Chapter Text
Within five minutes out of the car Zayn’s already decided that he likes great amounts of snow just as much as large bodies of water.
He stands shivering, the tip of his nose red, gloved hands buried deep in the pockets of his thick coat, while Niall immediately takes a dive into the so-called winter wonderland, rolls around until his blonde head looks crystallized. Harry and Louis are already heading towards their rented cabins, iPhones in hand, trying for signal and Wi-Fi.
Of course management hasn’t hesitated in terms of money. They’ve booked the priciest place they could find within the Swiss Alps and paid a nearby village catering service to stuff it with the necessities plus champagne and strawberries.
They’d all agreed to spend their first free weeks together before heading home, and since it was skiing season and Louis had felt like doing something new, Zayn is now on top of a mountain he forgot the name of, close to the Austrian border, and with no promise that he won’t just roll off one of those hills or get swallowed up by some avalanche.
“Alright there?”
Liam calls from behind, hands full with their luggage, helping Paul and the other lads unload their stuff. Zayn just shrugs and plugs his booted foot out of the inch-deep snow in an attempt to proceed uphill. Yes, of course he likes being with his band-mates, but he’s just yet to understand why people always have to go to places with H2O in states of liquidation or crystallization for holiday.
The wooden cabins are snug and lovely, huddled beneath three large Fir Trees that are a deep, Christmas green, the coats of blindingly white snow serving as decoration.
One cabin has an extended barn attached to it, namely the family resort, while the other one consists of just two rooms, double-bed big and woolly in the middle. It’s a getaway for newlyweds, the Swiss man with the enormous beard explains, they have a long list every year – all the lovers of the world want to spend their solitary vacation on this very mountain.
“Shouldn’t have built it next to the kids room.” Louis whispers and they all suppress their snickers while Paul’s directing their suitcases into various directions.
They all protest and complain after they’re told about the arrangement, they want to pair up, choose beds and whatnot, until Paul announces that there’s a whirlpool in the family cabin, for God’s sake.
Louis and Niall immediately scramble off to test the functions of it, and Harry naturally follows.
Zayn would’ve wanted a whirlpool, too, but he’s not as fussed. There’ll be more than enough time to go over and try out whatever’s so exciting about it. He and Liam settle with turning on their TV and unpacking while listening to some German news program.
The rest of the day passes with more rolling-about-in-the-snow and spotting white-furred rabbits in their natural habitat. At sundown Paul and the rest of their security troop ride down the mountain again, leaving them with instructions to the nearest farm and extra cell phones for emergencies, but otherwise completely alone.
It’s new, after months and months of touring and being surrounded by people, to be all alone and far off. “It’s like the end of the world.” Zayn let’s slip and Harry just snorts while everyone else laughs at him being all sensual and moody. “Bradford’s the end of the world, mate, you’re getting all confused.”
They all retreat to their respective lodges after an owl starts hooting and Liam catches sight of glinting orange eyes somewhere behind one of the trees. “But I’d like to see what it was!” he protests when everyone else packs up.
“Well, we’d still like to have you for our next album.”
They’re all knackered, it’s more than obvious. Zayn hears Niall stringing about on his guitar, hears Harry reading something out-loud, but then everything goes quiet.
Liam’s changing into his favorite soft boxers for the night, toothbrush poking out of his mouth. Zayn sits on their shared bed and just admires the view for a bit. It’s not that he’s gay and crushing, just bi and appreciating. Liam is awfully nice to look at, with all his long muscles and slim waist. He’s mussing up his usual hairdo and gives Zayn a friendly little smile through the foamy toothpaste in his mouth. “Which side you wanna sleep on?”
“Don’t care.” Zayn begins shedding his own clothing and strokes a hand over the soft duvet. He can sleep anywhere and everywhere. Besides, Liam’s breathing patterns are soothing, while Niall snores and Louis tends to roll around. Harry clings to people, wraps himself around limbs until they go numb. But Liam’s just soothing, he stays in his own private space, doesn’t move much and doesn’t wake up too easily, either.
So maybe Zayn would’ve wanted him to throw an arm across their double bed, he wouldn’t have protested if he were to scoot closer and attach his lips to Zayn’s neck. But a good night’s sleep is just as nice.
The wind outside is howling, but Liam’s lighted the fireplace and the crackling of dry wood combined with the fuzzy blankets makes his eyelids droop.
____
Zayn sleeps straight through the storm.
When he wakes up, the window is a blinding sort of white, the blue sky gone. Liam is standing at the door, still in his boxers, holding his phone and looking more than concerned. “You awake, man?”
“Yeah, yeah.” Zayn sits up and looks around. “What’s happened?”
“Storm. Got a text from Paul telling us not to move. He’s tried calling a couple of times, but the signal’s shite.”
“What about the others?” Zayn edges closer to the window and now realizes what the white stuff is. A wall of snow, at least eight feet tall, has formed overnight. If there was a second story to their cabin he probably would’ve been able to dive jump straight into it. But as it is, he’s more buried than anything else.
“Look.” Liam’s heading to the far wall and then lifts his fist to pound against the wooden walls as hard as he can. Immediately someone’s pounding back. “I guess they’re fine?”
“Do we have any electricity at all?” Zayn tries snapping the light on and off, then goes to their TV and switches the remote. No response. “What about water?”
“Hey, hey.”
Liam’s grabbing his shoulder before he knows what to do next.
“We’ll be fine. I’ve tried already, alright? Water’s cold but we won’t go without.”
Zayn just nods and sits down on his bed, dialing Niall’s number on his phone just to try. The connection is separated as soon as he’s pressed the button. Same with all the other numbers he tries. “Nah. Not helping.”
“Let’s just sit and wait. Paul will come up with something.”
And that’s all they do for the rest of the day. Liam checks the contents of their little kitchenette, finding enough to last them a month, if their careful and eat everything that spoils first. Then he looks into the cupboard where the wood logs are kept and rations them into separate little portions for each day.
All this preparing for survival is making Zayn sick to the stomach and he fights the chill that’s crept into the room with the failure of their heating system by wearing wool socks and one of his spare coats in bed. Thank god Liam’s still wearing his watch, otherwise they surely would’ve lost track of time.
Occasionally there is pounding against the wall and Liam goes to knock back. After a few hours they figure out a system to send across messages: One knock for A, two for B, three for C and so on. It’s fun in the beginning, with Harry trying to spell out that the whirlpool is still functioning, somehow, and Liam trying to tell them to go see how much supplies they’ve left. But after a while Zayn just can’t hear it anymore, all the beating and drumming and the fucking cold.
With the first shadows casting Liam starts lightning another fire, which he’s rather good at. Finally some warmth creeps back into their cabin and after a while Zayn moves to go find a kettle and brew some weird fruity European tea. While he’s at it, he also puts the chicken casserole catering had prepared for them yesterday in a pot and hangs it on an old hook near the fireplace. They’ve barely eaten all day.
“I feel like I’m in the middle ages or something.” Liam’s sitting down on the carpet next to him, sweater and a ridiculous fur hat pulled over his mop of hair.
“You look Russian, man.” Zayn says, and then he laughs, for what seems like the first time in ages.
“As long as it’s warm, mate.” Liam holds his cup tight and smiles a typical encouraging smile. “We’ll be fine. I promise. Just think of all the stories you’ll be telling the lot back home.”
“Yeah.” Zayn says, because he generally doesn’t say too much, and Liam’s somehow convinced him. Then he fetches two plates and they eat in silence.
They soon discover that without modern technology and given just one and a half room to move about, there really is very little to do. Liam busies himself with the rationing business he’s so good at, filling two iron buckets with the freezing water, just incase that should run out, too.
Zayn does the washing up and tries to ignore his blue fingertips, scrubbing the pot and the plates, feeling like a housewife in the 1800s. The wind has started to blow again, like thousands of animals joining into a ghostly chorus.
“Even more snow.” Liam says with a frown. “What’s it with this country?”
“What’s it with us coming here?”
“Hey now, grumpy.”
They send a few messages by thumping against the wall, stating they’re fine, with Zayn spelling out the letters and counting the whacks and Liam switching back and forth between his left and right hand to do the pounding. Niall answers that he ate all the crisps today and whether they’d be able to send over some. Harry knocks that they are all fine, except really bored out of their wits.
Zayn can only agree.
Liam puts in a few more logs for the night and somehow the temperature in the cabin rises so far that they both decide to strip to their usual gear. Liam’s lying on top of their bed, reading yesterdays Times, torso long and stretched. “Never bothered reading the papers, let alone Feuilleton-stuff. But it’s quite interesting, really.”
Zayn lies back down too, his teeth aching from brushing them with the icy water. He lets his eyes slide up and down Liam’s calf, his muscled arm, the dip of his navel. It’s weird what these mountains are doing to him – he always like Liam, liked looking at him, too. But right now it’s almost magnetic.
“Night, Li.” He mumbles while slipping under the covers. Liam just hums, and then extends a hand to stroke over his bared chest very briefly.
Zayn doesn’t sleep well that night.