Zayn and Niall: Everybody Needs Somebody Sometimes

Remedy

hello children! yes this is indeed a new chapter, and it is also indeed the penultimate part of this story! it's getting quite emotional to know that all of this will be over soon, but all stories have to come to an end, and this one will too. as usual thank you so much for everything, pls comment vote and fan!!!!! lots of love x

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During the last few hours of dawn, the sky outside the small square window of the hospital ward had blazed into a fierce orange, tinged with blue, cubed over with thin clouds and shiftless winds. By this time Zayn’s mind was already pleasantly numbed with beer and the simple, buzzing haze of love. Beside him, Niall had relaxed into a softly breathing form; his fingers knotted through Zayn’s, his thumbs tirelessly kneading into skin.

Zayn had had to squeeze himself into one half of the sturdy hospital bed to make way for Niall, but this once-uncomfortable and cramped position now felt cosy and familiar as the other boy lay folded neatly under the blanket beside him, their bodies fitting at every edge and space.

 “You know what I’ve been thinking about?” Niall said, after a moment of silence.

Zayn’s free hand glided lightly along the slope of Niall’s jaw, knuckles drifting over skin. “Mhm?” 

“Remember our first kiss, Zayn?” Niall said, and Zayn could hear the smile in his voice. “That stupid dare that Louis made us do?” 

“It wasn’t stupid,” Zayn tilted his head to the side, feeling his mouth turn upwards a little. 

“No,” Niall murmured, after a short pause, “it wasn’t.”

“Everything’s changed since then,” Zayn said, his voice softening, falling wistful. “You and me and Louis and Harry and Liam, even. We’ve all changed and nothing’s the same as it was last year.”

“It’s weird to think about,” Niall’s fingertips were resting gently on the exposed sliver of skin on Zayn’s hip, right between the hem of his shirt and pants. They drummed lightly over the bone, one finger at a time. “I can’t even remember what it was like back before this.”

“Next year all of it will be change even more,” Zayn said. “I’ll step out of rehab and – and who knows what anything will be like then?”

Change was slightly terrifying to think about. One year ago, Zayn’s body had been unmarked, clean, innocent. He’d never slashed open his own skin or taped false smiles onto his face, biting through the lies and living with a pain that was so crippling that it overwhelmed him whenever he was alone. But then again, he’d never kissed a boy either, and he hadn’t known what it was like to be in love, the way that he did now. All of that had changed frighteningly fast within a year. Where did any of it come from? In his mind, the memories seemed to just blur together and run into one another like water in a stream – all that was left to salvage was the fact that somehow, through the whole strangeness of life with all its wonders and all its wounds, the events of the past year had led him precisely here.

Were there things he wished he could change? Of course there were. There were days that Zayn would have gratefully gone back to and redone, changing the script completely and setting things straight. But there were also days he wouldn’t have traded for the world, or for anything. And wasn’t that what life was, eventually? Wasn’t it just walking through the thin, fragile line between a continuous series of mishaps and blessings, falling into one or another from time to time and then finding his way back out again onto the balance?

“Hey, what are you thinking about?” Niall nudged his face into the intersection of Zayn’s collarbone, breathing lightly.

“Nothing, I love you,” Zayn said, leaning down a little to leave a small kiss over Niall’s hairline. “What are you thinking about?”