Niall's Point Of View
I awake to bright lights and beeps and white walls. The lights make my headache grow, the beeping isn't helping and the white makes it twice as bright.
I already don't feel good. I feel nauseas, like I want to throw up but can't. There's this thick layer on the back of my throat that makes it feel this way. I hate this feeling, especially because I know I will be throwing up soon. It's just the way this works. Eventually my stomach will heave and whatever is in my empty stomach will come out.
I freaking hate being sick. I hate having cancer. I hate even more that I can't really tell anyone I'm sick. We're trying to keep a low profile about it. But it still sucks.
Right now though, all I want is a good cuddle. Because that usually makes me feel better, no matter how bad I am hurting. Which now that I think about it, I'm hurting a lot. A lot more than usual, and it's mainly in my bum knee. The stupid leg they want to save. I think we'd all be better if we cut it off and got me a robot leg. Those are cool. I'd use it. And we wouldn't have to tell anyone if I just wore pants all the time. Which is what I've been doing as of late anyways because I'm always so cold.
But, according to management I am incompetent and need the boys to make medical decisions for me. And they will do everything to save it. So, I sit back through the torture of treatments and physical therapy and age play, just grin and bear through it.
Right now, I'm at this crappy position. Where I am aware, and not little Niall even though I want to be little Niall. It sucks, so bad. I'm exhausted but too restless to sleep. And I am hungry but know the smell of food will easily cause me to upchuck. I want to go outside and bask in the sun, but also want to huddle under a blanket and cry for days. It's this middle feeling. And I hate it.
I don't notice I've started crying until a sob racks through my chest that I can't stop, and it's as if a dam broke. It's a miserable feeling. Before too long I feel long, strong arms wrap around me, before I feel the bed dip and am pulled into a lap. I push my face into their chest and just sob. I let the overwhelming emotions overpower me, and flow out onto the soft t-shirt of whoever is holding me.
"Shhh baby, what can I do for you? What's the matter? I can't do anything to make it better if you won't tell me what's wrong." I recognize the voice to be Liam's and I just whimper and whine more. I don't enjoy his overbearing self, but I just really want to be held.
"Cuddle." I whisper, hoping he gets the message. I think he does, because he climbs further onto the hospital bed with me and pulls me into his arms, letting me rest my ear against his chest.
His heartbeat thumping in my ear calms me slightly. And slowly, the tears slow to a stop, and I'm just a sniffling and shivering mess. I feel a cold gust of wind hit me and it chills me too the bone. I whine some more and push further on Liam. He gets the memo and pulls the sheet and blanket over us, but it's not very helpful.
I then realize it was Harry who walked through the door, and he was carrying a duffel. I can only assume some of my stuff is in there, and maybe I can wear something other than the barely covering hospital gown I had to be changed into when they checked me in. I realize I was half out of it, but I know what happens, as this is not my first time.
I reach for Harry weakly, wanting him to figure out what I want, without requiring me to speak. He smiles and comes over, kissing my forehead before pulling a few things from the bag. Liam gently lays me back on the bed, and kisses my forehead to soothe me.
Harry gives me a sympathetic look before laying out a long-sleeve pajama flannel, a nappy and the supplies necessary for a nappy change, as well as a pair of soft, flannel pajama pants that match the top, along with a pair of thick fuzzy socks. He then proceeds to strip me of the hospital gown, leaving me naked minus the nappy, and shivering on the bed. I try to give my best glare, but they just coo at me.
Liam slips a pacifier into my mouth and brushes back my hair as Harry works on changing me. He starts by loosely draping me in the shirt, buttoning it all the way to the top. I revel in the warmth. Then he takes a few moments to change the nappy. Liam immediately hands me my blankie and I hide my face behind it.
Harry is fast, but I still feel a cool breeze down below. I have no bladder control anymore, so while changing embarrasses me, it is necessary. Then Harry slips the pants up my weak legs and pulls my favorite fuzzy socks onto my feet. Last, Liam tucks me back into the hospital bed without him, but pulls a comfy, large and plush blanket from the duffel and tucks my upper half with that as well. He also switches the hospital pillow for my own from the bus.
I can tell they are trying to coax me into my little Niall headspace and to sleep. I welcome the idea of the headspace, as I know I will feel better with just letting go, but something holds me back from falling off the edge.
I whimper and whine until Liam pulls his chair closer to brush his fingers through my hair and hum a soothing tune. Just as I drift into little Niall and sleep, I hear the door open again.
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