Chapter 9

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I was going to post this next week because I felt it needed a little bit more editing, but seeing as I’d passed 2000 reads I had to post this now as a thank you :D

A friend and I have started a fanfic called Dance With the Devil. It’s Ziall/Niam/Larry, and is about them going into a haunted house with weird things happening. Currently it only has 300 reads :( You don’t have to, but if you like any of those ships, or you like the sound of ghosts and strange things happening, give it a try!

Onwards to chapter 9. Enjoy!

~Q

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Despite the fact that Niall had read only one book in his life, ‘To Kill a Mockingbird’, and had thought it was about killing mockingbirds even though the book had almost no mentions of birds and was actually about racism in the 1930’s and the loss of innocence, the maturity of the characters and learning how to read behind the lines to produce an A* essay, or so his English teacher said, he wasn’t illiterate, and had in fact done some reading recently. Although, this time, the subject was not a laughing matter, nor was it something you could find extra information in if you over analysed.

Niall browsed through the endless pages of health websites that all told the same advice. If he was honest, he didn’t find it particularly useful. They all told him it was a bad habit, and that often people did it because they were misunderstood, because it helped them – it was what he was expecting. It just didn’t convince him. He kind of wanted something extreme, something he’d never heard before, to throw him completely off the idea of cutting. He knew that if he didn’t stop now, he’d almost never be able to in the future. But the websites just weren’t convincing enough. That’s why once again he’s in the bathroom mirror, looking at his reflection.

He could still see the scars from a few days ago. They were healing pretty well, considering how much blood he saw when they first opened. Yet he still couldn’t stop thinking about everything, and nothing. There would be moments when he stared at his reflection, clawing at himself in outbursts of anger, wondering to himself why he couldn’t be normal, why other people seemed to find him annoying, why people loved to tease him, but worst of all, why all the worst features seemed to have landed upon him. Then, he would let the tears silently flow; he would let his mind be blank, but the salty drops free. He couldn’t understand what became of him. He was always so happy. He always believed in his Irish luck and Irish charm. He always believed in being friendly to people, he always wanted to make people like him, not because he was an attention seeker, but because he liked to see people happy. If the boys looked happy when he was being teased, did that mean it was wrong of him to be so emotional about it? Surely they looked happy when he went along with the teasing, is that not what he wanted? Did it make him a selfish person to wish that he could be happier, rather than a group of people?

He stared at the razor in his hands. Once again, it looked like a foreign object. He came to a decision. He wasn’t going to be selfish. He could make people happy, and he’d teach himself not to be so emotional. But when he couldn’t manage his emotions, he’d to turn to the razor. It seemed like the best option, and he didn’t want to make the whole band sad because he wouldn’t co-operate.

This time, he was sure he had more experience. After all, you learnt from your mistakes, although the only mistake made when cutting was taking the razor too deep. Perhaps this made him slightly naive for his next move. He once again placed the razor against his stomach, but this time, his motions were too fast and he used too much strength. He doubled over in pain, clutching the mess. It wasn’t good. The pain was at least a thousand times worse than last time, and he was sure he lost more blood. It didn’t help that as he was trying to clean himself up with as much tissues as possible, he heard something from outside his bedroom.

“Niall?”

It was Zayn.

“Niall, I’m coming in!”

Crap! He thought. He forgot to lock the door. Before he could react, the door opened to reveal Zayn, who Niall saw reflected in the mirror. Zayn’s eyes immediately widened at the scene in front of him. Niall found he couldn’t say anything. He kneeled on the floor, and began crying.

“Zayn, just get out.” He said in between sobs, but of course, Zayn didn’t listen. Instead, he wrapped his arms around the Irish boy’s shoulders, making sure not to go any lower for fear of hurting him.

He quietly let out a ‘shh’ sound in Niall’s ear.

"You’re going to hate me.” Niall said, still uncontrollably sobbing.

Zayn didn’t say anything else as he removed his arms, and supported Niall to sit on the side of the bath tub. He remained silent as he cleaned the blood, rubbed disinfectant and bandaged the wound. Every now and then, he would wipe away a tear from Niall’s face, occasionally kissing one off. This made Niall flustered, but he still couldn’t stop crying. He was ashamed of himself, and letting Zayn find out was the worst. Zayn was the one that always had this concerning look whenever his eyes met with Niall’s. He knew Zayn would begin to worry more. He could even tell the other boys! Then they would worry, and become unhappy. Especially Louis, who seemed to enjoy everything the most.

He cried so much that he only realised what was happening when he felt Zayn carry him up bridal style, walking into the bedroom and placing him on the bed. Then, Zayn continued to hug him until he was sure Niall had stopped crying.

“I’m not going to ask you why, Niall.” Zayn whispered. “But I know about all this. You need a reason to stop, don’t you?"

Niall nodded. He didn’t know Zayn had any experience in this area. But so far, Zayn was doing everything right. Niall expected Zayn to have begun pelting him with questions the minute he discovered him in the bathroom, but he didn’t. He remained silent as he cleaned him up, and stayed with him until he felt more stable.

“You like making people happy, don’t you?”

Niall’s breath hitched, before nodding.

“But you’re doing this because you’re unhappy. And that makes me sad too.”

The words sounded almost as though Zayn was talking to a child. But for the first time in his life, Niall felt something. For a split second, he realised what Zayn was. He was perfect. From the minute they met at the X factor auditions, Zayn always understood Niall the most. People thought it was Liam, however, they were wrong. Liam was the dad of the group, and Niall was the most baby-like. It seemed they’d fit perfectly, but in fact Niall always found that Zayn knew everything about him. He always said the right things in situations, and right now, there wasn’t a thing in his understanding that was wrong.

“When you’re happy Niall, I’m happy. So don’t forget that.”

The whispers were so close, that Niall could hear Zayn’s breaths. He found them calming, and he closed his eyes to the rhythm.

“...stay.”

It was the only Niall had said to Zayn for the whole day, and despite the circumstances, it put a smile on Zayn’s face.

Although everything that may have happened today was against Niall, he did agree to one thing. He found that reason he believed was on the internet, not there, but in a friend. Maybe, just maybe, he’d found the person he could always go to.

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And there ya go. Ziall fluffy angst ;D

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