too much as they stand just inside the stream of hot water. “What do you want?” Liam asks, sucking a spot on his throat.

“Want you in me,” Zayn pants, throwing his head back against the tile. “Want you inside me the first time I, the first time we….”

Liam licks the shell of his ear. “Where?”

“In your bed.”

“In our bed,” Liam growls, grinding his hips until Zayn’s moans turn desperate, needy. Liam slaps his palms against the tile on either side of Zayn’s head, caging him in. He stares at puffy, kiss-bruised lips, and it’s such a turn on, remembering how he was the one who made them that way. It’s obscene how good Zayn looks right now. It’s obscene how much Liam wants him as his gaze lowers, watching the water droplets as they trickle down his lean, hard body like sweat.

And just when Liam thinks he’s the one calling the shots, Zayn spins around and turns the handle on the valve to shut off the water. Zayn’s got his back to him now, and yeah, Liam can work with this.

Palms still flat against the smooth tile, Liam tilts closer like he’s doing a wall press-up. The scent of citrus and sandalwood lingers in the steamy mist, clings to Zayn’s skin as Liam plants small, hungry kisses between his shoulder blades. Liam’s dick slips between Zayn’s cheeks, poking at his entrance. If Zayn were already prepped, it would be so easy for Liam to push into him now, to f*ck him fast and hard, right here against the shower wall.

(But that’s not what he wants. It’s not what either of them wants.)

“Bed,” Liam orders, stepping out of the shower. He hands Zayn a towel, then grabs his own and towels off in record time.

Then, he waits.

Zayn, however, is taking his sweet time. He doesn’t seem to be in any hurry at all as his sopping-wet mop of hair casually drips onto the bath mat. It’s glossy and jet-black, a striking contrast to the lime-green bath towel he’s using to dry it. There’s a come-hither smirk carved onto those divine lips, as if he’s tempting Liam to say something.

Liam doesn’t say anything. Instead, he simply scoops Zayn off his feet and carries him next door to the master bedroom.

Zayn’s laughing as Liam sets him down gently on the bed. He lies there, gorgeous and naked, like every wet dream Liam’s ever had. And really, Liam should take the time to admire every mouth-watering inch of him, but instead…he can’t look away from Zayn’s eyes. They’re a dark amber in colour now, and they’re mesmerising. They pull him in, draw him closer, until Liam is on his hands and knees, straddling him. Until at last, Zayn’s hand cradles the back of his neck and brings him in for a long, languid kiss.

When Liam finally enters him, it’s like all the stars align. Zayn’s heart beats directly against his, and it shouldn’t feel right, but it does.

They fit. It’s all Liam can think about as he listens for Zayn’s breathing to even out, waits for a sign to move. They fit together like two souls that belong together. They fit because they’re supposed to fit, because they were made to fit.

They fit because they were made for each other. (They fit because they chose each other.)

Zayn’s hips suddenly cant upward, and Liam takes the hint. He begins moving slowly, deliberately. He searches for Zayn’s pleasure spot, searches for his own release or salvation. Each stroke brings him closer; each thrust draws out a pretty moan.

Zayn’s dick is beautiful, pulsing and flushing purple against his stomach as Liam makes love to him. Too soon, Liam feels his org*sm start to build. He reaches a hand between them, stroking Zayn’s length to match the timing of his thrusts. A few more, and Zayn’s falling apart. The man gasps when he comes, fingers gripping Liam’s back with enough force to leave crescent-shaped bruises there for days. It’s enough to send Liam soaring over the edge right behind him.

Afterwards, Liam cleans them up with a wet flannel. Zayn, sated and exhausted, curls under the covers, whining until Liam finally snuggles with him.

“I love you,” Zayn whispers. It’s the first time he’s uttered those three words, but it doesn’t feel like the last. “May the moons guide you and the stars watch over you always, my Leeyum.”

And for the first time in a long time, they both sleep soundly through the night.

Chapter 5

Chapter Text

There’s something about mid-autumn on a farm in the West Midlands. The Falstaff apples now flaunt a peach blush, crying out to be picked and savoured or stored. Elsewhere on the farm, the reds deepen to crimson, and the yellows richen to gold then bronze. It’s the sign for the drilling of the winter wheat to begin. Because if Liam has learnt anything, it’s that a farmer always lives with one foot in the future.

With the first whisper of November, however, the days grow shorter and the crops fewer. The colour saturation effect reverses, draining the pigment from the foliage and fields like a colour thief. In the blink of an eye, winter seems closer than its arbitrary calendar date.

In the blink of an eye, everything starts to enter a state of decay.

It’s a grey morning, and Zayn is sat on the window-seat again, looking out the bay window. “Have you read ‘The Last Leaf’ by O. Henry, Leeyum?”

Liam stops puttering in the kitchen and closes the short distance between them. There isn’t enough room to sit on the narrow window-seat, so Liam stands behind Zayn and follows his gaze to the big oak tree in front. Almost overnight, the tree has lost most of its leaves. “No, I don’t think I’ve read that one.”

“It is a very beautiful story, Leeyum. There is both sadness and happiness in the end. There are too many sad stories in this universe, and yet….”

“You told me that when we met,” Liam says, and he’s not sure why he’s lowered his voice except it feels right. The moment is as soft as the look on Zayn’s face.

“Did I?” Zayn asks, and he seems proper chuffed with himself. “The story I mentioned…it is short. Perhaps, you could read it to me?”

“Now?”

“If it pleases you.”

“Yes, if you’re willing to put up with my reading voice,” Liam half-jests.

“There is no other sound I prefer in the world,” Zayn says, and Liam doesn’t know what to say except the feeling is mutual. He hasn’t the guts to speak the words out loud, though, and he’s not sure if Zayn is able to read his mind as easily as he once did.

Liam finds the book that Zayn directs him to on the bookshelf. It’s a slim, evergreen volume that he’s pretty sure was due back at the library weeks ago. He thumbs to the page, takes a deep breath, and reads: “In a little district west of Washington Square….”

By the time Liam’s gotten to the end of the story, he thinks it’s not such a bad idea the old artist had, painting the leaf on the wall. It kept his upstairs neighbour alive through the worst of her illness. As long as she saw that a leaf remained, she would cling to life, just like that painted leaf supposedly clung to the vine.

Liam looks out the window at the old oak, watches it shed a few more leaves. He wishes there was a solution that easy for Zayn, something so deceptively simple like a painted leaf.

Except it isn’t that simple because the old artist ended up catching pneumonia himself, staying out all night in the freezing cold to paint that single life-like leaf.

“He was finally able to paint his masterpiece,” Zayn says, replying to Liam’s unspoken question. “It was all he wanted. And I did not know it, but all I really wanted was to find you, to share this little corner of the universe with you.”

“Why don’t you paint?” Liam asks, thinking back to one of the first conversations they had. “You told me you painted rainbows and sunsets and I forget what else. Why don’t you paint them?”

“Because I am too busy living them right now, and….”

“And?” Liam asks tentatively, and there’s a gentle sadness in Zayn’s eyes warning him that he doesn’t want to know.

“Pictures are for remembering, are they not?” Zayn poses, and there’s something so cruelly bittersweet in his voice. “Soon, Leeyum, I will have no use for remembering.”

And to Liam’s credit, he doesn’t break down right then and there. He’s strong—not for himself, but for Zayn.

Zayn, who doesn’t need it because he is made of stronger stuff and stardust.

☆☆☆

For the next few weeks, Liam tries not to think about how Zayn is literally wasting away. He wonders how it will progress, if it will more closely resemble so-called Victorian Novel Disease or the all-too-real suffering of the rabbits and deer he’s seen afflicted with a similar condition.

He tries not to think about the next month or even the next week. Instead, he focuses on the here and now.

Even so, Zayn is deteriorating fast.

Liam hates it. He hates that Zayn is only a shadow of his former self. He hates that the countertops are empty of tins filled with freshly-baked biscuits and scones. He hates opening the refrigerator and not seeing a single pie. He hates that Scooby has noticed the change in Zayn, too. He hates that his friends and family are worried about him—about them—even though Liam has tried to hide it. But most of all, he hates that Zayn is fading and he can’t do a single bloody thing about it.

Maybe it’s just his imagination, but he thinks their connection is fading, too. The bond seems to be growing weaker. He can barely feel that comforting current of electric energy when Zayn is close to him, when they touch. He wants it back. He wants Zayn back. Like the red string of fate tying them together, Liam is beginning to fray at the edges, and he knows it won’t be long before he completely unravels.

Liam has given up any hope of taking him to see a doctor. The bargaining stage of grief didn’t last long before he realised that seeking medical help would just rip apart what little time they had left. Besides, it was dangerous. Zayn could fool almost anyone on sight alone, but a specialist—even a GP—would know Zayn wasn’t human after a simple blood test.

After that, Liam bargained with him again, trying to persuade Zayn to return to his home planet where the physicians or scientists would have a better understanding of the disease or at least his physiology. Zayn said it was impossible for him to return, what with his ship destroyed. He calmly explained that it wouldn’t make a difference anyways. He had received a negative prognosis and an approximate determination of his ‘expiration date.’ Being on Earth might prolong the inevitable, like a rest cure with restorative waters, but that was only a guess. Advanced as his planet was, there was nothing they could do for him.

“What if you need a doctor, to, like, alleviate the symptoms?” Liam points out, adding a few berries to the porridge he made for breakfast because that’s about all Zayn seems to tolerate nowadays. He carries both bowels over to the kitchen table where Zayn’s already seated.

“It is not something I require,” Zayn explains after thanking him. “My people were able to go unnoticed on Earth because we have gained an immunity or natural ability to counterattack most illnesses, diseases, and other conditions. We heal at a faster rate than humans, which you observed when I cut myself.”

“Then why are you sick?” Liam demands, desperate for an answer because everything Zayn’s been saying has just made the situation seem even more improbable. He is forced to wait, however, as Zayn takes a spoonful of porridge.

“My illness was an abnormality,” Zayn answers, calmly setting his spoon down on the saucer, “but such anomalies do occur on occasion in my species.”

Liam wonders how Zayn can be so clinical about being diagnosed with a terminal illness when the unfairness of it all makes Liam want to scream, and rage, and raze his entire farm to the ground. He’s angry, and he’s got a right to be.

And just like that, he’s back to the first stage of grief.

☆☆☆

By the time the peak of the Leonids of November arrives, Zayn is too sick to leave the house.

Even leaving their bed has become a struggle. Zayn tries standing, but gravity has become his enemy once again. And so, Liam wraps him up in the duvet and carries him downstairs, trying not to trip over a worried, whimpering Scooby on the way down. It’s too cold on the porch, but Liam has already pushed the couch closer to the bay window so that they can observe the meteor shower from there.

This storm isn’t as spectacular as the Perseids a few months back. It’s fainter, the sky cloudier. It’s nice, though, watching it with the man he loves. It feels peaceful, familiar. Zayn leans against him and holds his hand throughout, only letting go to point out Aquarius when the clouds roll by and the constellation comes into view.

“Do you ever miss home?” Liam asks, reflecting on how odd it would be if he were observing his own planet from that far away, if Earth was just a blip of light on a distant constellation.

Zayn looks at him, eyes smouldering like burnished gold. “I am home,” he says, voice sure and unwavering. And for a moment, it’s like he isn’t sick at all.

Liam reaches for his hand again and grasps it tightly. His other hand combs gently through Zayn’s hair, and the man sighs as he melts into his side. Liam thinks he’d love nothing more than to stay like this forever. (He’d settle for a lifetime, though.)

The brightest shooting star of the night blazes across the charcoal sky.

He makes a wish.

☆☆☆

The next day is harder. The day after that is a bit better. The day after that one is much worse. Liam tries to take the ebbs and flows as they go, but he can feel winter on the horizon. A cold front has moved in, and he knows it won’t be long before the first snow falls.

Liam endeavours to stay ahead of the cold, though. He orders a heavy quilt for Zayn online and raises the heat up another notch.

He also tries to fit his farmwork in while Zayn’s resting, but it’s difficult to leave the man’s bedside on bad days. Liam isn’t neglecting the farm—after all, it’s not like he can go without feeding his animals—but he has cut down on some of the nonessential tasks. Luckily, there’s not nearly as much to be done as there was even a month ago. So, he carries out the necessary maintenance and accepts additional help whenever it is offered.

“You’ve never told me about your family,” Liam remarks one morning as he fluffs a pillow. It’s another subject Liam’s been meaning to bring up because Zayn volunteers very little about his former life. “It must be hard to be separated from them.”

“I do not have a family, Leeyum.”

And there it is, the reason why Liam’s never asked. Zayn woke up feeling relatively okay, and now, Liam’s gone and asked a thoughtless question when he really should’ve known better. “sh*t, I’m so sorry, babe. Forget I mentioned it.”

“No, it is fine,” Zayn assures him.

Liam finishes mucking with the pillows and sits down on the bed. Zayn does, in fact, seem completely unbothered by the startling admission he’s just made. “Do you want to talk about it maybe?” Liam offers, reaching for his hand.

“I do not mind either way,” Zayn says, “but, perhaps, it is better if I explain it.” He takes a moment to gather his thoughts. “I should tell you first that I am not an orphan in the true sense. I was born to a loving couple who shared a soulbond, but I was their second child. I only tangentially knew them.”

Liam can already see where this is going. “There is a child quota back on your planet.”

“Yes, I believe it is the same in certain places on Earth except it is a universal decree on my home planet. I should state that it is considered an honour to be raised in these…boarding schools, let us call them. There is more opportunity to learn and do and explore.”

“But you lose your family,” Liam says because it’s so hard to wrap his head around a concept like that.

“It is difficult to miss something you never had,” Zayn shrugs, “but I will admit that I never thought about it much until I observed you with your family.” He shakes his head. “In any case, the idea of the found family has always been encouraged.”

“Do you have a found family, then?”

That question does seem to solicit a flicker of regret. “I have always been an introvert—a loner, even. At school, I generally kept to myself, my studies, and my hobbies. I do not make close friends easily.”

“Niall really likes you,” Liam points out, “and I’m certain you’d get on well with Louis. Also, my mum and sisters adore you. As a matter of fact, I keep getting sh*t from them because they think I’ve locked you up in a tower or something.” He laughs, but it comes out a bit hollow. He doesn’t have a clue what he’s going to tell them all, hasn’t really contemplated the real-life implications of what happens after Zayn is gone. Liam has thought about the mourning part of it, yeah, but he’s never considered the questions he’ll be asked by supportive friends and family. He supposes he’ll just have to say that Zayn left, that he’s never coming back.

(It won’t exactly be a lie.)

“Anyway,” Liam continues, struggling to stay on track, “maybe you just needed to travel forty lightyears to find your found family.”

“It is nice,” Zayn says, absentmindedly stroking the back of Liam’s hand with his thumb, “being loved, belonging somewhere.”

“You must’ve felt like such an outsider at times. I genuinely don’t know what I would’ve done without Niall and Louis growing up,” Liam admits, pausing to reflect back on his school years. “I always felt like I didn’t quite fit in until they came along. I still do sometimes—well, not anymore.” He clasps Zayn’s hand a little tighter. “Honestly, I haven’t really felt that way since I moved out here. But at the factory…yeah, I felt that way a lot.”

“Everyone belongs somewhere, Leeyum. It’s like the dandelions. You once stated that many people think of them as weeds, and yet, they are both useful and beautiful, are they not?” Zayn stops to take a long, laboured breath. “Yes, so even in a world that fails to understand or appreciate them, they still have their place.”

“Next to the cherry trees?”

Zayn smiles softly up at him with tired eyes. “Yes, as you once informed me, they are companion plants. The dandelions belong next to the cherry trees, just as I belong here, right next to you.”

Something tears at Liam’s heart, the thought that the lifespan of a dandelion is so painfully short. The dandelion blooms golden, then withers to white within days. He looks into Zayn’s eyes, stares into those once-golden irises, and it tears him apart, the thought that fate could be so kind and yet so cruel.

But he promised himself he wouldn’t be sad—there will be plenty of time for that later—so he pushes the blue thoughts away and trades them for happier ones. “You know, my nan used to make us dandelion tea whenever we were poorly. She called it the age-old cure-all. My sisters liked it. I didn’t, but I always drank it all because I figured anything that bitter had to be good for you.” He chuckles fondly at the memory. “Maybe…maybe you’d fancy a cup?”

“There are no dandelions, Leeyum. How would you make dandelion tea?”

“I’ll add it to the shopping list.” They’ve been getting their groceries delivered for a while now, ever since it became impossible for Zayn to accompany him on the weekly trip into the village. It’s true that their bond isn’t as strong as it used to be, but Liam’s not taking any chances by leaving him alone. “If they don’t have it, I’ll simply order a box online.”

“I would not want to trouble you.”

“It’s no trouble at all. I’ll check on it today.”

“I would prefer not—” Zayn stops short when he sees Liam’s face fall. “What is wrong, Leeyum?” he asks, and the fact that Zayn has no clue, that he can’t use his intuition, makes it even worse.

“Nothing, it’s stupid.”

“Leeyum, tell me.”

Liam swallows down the lump in his throat. “When we were swimming, you…you promised me you’d never fight me if I tried to save you.”

It’s quiet for a long time. Liam doesn’t dare look at Zayn. He knows how pathetic he sounds, but he can’t help it.

“Actually, the tea sounds like a lovely idea,” Zayn says at last, attempting to disguise the pity he probably feels towards Liam with politeness. “Thank you.”

The dandelion tea promptly arrives two days later, and Liam wastes no time in brewing a small pot. While it’s steeping, he toasts and butters a teacake, then adds a large dollop of redcurrant jam. He remembers to add a drop of honey to the cup, just like his nan used to do. Finally, he arranges everything on a tray and carefully carries it upstairs.

☆☆☆

The dandelion tea really does seem to be some kind of miraculous cure-all. And Liam’s done his research, so maybe it’s just the specific vitamins or minerals or flavonoids or antioxidants that are helping. Most likely, it’s some combination of all of the above. Liam doesn’t really know. All he cares about is that Zayn’s getting better.

The redcurrants have always been palatable to him, and Liam’s been making redcurrant puddings, soups, and jellies throughout the summer and into the autumn. Liam still has mason jars of preserves left, so he rations them for as long as he thinks they’ll keep. (After all, Zayn parachuted into his redcurrant bush, and that has to be a sign of something or other.)

If Liam didn’t know better, he’d say it was the farm itself that was restoring Zayn back to full health. Undoubtedly, it sustained him throughout those difficult weeks and months. What’s more, Liam never would have thought of the dandelion tea in the first place if it weren’t for the dandelions on the farm. And maybe Zayn was right, maybe he was meant to find this farm, to find Liam, for a reason.

Because this farm may have given Zayn life, but in return, Zayn has given Liam a life worth living.

☆☆☆

“By the way,” Niall remarks right before Liam is about to ring off, “I just wanted to mention that I know a guy,”

“You know a guy,” Liam repeats slowly.

“Oh lord, Payno. Do I have to spell it out?”

“Well, yeah,” Liam huffs. “‘I know a guy’ isn’t really helpful. It sounds like a cliché line from some gangster—”

“Yeah, gonna stop you there, bro. Let’s just say that I know a guy who could help your friend with his problem.”

“Which friend?” Liam asks, wishing Niall would quit speaking in riddles. “What problem?”

Niall heaves an exasperated sigh. “Reflect for a moment on the people who are close to you, Liam. Do you have a friend who might be in need of some…paperwork?”

“No,” Liam snaps, and he’s proper miffed now. “But I do have a friend who I’ll be hanging up on if he doesn’t say what he bloody means in the next thirty seconds.”

“Payno, I know you’re not as thick as those beefy biceps of yours would indicate.”

Liam’s not sure whether to take that as a compliment or not. He does, however, take it as a challenge. “Paperwork? You mean like form-filling?”

Niall sighs. “Just…have a quick think on it, yeah?

Oh. Oh.

Liam clears his throat. “So, you, uh, know a guy who can help with paperwork?”

“Precisely, Payno. You interested?”

“I don't know,” Liam replies, lowering his voice. “Are you sure we can trust him?”

“One hundred percent, mate.”

Liam's not convinced. “How can we be sure? I don’t want to risk—”

“The guy is me, Liam,” Niall interrupts, deadpan. “I'm the guy.”

“What?!” Liam sputters, but then, he thinks about how little he knows about his friend’s occupation and particular skillsets. “Ah.”

“Yup,” Niall replies, and Liam’s so used to Zayn reading his thoughts that he doesn’t even blink at that. “Now, do I have your permission to start on the paperwork?”

“Yes, that would be…ace.”

“I’ll get right on it and let you know.” Niall rings off then, leaving Liam to stare at his mobile and wonder if they were actually discussing what he thinks they were discussing.

☆☆☆

“The paperwork is proceeding nicely,” Niall informs him the next time they talk.

Liam had convinced himself that he must have hallucinated or misinterpreted that part of their last phone conversation. In fact, he hadn’t even bothered to tell Zayn about it. In any case, Liam definitely didn’t expect his best mate to come back with a positive update. “Sooo…just curious, Niall, but who exactly do you work for?”

“It's a government gig,” Niall answers, sounding cagey just like he does every time Liam mentions his work. “I’m a computer information specialist. Sorry, I can’t give you any details beyond that.”

Something suddenly occurs to Liam. “But don’t you live in London?”

“Yes, Liam. You stayed at my flat there in case you’ve forgotten or are being…I don’t know…mind-controlled by aliens?”

“Not funny, Horan.” Liam clears his throat. “But you're, like, Irish.”

“Yup.”

“And you live in London.”

“Yup.”

“And you work in London.”

“Computer information specialist,” Niall reiterates.

Liam still doesn’t quite get it. Maybe Niall is implying that he works remotely, which still sounds a bit dodgy or at least unusual for a civil-service gig. Then again, Liam’s not exactly sure which government his friend is employed by. Maybe Niall works at an embassy. Or maybe it’s one of those international agencies or organizations with government ties. Or maybe Liam’s best mate is working for the Irish mafia.

Whatever the case, Liam doesn't ask any more questions after that.

A few weeks later, a large envelope with no return label arrives via Royal Mail. It’s addressed to Zayn Malik c/o Liam Payne. It’s the very first item that Zayn has received in the post, and Liam goes to fetch him straight away.

Liam finds him awake, shirtless, and tiptoeing around the bedroom, trying to get ready. Zayn presses a finger to his lips, and Liam soon sees why: Scooby is curled up on the burgundy ottoman at the foot of the bed; it’s the little bulldog’s consolation sleeping spot since Liam won’t allow him on the bed. (Honestly, they have to wash the linens enough as it is.)

Liam gingerly shuts the bedroom door behind them and leads the other man, still half-dressed, downstairs to the kitchen “Something came in the post for you,” he announces.

Zayn approaches the plain, unassuming package on the kitchen table as if it might bite. “Are you certain it is meant for me?” he asks, fingertip tracing over the unfamiliar surname.

“It’s gotta be you,” Liam answers, prodding him to open it.

Zayn hesitates another second, then tears the tab open and dumps out the contents. One item in particular stands out. The size, shape, and specific shade of burgundy indicate it’s a passport from an EU country. Zayn flips it over, and the harp on the front instantly identifies it as an Irish passport. Inside the fresh, new booklet is a picture of Zayn that was likely photoshopped from one taken by Niall while they stayed in London. The passport belongs to one Zayn Javadd Malik, and his birthdate is listed as 12 January 1993.

“Leeyum,” Zayn begins, voice hushed, “do you know what this means?”

Liam isn’t sure where to begin because the passport alone opens a world of possibilities for Zayn. It means he can live a normal life, could get a bank account and a job and even a place of his own if he wanted. (It means he could leave the farm, leave Liam, and never look back.)

Zayn rolls his eyes. “No, silly—it means I can get a library card!” he cries, beyond giddy. And before Liam knows what’s happening, Zayn is ripping Liam’s shirt off and planting frenzied kisses all over his face and neck.

“It wasn’t me!” Liam protests, just so Zayn knows that he doesn’t deserve the show of passionate gratitude. “It was all Niall’s doing.”

“Yes, I conjectured as much. Do you wish me to stop?” Zayn asks after they’re both shirtless. (Technically, Zayn was never wearing a shirt in the first place.)

“So, you weren’t just, um, thanking me for the package, then?” Liam checks.

“Leeyum,” Zayn teases, gaze dropping to the visible bulge in Liam’s joggers, “there is only one ‘package’ that I am interested in right now.”

Somehow, Liam manages to stay standing even though he’s pretty sure his brain stopped working for a bit there. He is speechless, though.

“Sorry, I have the tendency to become excited when I get, well, excited,” Zayn explains, keeping a respectful distance. “Since Scooby is asleep in our bedroom, I was hoping to suck you off, then ride you on the couch. There is also the spare bedroom, if you prefer. Or, if you wish to do something else entirely, I believe the new season of Bake Off is now streaming on Netflix.”

“No, no—I’m more than good with the original plan,” Liam assures him, and he’s almost dizzy with desire now. “Feel free to carry on.”

☆☆☆

As it turns out, Zayn gets excited a lot. (Liam’s not complaining.)

As it also turns out, passport or no passport, soulbond or no soulbond, Zayn is sticking around.

☆☆☆

Liam manages to connect with Niall the next day. “Niall James Horan, you are the f*cking best,” he says the moment his friend answers the phone. Liam is not the type to exaggerate, and he’s not exaggerating now. “I can’t bloody thank you enough. Zayn thanks you, too, obviously. He’s showering now, but—”

“Mate, I haven’t a clue what you’re going on about,” Niall interrupts, but Liam can tell from his tone that he knows exactly what Liam is going on about. “Anyway, I hope you and your boyfriend enjoy the holidays. I’ll expect you down for a long weekend in January.” He pauses a tick, then asks, “Hey, isn’t Zayn’s birthday coming up?”

Liam covers a snort. “You should know,” he replies, and Liam can practically hear him grinning over the phone.

☆☆☆

There’s something about early spring on a farm in the West Midlands. The verdant valleys are revived. Birds sing from sunrise to sunset. In the meadows, fields, and groves, Mother Nature begins to potter about with her pastel palette, and a sweet floral bouquet partners with the waltzing zephyr.

It’s a time of rebirth, a time of regrowth. It’s a time for planting seeds, growing roots, and blossoming.

For Liam, there’s something about relaxing on the porch, watching the love of your life paint the view from the farmhouse for a landscape. (Except your view will always be superior because he’s in it.)

That is precisely what Zayn is doing now. He is finishing another canvas, and this one appears to be more realistic, less stylistic than normal. He’s trying to capture the countryside—or capture how he feels when he sees it, at least. Otherwise, he’d simply take out his new phone and snap a photo.

Liam can’t help thinking that Zayn may be painting an idyllic scene, but they’re living it.

After all, Zayn is cured. Their bond is back, stronger than ever. They have people who love them. They have the farm.

Speaking of which, they’re looking at starting a small business of selling preserves. There’s been interest in the surrounding villages, Wolverhampton, and even Birmingham. And it’s hard to believe, especially since Liam has recently decided to plant another orchard, but they’re breaking even. They are doing better than that, in fact, because of the way Uncle Norm set him up to succeed. He calculates that they’ll start turning a profit by the end of the season, and he has persuaded Old Tom to come on full-time in a supervisory position. Liam’s also planning to finish his course in agricultural studies, then start one in business entrepreneurship.

Liam sips his afternoon tea as Scooby, returned from his adventuring, waddles up the porch steps and plops at his feet. Zayn glances back at them with windblown hair and an infectious smile. With a paint-smudged hand, he blows Liam a kiss.

Liam catches it. (He makes a wish.)

They’ve come so far in such a short time. But then, they’ve both found their place, the little corner of the universe where they belong. For now, it’s on a little farm just outside of Wolverhampton. Tomorrow, it might be London, or New York, or Tokyo. Someday, it could be a place beyond the stars.

But regardless, it will be a place where they are together. Not two sides of the same soul, but as complementary companions, helping each other grow and thrive like the dandelions and the cherry trees.

Come what may, they’ll be right next to each other.