We'll Make This House a Home

08 when the gusts came around to blow me down

Louis sits in the waiting room of the children's hospital ward, head in his hands, fingers tangled in his hair.

There's so much going through his head, and he doesn't know where to even begin with processing it all. Every time he closes his eyes, all he sees is his son, his baby, not breathing with his face all slack and his lips blue.

And he'd really thought that was it. That one of his babies was going to...and he wouldn't have coped with that. He wouldn't have. He doesn't know how he would have coped with that.

If Zayn hadn't been there, things would've gone very differently. He froze - he's supposed to be the one who protects his children from everything, and in that moment when his sons life depended on him, he froze.

He'll never forgive himself for that. And he'll never be grateful enough to Zayn for stepping up when he didn't.

Before he can spiral any further into his self-loathing, the door to the colourful waiting room flies open and he suddenly has an armful of nine year old.

"Daddy," the boy whispers against his stomach, arms wrapped tightly around him.

Liam hasn't called him that in so long. He holds onto his eldest son with equal ferocity, rubbing the boy's back.

"Hey. It's okay, buddy. He's fine, the doctor's gonna bring us to him in a little bit," he whispers, his own voice hoarse.

He looks up to where Zayn is standing near the door still, with Harry in his arms, still in his onesie with two blankets wrapped around him.

Zayn's hair is still wet, but he's wearing warm, dry clothes at least; though, his skin is still pale and he's still a little jittery.

"Hey," the other man says softly, cuddling Harry close.

Louis smiles, managing a small smile back, though it feels weird when the skin on his cheeks is still dry from tear tracks. "Hi," he murmurs back, voice cracking.

Harry lifts his head off of Zayn's forehead and makes grabby hands toward him.

"Hi baby," Louis coos, taking the two year old on on hip as Zayn passes him over to him. Harry immediately cuddles into his side, sniffling.

"Daddy. Leeyum n' 'Aynie c'yin," he mumbles sadly, sniffling again, more forced, like he doesn't want to be left out when everyone else is sad.

Louis lets out a small laugh. "Yeah. Are you tryna be upset too? Ya little drama queen," he teases softly, kissing the top of the boys head as he whines.

Zayn is still watching him when he looks up. "Is...was everything - I mean, what did they say?"

Louis clears his throat. "He wasn't with it in the ambulance really, but they said it was normal. They wanna keep him in until tomorrow so they're setting him up a room and getting him warmed up," he says, then takes a wobbly breath and smiles at him. "I - I really don't know what to say, Z, if you weren't there -"

"If I hadn't been there, you would've saved him. Don't," Zayn says softly, sniffing.

"I just - he was - he wasn't breathing, Zayn, and you - you dove in and you rescued him and then you - you freaking resuscitated him like - like some sort of - I don't even know what. The whole time, I just - panicked. Zayn, he could've died. Oh my god. My - he - my baby could've died, he -"

Zayn wraps his arms around him then, sandwiching Liam and Harry between them, one hand brushing over the back of his head. "Shh. He's okay, Lou. He's alright."

Louis doesn't have an arm free but he rests his head on the taller man's shoulder and allows himself to cry; he's allowed to cry. He has every right. He's just been through every parents worst nightmare.