Louder Than Lions [zarry stalik au]

Chapter 4 - Oh Darlin' My Hearts On Fire

Harry had to stay overnight in the hospital, and Zayn wasn't allowed to stay. Zayn could have come up with every excuse in the book, but they would still make him leave. He understood that, but he still hated it. He hated that his step-brother, who had his heart and his soul, would have to stay here alone after going through something so terrible, something so terrible that Zayn wanted to vomit right then and there. There was no reason for their father to do the things he did. He was just a sick man, someone who was stuck in his drunken and uncaring state. It would take too much effort to get out of it. So their father continued to abuse Harry.

"No visitors during these hours, honey," The nurse said, grabbing Zayn's smooth and tanned wrist and leading him out of the room.

"Okay, okay," Zayn mumbled, glancing towards his sleeping brother whose curly hair was stuck to his sweaty head in the most adorable way, "Just, take good care of him, yeah? Remember, he has autism, so just--"

"Mr. Malik, we know how to handle things like this, okay? Why don't you say goodbye and I can show you out," The nurse said. Zayn bit his lip and nodded, walking over to his baby and running his hands through his hair.

"It'll be okay, charming," Zayn whispered into his brother's neck, "Everything will be okay,"

"Alright, Mr. Malik," The nurse said, "Let's go,"

Zayn sighed and let the nurse lead him from the room and all the way outside, all the way to his car, where sat in the driver's seat for a good hour, not wanting to go home and face his father. He didn't know what his built up anger would make him do. So, he just sat there, staring at the empty parking lot in front of him and having very little push or motivation to do anything. His mind just couldn't seem to grasp what had happened...or why it happened. When he finally got himself to put the key in the ignition, he still didn't feel any better, and resorted to pulling out yet another cigarette and lighting it up. Normally, he didn't smoke in his car. But this was a good time to make that exception.

~

When Zayn finally returned home it took every ounce of control in his body to keep himself from running in and beating the shit out of his father. It took every single ounce of control, because in all honesty, that's what he wanted to do. Instead, however, he got out of his car, the end of the fag still in between his lips, and walked inside the house trying to keep himself calm.

"Zayn, you are at home," His mum said from the couch, where she sat, a bag of unidentified powder on the table in front of her. Zayn didn't want to know what she was doing, or what she was drinking-the clear liquid in her water bottle didn't smell like water.

"Where's dad?" Zayn asked, his voice cracking as an image of his helpless brother lying in the hospital bed floated through his mind.

"Up in the room," She responded, her voice slick with something Zayn didn't comprehend. Zayn just nodded and walked up the steps towards his father's room, feeling his stomach twist with every step forward.

"Dad," Zayn said, knocking on the door. There was a grunt from the other side of the door and then a muffled, 'Come in'.

Zayn opened the door, and as soon as he walked in, he wanted to turn around and run away, back through the house and straight to the hospital, where he could hold his love until he woke.

"No, dad," Zayn mumbled, not even looking at his father. His eyes were too busy staring at the blood stain on the flooring and the broken razors. "No,"

"What is it, boy?" His father mumbled from the bed, where he lay.

"Why?" Zayn's voice cracked.

"What are you talking about?" His father said, this time, his voice angry. He sat up and stared at Zayn, and then down to the stained and muddled floor. "Oh, that,"