Cali Cali Cali [Ziall]

II.

All throughout dinner with his family, consisting of Zayn hardly even eating, the lad couldn't stop thinking about the video.

 What would make a lad as gorgeous as the blonde boy harm himself?

"Zayn, love," his mother whispered from across the table. Zayn looked up, scanned over the rest of his family, and met his mother's eyes. She was staring at him, concern evident in her glassy stare. "Why aren't you eating, baby? Is there something wrong, sweetheart?"

Yes. He's sick, concerned about someone that he doesn't even know, and what's worse is that he doesn't even know what to do with himself anymore. Does he go to work acting like nothing is going on? Does he tell his mum, his dad - his other family or friends? Or does he wait and see how bad things get before telling anyone?

"No, mum," he answers, snapping out of his brief trance. He wonders if she can tell that he's lying to her - to everyone at the table. "Just feelin' a bit sick. Tired, too. Don't worry about it."

Of course she's going to worry about it. This is her son. However, at the same time she wants him to spill everything, she wants him to have his privacy. How much privacy would become to much by the time all of this was over?

"Maybe you should get some rest, love."

Zayn doesn't need to be told twice. He gets up, sets his plate on the ground for his dog to enjoy, and heads back to his bedroom.

He sheds his clothes, tosses them into his hamper, and changes into a jumper paired with a pair of lounge pants. He climbs into his bed, pulls the blankets tight to his body, and reaches under his bed for his laptop. Once he finds it, he brings opens it up to find that he hadn't exited out of the video he had been watching.

Perfect.

He clicks on the username, baysidedreams, giggling as he reads it, and is brought to the boy's channel. He clicks on the "Videos" tab, and scrolls down until he finds a video that catches his eye.

Hospitals for self harmers.

He bites down on his bottom lip, sliding the tender skin between his teeth, gathering up the courage to click on it. He doesn't know what to think, doesn't know what to expect. He's scared. He doesn't want to hear about this boy - this beautiful, gorgeous, stunning boy - being hurt. And it's weird, because as we have said, he doesn't know this lad. But he seems to kind-hearted, so sweet, and Zayn knows that he's never seen someone as beautiful as him.

There is a part of him that does want to make sure that "his" baby is okay. That he's well, and doesn't want to hurt himself. And even though he doesn't read minds, he knows when this boy is looking upset. And, judging by the thumbnail of this video, he's...alright.

He thinks about his beauty, swallows his pride, and clicks on the video.

"Hello everyone. I know I kind of just posted a video, but a lot of you have been asking me some questions...questions that I guess I should answer."

Niall is smiling. His eyes don't really reflect it, but he is and it's definitely one of Zayn's new favourite sight. He loves it - loves the boy.

"People have been asking me about my little hospital forray. And...well, it's nothing particularly interesting, but you guys wanted to know, and I guess it's my job to deliver, eh? So, prepare yourselves for the most boring story ever."

Zayn was ready - ready and willing to hear.

"So, I guess that...when you really start to think about it, a self harmer in A&E tends to be a bit nervous about what's going on. At least, I was...anyways, when I got there, I felt like the doctor that was tending to my wounds was a bit annoyed, and I suppose that I can understand that. It seemed like there were people there that got into real accidents, and I was just wasting my doctor's time because I did this to myself. I wondered if all the staff there hated me."

Zayn was puzzled. He didn't know him, but he loved him, and found it hard to believe that some people could ever feel differently. He looked like that kind of boy that everyone loved - but, at the same time, he himself was saying differently. Maybe it was a self-esteem problem. Which, again, Zayn found hard to believe because - shit, was he ever good-looking.

"My doctor stitched up my wounds, and put bandages on - which I'm obviously not going to show, but they're still there. My nurse was a lady named Wanda - who, for the record, was a lovely person who was probably the only one there who truly cared for anyone. She was so sweet to me. She brought me my food when I wanted it, and...she was just like a mum."

Zayn smiled at the blonde's obvious appreciation. He really was as kind-hearted as he seemed.

"It wasn't very fun there, as you can imagine. You could read, and write - which I obviously did a lot of. Other than that, there wasn't much. The rooms were small and white - white walls, white floors, white desk and chair, white bed. Speaking of furniture, there were no sharp edges on any of it - curved bed frames and chairs and desks and...well, you get the point. And I suppose you can understand why."

Zayn knew why. And he wondered that, if Niall couldn't hurt himself in the psych ward, had he done so the moment he had gotten home?

"You never really talked to anyone there. I spoke with a therapist once or twice - or, let him lecture me, at least. He didn't really give me any advice, didn't really tell me to stop what I was doing. And even if he had, I'm not sure that I would listen."

Zayn frowned. Would he ever stop hurting himself? Ever?

"Either way, that will be it for this video. I said that it wasn't very interesting. Thanks for watching, and I'll see you next time I post. Love you all. Stay safe."

"You too, Niall," Zayn whispered to the screen. "Please."