When You Must -Lirry & Ziall-

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Seventeen

Everything around Zayn seems to be moving slow. Ed seems to be creaking along, bones snapping, as he saunters out the door and into his red prius as Zayn watches from the window. Then Zayn is all alone and makes himself a hot cuppa and a warm biscuit. The chocolate chip kind. He types a little, but he doesn't have that spark to do it, and he forces himself to eat lunch, a cup of noodles and a plate of strawberry slices. Everything seems to be in slow motion, and Zayn creeps over tiredly to his window.

He peeks out and sees nothing but reporters, and the black haired girl, Veronica, from yesterdday in a white pressed shirt and a knee length black penicl skirt. She's talking to Ed in the driveway, her hands moving in big gesutres along with her red, pouty lips. She's gorgoues, the typical sexy assistant.

She isn't Ed's type, Zayn reassures himself.

So Zayn lays down on the couch and stares at the ceiling, the cracks that web like waves over a white expanse of ocean, or, the ceiling. He hears a knock on the door and he stands, bones cracking into place and joints whining in blatant protest. Every step is heavy, lead like feet, his right foot seems to be dragging limply on the ground.

Zayn opens the door. Ed's red hair is dripping onto his shoulders, his left eye sinking into his neck. The doorway and walls are splatting on the ground like wet paint. Everything is moving to slow, melding together. Zayn begins to scream, blood curdling howls as Ed throws the door closed and wraps strong arms around Zayn. Zayn continues to thrash, head butting Ed in the jaw, leaving a fresh red welt. Ed maniuplates Zayn's body into a full nelson and lowers them to the ground, hands fisted in Zayn's inky hair.

The room is a mess, wet and slick looking as Zayn whinnies throatily. Then, the Pakastani boy spots a figure in the corner, standing, blond hair with brown roots and crystal blue eyes. A metal smile.

Niall.

Niall is like spilt milk on a black countertop, a splatter of white stars in a dark sky, a silver dish of a moon in a tinted sky. He's the only stable thing in a quaking, shaking room. He looks brilliant standing there.

"NIall?" Zayn gasps, throwing hiself out of Ed's grasp. "Oh Niall!" Ed follows Zayn's line of vision and see's nothing but a blackened fireplace. "NIall! You can walk!" Zayn lurches forward and wraps his arms around Niall, enveloping the blond from head to toe in big arms.

Ed watches Zayn hug himself, timidly leaping to his feet, approaching Zayn slow, with a hand of peace out, the way you'd approach a wounded animal. That's when Zayn's body tremors, shivering, and he falls to the ground. His body quivers, white foam forming in the corner of his mouth and dribbling on oto the carpet. Ed races to the window, tossing it open.

"Someone! Call an ambulance! Please! He's seizing!" Ed only glimpses Veronica pulling an IPhone from her purse and several others dittoing her actions, before he's racing back to Zayn, who's body has stopped moving, limp on the white carpet.

"Oh god Zayn."

~...~
"His vitals are now normal, blood sugar slowly rising back to normal. We did a CT to check for hemriging and blockages-" Doctor Marcel says softly, his Cheshire accent thick. He's got slicked back brown hair, and green olive hazel eyes. He's wearing a pair of brown courdoroys, and a white shirt paired with dark gray suspenders. A white doctors jacket pulled over his outfit. He's got a stethoscope around his neck, and a pair of white gloves sticking out of his pocket. A packaged IV needle imposingly sticking out of his other pocket.

"Doctor, please, make it simple." Ed says. He's wearing the same close as yesterday, greasy red hair sticking up in all directions. His face is slick with sweat.

"We took pictures of Zayn's brain, Edward. And there's a little piece of his brain pressing against his skull on the left side. We think we can go in and removie it, it's a seventy five to eighty five percent survival rate." Marcel says, running a hand through his brown wave.

Ed cards his fingers through his red hair, mussing it up even more. "I thought your brain always pressed against your skull?" Ed says numbly, sinking against the wall and sitting on the floor. He drops his forehead on his knees.

"No, Edward, it does not. Definantly not like this anyways." Marcel's voice is powerful, and securing even though its dark outside and silence is covering the ICU.

"Please, doctor, call me Ed." The doctor nods and clicks the pen in his hand nervously.

"Would you like to see him?" Marcel asks.

"Please." Ed wearily rises to his feet. Shuffling along behind the doctor.

~...~

Zayn looks really bad. Pale, dried spittle leaving his mouth and hooking at his jaw, his cheeks look sunken in his face. His eyes are closed, and the only sound is the drip-dropping of clear fluid draining into his IV.

"Is he sleeping?" Ed asks as he nears the bed, pushing Zayn's legs over and sitting on the edge.

"We put him in an artificial sleep. Sort of like a coma. He'll sleep until we're ready for him to wake up." Marcel's voice is firm and he pulls up a chair on the other side of Ed's whisp of a lover.

"And when will that be?" Ed demands. He takes one of Zayn's cold hands in his own. A chilled finger runs its way down his back and he shivers.

"Whenever you're ready." Marcel clicks his pen again.

"I'm ready now." Ed whispers, looking longingly at Zayn's face.

"I'll inform the nurses." Marcel says, pushing off his kness and bringing himself to his feet. "Go home, shower, change clothes. You want to look pretty when your boy wakes up." Marcel smiles real sweet.

"How'd you know?" Ed asks softly.

"I remember when my Leeroy was in the hospital with a dance injury. I looked the same as you." Marcel laughs, thinking about his favorite blond waiting for him at thier house.

"And how do i look?"

"Crazy."

~...~

"Leeroy! Baby i'm home!" Marcel calls when he walks through the red door to the inside of their apartment. It's well decorated, with shelves of music, because Leeroy loves music and Marcel loves Leeroy enough to love anything he loves. Marcel spots Leeroy infront of the stove, browning hambuger meat for tacos. He's dancicng to some love song gushing through the stereo on the kitchen table.

Marcel drops his duffel on the floor, a brown checkered sweater vest over his white button up.

"Marcee!" Leeroy shouts throwing the spatula on the white stove and rushing toward Marcel, throwing his tanned arms around him.

"What are you wearing?" Marcel asks, laughing. Leeroy is dressed in a white workout suit with a matching white headband and arm bands.

"My dancing clothes!" He giggles, "Dance with me baby!" Leerory grabs Marcel's hands and twirls him around. "Stay with me cause im quite quick! One two three four!"

"Dance is just so hot right now!" Marcel whispers, laugh trilling from his mouth as he nibbles on Leeroy's ear. "Cute as a button you are, Leeroy."

"Cute as a button."