burning away from inside

8/19/2019 Burning Away From Inside

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Posted originally on the Archive of Our Own at http://archiveofourown.org/works/1040824 .

Rating: Explicit

Archive Warning: Choose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of

Violence

Category: M/MFandom: One Direction (Band)

Relationship: Zayn Malik/Liam Payne, Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson

Character: Niall Horan, Cher Lloyd

Additional Tags: superhero au, multiple POVs

Stats: Published: 2013-11-11 Chapters: 2/2 Words: 87566

Burning Away From Inside

by scottmcniceass

Summary

They're a little too dysfunctional to be considered superheroes, but they do their best.

Notes

Extended summary of sorts: Zayn/Louis/Niall and Cher save the city, Liam's a mechanic

with a habit of being in the wrong place at the wrong time, and Harry's a little too curious

for his own good.

(title from the Jimmy Eat World song Littlething)

I don't think I've ever been so nervous to upload a fic before, but I had a lot of wonderful

encouragement f rom both Lea and Jesse to do so, so thank you both for you moralsupport.


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Chapter 1

"What did you do, Zayn?"

The words echo in his mind over the sirens from the fire truck, over the shouting of the firemenputting out the blaze. His mother's face lights up with both the flames of the house behind her and

the flashing lights of the truck behind Zayn, and she looks horrified.

What did he do?

He was fighting with Doniya. That's what he remembers most clearly. She was yelling at him

about – what was it? Taking too long in the shower, maybe, or did she find out about that time he

hacked her Facebook and posted those embarrassing pictures of her? It doesn't really matter, he

realizes. All that matters is they'd been fighting and he'd gotten angry.

It happened so fast. He didn't mean it . He just got so angry all of a sudden, and the next thing heknew her entire mattress was in flames, she was shrieking and running from the room, and he'd

just stood there, watching it in horrified fascination.

He did that. That was his fault. Just like the birthday cake when he was twelve, and that failed

History test when he was thirteen that he'd been told to bring home for his parents to sign, and that

horrible vest his mum tried to force him into last year for school pictures. When Zayn gets angry,

things catch on fire. He's tried explaining it, tried telling his mum and his family but no one listens

to him, and it never works when he tries to show them.

This time he thinks they might actually believe him, but it's too late for him to explain it now. Hismother's screaming at him, shrieking as she holds Safaa close to her, like she's afraid Zayn will

hurt her or something. Like he did this on purpose.

And maybe she's right. Maybe he didn't do it on purpose, but he could hurt her. He could hurt all

of them without even meaning to, tonight proved that.

What happens next time? What happens the next time his mum tries to ground him and he gets

angry at her? What if next time it's not the mattress that burns down? What if next time it's not the

house the firemen are left trying to salvage? What if next time it's someone he destroys, not

something?

Oh, god.

Deep down, he knew this day was coming. Deep down, he knew it was only a matter of time.

From the very first instance, the first time he'd held out his palm and watched as the flames danced

around it, never hurting him, almost caressing his skin with their warmth, he knew he was wrong.

He knew that there was something fundamentally wrong with him, dangerous, unnatural. And he

knew, deep down, that it was only a matter of time before everyone else realized it, too.

He doesn't wait for her to yell at him again, to tell him to pack his bags and get as far away from

her and the rest of their family as he can. Instead he takes one last look at their house, old and rundown even on the best days, now charred and destroyed from the fire. He takes one last look at his

sisters, at Doniya wrapped in a gray blanket with wide, glassy eyes, and Safaa and Waliyah, both

confused as their mother clutches at them. He looks at his mum but she doesn't look back at him,

and he tries his dad, too, but he's too busy talking to one of the firemen.


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And he runs. It's the only option, isn't it? He can't stay here. He's too dangerous. He can't risk

them again. Whatever it is that's wrong with him, whatever it is that makes him this way, it's his

problem. He's not going to make it their problem any longer.

But he's young, is the thing. Fifteen isn't the best age to run away from home, and he has no idea

where to go. He has no money, nothing but the clothes on his back and the pack of cigarettes in

his pocket. He doesn't have any friend's houses he could go to, not that he would. He doesn't have

a car or a way out of here.

He's not even sure how far from home he is when the car pulls up along the curb beside him,

going too slow to be coincidental. He's on a different side of town, the nicer side with bigger

houses and flashier cars. It's easier to get lost here because he's never spent much time in these

neighborhoods, and he isn't quite sure of where he is exactly.

The car next to him rolls down its windows and Zayn slows a bit, breath heaving, something

coursing through his veins. That same burning that started the fire in Doniya's room, the same

burning that makes him sweat even though it's late October and it's been hours since the sun went

down. It scares him as much as it excites him, the power of it, the promise of what it could do if he

allowed it, willed it.

"Hey," someone calls, leaning out through the window. All Zayn can see is blue eyes and a smile

that's probably supposed to be inviting.

Zayn's not stupid. He might not be a kid anymore, but he knows that, even at his age, you don't

get too close to strangers in cars. So he ducks his head and picks up speed, turning down the next

street abruptly to throw them off.

The car keeps following him.

"Are you deaf?" the guy yells at him. "Niall didn't say he was deaf. Maybe you're just stupid?"

Zayn's eyes narrow and he comes to a sudden halt. He doesn't really have anything to worry

about, does he? If the guy leaning out of the car wanted to try something, Zayn could have his

skin burning off his body in seconds. "Can I help you?" Zayn demands.

"Oh, so he's not deaf," the guy says, turning to address whoever's driving the car. "Convenient. I

don't know any sign language."

"Stop being a twat," a female voice snaps. "You're scaring him off, you should hear his thoughts.

He's considering setting you on fire."

The car comes to a complete stop and the guy— he's definitely not the creepy old man that Zayn

usually pictures in situations like this—grins at him. "Am I scaring you off?" he asks.

"Can I help you?" Zayn repeats, blood boiling. It's not just anger that does it, sometimes. It can be

frustration, or annoyance, or even one time when he was wanking and he – no, he doesn't want to

think about that, it was too embarrassing. (Embarrassment also gets the fire blazing inside him,

too, actually.)

"I think," the blue-eyed boy says, his look turning considering, "that we can help you, actually."

And then, in the blink of an eye, so sudden it shouldn't be possible, he's standing in front of Zaynwith a hand outstretched. "Louis Tomlinson, resident teleporter. Nice to meet you."

"God damn it ," he hears that same female voice groan, and then a car door slams as Zayn's head

gets suddenly dizzy.


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"You were just— the car and now—"

"I was there and now I'm here," the guy says with a roll of his eyes. "Spooky, isn't it?"

Zayn takes a shuddering breath. His hands are shaking, his heart is pounding, and there's this

concerning buzzing in his ears. And that's the last thing he notices before everything goes black

and he faints.

Several Years Later

"Why do I never get to drive?" Louis whines.

Zayn steers the sleek black car around a corner, not slowing down. They don't have time to slow

down. They don't have time for Louis' whining, either, but that isn't stopping him. Never does,

really. And it irritates Zayn, the fact that he never takes any of this serious even though it's really

serious.

"Because you're the sidekick," Zayn snaps. "That's why. The sidekick doesn't get to drive."

Louis gapes at him. He shouldn't have said that; he knows he shouldn't have said that. That this is

a very touchy subject for Louis. "Who the fuck said I'm the sidekick?"

"No one," Zayn says quickly. "I'm sorry. I'm just a little hot-tempered right now," he tries feebly.

"You think that pun was funny?" Louis asks. "Because it wasn't ."

And then he's gone in the blink of an eye. Not a sound, just — poof. " Fuck ," Zayn hisses. Underhis hands, the steering wheel suddenly groans and creeks. He lifts one, and the plastic underneath

is twisted and melted. Niall is going to kill him. And Zayn is going to kill Louis.

"Turn left at the next set of lights," says the always chipper GPS, in that same stilted, metallic, pre-

recorded voice that is almost as familiar to him as Louis' or Niall's. "Louis Tomlinson can be

found at 179 Wilburg Street. Do you wish to change your destination, Zayn?"

"No," Zayn says. Louis will come back. He always does.

There's a thundering in his ears as he drives, one that he's accustomed to. That familiar rush of

adrenaline courses through him and he embraces it, rides it out and lets it be the thing that keeps

him moving. He easily drives the car through the nearly deserted city. At this time of night, most

people are sleeping. And the ones who aren't? They're going to wish they had been.

As he's turning the last corner, Louis pops back into his seat, slightly breathless. He grabs Zayn's

thigh as they round the corner, and it's such a testament of their friendship that Zayn barely bats an

eyelash at his sudden reappearance. But then, Louis' been doing that shit since the day Zayn met

him, and it's about time that he stops screaming like a little girl every time it happens.

"Sorry," Louis says insincerely. "Shouldn't have stormed off like that. The sidekick comment got

me a little heated."

Zayn's lips twitch, and he tries his best to resist it but a grin fights its way onto his lips anyways.

"Now who's the one with the bad puns?" he teases.


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"Let's just get this over with, okay?"

"Yeah, alright."

Zayn pulls into the nearest parking lot and shuts off the car. There's this horrible, shudder-inducing

sound as his suit slides across the leather. It's something he's talked about with Niall. If you're

going to put plastic belts on the suit, don't give them a car with a leather interior. How hard is that

to understand?

At least this suit is better than some of other prototypes, he muses as he shuts the car door. Better

than the second ones, with the itchy material that never quite worked right with their powers. Or

the sixth one, that left Louis naked every time he teleported (still funny to think about). Or the

ninth ones, which were extremely inflammable, or so they learned that time Zayn was fooling

around and suddenly his entire uniform was on fire and he couldn't work out how to stop it.

"What are we supposed to be looking for again?" Louis whispers.

Zayn looks around. They're in the lot of a grocery store on the east side of town. There aren't

many houses in this area. It's more business, stores, that kind of thing. Every single one of them is

closed, the streets deserted. The nearest streetlamp flickers, and Zayn rolls his eyes. How fucking

cliché is that? What next? Is someone going to jump out of the shadows?

"Niall said there was something going on with the security system at Walton Bank," Zayn recites,

as the two of them start down the street. "That's only, like, two streets from here."

"Whatever," Louis snips. "I don't see why we can't just drive straight to the bank."

"Because we're trying to be discreet ," Zayn says impatiently. He has to focus on his breathing,

keeping calm. Fighting with Louis right now will not help the situation, even if he's an irritating,

sarcastic little— No. He's not going there. He's just a little moody because this stupid power fuckswith his, like, body chemistry or something sometimes. He's not normally this hot-headed. (Fuck,

not another accidental fire joke.) "Pulling up in that fucking car isn't discreet, okay? Now shut the

fuck up."

"I doubt Batman ever told Robin to shut the fuck up," Louis complains. "Asshole."

"I wonder if Batman ever punched Robin the face," Zayn muses. "Because I'm about to—"

In the distance Zayn hears a gunshot, and then another, followed by someone screaming. Without

speaking, the two of them start running. The sound of Louis' footsteps pounding just behind him

only last for about three seconds and then they disappear completely, like Louis remembered, oh,right, he can teleport. Why the hell is he running?

Sadly Zayn doesn't have that power and he's losing his breath fast. He's going to have to put in

more time at the gym, and he thinks this every damn time but he never goes through with it.

When he rounds the corner, there's a single black van parked out front of the bank. Why is it

always banks? Seriously? Ugh. Whatever. But they've shot through the glass doors, leaving sharp

shards of glass on the ground. Zayn carefully makes his way over it, the sound of it crunching

under the soles of his boots loud in the silent street.

Glass isn't the only thing lying on the steps outside the door. Zayn approaches the body

cautiously, stomach twisting. Please don't be a dead body, he thinks. Please don't be a dead body.

It isn't. He bends down and presses his fingers to the pulse point on the man's neck, and he's

definitely alive. His chest, wrapped in a ridiculously tight black t-shirt, rises and falls with weak


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breaths, and Zayn lets out one of his own. He's unconscious, then. There's a wound on his

forehead and a scrape on his chin, as if he'd fought with someone. As if he'd maybe tried to stop

whoever broke into the bank, which is just stupid. The unconscious guy can't be any older than

Zayn, really, not that Zayn can see his features much in the dark, and he's completely unarmed

and vulnerable.

Zayn presses a finger to his earpiece, static filling his ears as he says, "Niall? Can you hear me?"

"Roger that," Niall says immediately.

Zayn rolls his eyes, but now is not the time to remind Niall that they're fighting crime, not driving

transports across America. "I need an ambulance," he says quickly. "Someone's unconscious out

front of the building. He's alive, but he's got a head wound and I'm not sure if there's anything else

wrong with him."

"Got it," Niall says, just before Zayn lowers his hand and the static in his ear disappears.

With one last look for the unconscious man out front, Zayn steps inside the building. It's dark,

none of the overhead lights on, and the first thing he does is press the button on his watch.

Immediately the small light Niall installed in it illuminates a few feet in front of him, and he groans

as he notices another body.

Just like with the first, the man is only unconscious. The difference is that he's actually a security

guard, unlike the random man out front. Zayn leaves him behind, too, just as the sound of a gun

going off again rings in his ears. He jumps, eyes widening, and starts running in the direction the

sound came from until he hears a feminine giggle.

Instantly he slows, rolling his eyes. That giggle can only mean one thing.

He finds them in an office room just off the vault. Cher sits on the desk, legs dangling, wearingthat ridiculous pink suit of hers. (Seriously, it looks like someone coloured her in with a

highlighter. What part of discreet is so damn hard for the rest of his team to understand?) On the

floor, leaning against the wall, are three men. Two of them are unconscious and wearing ski

masks, and the third has duct tape slapped over his mouth and panicked eyes that dart between

Zayn and Cher.

"You're late," she says, sing-song like, swinging her legs. "You two always leave me to do all the

hard work."

Zayn snorts at her and rolls his eyes again. "Where's Lou?" he asks, eying the conscious guy on

the floor. He looks about eighteen years old, if that, and Zayn frowns at him. What the hell is thiskid doing robbing banks?

"Went to check out the rest of the building," Cher informs him, sounding bored. She tugs off one

of her gloves and checks out the state of her manicure.

As if he could hear them (which he can't, thank God, because a Louis with superhuman hearing

would be horrible), Louis suddenly pops into the room, landing just shy of Zayn, grabbing his

shoulder for balance. "Building's clear," he says, "and the manager's been reading Fifty Shades."

"How do you know that, exactly?" Cher asks.

Louis grins. "Checked the desk. There was a bottle of hand lotion, too, but I have a feeling it's not

there to prevent dry skin."

Cher peers closely at him, eyes going out of focus. "Liar," she declares. "Liar, liar, pants on fire."


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"Enough with the fire jokes," Louis moans. He glares at Zayn. "This never happened before we

adopted you into our group. There aren't many puns you can make when it comes to teleportation

and mind reading."

Just to be spiteful, Zayn narrows his eyes at the legs of Louis' suit and, in seconds, Cher's earlier

claim becomes reality. The conscious thief makes frightened sounds through the duct tape

covering his mouth. Louis only blinks mildly down at his legs, sighing. "You're lucky this suit is

fireproof," he says, sounding almost bored even as the flames lick at his legs, thankfully protectedby his supersuit.

Zayn snaps his fingers and the fire extinguishes, leaving no traces behind except the smell of

burning rubber. "Can we hurry this along? I've got three episodes of Hannibal on DVR."

Cher rolls her eyes. "Worst superheroes ever," she mutters. "Who the hell decided to give you

two powers?"

"The same twisted God who thought you weren't terrifying enough without the ability to read

minds," Louis answers.

"Speaking of which." Cher hops down off the table, approaching the nearest robber. She crouches

down, peering closely at him, and turns to look at Zayn over her shoulder. "Something's wrong

with their minds. Something's off. I can't tell what it is, but something doesn't feel right."

"I don't think it's their minds that are the problem," Louis says. "I think you're still hung over from

last night. What did I tell you about mixing your alcohol?"

The sound of sirens in the distance cuts off their bickering. They can fight later. Right now, they

need to focus on getting out of here before the police show up. Despite the fact that the three of

them were the only thing standing between the guys on the floor and a bank full of money, he has

a feeling the police won't see it that way.

When they're back in the car, Zayn once again behind the wheel and Louis once again pouting in

the passenger seat, Zayn loops around to the front of the bank. It's hard to get close enough, since

there are police vehicles parked along the street, as well as an ambulance, but he can see two

officers carrying one of the unconscious thieves towards one of their cars.

He can also see paramedics carrying the unconscious guy in the black t-shirt to the back of the

ambulance, and something inside of Zayn that he hadn't even noticed until now relaxes a bit.

-o-

Growing up, Zayn hated his power. It took away everything he needed in life. It made him a

freak, dangerous, unnatural. And leaving home was the hardest thing he ever did, but he's come to

realize it was also the best for everyone involved. Without the others, he never would have learned

to control it. Without Niall's help and constant training, or Cher pushing him to his limits, or Louis

being there just to be there for him, he doesn't know what would have happened to him.

They were there for him, though, and he's slowly learned to accept the gift he has as just that: a

gift. And he's also learned to appreciate it.

But sometimes—not very often, but still— he wishes they were normal. He wishes they'd been


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born without special abilities, him and Louis (and maybe Cher, too, because that mind reading shit

gets real old when she walks around the apartment in nothing but a towel and he can't help but let

his mind wander), because sometimes they make their lives more difficult than necessary.

Like right now, for instance.

" Louis!" Zayn shouts, nearly slipping in the tub. "Get the fuck out!"

Louis grins at him around the shower curtain, looking a lot less uncomfortable than Zayn feels.And he wishes this were the first time, that Louis has never popped in on him when he was

showering, or changing, or even that one horrible time when he was getting off to shitty free porn

on the internet, but it's not, unfortunately.

"Just came to let you know that breakfast is ready," Louis says pleasantly. "Yours is in the

kitchen."

"Get out ," Zayn growls, eyes narrowing. The room fills with more steam, and he has a feeling it's

because of the heat radiating off his body right now. It's a good thing he's in the shower, too,

because he's about three seconds away from bursting into flame and setting Louis ablaze along

with him.

"Okay, okay," Louis says, lifting his hands defensively. He backs up, grabbing Zayn's towel from

the towel rack. "Nice cock, by the way." And then he pops back out of the room, taking Zayn's

towel with him.

One day Zayn may actually kill him.

For some reason, his shower just isn't relaxing after that. He turns off the water and steps out,

dripping water everywhere and pulling on his clothes while he's still soaking wet, since Louis had

taken the only towel with him (the bastard). The shoulders of his shirt are damp and his hair isdripping on his face when he pushes open the bathroom door, stalking straight past the living

room where everyone else is seated.

As he goes, Zayn flicks his fingers and sets Louis' breakfast on fire. He hears Louis shriek behind

him, and his morning just got a tad bit better.

"— attend the University of Wilshire," he hears a voice on the TV say. He plops himself down on

the sofa beside Niall, plate of breakfast in his lap as he focuses on the news anchor with the

extremely pointed chin. He hates watching the news, but it's sort of unavoidable, given the

circumstances. It's always good to make sure their faces aren't turning up on a most wanted list.

" In fact, all three of the men involved in the robbery were said to be students attending the school. I'm here with Jordan Kale, the History professor at Wilshire, and Thomas Johnson's teacher.

Would you like to say anything about the incident that occurred yesterday at the bank?"

" It's unbelievable," the older man on screen, Jordan Kale, says gravely. "Thomas was a great

student, absolutely brilliant, bright future ahead of him. Perfectly respectable young man. I just

can't believe it. It doesn't make sense that he would ever do something like this."

"Such a travesty," the news anchor says, shaking his head. " It's absolutely devastating seeing— "

"See? Going to University doesn't make you a better member of society," Louis says, turning the

TV down. "I love when the world makes my bad choices look like good ones."

Zayn snorts at him, finishing the last bite of his toast and jam. He drops his plate onto the coffee

table and kicks at Louis on the way to his bedroom, and then his eyes land on his alarm clock and

he starts panicking. Shit . He thought he had an extra ten minutes, but of course he doesn't. It's not


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that Zayn means to be late to everything, he really doesn't. He's cursed, he swears he is. No matter

how hard he tries, he's never on time.

He's rushing as he dresses, has no time to do his hair so he pulls on a beanie and shoves his

homework from last night in his bag before rushing out of his room. His shoes are only halfway

on when he dashes out the front door, no time to call a goodbye to his roommates as he jogs for

the elevator.

Tapping his foot impatiently, he pulls out his cigarettes and holds one between his lips as he waitsto get the ground floor, and he only has just enough patience not to light it up right there in the

lobby, just making it out the door as he flicks his finger and lights the tip, inhaling immediately.

He hates walking and smoking. If he had it his way, he'd be sitting down, maybe with a coffee,

enjoying his first of the day. But his creative writing class starts at a satanic hour, and it's not like

he has a choice.

The sounds of the garage next door irk him as he passes by on the sidewalk. He loves their

apartment, he does. They're on the top floor, and it's beautiful and modern and way too expensive

for Zayn to ever be able to afford it himself, but there's a downside. The garage is

literally right beside the building, and even on the days he's allowed to sleep in he can't leave his

window open unless he wants to wake up to honking and the sound of metal scraping against

metal. He hates it so much.

He doesn't look up as he passes the shop, doesn't meet anyone's eyes on his way down the street,

though he passes enough people. He makes it all the way to the corner and goes to turn, following

the familiar path, when someone grabs his arm.

It's instinct, the way he jerks his arm out of the grip on him, whirling as fast as he can, cigarette

slipping from his fingers. He's done too much martial arts practice with Niall for it not to be, and

the guy who grabbed him is lucky he let go instantly because Zayn can feel it, that fire that feelslike it courses through his veins, ready to strike out at a moment's notice, maybe even without his

consent.

It seems to fizzle and die out the second he meets the guy's eyes. His mouth goes dry, and his

snapped "What the hell do you want?" dies in his throat.

"You dropped this," the guy says, holding out a bundle of papers. "Must've forgotten to zip your

bag."

Zayn's can't think. The guy who grabbed him continues to give him an expectant look, holding

out the papers, and Zayn can't do anything but blink at him. He's just – shit. He's gorgeous, is the

thing. Brown hair pushed off his forehead and wide brown eyes to match. He's wearing a white

tank top that's stained with grease, and it shows off these arms that make Zayn a little dizzy,

honestly, because they're tan and corded with muscles, and he's got this blocky, inky black tattoo

on his forearm. And he's wearing jeans, too, with more grease stains and ripped knees, hanging

low on his hips with a black bandana tucked into the pocket. And his mouth.

He is literally every bad-boy wet dream Zayn has ever had come to life, except the eyes. The eyes

are too wide, too soft. They scream "Be gentle with me" while the rest of him screams "Let me

fuck you against a wall!" – which Zayn would, if anyone's wondering.

Finally his mind whirls back to life, but that's probably not a good thing. "I— thank— thank you,"

he stutters, mouth suddenly dry.

"No problem," the guy says, handing the papers over. It's a miracle, it really is, that they don't


10/155

burst into flame the second they come in contact with Zayn's skin. He feels so heated all of a

sudden.

And then he notices the bump on the guy's head, and the scrape on his jaw, and it hits him.

Unconscious guy from the bank, the one Zayn figured had tried to stop the robbery all by himself.

"I should probably get going," the guy says, rocking back on his heels. "I'm Liam, by the way."

He's holding out his hand, and it takes Zayn almost a full minute to realize he's supposed to shakeit. So he reaches out, clasping Liam's hand in his, and as soon as they touch Liam jerks his hand

back, hissing in pain.

Zayn's eyes widen. Shit, shit, shit. This is why he doesn't talk to people. This is why his social

circle consists of a psychotic teleporter, a hostile telepath with super strength , and a reclusive

genius who spends most of his free time monitoring the city's security cameras.

"Shit," Zayn moans. "I'm so—"

"Must have burned myself while working," Liam muses, looking down at the red welt already

forming on his palm. "Guess I didn't notice it. And I didn't get your name."

"I'm… Zayn," Zayn says slowly, as if he'd somehow forgotten or something. Fuck, he's an idiot.

"I know," Liam admits, grin widening. "I mean, I've seen you before. You live next door to the

shop, right? You walk by almost every day. At least when I'm working."

It takes him longer to put the pieces together than it should have, but he takes in the grease stains

on Liam's clothes again and the comment about burning himself at work, and suddenly it makes

sense. "Oh, right. You're a — mechanic?"

Liam nods. "If you ever need an oil change or something, just stop by. Give them my name, I'll do

it myself, get you a discount."

"I don't have a car." Because he doesn't, technically. There's the shared car that they all use, but

that's only when they're on the job. Niall doesn't let any of them touch it at any other time, since

the thing is practically his child. He's fairly sure Niall gets anxiety every time one of them even

touches it, but he seems to trust Zayn a little more than Louis or Cher, which is why he always

gets to drive.

"Oh." Liam's grin slips, and he winces while tugging a hand through his hair. "Well, I really

should get back to work. Nice meeting you though, Zayn. Don't forget to zip your bag next time."

He jogs off before Zayn can say anything, which is probably a good thing. Zayn watches him go,

eyes trailing down to where Liam's pants hang past his ass, despite his belt, which is something

that's always irritated him. Like, why even bother? But Liam's wearing tight black briefs

underneath, and his shirt doesn't hang that low, and Zayn is starting to see the upside to this

ridiculous fashion statement, he really is.

When Liam disappears inside the shop, Zayn pulls his bag off his shoulder and shoves his papers

in before zipping it tightly. He checks the time, groans, and starts jogging. He's late now for sure,

and his creative writing teacher's such an ass that she'll likely single him out the second he walks

in the door for interrupting her class. Awesome.

-o-


11/155

The campus coffee shop is notorious for their bad service, lukewarm coffee, and cramped tables.

Louis hates the place, he really does. But the campus coffee shop has Zayn, and since Louis sort

of loves him or whatever, he puts up with it. Only Zayn's late. His lunch break started, like, half a

fucking hour ago, and he's still not here.

"Can I get a café mocha?" Louis asks the girl behind the counter, giving up on waiting for Zayn to

get his drink. He's thirsty.

The girl gives him a blank look. "Whatever's on the menu board is what we've got. Do you see

café mocha up there?"

Louis checks, can't find it, and sighs. "I'll take a medium iced coffee, then."

"Coming right up, sir," she says with fake cheerfulness.

It takes too long for his order to be finished, but Louis isn't complaining for once. Zayn still isn't

here, even as he makes his way past exhausted looking university student after exhausted lookinguniversity to seat himself at the only unoccupied table in the entire shop. Which isn't surprising,

actually. Zayn is always late. Always, no matter how far in advance they make their plans. He'll

be late to his own damn wedding one day, Zayn, mark Louis' words.

Sighing, Louis sips at his drink and looks around. Everyone is preoccupied. There are people on

their phones, texting away or talking loudly over the chatter from the rowdier groups of people so

they can be heard. There are people cramming for their next classes, or working on something

from previous ones, that same stressed, dead look on their faces that Louis has learned to associate

with overworked students.

He's considered it more than once, the whole 'higher education' thing. He has the money,certainly, to attend if he wanted , only he couldn't ever think of what he'd want to take. Where

Zayn's known for being late, Louis' known for avoiding the future. He'll deal with it eventually,

but not today. And probably not tomorrow, either.

His eyes land on the only other person sitting alone and not doing work. Without even meaning

to, Louis' lips curl up and his nose wrinkles. Part of him wants to laugh at this guy, and another

desperately wants to help the poor kid. He's wearing thick framed glasses, and his hair is slicked

back with so much gel it's embarrassing. And he's wearing a sweater vest . An honest to fucking

god sweater vest . Fucking hell, who let him out of the house looking like that?

But then the guy is smiling, and— oh.

Suddenly there's dimples and pink lips stretched over perfectly white teeth. His green eyes light up

under those glasses, and shit . Louis is thirteen again, still learning how to control his power and

allowing his emotions and hormones to control him instead. One second he's gaping at Dimples

across the room, and the next thing he knows he's standing outside on the sidewalk, looking inside

the shop.

Shit . He looks around quickly, praying no one saw him. Zayn is always yelling at him about not

being discreet, and he knows Zayn has a point. If someone found out, they'd be screwed. He

really doesn't fancy the idea of being locked up in a government facility and being poked andprodded at for the rest of his life, but it's not like he did it on purpose.

Thankfully everyone else seems to be too busy to realize what just happened. Everyone inside the

shop is still too preoccupied with their own lives to have noticed that one of the customers just


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teleported out of their seat and ended up outside the shop. And everyone outside the shop is too

busy with their heads ducked, running from one class to another with their focus on the phones in

their hands instead of the boy that just appeared on the walkway out of thin air.

Everyone except one single person is oblivious to what just happened. Dimples is gaping at him

through the window, glasses askew. His drink is halfway to his mouth, as if he was about to take a

sip and had been frozen solid. His lips are parted widely, and he's just staring at Louis.

And Louis' heart sinks into his stomach. Shit .

-o-

"What the hell is up with you?" Zayn demands.

Louis stares resolutely out the window of the restaurant, expression unreadable. "Why do you

think there's something up with me?"

Because he's been weird all day, Zayn thinks. When Zayn got to the campus café, Louis was

gone. Sometimes that happens, he gets irritated with Zayn because Zayn was late and storms off,

but he hadn't messaged Zayn back when Zayn texted him. And afterwards, back at the apartment,

Louis spent the entire afternoon and then well into the night locked in his bedroom. He didn't pop

into Zayn's room once, or sneak up on Cher or anything, which is extremely out of character.

And he'd skipped out on dinner. They had tacos. Louis never skips out on tacos, which is why

they're out right now. Zayn had dragged him out of his room and down to the diner two streets

from their apartment. Louis loves this place almost as much as Zayn does, and usually it's a good

way to get him out of a mood. Plus, having heart-to-hearts with Louis is always best in public

settings; he tends to get violent, and he's less likely to do so with an audience.

"You've been quiet," Zayn says, instead of bringing the rest of that up.

"Why does something have to be up for me to be quiet?" Louis snaps, finally turning his gaze to

Zayn. He looks almost manic, eyes red and wide, hair a mess. "Why can't I just be quiet? You're

quiet all the time, but you don't see the rest of us trying to give you a psych exam every fucking

day, now do you?"

Zayn raises his eyebrows. Most people might be taken aback by someone snapping on them likethat. Sadly, Zayn's gotten used to Louis, and this kind of blow up is normal. Sometimes it's for an

actual reason, and sometimes it's just because one of them put an empty carton of chocolate milk

back in the fridge.

"Okay," Zayn drags out. He lifts his hands in the universal gesture of 'calm down' before reaching

for his drink. "I was just checking. Don't bite my head off for worrying about you."

"If you were worried about me," Louis hisses, "you would have been there at the café. But you

weren't, and it's actually all your fault, and now I'm stressing the fuck out, okay?"

Zayn lowers his coffee without taking a sip. "What happened at the café?" he asks carefully.

Louis winces. "I did something bad. Something really, really bad."

Instantly Zayn's heart starts racing. He knows Louis too well, at this point, to not be sufficiently


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alarmed by that kind of statement. "Scale of one to ten," he says. "One being that time you popped

in on Cher while she was changing, ten being nuclear warfare."

Louis debates this for a moment, face scrunched up in thought. "Seven," he decides eventually.

"A solid seven, I think."

Zayn groans, heart plummeting into his stomach. "What did you do?" Because this is Louis. It

could be anything, really, and Zayn's got a good imagination. He doesn't even want

to consider what Louis might have done. He'd go insane with worry.

"Technically," Louis starts, "it's your entire fault, like I said. I mean, I was only in the café because

I was waiting for you, and if I hadn't of been there it never would have happened."

"What never would have happened?"

Louis sighs. "I teleported out of my seat. I didn't even mean to, it just happened, I swear! One

minute I was sitting there, and this geeky guy with a fucking sweater vest, Zayn, an actual sweater

vest, smiled at me. And then the next thing I knew, I was standing outside the shop and the guy

was staring at me. He totally saw the whole thing. There's no way he didn't."

Zayn rubs a hand over his face, focusing on his breathing like Niall taught him. Ten, nine, eight.

He counts down slowly in his head until he gets to one, and that simmering heat inside of him

dissipates. When he feels calm enough not to set Louis on fire, he says, "That's not a seven.

That's, like, a five. And seriously? How many times do we have to tell you to be more careful

about this shit, Lou? Come on."

"I know," Louis admits. "I didn't mean to, I told you! It was an accident this time, completely. I

wasn't showing off or goofing around. I honestly didn't mean to. He had dimples and I couldn't

control it!"

Zayn steadies Louis with a look that clearly conveys just how done with Louis' shit he is right

now. He wanted a nice, relaxing coffee and piece of cheesecake at the diner, but of course he can't

have that. You don't get relaxing when Louis Tomlinson is your best friend. "You're telling me,"

Zayn says slowly, "that you completely blew your cover because a guy had dimples."

"Fuck off," Louis says heatedly. "Don't be an asshole about this. I fucked up. I know I fucked up.

You don't have to tease me about it, too."

"I wasn't teasing," Zayn denies. "I was clarifying. There's a difference."

"Whatever," Louis says. "It's not even a big deal, actually. He probably won't even remember me.Or maybe he'll chalk it up to a hallucination, or—"

The sound of a gun going off has them both freezing. It's a very distinct sound. Some people think

it's easily mistaken for a car backfiring, or something else, but it's not. When you've really heard

gunfire, there's no confusing it for something else.

Several people in the diner look around uneasily, but Zayn's already slipping out of his seat and

pulling out his wallet. He drops a few bills on the table and Louis steals the last bite of his

cheesecake before they hurry out the door.

This is different than the night at the bank. This is a populated area. There're always people

around, even late at night, what with the university only minutes away and most of the people

living off campus in the general area. Several people are heading in the direction that the gunshot

had come from, going to investigate most likely, just like him and Louis.


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When they round the corner, Zayn skids to a halt. There're so many people, all of them piled

outside that corner store that Zayn goes to late at night because it's one of the only ones open. The

whole area is taped off, and there're police cars parked precariously along the street, as well as a

news van. There're people crowding the sidewalks, too, trying to see and trying to hear.

"We need to get closer," Louis says, directly in his ear.

"Ew." Zayn makes a face and wipes at his ear. "What did I tell you about your damp breath in my

ear?"

Louis slaps him on the arm. "I'll be right back. If we try to push through the crowd, there's no way

we'll get close enough. Just stay here, I'll figure out what's going on."

Zayn nods and stands on the tips of his toes, trying his best to see from this far away. He can't,

though. All he can see are the crowds and that news anchor, the one that's always on the local

news at six. He's got a microphone in hand and he's gesturing wildly as he talks, though Zayn

can't hear what he says.

Louis materializes right beside him. Zayn doesn't even give him shit for doing it in public. No

one's paying attention to them, and there's too much of a crowd for someone to notice.

"Someone's holding up the store," Louis says in a rush. "There's two employees, one's a male in

his late fifties who owns the place, the other's a teenager; two gunmen — or women, one of them

is female, I think I heard — and at least two customers inside, one of which is a child. They've got

a hostage, and apparently they're refusing to let anyone go until they've cleared the streets and

they're allowed a clean getaway, which of course the police aren't agreeing to. They're trying to

reason with them, get them to come out, but they're not listening to the police, either."

Zayn nods, mind whirring. Before he can say anything his phone rings in his pocket. He pulls it

out, pressing talk on the way to putting it to his ear, and Niall's voice is raised when he says, "I'mwatching the news and—"

"We're right here," Zayn cuts him off. "We're ten feet away from the scene."

"Good," Niall says. "Cher's on her way. She has your stuff."

Zayn nods again, more to himself since Niall can't see it. "We've got this," Zayn assures him.

"I know you do. Just deal with it without anyone getting hurt."

"Will do," Zayn promises. He ends the call and pockets his phone. "Niall says Cher's on herway."

He can't remember exactly what started this whole 'superhero' thing. Not that he'd call any of them

superheroes, really, because they're a little too dysfunctional for that. All he does remember is

Niall showing them the suits, and Louis laughing about how funny it'd be if anyone of them

actually attempted to, like, save people. And the next thing Zayn knew, they were doing it. Which

is still really weird to him, but they're good at it. Even he has to admit that crime in the city has

dropped, and he doesn't mind that they never get the credit for it, that the police always do even if

they usually don't show up until the entire thing is already dealt with.

Zayn is pulled from his thoughts when a car honks loudly. They're not the only ones who turn, but

they're the only ones who head towards the sleek black vehicle. Both he and Louis jump into the

back, and Cher speeds away from the scene.

It's not the first time they've had to get ready on the go, and Zayn's gotten accustomed to pulling


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his suit on in the backseat. While he and Louis are changing, Cher starts talking. "There's access

to the store from the roof," she says. "Niall sent me a picture of the layout. There's no way we're

getting in the front door, not without someone getting hurt. They'll think we're the police and

they'll probably fire immediately."

"Pfft, they're gonna wish we were the police," Louis says.

Cher ignores him. "So I figure Zayn, you and I will go in the back. I'll go in first, since I'm easily

the least intimidating—"

"You picked up an entire car last week," Louis says. "Remember? You dropped your lipstick and

it rolled underneath, and no one was around so you literally lifted the entire fucking thing. How is

that not intimidating?"

"I'm easily the least intimidating looking," Cher corrects. "And I'll be able to read the situation

better than either of you, so I go in as the distraction. Zayn, you're going to come in behind me

and make sure no one's hurt, and work on getting people out safely. And if I can't talk them out of

lowering their weapons and giving up, we'll go into plan B."

"What's plan B?" Zayn asks.

"Plan B is you set yourself on fire, and while everyone's flipping the fuck out over that Louis gets

the signal and teleports right behind them, apprehending the one with the hostage using the

element of surprise, and I take out his partner."

Zayn pauses, hand on the zipper of his suit. "Any plans where I don't combust into flames?"

"Nope."

"Course not," he mutters. "Alright, I'm in."

They pull into a back alleyway. There's nothing back here except dumpsters and the back door to

several shops on the block. There isn't a fire escape or anything, though, no way for someone to

access the roof. At least, no way for normal people.

Cher and Zayn both get out of the car, leaving Louis behind. Zayn stares up at the building in

front of him, and it's not the tallest, exactly, but he's got this thing about heights where he, you

know, hates them. "I'll go up first," Cher offers. "And I'll throw a rope down and haul you up."

Zayn nods, crossing his arms over his chest as he waits. It takes no time for her to make it onto the

second story roof.

Niall spends ninety percent of his time in the basement of their apartment building. It's like his lair,

or Batcave or something. And while they might tease him about it, how much time he spends

down there, there are definite benefits— like the super cool gadgets he makes for them, like the

one Cher used to get onto the building. It's like a grappling hook, only better. It's designed to hook

into anything, and it's able to hold several tons of weight. The only downside is it's a one-use only

type of thing, since there's absolutely no getting the hooks out once they've sunk in.

Zayn tightly grips the rope Cher sends down to him, and she hauls him up like he weighs nothing.

(That super strength comes in handy fairly often, not that he'd ever admit that to her.)

The access to the store is through an old, metal door that takes a bit of time for them to get open.

Cher's shit at lock picking and she knows it, but she's such a damn control freak that she doesn't

move over so Zayn can do it, and he has to physically move her out of the way.


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"Don't follow me in until I give you a signal," she whispers to him as they make their way down

the creaky stairs leading to the back room of the store. "We don't want to overwhelm them, have

them do something because they're afraid."

Zayn nods silently.

He lingers back, trying to hide in the shadows as Cher pushes open the door to the main part of

the store. Light pours into the room, and he discreetly moves behind the boxes back here, some

filled with inventory, some completely empty. He can only just see into the store, only the areabehind the counter visible. He watches Cher saunter into the room, wrapped in that fucking pink

suit, and he almost wants to laugh. Only this isn't really a laughing situation

"I've just come to talk," Cher says loudly, drawing attention to herself.

"Who the hell are you?"

Zayn can't see who says it, but Cher's hands instantly go up above her head. She says something,

but Zayn's too busy watching her feet to hear. He waits for it, creeping towards the door, and

when she taps the tip of her toes three times on the linoleum floor, Zayn slips into the room.

Within seconds he takes in the scene in front of him. The store isn't huge, but it's not all that small,

either. He's behind the counter, and to his far left is the door. Unfortunately it's one of the only

stores in their neighborhood without huge front windows. The only way to see outside is through

the door, which means the police are completely blind to everything happening inside, and Zayn is

completely blind to everything happening outside.

The first robber — the female, by the looks of her body, since her face is completely covered by

her mask — has her gun trained in the direction of the door, making it impossible for anyone to

come in that way. Her partner is fairly far away from her, and he's the one with the hostage. The

woman in his arms looks to be in her late thirties, and there are tears streaming down her face.

Not far from them is a huddled together group. There's an older man and a teenage girl, probably

the employees Louis mentioned, and a little kid. He can't be any older than six or seven, and the

way he's looking at the hostage makes Zayn think that she may just be his mother.

And standing in front of all of them is the mechanic from this morning, Liam. There's no

mistaking him for anyone else. He's wearing the same grease stained outfit from earlier, only now

there's a denim jacket over the tank top. He's got one arm curled behind him, ensuring that the kid

is completely concealed by his body, and his chin is lifted defiantly like he refuses to be

intimidated. Zayn's stomach does this weird, horrible flipping thing.

"You don't need them all, right?" Cher argues, as Liam's eyes meet his, and Zayn's grateful for the

mask because he knows that there's no way Liam can see him underneath it. Earlier Zayn had

thought Liam's eyes contrasted so much with the rest of him, and this isn't any different. While

Liam's entire stance is confident and unwavering, there's something terrified in his eyes that says

it's just a front. "One hostage is enough. If you let us evacuate the rest of them, the police will be

more willing to cut a deal with you."

What's weird is that the two robbers don't converse with each other. In fact, they don't even look

at each other. But simultaneously, so in sync it's almost creepy, they both nod. "Evacuate the

others," the male says in this flat, emotionless tone. It's so weird, but Zayn doesn't have any timeto dwell on it.

Cher gestures for him to go, and Zayn moves past the counter, heading for the small group. The

man holding the hostage moves his gun so it's pointed at Zayn instead of pressed dangerously to


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her temple. A shiver runs through him but he easily ignores it. Having a gun pointed at you is

never ideal, but he's got more pressing concerns.

"Is anyone hurt?" Zayn asks first, taking a quick look at each of them.

The rest of them seem too stunned to answer, so Liam answers for them. "Scared, but not hurt."

Zayn nods. "Okay, I need you all to listen to me carefully, yeah?" He meets each of their eyes,

and then chances a look at the robbers, making sure that they're not going to change their minds atthe last second and go off on everyone in the shop. "I'm going to take each of you out one by one.

As soon as I open the door, you're going to raise your hands high above your head. There are

going to be cops with guns pointed at you, but they're not going to shoot, don't worry."

He says don't worry, but he's worrying himself. The thing is, there's only so much time before the

police make a move. He can still see the flashing lights through the door, and he knows they're

either waiting for the robbers to give up or thinking of a way in. They could easily fuck this whole

thing up if they aren't fast and careful.

He takes the old man first, since he's closest to the door. There's shouting as soon as the door

opens and, just as Zayn instructed, the man lifts his arms high above his head. The door swings

shut behind him, and Zayn stays clear of it. They could easily mistake him for the robbers (all it

takes is one bold cop to try and get a good shot on him) and he doesn't really feel like being

riddled with bullet holes at the moment. Maybe next time.

The teenage girl is next. She's trembling when Zayn takes her hand, careful to keep himself

between her and the robbers. She sobs when the door opens but she doesn't run. She steps

carefully outside with her hands above her head, and Zayn breathes a sigh of relief.

When Zayn returns for the kid, he's got his arms wrapped around Liam's middle. "Not without my

mum," he sobs. "Not leaving without her."

Zayn didn't consider this being an obstacle. He shoots Liam a panicked look, and Liam carefully

extracts the kid's arms from around his waist. He turns and kneels, but Zayn notices that he doesn't

ever move so that the kid is vulnerable, his body constantly shielding him. "Your mum's going to

be okay," Liam says slowly. "I promise. No one's going to hurt her, I'll make sure of it. But right

now she's probably really scared for you, so we're going to make this easier on her, okay? You're

going to let him take you outside, where it's safe, and I promise I'll make sure your mum meets

you out there."

The kid rubs at his eyes with shaking hands. "You— you really promise?"

Liam nods. The kid turns to Zayn, and he wastes no time, instantly picking him up and carrying

him to the door.

When the door closes behind him, Zayn waves Liam over. Liam, of fucking course, stays exactly

where he is, halfway between the back wall and the door, up against the freezer. Zayn groans and

moves towards him, acutely aware of the gun following his every movement, and of Cher still

trying to reason with the robbers.

"Why aren't you—?"

"I promised him," Liam says simply. "I'm not going out that door unless she goes out it first."

Zayn makes an annoyed sound, ready to physically tug Liam from the building, when Niall's

voice rings in his ears. He's still not worked that out yet, the built in ear pieces, and it sounds like

they're communicating through two cans connected by string, but it still works. "You've got less


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than two minutes until the police come in," Niall says frantically. "They think everyone but the

hostage has been evacuated. They're not waiting any longer."

Zayn turns to Cher, and she meets his eyes only briefly, holding up two fingers. Plan B,

apparently.

Without thinking, Zayn shoves Liam to the ground. He wasn't expecting it, and Liam goes down

easily even if he's bigger than Zayn. When he's sure Liam's out of the line of fire (seriously, he's

not even making these puns on purpose) he gives in to that burning in his veins, and the next thinghe knows flames are flickering in front of his eyes, obscuring his view. His whole body feels hot,

like he's sitting too close to a campfire, and he doesn't need a mirror to know that his entire body is

encompassed in fire.

Everything after that is a little hard to follow. He hears a surprised gasp, Cher is a pink blur as she

jumps the female robber, wrestling her gun from her hands, and Zayn hadn't noticed Louis appear

but he manages to knock the male robber unconscious while plucking the gun from his fingers.

It can't take more than thirty seconds before it's over. Louis helps the woman hostage stay upright,

and Cher's kicking the gun far, far away from the unconscious woman. Zayn's busy trying to

remember how to turn it off, how to get rid of the fire that surrounds him. It takes him a beat or

two, and he's just starting to panic when the flames disappear, all at once, as if they were never

there in the first place, leaving only a lingering cloud of smoke and a burnt smell in the air.

The second it happens, it feels like all the energy has been sucked from his body. He has to focus

on staying upright, and it takes effort. Until he remembers Liam, and all thoughts of exhaustion

slip from his mind.

"Come on," Cher shouts. "We've got less than a minute before they come in here. Do you really

want to be caught by the police?"

Zayn ignores her. On the floor, not far from him, Liam is still sprawled out on the ground. One of

his legs is lying flat against the floor, while the other is bent at the knee. He's propped up on the

palms of his hands and his mouth is gaping open. Zayn would explain as best as he could, if he

had the time. But he can't, so he settles with offering Liam a hand up and a short, "Sorry, had to

be done."

Hesitantly, Liam's fingers wrap around his own and Zayn tugs him to his feet. "No, it's— it's

okay," he says breathlessly. "Did you just—? Did that just—? Your whole body was on fire."

Zayn shrugs. "Yeah. That happens."

He expects to find shock and horror in Liam's eyes, but instead he finds… awe. Like he's amazed,

in a good way. "That was so—"

"We don't have time for this." Louis appears on his left and grabs his arm roughly. He tugs Zayn

towards the door he'd come in through, and they just make it behind the counter when the police

burst through the front door. He watches as Liam's hands go up instantly, but Louis doesn't let him

linger behind to make sure that he's definitely safe. He's drags Zayn all the way up the stairs at a

run.

Cher's waiting for them on the roof, and she grabs Zayn tightly around the waist before grapplingdown the side of the building. They hit the ground hard, hard enough that it makes Zayn's teeth

ache, but he knows it would have hurt a lot more if he'd done that himself. Cher can resist a lot

more pain than he can.


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The police are on the roof by the time they get into the car, but there's nothing the cops can do.

They're already speeding out from behind the building, and Cher keeps her foot planted hard on

the gas as they put distance between themselves and the crime scene.

"Fuck we're good," Louis whoops when they pull into the garage of their building. "We're

fucking incredible. We're awesome."

"You barely did anything," Zayn points out.

Louis looks offended. "I knocked that guy out with a can of beans!"

"He did," Cher vouches for him. "It was hilarious."

"And no one got hurt," Zayn adds, "which is good."

Louis tugs off his mask, revealing the knowing smirk underneath. "And you got all up close and

personal with the pretty boy mechanic from next door."

"That was Liam?" Cher asks. "I didn't even notice."

Zayn looks between the two of them, pulling off his own mask so he can see better. "You know

him?"

"Not everyone's as antisocial as you are," Cher teases. "And Liam's been working there for two

years. Of course I know him. Now hurry up; I want to get upstairs in time to catch the last of the

news. I want to see what they say about us."

Zayn can't argue with that. He wants to make sure that everyone's okay, that no one got hurt after

they'd bailed. He quickly pulls his clothes on over top of the suit, and he follows Cher and Louis

into the elevator.

Niall is on the sofa waiting for them, TV turned to the news channel. He doesn't even look up

when they walk in, but he does pat the spot next to him on the couch. Cher meets Zayn's eyes for

just a split second, and then they're both rushing for the spot, sneakers skidding against the

hardwood floor. Cher tries to push him out of the way, Zayn makes a dive for the spot, and Louis

appears in it at the very last second.

"You're both pathetic," he says happily, curling up against Niall's side. "You never learn. I always

win."

Zayn groans and falls onto the spot next to Louis, and Cher pouts before sliding onto the floor atNiall's feet. On screen, that news reporter is still out front of the store, only now the door is wide

open and he's interviewing witnesses.

"— claim they saw a man burst into flame," he's saying, and Louis punches Zayn's leg hard while

giving his complete attention to the screen. "You were inside, tell us what really happened ."

The camera zooms in on Liam's face. Something like relief floods through Zayn, painful and

sharp. But he's okay, right? So that's – that's something, anyways. And he's got those damn arms

crossed over his chest, and his eyes are narrowed. "On fir e?" he repeats. "What do you mean on

fire?"

" Everyone claims," the news reporter says, "that one of the masked vigilantes burst into flame,

only to have the fire die out seconds later while he remained completely unharmed ."

Zayn tenses. It's been a while since they've been this exposed. There's been speculation for


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months about them, people making claims about the girl in the pink suit who could hear their

thoughts, or the boy who could move from one place to another in the blink of an eye. But it's a

little hard to shut down rumors when Zayn literally combusted in front of four people, not to

mention anyone outside who'd been looking too closely through the door.

Liam snorts on the TV. " Really? That's a little farfetched, don't you think? How could someone's

entire body catch on fire without them getting hurt? I think it was a trick of the lights. When

people get all riled up, they don't always know what they're seeing."

The news reporter looks more than a little frustrated. "That's true, but —"

Liam walks away from the camera.

Zayn blinks at the screen. "He's lying," he states. "He watched it happen. There's no way he

missed it. Why would he lie about it?" It doesn't make any sense. There's no doubt in his mind that

Liam watched the whole thing, and there was no mistaking that what the news reporter said was

true. So why would Liam deny it?

"Is that Liam from the garage next door?" Niall asks. "He was there?"

"Does everyone know him but me?" Zayn demands. He sounds almost upset about it, weirdly

enough. Like he's jealous of that fact. And maybe he is, a little bit. He can admit that.

"Maybe he was trying to protect you," Cher says from the floor. "Maybe he lied about the whole

you bursting into flames thing because he knew that people would ask a lot of questions about it,

and this is his way of, you know, preventing that from happening."

"Yeah, but why?" Zayn insists.

Everyone else, for the most part, seems happy to shrug it off without an explanation. But Zayn's

not.

"We've just been informed that the two perpetrators have been identified," comes from the TV,

and Zayn stops wondering about Liam for a second to listen. " Mary and Howard Dawson, 38

and 42, are currently in custody for the crimes committed tonight."

"Shit," Louis breathes. "Really?" Everyone looks at him, and his expression turns haughty.

"What? Don't tell me you three don't know who they are."

"No idea," Niall says.

"Beats me," Cher puts in.

Zayn shrugs silently, just as in the dark as they are, which makes Louis sigh. "You three know

nothing," he says. "They hold the charity ball every year? You know, the one that everyone who's

anyone goes to? They're, like, saints. Last year they were given the city's annual Peace Award

and everything."

The apartment gets quiet after that, nothing but the sound of the news anchor talking in the

background on the TV, interviewing another witness.

"Then what the hell are they doing holding up a corner store?" Niall finally asks. "That doesn'tmake any sense."

Cher's eyes widen, and she slaps at Zayn's leg. "Remember the other day when we took out those

guys at the bank and I told you their minds were weird? It was like that again tonight! Something


21/155

was off. I couldn't get a proper read on them, everything was fuzzy and confusing. All the guy

was thinking about was some sports game that happened, like, a year ago, and all her thoughts

were on a family vacation to Spain last summer."

"What about the guys at the bank?" Niall asks her.

She shakes her head. "The only one I could get a proper read on was stressing out over a midterm

paper he had due. It was weird."

"Maybe you're broken," Louis considers, reaching town to pat Cher's head. "I still maintain that

the problem isn't their minds, it's yours."

Cher turns around, smiling sweetly at him. "When I threaten to snap you in half, you realize that

I'm actually capable of doing it, right?"

On screen, the camera catches another glimpse of Liam and Zayn forgets all about the

conversation they were having before those two started bickering. But something in the back of

his mind keeps nagging at him anyways, even as he tunes them out and watches the news.

-o-

"Do you want anything?" Louis asks while pulling on one of his hoodies. He sniffs at the collar,

just to be sure, and deems it worthy to wear for another few days or so before he has to wash it

again.

Niall looks up from the sofa. "Where're you going?"

"Coffee shop down the street."

It's about the normal time that he'd head to campus to have lunch with Zayn, but he's effectively

avoided campus for the last week or so, not that he has a choice. He needs to lay low until

Dimples forgets what he saw, and until then Louis is stuck spending his lunches alone.

He could always invite Niall instead of asking him if he wants something, but Niall doesn't leave

the building all that often. He's almost worse than Zayn, and that's saying something. But Niall's

always been like that; reclusive. It's different than with the rest of them because he knows that

Zayn avoids people because he's 'different' and Louis avoids people because they all fucking suck,and Cher actively does the opposite, trying her hardest to fit in as best as she can and be normal,

while Niall is more content to stay at home, probably because home has all of his comforts. It's has

his TV, it has his evil laboratory in the basement, and it's got the rest of them, most of the time.

Sometimes he wonders if Niall gets annoyed with them, though. He never gets into fights with the

rest of them, and while Niall's younger than him and Zayn, he's easily more mature. He's like their

teacher, their mentor. When one of them has a problem, they go to Niall. He's their glue, is what

he is. Super glue. Sticky and strong. And Louis can admit that they often fight for his attention,

like deprived children whose father isn't around enough. Because Niall is just… nice to be around,

in a way that Louis knows he himself isn't, and Zayn usually isn't because he's a moody shit, and

Cher isn't because she's a bitch most of the time. Niall doesn't get like that.

And Louis takes deep pride in being the clear favourite. Cher can pout all she wants, and Zayn

can steal Niall to play video games all the time, but Louis is definitely Niall's favourite; it's a

known fact.


22/155

"Donuts, maybe," Niall debates aloud. "If they don't have any of those chocolate glazed ones, get

me an oatmeal chocolate chip cookie. The giant ones, you know? Size of my face? One of those."

Louis rolls his eyes. "When you're thirty and your metabolism stops working on overdrive and

you can't see your feet, I'm going to say I told you so."

"And I'm gonna say 'Pass the mashed potatoes,'" Niall says without care. "When we get to that

point, we get there. Until then: giant cookie."

"Yeah, alright." Because maybe Niall's Louis' favourite, too.

He doesn't take the elevator, obviously. Instead he focuses, sees the lobby in his mind, the exact

spot he wants to go, and there's this tugging inside him, starting in the middle of his body, working

its way outwards. And when he opens his eyes again, barely any time has passed and he's in the

lobby of their building. It's probably a good thing Niall's hacked the security cameras here since

Louis does that about five times a day, and wouldn't poor old George, their security guy, have a fit

if he caught Louis teleporting on tape.

Louis smirks to himself as he pulls the hood of his sweater up over his head and tucks hisheadphones into his ears. Music blasts through them the second he presses play on his iPod. The

song is already half over from when he'd paused it earlier, and he turns it up a little higher as the

music bleeds through the headphones, " If you want a taste then take a bite right out of me; I don't

give a fuck."

There's a long queue at the shop, unsurprisingly. That's what happens when you try to get coffee

at lunch. He should have come earlier.

When he gets to the counter, Louis tugs out his headphones and smirks at the barista. "The usual,

Margret."

"My name's Carrie," the barista says flatly. "And you don't have a usual. You get something

different every time you come in here."

Louis waves a hand. "Surprise me, then. And one of your stupidly big oatmeal chocolate chip

cookies, too, thanks."

The girl behind the counter makes a face at him and turns to make his drink. It's just banter, of

course. He knows her name and she secretly loves him, which is why she'll give him a large of

whatever she makes but charge him for a medium.

As he's impatiently taping his foot on the ground, resting on the counter, braced on his elbows,

someone stumbles into the shop. His glasses are falling down his nose, and he's weighed down by

several boxes. Louis' debating the chances of him falling and making Louis' entire day (maybe not

his whole day, but some dork tripping and making a scene at the coffee shop would make his

afternoon, at least, and a nice story to coax a laugh out of Niall later) when the guy says, "Sorry,

sorry!" while sidestepping another customer. And their eyes meet for just a second before Louis'

heart plummets into his stomach.

He whirls as fast as he can, pulling his hood up higher. When Carrie turns to him, he gives her a

panicked look that he prays she interprets as "Get a move on!" If she does, she ignores it and

seems to move even slower, if possible.

When his drink is finally ready, he grabs it and the small paper bag with Niall's cookie and ducks

his head on the way out the door.


23/155

"Wait!"

Louis groans, hand halfway to the door, ready to push it open. He wonders if he can pretend he

didn't hear it so he doesn't look like an asshole, but then he reminds himself that he doesn't care if

anyone thinks he's an asshole, so he continues out the door.

Only the entire front of the store is glass, and he can't help but turn to look inside just in time to see

Dimples reach for the door, probably trying to come after him. Except he's still got the boxes in his

hands, and apparently his long limbs are too big for him to control properly, because his footcatches on the lip of the doorway and he stumbles….

It's not even conscious, just like the first time. One second he's taking a step forward, ready to

hurry away to avoid whatever might happen if he doesn't, and the next he's right in front of the

guy, grabbing the boxes as they tumble from his hands. They're lighter than he'd thought they'd

be, and he catches them easily before taking a quick look around, assuring that no one else

witnessed the fact that he'd moved from one place to another in the blink of an eye.

No one except Dimples had, apparently. He's gaping at Louis through his crooked glasses, eyes

practically bugging out of their sockets. He takes a hesitant step forward and the door to the coffee

shop swings shut behind him.

"Here," Louis says waspishly, shoving the boxes at the guy.

Dimples pushes his glasses properly onto his face first, and then he grabs the boxes with a slightly

dazed grin. "I didn't think I'd see you again," he says as he balances them in his arms. "I thought

—"

Louis turns on the spot and starts away from him. He can hear the footsteps behind him, though,

and he wonders if he should risk teleporting back to the apartment to avoid this. But he can't, can

he? Because their city isn't all that small, and Louis can't just avoid campus for the rest of his life,not when he gets bored and wants to visit Zayn at lunch. So he turns abruptly, realizing he's going

to have to just deal with this, and Dimples nearly runs into him.

"Leave me alone," Louis says sharply. "Okay?"

"But I just—"

"No," Louis shoots down before he can finish. "I don't know you, you don't know me. Let's keep

it that way."

"But I have questions!" the guy says loudly. Louis starts walking again, and Dimples struggles tokeep up with him even as he rounds a random corner, heading nowhere near his apartment

because he doesn't want this guy to have any idea where he lives. "I promise I won't tell anyone!"

That's going to be an issue.

Louis stops again, eyes narrowed dangerously when they meet Dimples'. "Won't tell

anyone what ?" he asks carefully.

Dimples almost looks afraid as his green eyes dart around them. Louis turned them onto a smaller

street. There's only cars and shops, no one walking around. They're virtually alone.

"About what you did," he whispers, once again struggling with the damn boxes. He shifts them

and gives Louis what is probably his most sincere look. "About the — you know."

"I really don't," Louis says flatly. "I have no idea what you're talking about."


24/155

"Liar," Dimples says cheerfully. "You're just saying that because you can't tell people, right?

Because you're trying to hide it. But I saw you. You were in one place one second, and in another

the next."

"It's called walking. I don't know where you're from, but it's kind of a well-known concept here."

He frowns to himself. "And shouldn't you be in class or something?"

Nothing Louis says seems to be fazing this kid. He moves the boxes so they're both tucked

precariously under one arm, and he pulls a pen and notebook out from his back pocket, like that's

something people just casually carry around or something. What the fuck. "I have an internship on

Tuesdays," he says hurriedly. "I have to get back to work, but let me give you my number. I write

on the school newspaper, and I'd love to write an article on—"

"You want to write an article on me?" Louis demands, standing up a little straighter. "What the

fuck do you think I am, a zoo exhibit?"

Finally Dimples looks taken back, sunny disposition cracking into something regretful. "N-no, of

course not!" he says quickly. "No! I just think that you're — you're amazing, right? What you did,

I mean. That's — that's crazy. People would die to read—" His words cut off when Louis takes astep closer to him.

With a frightening glare on his face, Louis puts his hand flat on top of the boxes and pushes until

they fall from Dimples' grip, hitting the sidewalk with a muffled thud. "If you know what's good

for you," Louis says lowly, "you'll forget whatever it is you think you saw. Got it?"

Dimples swallows thickly, but he says, firmly and unwavering, "I'm not afraid of you."

"Then you're dumber than you look," Louis tells him. "Which is kind of incredible, given the fact

that you're wearing a fucking sweater vest."

Surprisingly enough, Dimples has the audacity to ask, "What's wrong with my vest?"

"Oh my God ," Louis groans, throwing up his hands. "Just leave me alone!"

"I will," Dimples insists. "I promise I will if you just answer a few questions. I won't even put it in

the paper, I promise. I just want to know."

Why is Louis still entertaining this? He should have ditched off a while ago, but he's still standing

here, boxes at his feet, arguing with a kid in a sweater vest. What is his life coming to? "Want to

know what , exactly?"

Quickly, probably so Louis can't stop him, Dimples scribbles something on the notepad and rips

out the page. He hands it to Louis and, for reasons unknown to him, Louis takes it. "I just want to

know how you do it."

"How I do it," Louis repeats. "How I do what?"

Dimples waves a hand. "The disappearing thing. The — the teleporting thing."

Because he can't help himself, Louis smirks and steps even closer. He expects Dimples to stumble

backwards but he holds his ground, peering curiously down at Louis. "Like this," Louis says.

The last thing he sees before he goes is Dimples eyes widening, and then he's standing in his

apartment. He stumbles, off balance, and nearly drops his drink. His head feels light, as it always

does when he travels anywhere that isn't within five feet.


25/155

Niall is still on the sofa, and he looks up at Louis with his eyebrows raised. "I hope you did that

shit from the lobby," he says, "because if you're doing that in public again, Zayn's gonna kill you,

you know."

"Of course I didn't do it in public," Louis says breezily. He tosses Niall the paper bag with the

cookie. "Gosh, people could see if I did it in public, and we wouldn't want that, now would we?"

"No," Niall says slowly, eyebrows drawing together. "We wouldn't." But because he's Niall, the

suspicious look in his eyes slips away almost instantly. "Wanna watch Animal Planet with me?"

"Later," Louis says. "I'm going to take a nap."

Niall shrugs. "Okay, sure." He's already pulling out his cookie, breaking a piece off to shove in

his mouth.

Louis heads on to his room, locking the door behind himself. He digs into his pocket, pulling out

the paper that he'd stashed there just before he'd teleported.

Harry Styles, it reads, followed by a phone number. Louis crumples it up and goes to throw it in

the trash. He almost does it, too, so damn close, little ball of paper dangling from his fingers justabove the wastebasket. At the last second he smoothes it out and stuffs it in the bottom drawer of

his dresser.

-o-

"Can I borrow the car for a bit?" Zayn asks.

He and Niall are in his room, Niall on his bed, him on the floor. It's his typical spot. He's got a

carpet down, his room is always really clean, and his bed isn't exactly big enough for two. So

whenever someone comes in and sits with him, he's happier to sprawl out on the floor while they

take his bed.

Niall doesn't look away from the screen. He's putting up a good fight. Zayn is the self-proclaimed

Video Game Master, but Niall's a tech genius so they're pretty evenly matched, for the most part.

"For what?" he asks.

Zayn shrugs. "Just thought it might need an oil change or something," he says casually. "I won'ttake it far, just to the garage next door. I just want an excuse to get out of the apartment for a bit."

Now Niall does look away from the screen. He grins knowingly down at Zayn, and Zayn has a

feeling Louis and him have been talking. Not that there's anything to talk about, really. "You

know I hate you guys using the car unless it's for a mission."

Niall always calls them missions, like they're secret agents or something instead of a ragtag group

of misfit superheroes. It makes them sound a lot more professional than they are, as if Louis hadn't

teleported right on top of Cher once, nearly letting a pair of criminals escape.

"Yeah, I know," Zayn admits. He figured Niall would say no.

Only, Niall shrugs at him and says, "Sure. Just be careful with her."

"Really?" Zayn grins. "I'll try not to crash into any walls."


26/155

"Not funny," Niall says, while he shoots Zayn's character perfectly in the head on screen. A deep,

loud voice says 'Headshot!' while Zayn respawns. "I'm still pissed about you melting the steering

wheel. Took me three hours to fix that shit."

He forgot about that. "Sorry," he says quickly. "I got upset with Louis and it just sort of

happened."

"It's cool," Niall says, waving him off. "I know how it is. Well, not really, because I'm not, you

know, like you. But I get it."

Louis is his best friend, hands down, without question. And Cher is like his step-sister (he's had

too many inappropriate thoughts about her to ever call her his actual sister). But Niall is like his

brother and best friend, all wrapped into one. When Zayn first met him, he was still freaking out

about everything, and he was still kind of disbelieving. But Niall had been so freaking normal and

calm. He wasn't bold and blunt, like Louis and Cher. He was easier to talk to. He explained

everything to Zayn while the others were gone, offered Zayn a beer, and Zayn was just…

instantly comfortable around him. Because that's the kind of person he is. He's welcoming and

easy to talk to and easy to be around. It takes a lot to piss him off, and he doesn't hold a grudge.

He's more understanding than that.

"Thanks," Zayn says simply, because it's not like he can just go off and tell Niall how much he

means to Zayn. That's just not the type of person Zayn is, not that he loves them any of them any

less.

"And while you're down there," Niall says with a grin, "maybe invite Liam for dinner."

Zayn nearly chokes on his own spit. He sucks in a harsh breath and drops his controller. "That's

— that has nothing to do with why I'm going there," he denies as quickly as he can. "I just wanted

to get out of the house. And the car could use an oil change, right? How often do those thing even

need to be done? When was the last time the car was looked at properly? There could be a lot of things wrong with it. I'm looking out for all of our safety."

Niall raises his eyebrows, looking more than a little amused. "You realize I practically built that

car myself, right? And if you let anyone touch it for more than an oil change, I'll strangle you in

your sleep."

"I'll keep that in mind," Zayn says seriously, because he has no doubt that Niall really would lose

his cool if something happened to the car.

They play video games for another hour almost, but Zayn's antsy the whole time. Niall starts

kicking his ass, and he knows it's because he's distracted. He sort of wants to bail on the game,

make up an excuse to get out of there, but he has no doubt that Niall will know exactly what he's

doing, so he doesn't. Instead he waits until Niall yawns and gets bored and tosses the controller

onto the bed with a simple, "I'm gonna go start dinner. You go have fun ogling Liam while he

works."

Zayn doesn't even bother to pretend that's not what he's going to do. They both know it is, as sad

as that is. He's just hot , and there's also the fact that he'd kept Zayn's secret. Well, not Zayn's, since

he had no idea it was Zayn under the mask of his suit, but still. Zayn's curious about him. And he

hates not knowing things.

There's no excuse for him spending ten minutes getting dressed. He changes his shirt twice, fixes

his hair, and groans at himself in the mirror about a million times. It's not that he's that conscious

about how he looks, it's just that — really, his looks are all he's got, and they're not that great . Not

enough to make up for the fact that he's socially incompetent.


27/155

Fuck. Maybe he won't even go. It's not like he has to. He could just tell Niall he's not doing it after

all and spend the rest of the day playing Skyrim. That sounds like a really fucking good plan,

actually.

But he doesn't. He pulls on his coat, pockets the keys to the car, and heads

burning away from inside

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