24 Hours

This past week, Liam Payne passed away. I started writing for One Direction in 2019. The same year, I met one of my closest friends through One Direction.

This is from the perspective of Lizzie Perrie, the woman I based on Liam for my first One Direction fanfiction, 'Wonderland.' It will feature mentions of her bandmates and her partner. There will be brief mentions of One Direction and family, but no names.

This is a work of pure fiction, based on my questions, sadness, mortality, and ideas of life now compared to last year when my ideals truly changed.

Of course, if you or someone you know is struggling, please reach out to services such as 988.

Thanks for reading.

---

Hour 0

I sat back in my bed, staring up at the ceiling. It's been forever since I last saw him, and I can't wait to chat about my new album. It's a dance-centric one—you're gonna love it! I rested the phone down by my side, relaxing into the mattress.

30 Minutes Later

"Lizzie. Please tell me you've checked the news in the past thirty minutes. Something's happened. Please look at the news."

35 Minutes Later

"Jazzy," I swiped the call button on my screen, holding the phone up to my ear, "Jasmine, what's going on?"

There was sniffling. There was broken English. There was screaming. "I didn't know wat else to do, it happened so fast - quick taking the photos, the fuck is wrong with you people,". Click.

36 Minutes Later

I dropped the remote on the ground.

I snatched my phone and went to Twitter—#1 Trending.

I googled his name. Three articles from reputable sources... It can't be.

I tried to call Jasmine again. No answer. She always gets my calls.

1 Hour Later

His mom called and asked if it was a joke, "You all did things like that growing up; I thought maybe this was just another stupid thing."

When I didn't answer, she cried. I listened for the whole hour in silence.

2 Hours Later

His partner called; she wanted to confirm with me that something happened since " you know how the news is sometimes—they need a quick 'get-cha' before something big happens, right?"

When I told her, "Jasmine hasn't answered my calls."

I listened to her for an hour. Thinking to myself, the world is so fucked. His son is gonna find out about this via the Internet. Through millions of people. Fuck.

3 Hours Later

I swallowed hard, opening Instagram only to immediately close it again because someone had taken a video of the fall. I opened the app and reported the video with a strongly worded message.

"Fuck you. Fuck your views."

4 Hours Later

I ran my hands over my face, opening my phone to check the news. There was a celebrity influencer chatting about what happened like it was the latest menu item at Starbucks, with pictures, audio, and other people's photos to match.

I dialed the celebrity influencer and demanded he 'take shit down right now or you're gonna be in the fucking ground next to him.' and hung up.

I threw myself back on the bed, sniffling, "He really is gone."

5 Hours Later

I left my hotel at the risk of flashing lights. I didn't even leave the lobby before I heard, "Lizzie! Lizzie! What happened to your twin? Didn't you know?!"

My eyes glossed over, and the next thing I knew, several lights were flashing, catching evidence of me standing over someone with a broken camera and nose.

I walked back upstairs with security in tow.

6 Hours Later

Louisa called. She never calls. Unless it's an emergency. Especially when I'm overseas.

"Lizzie. You gotta talk to Z, she's panicking right bad right now."

"Okay."

I spent thirty minutes reassuring Zara that I wasn't following and seeing her soon. When she asked, "Could we do one last tour, please,"

"Of course." Even though I know her anxiety would make her drop dead before we even hit the stage. I sniffled, "We really are one and the same... So why did I miss this?"

7 Hours Later

Harriet called, "Hey Lizzie. We saw what happened,"

"Yeah."

"You okay,"

Am I? "Yeah. Fine."

The line went dead soon after. I spent five minutes staring at the TV before a buzz vibrated my side.

"Hello."

"I'm sitting with you. You don't have to talk, I'll be here if you need me."

Harri and I spent the next hour in silence. She plucked guitar strings, played her harmonica, tapped on her desk to make beats, and never said a single word. It was comfortable.

8 Hours Later

"They're doing an investigation into the incident, I'm going to be here for a while. Do you need anything?"

I need someone to reassure me that he was okay before the fall. "No," I swallowed. Talk soon." I forced myself to hang up because if I had stayed on longer, I would have destroyed her eardrums.

9 Hours Later

Louisa called. Again.

"Hello."

"Hey Lizzie, what the name of the dance you and L use to do back in the day?"

I raised my eyebrow, "We did many dances, Louisa. You have to be specific,"

"There was one y'all did on the tour that I loved, it was like," Louisa mimicked the movements before realizing, "Right, you can't see me. We're on the phone,"

"We are."

She huffed, "Look I'm staying on the phone with you, so would you at least entertain me,"

"How did I miss it Louisa," I shook my head, "I just finished talking to him. He said he was good, music was good, family was good... How did I miss it,"

Louisa sighed, "We're trained to hide Lizzie. He was the best hider of all of us,"

I nodded my head, setting my phone down, "Yeah. He is."

"Was."

"Right." I sighed, laying back on the bed.

9 Hours Later

I heard someone weeping while listening to Midnight.

"This song is so corny, who would even listen to this shit?" rang in my head, booming against my eardrums.

This is our iron horse breaking down. He really is gone.

10 Hours Later

My body felt weak, my stomach growled, my face was hot, and my head was light. I needed to move. I got out of bed without much and walked onto my balcony.

Did he know he was falling?

Did he feel the air, or was he too numb?

L... Please don't tell me you changed your mind halfway through.

Please just... tell me if you were at peace or unaware.

I swallowed, turning back to inside. Before I went in, a cold gust rushed through my hair with a force that threw my curls over my shoulders.

It was 70 degrees, and there was no wind in the forecast.

11 Hours Later

I got a text from Nattie, "Niall has been crying for the past five hours - help!"

I turned my phone on DND mode.

12 Hours Later

I ran into the bathroom; my head dropped into the toilet.

I coughed into the bowl, pulling back and rubbing my mouth. Then, throwing my body into the shower, I let the hot water drain me.

How did I miss this? How did I not know?

I rested my head down on my knees, sniffling.

20 Hours Later

My eyes shot open, and I forced myself to sit up. Jasmine was at the end of the bed, scrolling on my phone and answering messages. I swallowed, looking over to my right. My clothes were folded in a pile on a chair. To my left, I saw my album cover art.

Then, it happened.

The tears swelled in my eyes; my throat closed, and I gripped the sheets.

I screamed.

For what felt like hours into the void of my new reality.

My friend, the one who was twin. Is gone.

And I'll never see him again.

We'll never see him again.

20 Hours and 16 Minutes Later

I'm gasping for air, agreeing to an interview against my better judgment.

Someone needed to get in front of this. It had to be me.

I owe it to you. I owe my life to you.

20 Hours and 45 Minutes Later

Pushing through the hoard of people screaming my name and asking for photos, one voice stood out among them all. Well, one comment.

How could you let him die?

I stopped. My eyes searched for the voice through the people. Jasmine tapped my shoulder, forcing me forward as she pushed my head into the car. As the doors slammed, I felt my soul sink into the seat.

I was here, basically down the street. I could have saved him, and I could have done something.

"Lizzie,"

"Liz,"

"Liza."

"Do you think he was happy," I forced out, "When I spoke to him on the phone last night, he seemed so happy," I sniffled.

Jasmine sighed, "I don't know Liza."

She's right. That doesn't make it better. I huffed, "Of course you wouldn't know. Not like you were there or anything,"

Jasmine glared a hole through my head the whole ride to the studio.

21 Hours Later

We're at the studio. Jasmine is taking charge and leading the way, her voice steady compared to her voice over the phone.

Liza. Tengo miedo. La caída ocurrió muy rápido. No pude detenerlo. Liza. Lo siento.

I swallowed hard, shaking my head and rubbing my hand over my face. Pushing through the crowd of people waiting at the gate for us, Jasmine wrapped her hand around my elbow.

Could I have done something? Could I have saved him?

22 Hours Later

I grazed my hand over the cover art, my heels clicking in bright purple high-tops dressed straight from the 1950s. It's giving Midnight Memories vibes, which was always my favorite album to perform.

Sighing, I slipped the cover art back into my pocket.

Jasmine popped her head in through the door, closing it with her hip. I sighed at her reflection, and she blinked at mine: "You don't have to do this, Liza."

"I know."

"And if you're not ready to talk, you don't have to be the martyr and talk." It was more of a statement versus a question from her. She always knew how to read me. But I need to try. For him.

I swallowed.

Jasmine sighed, "Two hours. We have a flight back, okay,"

"Okay," Jasmine nodded, I sighed.

"I'll be waiting." The door opened and closed without a wink. I closed my eyes, sighing.

23 Hours Later

The hair and makeup team made another adjustment for me, and my face stone and eyes glossed over. The woman, trying to force a smile on my face, groaned, "Sonríe por favor."

I glared at her, making the woman flinched away and ran off in the other direction. I blinked away the rest of the people, my stare landing on the open seat across from me.

My hands grip the edge of the chair, and my legs tighten against my stomach and neck.

The interviewer emerged with a sympathetic smile on her lips, waving at me as she sat down in her seat. Her eyes were void of emotion.

Shit.

23 Hours and 2 Minutes Later

"Estamos en vivo con Liza Perrie. De bailarina aficionada en los espectáculos de medio tiempo de su padre, a mega estrella del pop con Wonderlani, y ahora artista pop latina independiente por su cuenta. Liza, bienvenida! ¡Qué feliz de tenerte!" Her bright teeth peeked through her red lips, her cheeks rosy and her eyes still icy. I gripped my armchair, forcing a smile and nod.

"Feliz de estar aquí, Alessandra."

"Entonces. Liza. Necesitamos hablar de la reciente muerte de tu mejor amigo, o incluso diríamos, tu gemelo. Dime, ¿cuándo fue la última vez que hablaste con él? Porque parecería que no estaba tan bien como pensabas."

When was the last time I talked to him...

Last night...

Was he okay...? To me, yeah.

But as Louisa said, he was the best of all of us.

I cleared my throat, tapping the arm of the chair. Taking the mic from my chest, I nodded at the camera. Alessandra glared up at me as I dropped the mic in her lap. My middle finger jumped in her face before I knew I had done it. Alessandra gasped, and I waved at her before security came to drag me offstage.

Walking through the halls, I pressed my hands deeper into my jacket pockets. Thoughts of all the laughing, the parties, the drinking, the girls, the dance-offs, the memes, all of it. Now. Just memories.

Jasmine was at the back door where we came in, tapping away on her phone. I stopped before her, "So, ready to go home," she asked without looking up. I nodded. She hummed, pushing off of the wall and waving to security.

24 Hours Later

I rested my head against a cold glass window. I swallowed.

That was so high... Was it on impact? Did he suffer?

I sighed, feeling a gentle squeeze on my left hand. I relaxed into the touch.

I'm sorry. I hope you, I hope you're at peace.

I heard Jasmine mumble to someone that we're on our way home and to give us the details when they're ready if they wanted us there. I cleared my throat, snuggling my head against the window.

I hope you're okay wherever you are now.

I hummed, drifting to sleep as I thought of a new album cover. Maybe even a tiny dedication on the front cover to my twin. The reason why I am who I am today. To you, L, thank you.

---

That's the story that's been bouncing around in my head since everything happened. The style is intentional as it's meant to represent my thoughts during this process, through the eyes of someone close to you. And though we didn't, know know, him - he left a piece of himself with all of us.

So. To Liam, thank you and rest easy. 🕊️

And to you reader, I'll see you in the next time. #keeponwriting ✊🏼