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“My mum used to make chicken soup, when I was sick,” he says, watching Niall stack their empty bowls and spoons together, “She was a terrible cook otherwise, but her chicken soup was ace.”

“Did you get sick a lot when you were a kid?”

“No, but there were four of us, so there was always a pretty good chance that at least one of us was sick.” Zayn tilts his head a little against the cushions and eyes Niall for a second, wonders if Niall realizes he now knows more about Zayn than pretty much anyone else in the world.

“I miss them,” Zayn says after a few moments of silence, looking down at the mug in his hands.

“You don’t see them much,” Niall says, and it’s not really a question, but Zayn shakes his head anyways. It makes the room spin, so he closes his eyes for a second until the dizziness passes.

“Not at all,” he clarifies. He picks at a stray hangnail, wonders if he’ll regret what he’s about to say next. “My parents, they uh. Never really got on board with the fact that I liked guys instead of girls.”

Niall is quiet. Zayn doesn’t look up at him. Maybe he should have just stuck with the “not a big fan of flying” excuse he’d given Niall before.

“That sucks,” Niall says finally, “I’m sorry.”

Zayn shrugs, still not looking all the way up.

“Nothing to apologize for, yeah? Just the way it goes.”

Niall huffs out a breath.

“Yeah but.” He stops. “I’m just sorry that that’s what you’re up against.”

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