Chapter Twenty Seven

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"Fifteen, he can't ever fucking do his dishes," Harry continues loudly. "Sixteen, he never puts his shoes neatly by the door. He always kicks them around the apartment and leaves me to clean them up. Seventeen—"

"Harry," Zayn snaps. "Seriously."

Harry sits up, no longer laying on his back on sofa in their tour bus. He runs a hand through his hair and pouts. "Why is it that I don't hate him? I could go on, the list is endless but I still love him."

"Because he's your best friend," Niall supplies.

"Zayn's my best friend," Harry corrects, before hastily adding, "I mean, if I had a best friend. But I don't play favourites. I love all of you equally."

"Zayn doesn't want to be your favourite," Zayn groans. "Zayn wants you and Louis to stop be so fucking stupid."

"Yeah, well." Harry tilts his chin defiantly. "Harry wants Louis to stop being an ass all the time."

"Niall wants you two to shut the fuck up," Niall adds from his bunk, where he's curled up with Josh.

"I just want you all to stop talking in third person," Josh says. "It's annoying and creepy."

Zayn rolls his eyes and checks his watch. Or— Liam's watch, really. Zayn is terrible at remembering when he's supposed to do things, always forgetting to check the time or set an alarm, and Liam had slipped it onto his wrist one day because of that. He's yet to take it back off, except for when he showers. It's not the nicest watch, honestly. It's old and the second hand it stuck between the two and the three, but it's got Liam's dad's initials carved into it and it means a lot to Liam, so naturally Zayn loves it.

"Seriously?" Harry demands, but he doesn't sound upset. Just fond, mostly. "It's not even been an hour. Your separation anxiety is ridiculous."

Zayn glares at him for that. Liam and Louis went out for the day to do some shopping, and Zayn isn't having separation anxiety. He's not that co-dependent, thanks. He's just a bit tired, and bored, and he wants to go back to his own bus and sleep, but he can't do that without Liam, which is why he's on the other bus with Harry and fucking Cory and Topanga.

"Fuck off," Zayn says without heat. "Or I'll go on your twitter and start tweeting about how much you love Louis' ass."

Harry scoffs. "You don't know my password."

"Really." He sits up, pulling out his phone. He signs out of his own account, types in Harry's email address and tries "LouisTomlinson. Oh, huh, that actually didn't work."

"You're not going to get it," Harry says with a smirk. "It's not that obvious."

"So you're admitting that it's obvious," Niall interjects. "That it'd be Louis. So you're technically admitting that your love for Louis is obvious. Just so you're self-aware."

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