but forget maybe [three]
Liam begs out of doing anything for almost two weeks, good at getting Niall to leave him alone, but then Louis texts and he’s sunk.
Louis: you play tennis? xx
Liam: no u?
Louis: no. shall we learn?
And so that’s how Liam ends up on a tennis court on a roof of one of the buildings of his school, shivering and sweating at the same time, because it’s freezing out and cloudy but tennis is hard, way harder than it looks on television, and Liam’s a runner but he’s still tired.
“We should’ve chosen archery,” Louis calls to him over the net. Liam’s done a good job of not thinking about quiz night and Harry and what a fool he’d made of himself over at the bar, but now he’s thinking about it and his enthusiasm for this game wanes even further.
Louis gives up after an hour or so and Liam couldn’t be more relieved.
Liam just wants to head home and lay in bed and maybe do some reading for the week, but Louis looks at him like he’s crazy and basically drags him back to their hotel.
“Let’s order in,” he says, “It looks like a storm,” and he’s right, the clouds are heavy and threatening overhead and Liam can just see it coming.
Zayn’s lounging in the common room of their suite when Liam and Louis get in. “There are my little athletes,” he says, and Liam flushes. He knows he’s red faced and sweaty and looks dumb in his university sweatpants and matching sweatshirt, but they’re comfortable and more importantly warm, so it is what it is.
Louis wants Indian food and they find a delivery place down the street. There’s no reception in the living room and Liam steps into the kitchen to call Niall and invite him over.
“I’m playing basketball at the gym,” he says, and Liam wonders what he’s even doing answering his phone. He tells Niall they’re ordering food though and he says quickly, “I’ll be there in twenty-five!” And then the line goes dead.
Liam turns from the counter and Harry’s standing behind him, in a white t-shirt and worn flannel pants, scratching at his stomach like he just woke up.
“Did you just wake up?” Liam asks him.
“Yes,” Harry says. “In my defense I’m waking for the second time today.”
“I’m not sure how that works in your favor,” Liam says, and Harry shrugs.
“I’m tired and it’s winter,” he says, like that means anything. He moves around Liam and grabs a mug out of the cupboard. “D’you want tea?” he asks, and Liam isn’t really a tea person but he says yes because it sounds warm and nice and because Harry offered.
Harry grabs another mug and when the water is warming, he says, “Haven’t seen you in awhile.”
Liam didn’t really expect him to notice, so he’s caught off guard and he freezes for a moment. He shrugs finally, mumbles something like, “School, you know how it is,” and Harry nods but Liam realizes he doesn’t really.
“How’d it go with that girl?” Liam asks, just to make conversation. “From pub night?”
Harry looks at him sharply, but his face goes blank quickly. “It was good,” he says finally.
“I was a bit drunk but I do remember she was very pretty,” Liam goes on, babbling a little because the water is still warming and he’s not sure what else to talk about. “What’s her name?”
Harry fiddles with the handle to the microwave and Liam can’t see his face. “Caroline,” he says. “Her name’s Caroline.”
“Lovely name,” Liam says, and finally the microwave beeps. Harry drops a teabag in one of the mugs and hands it to Liam. “You’ll see her again, then? Maybe I can meet her properly this time.” He offers a small, embarrassed smile, and Harry looks dazed, probably still partially asleep.
“Maybe,” he says.
“Right,” Liam says, desperately awkward, “Thanks, Harry,” he says for the tea, and escapes to the living room, where Louis is telling Zayn all about how he beat Liam at tennis.
Niall shows up just before the food, which Liam is sure he planned somehow, and they eat around the television. It’s warm and good and Liam is glad to be there but he’s still eager to get back to his room and get in bed, but Zayn is pulling out a bottle of whiskey and Louis’s got a deck of cards and Liam is thinking this night is going to be longer than he anticipated.
“This game is dumb and I don’t understand it,” Liam declares after his third time in a row coming in last. Louis tells him that means he has to take a shot for each of them and Liam is starting to think that Louis is making the rules up as they go.
Zayn’s had almost as much as Liam and he’s leaning heavy against him, grinning up at him. “It’s okay, Li,” he says, and reaches up to pet at Liam’s hair. “I don’t think you’re dumb.”
“I said the game is dumb,” Liam mumbles, because he’s almost sure he did.
Liam looks across the table and Harry’s there, catching his eye, and he smiles a little, like he’s amused. He’s quite good looking, Liam thinks, his senses dulled and no longer protecting him from thinking such things. Not stunning, not like Zayn, and not really generically good-looking, but he has a kind face and Liam thinks he’s probably a good person. He shakes his head and really hopes that was all internal dialogue like he thinks.
Liam tugs at Niall’s shirt. He’s got one of Harry’s guitars out and he’s strumming it and humming to himself. “Niall, time to go home,” Liam says, starting to drag himself to his feet.
“I don’t wanna, Li,” he says, and doesn’t look up from the guitar.
“Just stay here,” Louis interjects, because he would. “It’s disgusting outside.” Liam glances out, it’s dark now but he can see the wind whipping the trees, can almost feel how piercingly cold it is even through the windows, even with the heat on inside.
“No,” Liam says, “I want my own bed,” and from the floor Niall snorts.
“He always gets like this,” he mumbles, and picks out a short and cheery tune on the guitar. “Always wants his own bed.”
Liam doesn’t think it’s such an unreasonable request, that a man should want to sleep among his own things. “Fine,” he says huffily, “You can stay here. We don’t always have to be together,” and then Niall does look up, gives him puppy dog eyes.
“Don’t say that, Li,” he says, pathetic and sad, and Liam can’t help but smile at him.
“Okay, we do,” he says, and reaches down to pet Niall’s hair. “I really am going home though.”
“Shouldn’t go alone,” Zayn drawls, sprawled out on the floor, but he doesn’t look eager to volunteer to go outside either.
“It’s fine,” Liam’s saying, but then Harry’s on his feet, looking surprisingly sober compared to the rest of them.
“I’ll go,” he says. “I fancy a walk.”
“You fancy a walk in this weather?” Louis asks dubiously.
“You hate cold weather,” Zayn says, eyes closed and clearly half asleep where he’s laying.
“But I like walking,” Harry says, and shakes his head at Liam like they’re all crazy except the two of them.
“You don’t have to, really,” Liam says. “It’s only a few blocks.”
“It’s not up for discussion,” Harry tells him, and he disappears into his room to reappear a few moments later with a huge puffy jacket and a scarf. “Ready?”
In the morning Liam wakes up confused about being on the wrong side of the room, in sheets that don’t smell like his, and then he cracks an eye open and sees a mess of hair tangled against his own pillowcase and he remembers. He’d wanted his own bed but when they got back to his and Niall’s room, Liam went to the bathroom and when he got back Harry was curled up in his sheets, looking warm and comfortable and Liam didn’t have the heart to ask him to move, and besides, Niall’s bed was almost as good as his own. Close enough.
Liam takes a few moments. He presses his nose into the pillow and it smells like Niall’s shampoo. When Liam hops out of bed he realizes how cold it is, his feet are freezing and he pulls on two pairs of socks before he peers out the window and -
It’s white, everywhere, snow coming down so thick he can’t see beyond it, so bright it almost hurts to look at.
He’s still looking at it, squinting into the flurry of flakes, when Harry stirs next to him, his head flopping over toward where Liam is standing. Liam looks down at him and pretends this is normal, waking up in the same room, waking up with Harry in his bed.
“Coming down hard out there,” Liam says, voice raspy with sleep.
Harry lifts his head just enough to peer out for a moment and then flops back down, drawing Liam’s comforter tighter around his shoulders and pressing his eyes shut. “Cold,” he mumbles, voice barely there. Liam smiles.
“I’ll see if there’s any tea in the kitchen,” he says, and pulls on another sweater before he pads down the hall to the kitchen. He thinks Harry’s already back asleep.
Later, when Harry’s more awake - still wrapped in the blanket, but propped up now, both hands wrapped around his mug, filled with black tea Liam had scrounged from the communal pantry - Niall calls.
“I’m with Lou and Zayn and some others,” he says. “Everything’s closed. Stay in today, yeah Li? You got food?”
Liam smiles, because of course Niall would worry about food first. “I’ve got food,” he says. “We’ll be okay.”
“All right, mate. Tell Haz hello. Also, we’re going sledding in the park soon as it stops coming down.”
Liam clicks off and Harry blinks at him, shifting around in the layers he’s wrapped himself in.
“Niall says we’re going sledding, as soon as we can get up to the park,” he says, and takes a slow drink of his coffee. It’s getting lukewarm and he wishes it were hot, but he’s way too comfortable and warm to go back to the kitchen.
Harry’s face lights up. “I can’t wait,” he declares, “when do you think we’ll be able to go?”
Liam has to fight off a smile at that. “Weather people say it’ll be awhile,” he says. “Tomorrow, hopefully.”
“Tomorrow,” Harry repeats, sounding a bit disappointed. He catches himself quickly and tips back the rest of his tea. “So what’ll we do today?”
The first thing they do is eat massive bowls of cereal and watch cartoons all morning, Harry still in bed and Liam in the floor, wrapped in Niall’s comforter. It’s surprisingly fun, and it’s been way too long since Liam laid around watching television all day long.
When it stops coming down so hard they wrap themselves in as many layers as they can get on and brave the wicked cold to hurry down to the bakery on the corner. Luckily it’s open, and they eat fresh flaky pastries sitting at a table by the window, watching white flakes swirl down from the sky, watching people hurry by with their coats pulled close around them, watching kids in front of the brownstones across the street pelt each other with snowballs.
“Did you see that!” Harry exclaims, and his eyes are so bright, his mouth pulled wide into a smile. “That girl just hit her brother right smack in face.” He throws his head back, laughing, and Liam can’t help the grin that spreads over his face watching how delighted Harry is. “Pow! Never saw it coming.”
The snow’s almost stopped completely by the time they walk home so they go slower. Liam’s focused on re-wrapping his scarf so it covers his nose and mouth, trapping more heat in, when Harry says his name. Liam turns to look and suddenly he has a face full of cold, wet snow.
Liam freezes. It takes awhile to dawn on him what’s happened, and he wipes the slush out of his eyes, blinking rapidly in shock. When he can see again his first sight is Harry, standing nearby and shaking with helpless laughter, but as soon as he sees Liam looking at him he curls in on himself, protecting his groin and chest and turning away.
Liam just sets his jaw, finishes wiping his face and then stomps away. Better to catch him off guard. A few moments later he hears Harry walking after him, boots crunching over the powder covered sidewalks. “Liam!” he calls, and there’s still laughter in his voice. “Liam!”
“I’m not falling for that again, Styles!” Liam calls over his shoulder, and he wipes at his wet face again. Harry catches up to him and he holds up his gloved hands, glistening wet but empty. “Don’t worry,” he says, “It’s out of my system.”
Liam grunts and looks at him. Harry smiles hopefully and Liam turns away, walking straight ahead, and as soon as Harry falls in to step with him Liam reaches out and shoves with all his might, pushing Harry right into the snow drift at the edge of the sidewalk.
Liam scurries away, laughing, so Harry can’t pull him in after him, and he laughs even more when he turns back and sees the dazed look on Harry’s face. “Why, Liam Payne,” is all he says, in that slow, surprised voice, and then he tries to get up, bracing his hands on the snow on either side of him, but it gives way under his weight and he falls backwards again, snow caving in over his torso. Liam laughs and turns on him, walking quickly in the direction of his building while Harry struggles to get up. “If you come at the king, you best not miss!” he calls over his shoulder.
“I didn’t miss!” Harry yells after him, but Liam ignores it.
Liam’s already in the lobby by the time Harry catches up, and Liam can’t stop laughing when he walks in, still looking dazed and shaking a little with cold. “You look like the Abominable Snowman,” he tells Harry, even as he starts helping Harry dust the snow off his shoulders and arms.
Harry opens his mouth and his teeth chatter. “S-s-so cold,” he says. “Snow in my boots. Snow in my pants. Snow everywhere.”
“It’s your own fault,” Liam says, and pushes a clump of snow off his coat.
Harry starts to shake off, like a dog, and Liam reaches over to brush the clinging pieces out of his hair, dragging his fingers through it. Slowly, Harry stills entirely, enough that Liam hazards a glance at his face to make sure he’s okay.
He does look fine - just serious now, calm, his cheeks ridiculous and pink, lips obscenely red - but he’s staring at Liam, still brushing a hand over his head.
“All right, Harry?” Liam asks, and then Harry’s crowding into him, pressing his face against Liam’s neck. Liam shivers when he feels Harry’s ice cold nose just under his ear, but he doesn’t move, lets Harry do whatever it is that he’s doing.
He feels Harry breath out, once, twice, big heaving breaths warming the skin between Liam’s scarf and his sweater. His hands settle somewhere above Harry’s elbows and he moves them half-heartedly, as if he’s still brushing snow away.
Then, as quick as he came, Harry steps back. He lets his hair fall over his face, shaking out the remaining snow and water, and he turns toward the elevators before Liam can catch sight of his face. “Can we change now?” Harry asks, voice carefully steady and just a hint strained. “I’m absolutely freezing.”
“Of course we can,” Liam says, a bit lost, and they ride up to his room in silence.
Liam finds him some clothes to change into, a mix of his own and Niall’s, and while he’s in the bathroom Liam changes himself, hanging his wet clothes over the backs of furniture in the room to dry out.
When Harry comes back Liam can’t help but laugh at him a little, his wet hair hanging in his eyes pathetically and clothes that don’t fit him right stretched over him and hanging loose in weird areas.
“All right, enough from you,” Harry says mildly and starts to hang his own wet clothes next to Liam’s.
Liam settles at his desk and gnaws on his lip. He’s not quite sure what to do with Harry now, and probably he could go back to the hotel, but he doesn’t seem inclined to leave so Liam doesn’t mention it.
“I have a paper due end of the week I was thinking I should start on,” Liam says, and Harry looks over. “I don’t - I could give you a book to read or something. Or you could watch more TV.”
Harry pads over to him, socked feet muffled against the floor, and he’s climbing into Liam’s bed already, on all four crawling toward the pillows. “Maybe I’ll take a nap, yeah?” he says, already burrowing into Liam’s covers like he owns them.
“Okay,” Liam says, and watches him arrange himself, pressing his face into Liam’s pillows, until his eyes close and Liam feels intrusive looking on any longer.
Liam works on his paper and tries to keep his typing quiet. It’s hard to concentrate though, Harry keeps making these little noises, muffled sighs and groans right next to Liam’s head, igniting a sharp flare of something in his belly, a voice in his head telling him he shouldn’t be hearing these private sleeping sounds.
But he slogs through an intro, at least, and starts his outline. Harry doesn’t sleep for too long, stirring after an hour or so, and Liam doesn’t look over until he feels Harry’s eyes on the side of his head.
“Morning, sunshine,” he says. Harry makes a small noise and rolls over to face him. He watches Liam with quiet sleepy eyes for a moment and then snakes a hand out from over the covers to snatch the book Liam’s been flipping through off the edge of his desk.
“I'm not a Romeo and Juliet fan,” he declares after a moment, voice rough, and flips through Liam’s copy with a disdainful eye.
“No?” Liam asks. He turns his eyes back to his screen, typing, trying to think about his dissection of Mercutio’s character. “Why’s that?”
“Overdramatic teenagers,” Harry mutters, suddenly scornful. “Why would anyone take them seriously?”
“Probably some people say the same about your album,” Liam notes. He looks away from his paper long enough to catch Harry’s betrayed face and he laughs, turning in his chair to face Harry, still sprawled out in his bed, most of him covered in blanket.
“Okay, but even if the story doesn’t do it for you, you have to give old Bill some credit for the writing,” Liam says, and reaches over to pluck the book from Harry’s fingers.
“Do I?” Harry asks, raising an eyebrow in feigned disinterest. A challenge if Liam ever saw one.
Liam doesn’t open the book, he sets it back down on the edge of the desk Harry had taken it from, and looks back at Harry, who tucks his hands beneath his head on Liam’s pillow and blinks at him. “And when he shall die, take him and cut him into little stars, and he shall make the face of heaven so fine that all the world will be in love with the night and pay no worship to the garish sun,” Liam recites, forcing himself to look at Harry all the while as he says it and hoping he’s not flushing.
Harry blinks at him, once, twice, and he looks a bit spaced out, like he’s not even paying attention to Liam at all. Then he gives a small smile - he almost looks embarrassed, but Liam’s never seen him embarrassed before so he wouldn’t know. It fades quickly anyway, into a broad grin, teasing.
“You use that to pick up chicks?” Harry asks, and Liam just groans and goes back to his paper.
“I do like the movie,” Harry says after a few minutes, and Liam figures he’s done with the paper for the day now. Harry turns to look at him again. “The one with Claire Danes? Do you have it?”
Liam shuts the lid to his laptop. “Er, no. I have the Batman movies. The Avengers. Toy Story. The Spiderman movies…”
Harry wrinkles his nose. “None of those will do,” he declares, “None of them at all.” He looks up at the ceiling, considering, and then he says, “Maybe it’s on TV?” He holds his hand out, expectantly, and it takes Liam a moment to catch on that he wants the remote.
Liam stands to grab it from Niall’s desk and then watches as he flips through channels, almost convinced that Romeo + Juliet will be on, just because Harry wished it so. It’s not, though, and he settles on Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, already half an hour in.
The problem is that the TV is positioned in a way that it’s hard to see from Niall’s bed. When it’s the two of them it’s no big deal, Niall piles into Liam’s bed easily and Liam yells at him for getting crumbs in his sheets and everything’s fine. But Harry isn’t Niall and Liam can’t just climb into bed with him, and his back still hurts from sitting on the ground all morning, so he turns his desk chair and settles into it, hard and uncomfortable beneath him, while Harry takes advantage of Liam’s warm sheets and blankets and soft pillows. Liam’s not bitter at all.
Jim Carrey and Kate Winslet are ice skating on a frozen pond and they look freezing and Liam is too. He pulls the sleeves of his sweatshirt down over his knuckles and pulls his knees to his chest, hugging his arms around them.
“You look cold.” Harry, then, poking his head over the edge of Liam’s bed and smirking at him, the bastard. Easy for him to say when he’s wrapped in every blanket Liam owns.
“Yeah, well,” Liam says. He stands then. “I’ll just get a blanket from Niall’s bed,” and he does make in that direction and only stops when Harry snorts.
He looks back. “Stop being stupid, then, you’re clearly uncomfortable,” Harry says, and when he holds up the edge of the comforter, Liam can see his bed and it looks slept-in and rumpled and so warm and comfortable that he barely thinks before his feet are moving across the floor, before he slides in.
He does try and keep some of his dignity, sitting propped up against the wall with the comforter over his lap. He settles his hands there too, protecting himself. Harry looks up, amused.
“I know how you are,” Liam tells him. “I’m afraid this is a trap.”
Harry knocks his knuckles against Liam’s, snorts, and tucks his head back down on the pillow, precariously close to Liam’s hip. “We’ll call the bed a safe zone, yeah? Promise.”
Liam’s not entirely sure he trusts Harry’s promise, but he relaxes his arms anyway and shifts, trying to get comfortable, his shoulders against the wall.
Now Jim Carrey and Kate Winslet are in a bed on a snowy beach not far from where Liam is, and they look infinitely more comfortable, he must say. He shifts again, twisting his back, and finally Harry looks up, incredulous, and says, “If you don’t stop that I’m going to push you right onto the floor, safe zone or not.”
Liam pouts. “It’s my bed,” he grumbles, but he gives up and wriggles down, folding his pillow in half to prop his head up enough to see the TV. He’s shoulder to shoulder with Harry and ignores the latter when he nudges him.
“Better?” he whispers, despite Liam’s efforts.
“You shut up now,” Liam says, and when Harry laughs his breath heats Liam’s cheeks.
Liam doesn’t want to fall asleep or he’ll be up all night, but his bed is so comfortable and the cocoon he and Harry have created is so warm, he feels his head drooping over in a matter of minutes. It doesn’t help when Harry curls onto his side next to him, his forehead almost but not quite touching Liam’s shoulder, slow breaths against Liam’s arm. The movie plays on, quiet, and Liam only jerks awake when the commercials come on, loud and obnoxious.
After a few incidents of this jerking awake, Harry reaches for the remote, lost somewhere in the tangle of blankets they’re trapped in, and when he finds it he turns the volume way low, so Liam can barely hear it.
“Don’t,” Liam protests, softly, eyes falling shut.
“Liam,” Harry whispers back, and his arms is shifting around under their covers. Liam’s first thought is to protect his crotch or his nipples but Harry’s hand brushes his and then Harry links their pinkies together, stilling. Liam quirks an eye open, looking for his face, but it’s tucked down in a mass of hair and blankets.
“Harry?” he asks slowly, but there’s no answer, and eventually Liam gives in to sleep.
He was wrong about being up all night. The next thing Liam knows there’s an incessant buzzing coming from somewhere, and he groans to make it stop, but that doesn’t work. He says, “stop, stop,” but that doesn’t work either, so he rolls over, away from it, to bury himself and drown out the noise -
What he gets is a face full of hair, and then something’s moving, and god, there’s a person underneath him, and that’s all it takes to lift Liam out of the layers of sleep and jerk upright in bed, his neck aching.
Harry peeks up at him, one eye barely open. “What?” he grunts.
Liam glares down at him just because he’s there and Liam can. “That noise,” he growls out, and swings out of the bed, stumbling on his weak legs. He finds his phone, skittering across the surface of his desk and buzzing with messages, and Jesus, it’s only 7:30 in the morning, who would do this to him?
Niall: up and at em!!!
Niall: meet us at the hills we went t last year
Niall: we got a bunch of saucers so just bring yourselves
Niall: now now now
Niall: come nowBEFORE ALL OF NEW YORK WAKES UP
Liam thinks it’s ironic that Niall can wake up before 8 am for this but never for class. He tosses the phone towards Harry rather than having to use his words, but Harry isn’t expecting it and the phone bounces off his cheek and across the bed, and suddenly Harry’s eyes are wide open.
“Owwwwww,” he says, delayed and surprised, and Liam can’t help but laugh despite his sour mood.
“Up and at ‘em, Styles,” he says. Harry glares for a moment and then sits up, dangling his feet off the edge of the bed and picking up the phone to read Niall’s texts.
Once he’s done he sets the phone next to him on the bed and stretches his body out toward the ceiling. Liam doesn’t mean to watch, but he does, and when Harry catches him he shrugs. “Wanna get coffee and food on the way?” Liam asks, and Harry only grunts but Liam takes it as a yes. “Okay. I’ll find us some clothes.”
“Liam,” Harry says, and Liam turns back from heading toward Niall’s closet, stopping to standing in front of the bed. He blinks at Harry.
“What?” he says finally, and then Harry kicks his leg up and nails Liam right in the balls. He doubles over a little, it wasn’t hard but Liam still wasn’t expecting it.
He glares at Harry, smiling triumphantly from his bed. “You said the bed was a safe zone,” he complains.
“You’re not in the bed,” Harry points out. “Also you assaulted me with your phone in the bed, so really you brought this on yourself.”
“It is entirely too early in the morning for you,” Liam tells him, and Harry just smiles brightly and jumps to the floor, heading for the door and presumably the bathroom. Liam wants to tell him, if you’re trying to confuse me, if you’re playing some sort of game here, it’s okay, you win. I lose. I give up. But it is too early in the morning, and Harry’s out of the room anyway, so he just goes to Niall’s closet and tries to find something for Harry to wear.
It’s early enough that the park isn’t terribly crowded, and it’s mostly just kids with their parents, not many people their age on the bigger hills. They find Niall, Louis, and Zayn at the top of one of them, all bundled up and bleary eyed and clutching saucers in a rainbow of colors.
Zayn’s got a pink one held tightly to his chest and Liam smiles at him. “I wanted the pink one,” he says jokingly, and Zayn’s arms tighten as he smiles.
“Pink’s my color, sorry, love,” he says, and he seems to be wearing more layers than everyone else combined, his body lost under sweaters and a big puffy jacket that looks like Niall’s and at least two scarves.
Liam shrugs, smiling, and Zayn leans closer. “All right, you can use it once or twice,” he whispers conspiratorially, “But only you.”
Liam grins, then. “It’s a deal.” He watches Harry fly jump onto Louis, sending them both careening over into a flurry of snow, and they’re yelling something incomprehensible to the rest of them. Niall ambles over, clutching a green saucer that he hands to Liam.
“How was your snow day, Li?” he asks, and he’s entirely too bright eyed for this early morning.
Liam shrugs, not sure what to say. “Quiet,” he goes with. “We napped and watched movies, I worked on a paper. Went to bed early.”
Niall nods, looking down over the hill. “Nice,” he says. “We got pissed and went to Kmart.” Liam just shakes his head, because of course they did. Niall holds up his saucer, bright orange, and says, “These saucers are brought to you courtesy of Mr. Jack Daniels.”
“Got sauced and bought saucers,” Zayn says, and cracks up by himself.
The hill they’re on is bigger than the one they went to last year, and no one seems particularly enthused to be the first to try it. Louis huffs like he’s annoyed, and Liam makes the mistake of meeting his eye. “You and me together, all right, Li?” he asks. “We’ll be the adventurous ones, as always.”
Liam looks down the hill with wide eyes, but he figures, why not? And he’s not going to say no to Louis anyway.
“You want the lucky pink sled?” Zayn asks, holding it out, and Liam decides yes, yes he does, so he swaps out his green one and he and Louis perch at the break of the hill, fingers gripped tightly around the edge of the saucer and knees pulled in.
“Count of three,” Niall says, standing behind Liam with his hands on his shoulders, ready to push. A few feet away, Harry’s doing the same for Louis, and Zayn is standing between them, looking unsure.
“One,” Niall calls. “Two.”
“Three!” Harry yells, and then Liam is sliding slowly over the edge, much more slowly than he expected, and he looks up at Louis to find him looking back -
And then all at once, it seems, they pick up speed and they’re flying down the hill, Liam closes his eyes against the cold air, painful, but that’s a bad idea because then he’s spinning and suddenly he catches a rock or something and he careens sharply to the right just as Louis is pulling left, and they collide, tumbling off their saucers and rolling to the bottom of the hill.
Louis is giggling madly, curled up in the snow with his scarf tangled around his head, and Liam spreads out, dazed for a moment before he starts laughing too.
“That was amazing!” Louis yells up at the rest of them, peering down to make sure they’re alive. “Get down here, you twats!”
Liam reaches out to shove his shoulder, “There are children right there, Louis,” he admonishes, and then they collect their saucers and hurry back up the hill to go again.
Every year Liam forgets how much of a workout sledding is, running up the hill over and over, and he knows he’s going to be bruised and battered tomorrow but he’s having enough fun that he doesn’t much care.
“Let’s go down backwards!” Louis yells at him as they prepare at the lip of the hill once again, and Liam thinks that’s a terrible idea. He says yes immediately.
After a few runs up the hill, Liam needs a break, and he uses his saucer as a seat at the bottom of the hill, watching the others come down. Niall flies down on his belly, his arms stretched in front of him, and he yells, “Look, Li, I’m Batman!”
Liam almost falls over laughing. “Batman doesn’t fly, you idiot,” he calls back, letting Niall crash into him and they go sliding back a few feet.
“I meant Superman,” he pouts, and then grins, all bright and happy like Liam feels.
Louis and Zayn hold hands and go running, jumping into their sleds right at the edge of the hill, and almost immediately Zayn goes tumbling out and slides down the rest of the way on his ass. Liam almost cries from laughing but he stands up when Zayn gets to the bottom. “That was painful,” he grimaces, limping over toward Liam, and Liam hugs him, rubbing his arms because he just looks so cold.
“Gonna go again, Payno?” Louis calls, and Liam nods.
“One more minute and I’ll come up,” he says. He wonders how Louis is in such good shape, running up and down that hill over and over.
Liam watches Harry gear up, his lanky body folded up into his saucer and his nose wrinkled against the cold, looking all of six years old. Liam’s laughing at him, he’s set to cruise right by Liam, still seated cross legged in his saucer at the bottom, but right as Harry goes by he flings himself out and onto Liam, laying Liam out flat into the snow with Harry on top of him.
“That was rude,” Liam says, but he can’t stop laughing so it doesn’t have much effect. Harry wriggles around on top of him like he’s trying to get up, but Liam doesn’t think he is. He finds Harry’s side and pinches, Harry flails, he buries his face in Liam’s neck again and suddenly Liam’s going still, thinking about the day before, and then he feels teeth and Harry’s biting him and he yelps and throws him off.
Harry looks very pleased with himself, laying on his back in the snow, but that’s normal. Liam stands and brushes snow off of himself, trying to get as much of it on Harry as possible. Harry just spreads his long limbs out and starts moving them lazily.
“Look, Liam,” he says. “I’m making an angel.”
“That’s very ironic,” Liam tells him, but when he’s done Liam takes his hands and helps him jump up so he doesn’t get footprints in his angel, and they stand together and look down at it.
“Beautiful,” Liam says.
Harry looks at him and grins. “You think?” His smile looks genuine but Liam is still weary of a sneak attack so he steps a bit away. Harry’s grin falters and Liam thinks - what?
“Very,” he says, trying to sound earnest - and then there’s a flash in the corner of Liam’s eye, and a saucer whizzes past, a hand reached out to swipe both of their ankles and knocks them on their asses. Liam loses his breath, and when he looks up Harry looks sad. His angel is ruined and Liam tells himself it’s only that.
All the cafes and diners near the park are packed to the brim by the time they’re done at the park, so they take the train back downtown, soaked and shivering and huddled together, all five of them in seats meant for three. When they finally find a restaurant with room they all order hot drinks and soup and bread, and everyone eats off of everyone else’s plate, and Niall tries to guard his own food but is easily beaten and Liam doesn’t know if he’s ever been so happy in all his life.
four