Scars (Ziam)

To Be Happy

"Yes," I admitted aloud. Niall could probably see right through me anyway.

"I think he likes you, too," Niall admitted. "At least, it looked that way when I met him. He at least seemed to really care about you, and you seemed really relaxed around him."

Zayn was the first person to make me feel relaxed. Then others came along and were slowly breaking through my shell. I was trusting Louis more, and Niall was very friendly and easy to get along with. I wasn't on close terms with Harry, but I knew he would never judge me. As for my family, we were slowly coming back together rather than remaining fragmented pieces of the accident that formed us. Things were slipping into place.

That was terrifying.

My hands suddenly clenched into balls atop of the table Niall and I were supposed to write on, and my breathing began to pick up some more. I heard Niall call my name, but I couldn't respond even if I wanted to. I was aware of his presence, and I was aware of the fact that he was rushing out of the door to call a therapist, but I couldn't do a thing to acknowledge it or let him know that I'd be fine.

It was just like after the accident.

I couldn't bring myself to even approach a car without panicking and bursting into tears. Nicola said that it was PTSD, but I kept saying I was fine. I couldn't deal with it then, and now... I was doing the exact same thing in a different setting.

"Liam," I heard another voice call my name as the room door opened back up. I was nearly gasping for breath, telling myself to calm down, but it was impossible to do so.

"Will he be okay?" Niall asked. I heard the rushed worry in his tone, making me hate myself even more in the moment.

"It's fine, Niall. Give him some space." I knew the voice. It was Ezra. "Liam, you're okay. Keep breathing. We're going to stay right here for you, okay? And if you want to talk, we can talk, but you don't have to say a word if you don't want to."

I heard the words, and I could feel myself nodding along to them, but everything still felt so rushed and intense as I squeezed my eyes shut.

"You're safe, Liam. There is only the three of us in this room. It's okay," Ezra repeated, reminding me that nothing was going to hurt me. The intense feeling of running away or sobbing out was slowly subsiding.

It felt like hours before I could actually breathe. I gasped in a huge breath at first and then choked out a sob before breathing normally. I felt arms wrap around me, and I opened my eyes to see Niall's hair sticking out before my eyes as he hugged me tight.

"I'm sorry," He whispered.

"What for?" I managed to ask out as he pulled away, arms falling back to his sides. It was that same devastated look he wore outside of the writing club room.

"I keep causing you pain," he spoke, tears building in his eyes. "I'm sorry."

"Niall, it's not your fault," I tried to reassure him, but he seemed to have made up his mind already. He was going to take the blame.

"Maybe understanding why you began to panic could be beneficial. If you feel comfortable, would you like to explain what brought on the attack, Liam?" Ezra gently asked.

I stared at the blank page that was rested on the table. Write about things that bring you hope. Hope and happiness... it was too heavy.

"I... I don't know. I was just thinking about how things seem to be going well in my life, and I just--" I shook my head side to side, unsure.

"They were happy thoughts?" Ezra wondered. Another nod from me.

"I think that maybe I- maybe I'm afraid to be happy," I whispered on a weak breath. I was staring down at the ground again, and I felt Niall pull me into another hug, this one tighter than the first.