brainchild | z.m. & n.h. au

xi.

“Tell me about high school, Niall.”

The Irish boy stares at his fingers, trying to find a way to stop the trembling. He has good days now, once in a while. Days when he doesn’t feel too sunken into the dirt or like he’s on the verge of floating away. Today is not one of those days. Today the sky is very cloudy and the string that holds his spine upright is tangled and he’s terrified.

“Niall?”

“Yes?”

“Did you hear me?”

“Um,” the small boy scratches the back of his scalp, trying to busy his fingers, “Yes…high school. Uh”—he racks his brain for the memories he knows are there, buried somewhere in the clutter—“it’s all a bit foggy, like, I can’t remember things that clearly.”

And he’s only seventeen—seventeen. High school really wasn’t that long ago…did he even finish?

“Just tell me what you can.”

“Okay, um, I remember playing a lot of sports—football, mostly. My friends were on the high school team…”

“Friends? Can you tell me about any of them? Names, maybe?”

Niall nods, trying to think think think. He remembers that he loves them—really, really loves them with everything he can muster.

And in the end all he really wants to do is cry because he can’t remember their names or their faces or the things they used to do together. It’s like his entire life has been erased from his memory and there’s not a fucking thing he can do about it.

“No.”

“Nothing at all?”

“I said no, alright?” and he nearly clasps his hands over his mouth. He has never once used such a rude tone with the doctor and he never planned on starting.

The man doesn’t seem surprised, however. He simply jots a few words down onto his notepad with a curt nod of his head.

“Am I finished?” he needs to be. The voices are whispering into his ears and it’s only a matter of time before they get stronger. Niall is seconds away from crying and he needs to be alone—needs to find some room to breathe in this fishbowl of a hospital.

The doctor purses his lips before sighing, looking exasperated, “Yes, Niall. Thank you for being cooperative today.”

“Thank you,” and he’s gone just as quickly as he came, fingers shaking violently and his head ready to explode.

…

Niall’s room is cold. The kind of cold that settles beneath his skin, his eyelids. He’s curled up on his mattress, back against the wall as he reteaches himself to breathe—inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale, remember that you have lungs, idiot. He clasps his bony fingers around his legs and pulls them tighter to his chest, trying to make himself as small as possible. He figures he’s been doing the universe a terrible injustice by taking up so much space and he’d like to take it back. He’s like to take every terrible things he’s ever done back and shove it down his throat, choke on it until the sky is sunny again and he isn’t a complete fuckup.

And he can’t stop crying. Every second breath is a sob and it’s getting difficult to remain quiet enough to escape the lingering eyes, ears, mouths of the nurses. If they catch him like this, he knows what they’ll do, and he isn’t particularly in the mood to be sedated this afternoon. He tries taking deeper breaths, thinking that if he can control one thing it ought to be his body.

“Niall?” a soft voice says from the doorway, prompting the small boy to hide his face in his knees. A few quiet footsteps later, he can feel the owner of the voice in front of him and he couldn’t be more ashamed if he tried.

“Are you crying, love?” Zayn’s voice is slow but anxious as he reaches out to touch Niall’s hands, gently prying them away from his legs and holding them instead.

The blonde risks a glance at the stunning boy kneeling before him and instantly regrets it. Zayn is so beautiful that the tears start up all over again and he has no idea when he became so goddamn sappy.

“Shh,” Zayn soothes, climbing onto the mattress beside him. He runs delicate fingers through his hair, swiping his thumb over his temple and leaning in close. “Don’t cry, you’ll only tire yourself out and it’s not bedtime yet.” The raven kisses the smaller boy’s cheek softly like he’s made out of porcelain and, honestly, the idea isn’t exactly farfetched.

“Zayn, I”—Niall sobs and presses his forehead into the older boy’s shoulder, “I c-can’t breathe.”

And suddenly Zayn is right there, hands on either side of his face, fingers pressing into his jaw, his neck. “Take a deep breath for me.”

Niall tries, he really does, and manages to do so with a lot of trembling and a rattling in his chest.

“That’s good,” Zayn offers, raking a hand through his hair, “Now again, you need to stop panicking.”

They go through this for at least ten minutes before Niall is no longer crying and he’s breathing like a human being again. Zayn is smiling at him like he’s proud, like he’s just accomplished some great feat and he is beaming with pride.

“See? I knew you could do it. Such a good boy, Niall.”

The blonde melts at the sound of his voice, his hands resting on his knees as they sit across from each other. He’s worried that he wants to touch Zayn—to hug him or press a hand against his chest or maybe kiss him. He wonders what the older boy would do. Wonders if he’s kiss him back or maybe push him away. Either way, he’s terrified, and yet he still finds himself crawling into Zayn’s lap, practically straddling him.

“You alright now?”

Niall nods, resting his head in the crook of the older boy’s neck.

“You wanna talk about what’s bothering you?”

The blonde sniffs before setting a gentle, barely-there kiss to the soft skin near his lips. Zayn sighs and wraps an arm around his waist, taking a deep breath near his ear. “Is that a no?”

Niall clings to him, “No…I just…I’m…terrible.”

There’s a long pause before the arm around him tightens, “I can assure you that’s not true.”

“It is though…I can’t even remember my best friend’s names…I’m…completely insignificant. I’m nothing.”

Zayn sighs again and leans back enough to look Niall in the eyes, “But you’re not. You’re absolutely spectacular, sweetheart. You’re the kind of boy stars die for trying to reach you. The kind that makes the sun seem dull, you know? Sitting here thinking that you’re insignificant is the only thing that will make you feel like you’re nothing. If you sit here and tell yourself what you are, that’s what you become.”

“Then what am I supposed to do?”

Zayn smiles and kisses him on the forehead, “Just be who you are, Niall. No shame in that unless you convince yourself there is.”

…

[a/n: hello everyone, I hope you’ve had a good weekend and that you’re smiling!!! I tried to update relatively quickly and I’m trying to come up with some kind of schedule idk idk. Anyway please tell me what you think ily!!!]