Reason To Be (A Zouis Family AU)

Part Two, Chapter Eight

Niall has another appointment with her booked for the following week, and Louis just prays that she'll manage to get through to him because lord knows that they haven't been able to.

And it isn't for lack of trying. They've all tried talking to Niall in turn, trying to encourage him without forcing him like Harry unintentionally had.

Except for Liam.

Louis lets out another sigh at that, because he had been sure that his oldest was doing better, but lately he's been separating himself from them all again. He stays in his room, coming down for meals which he tries to take as a win, and he doesn't think that he's been getting much sleep.

And he's tried to speak to him too, really.

"Li, can I come in?" He had asked one night, knocking on the door and stepping in. He had expected to see the fifteen year old up at his desk, studying like usual, but he wasn't.

Instead, he was in his bed for once with the lights on, scrolling through his phone. Louis had smiled at him and moved to sit on the edge of his bed.

"You okay, Bear?" He'd asked softly, and Liam had stared at him for a moment like he might actually give an honest answer. But then he just shrugged a little and looked back to his phone instead.

"Fine, Dad. Just tired," he muttered, as if hoping to kick the man out of his room so easily.

Louis didn't make an effort to rush because he knew the kid wouldn't be sleeping any time soon. He would hear him still moving around in the early hours sometimes when he was up too, overthinking.

He wonders sometimes if the kid gets his anxiety from him, some sort of biological passing down of certain neurotransmitters. And that makes him blame himself in a way that he knows is stupid.

Apparently Liam has inherited that trait from him too, because the guilt practically radiates off of him every time he's in the same room as Niall, and Louis wishes he could work out why.

"I'm making you an appointment with Gabbie again," he had said quietly after a moment, and Liam had frowned, sitting upright.

"What? Dad, you can't. I don't need to see her anymore," he had argued, albeit feebly.

Louis has pursed his lips and scanned over the teens face, the bags imprinted deep under his eyes and the chapped lips from where he had been gnawing on them again like he had as a little kid.

"I don't think that's the truth," he'd murmured, reaching out a hand to brush his fingers through the boys hair just like he used to when he was Niall's age.

Liam had sighed softly at that, eyes fluttering shut for a moment as if he had been craving the contact for so long.

After a moment, he had pulled back a little and given a small nod. "Okay," he whispered, and Louis had smiled slightly, pulling the boy in to his chest.

"You know you can speak to me and Papa too," he had told him.

Liam hadn't answered to that, and it's been playing on Louis' mind ever since.

He doesn't even hear his husband speaking to him until he feels the soft rumble in the other man's chest.

"Hm?" He pulls away slightly, lifting his head to look the man in the hazel eyes.

Zayn lifts a gentle finger to brush his hair back, then traces the same finger down the side of his face lovingly. "I said you're doing it again," he repeats, and Louis sighs, leaning back against the man.