Hungry for Release

Part 7

"Earth to Zayn."

"Alloooo."

"Dude, wake up!"

The last attempt was accompanied with a hefty punch to the shoulder by Louis, who always got a little manic after long drives. That did it. Zayn sleepily eased himself off the car window ledge where he'd been snatching a quick nap, and grumpily shuffled across the seats. Niall smirked at him as he joined the other four on the tarmac.

"Don't worry wickle Zaynie, you can go back to nap time once we're on the plane," he laughed.

"Or...I can stuff you in the overhead locker," he shot back moodily. Niall merely chuckled in response, and skipped up the steps to their private jet. They all knew what Zayn was like when he was overtired - and, having come from two weeks of straight performances, anyone would be a little worn out. 

The engine rumbled into life, and soon the runway was speeding past in a grey blur. By the time they broke through the thick clouds, Zayn had dropped off again, oblivious to the turbulence as the small jet rattled its way up into the stratosphere.

Louis, on the other hand, was well aware of it. He was a nervous flyer at the best of times, even after the hundreds of trips he'd racked up. Glumly, he pulled down the shutter over the window. Niall and Liam both had their headphones on, and it looked like they'd be drifting off soon too. That left only Harry.

Things had been awkward between the pair lately. Although they'd used to be thick as thieves, almost co-dependant, if truth be told, he'd been spending every spare minute lately hanging out with his girlfriend Eleanor.

Although the pair were happy, she was stressed with uni, and seemed especially sensitive to online abuse lately. No matter how many times he'd sighed and explained how, awful as it was, it was part of the territory that came with being a 1D WAG, she couldn't let it go. It was a vicious cycle. The more the trolls attacked, the more needy and anxious she was - and so the more on-edge they looked when they were out together, fuelling the haters.

He'd turned down enough of Harry's requests to hang out in favour of staying in to Skype with her or see her in the UK that eventually, his friend had stopped bothering. And when he tried to make it up to him, Harry would act hurt and sulk.

But it wasn't like he owed him anything. It was like he resented Eleanor or something. For God's sake, why couldn't he just follow her on Twitter? It was like he wanted people to think he hated her - made all the worse when you thought about the amount of time she spent with the group.

He and Harry had been no more than silly kids really when they met - and just because...the things they'd done together...it was all just playing...just boys messing around...right? No different than what he'd do with anyone else when he was pissing around with his football mates in the locker room. Right. The plane gave a sudden lurch, and he let out an involuntary gasp, distracted from his train of thought.

From across the plane, he heard a soft laugh. "Oh, piss off!" he stage whispered, careful not to wake the others.

"Sorry, but you should see your face. You look like we just got torpedoed or something," Harry mocked. "It's just a bit of wind, that's all."

"Yeah, terrifying, hurricane force plane jiggling wind! I don't get how you can be so calm," Louis whined, wincing as another wave of rattling hit the cabin.

Harry smiled, rolling his eyes. "Come sit here in the back with me, I brought beer." Louis bit his lip. "I'm getting bored, anyway. And this lot will be out for ages, from the looks of it."

"Alright," Louis agreed warily, carefully edging across to where Harry was sitting. "But close your window shutter too."

After doling out a few six cans, Harry had fished out a packet of cards from his pocket, and the pair had passed the next few hours playing Cribbage and Rummy. Gradually, the tension crackling between them eased away. Eventually, Louis felt comfortable enough to kick off his shoes and drag his duvet across to Harry's bank of seats.

"Should I deal again?" asked Harry.

"Nah, let's take a break for a bit," Louis decided.

"Yeah..." sighed Harry. "Man. Feels like forever since it was just me and you." There was a moment of silence, before Louis sat up bolt upright.

"Oh my God. I just realised we forgot to eat dinner. Are you hungry?"

"A bit, now you mention it," nodded Harry, amused by Louis characteristic refusal to get into anything 'deep'. "Damn, and Paul told us to make sure that Zayn doesn't skip any meals. On pain of death, or worse... the call."

"Shit yeah - should we wake him? Anyway, he'll be well annoyed if he loses weight because of us."

"Will he though?" asked Harry, playing with his curls absently. "Sometimes I think he wants to stay that skinny. He's always complaining about portion sizes and stuff. Like, if I looked like...that, I'd be stuffing my face. Not being harsh, but, it's crazy how tiny his wrists are. And his jeans were hanging off him the other day in the studio. Surely you'd want to bulk up a bit?"

"Know what you mean. But you know, they airbrush all the pictures and stuff, so maybe he doesn't realise how small he looks, you know? And he sleeps through makeup, so not like he spends any time in front of the mirror. Anyway, I think we should at least try." 

"Yeah...but he looks so tired. Do you really think it's worth bothering? I mean, he gets pissy enough about being reminded to eat as it is, never mind when he's trying to sleep," said Harry thoughtfully. "Especially if you're cooking," he added, giving Louis a cheeky wink.

"Oi! You bloody loved it when I cooked for you."

"Oh yeah, it was marvellous. I so enjoyed having to remove the fire alarm batteries because you couldn't even make toast without waking up the entire block every morning," he teased, smirking at the memory. "Go on then, let's give it a shot." 

Harry disentangled himself from the warm duvet, and grabbed three prepared picnic style meals from the fridge. It dawned on him at this point that he was more than a little tipsy. "Zaaaayn," he whispered, nudging his friends head with a box. "It's dinner time. Louis and I made this especially for yoooou."

"Nargh. Feck off," mumbled Zayn, leaning over to give Harry an unexpectedly violent shove. Taken by surprise, Harry stumbled back, cracking his head on the overhead locker. Louis was behind him at once, concerned.

"Ow! Fine, you ungrateful little diva. I'm just going to put it here," Harry muttered, wedging the food in the gap between Zayn's quilt and the window. "Don't say we didn't try. C'mon Lou. I need another beer. And possibly a head rub," he said, hopefully.

The two crept back to their warm bank of seats, Louis playfully shoving Harry out of the way as they fought over the blanket. Any further responsible thoughts of forcing Zayn to eat were soon forgotten as the two settled into their second six pack, a sense of camaraderie drawing over them like a familiar warm blanket.

Shortly after they touched down in LAX, everyone's phones buzzed back into life. While everyone was occupied with checking in with their families, Zayn took great pride in furtively updating his MyFittnessPal. Yesterday: 80 calories. The day before yesterday: 380 calories. He didn't fancy calling his mum at that point. It was too awkward to lie to her about what he'd eaten for dinner when everyone could overhear. 

He'd be forced to have something when they all went to the breakfast meeting with the record execs they'd flown across to meet - have to put on a show for them, after all - but after that, the day was his to do with as he pleased. A long glorious afternoon of freedom stretched ahead, and it felt like he had all the time in the world.