the bangkok five

(1.8k of bday stuff. bc niall deserves better.) 

Zayn picks up the phone with a grunt. “What?”

“Why haven’t you tweeted Niall for his birthday? Did you text him?” Harry demands.

Zayn leans over and snubs out his joint on the ashtray beside the pool. His alligator floaty is creeping across the surface of the water like a proper gator. He’s tried to film it a couple times to send to Safaa but it keeps coming out wrong. Too slow, like. Too fake-looking, like the gloss spread all over Los Angeles like a layer of grease. Or suntan oil, maybe. “Okay, Mum,” Zayn says. “I’ll get right on it.”

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