And here my favortie thing ive ever written comes to an end
please commetn and vote i cant tell you how much little things like that mean to me
Louis' POV
"There's no snacks here!" Liam complained, closing the fridge dramtically. "How are we supossed to work and save lives on an empty stomach!" He threw his hands up dramtically as he slumped into the recliner next to mine.
I rolled my eyes at him and continued to stare at the screen, watching the opening credits to a movie on Netflix that I had never heard before. Liam, Andy, Stan and I were the only ones in the firestation that night. Unfortunatley, we had the night shift so i couldn't go home to my empty flat and watch the same movie on Netflix with with a giant pizza of some sort. But at least when i was working I had some company in the firehouse.
Stan was reading a book on the couch to my right, and Liam was pouting about being hungry in the recliner to my left. Andy was taking a nap in the back, which was very against the rules, but that dude never got any sleep with his second job, so we usually just woke him when we had a call. We hadn't had a call in a few days, so I wasn't expecting much action tonight.
"Should we order a pizza?" I questioned after hearing my stomach growl.
Liam rolled his eyes, "What pizza place is open at..." He checked his watch, "Ten at night?"
Before i could respond, a loud alarm rang throughout the house. The three of us jumped up, Stan running back to make sure that Andy was awake, although I doubt he'd be able to sleep through the alarm.
Liam and I ran to the garage, Liam reading out the response, "Not a fire. They need medical assistance." I sighed in relief. I didn't want to bother with my heavy uniform. Liam and I checked the truck quickly making sure that everything was inside, before jumping inside quickly followed by Andy and Stan.
"All in?" I asked from the drivers seat and slipping on my headset. I heard three comfirmations in my ear, before I opened the garage door, started the alarm, and followed Liam's instructions to the location.
We arrived in no less than five minutes. The firehouse must not have been too far away. My flat was just a few blocks away as well. I parked in front of the apartment building, shutting off the alarm and taking off my headset as the other three quickly jumped out with all of the general equipment for this type of call. Liam said it was an overdose on some sleeping medication.
"Third floor." Liam mummbled to the three of us as we jogged to the stairs, Stan staying behind just enough to tell the receptionist what was happening.
Once we got up the three stories, it wasn't too hard to find the right door. Two young lads were banging loudly on one, screaming loudly for a man named Zayn to 'open up or I'll knock the door down."
"What's happening?" Liam questioned the two of them.
The curly haired one quickly went into a story about how their friend has been closed off so they came to surprise him and he came back with a bottle of melatonin, ran away from them and locked the door. He hadn't responded them to them in ten minutes, they told us. It was a classic case of suicide.
Liam nodded and wasted no time to begin kicking the door done. After two kicked, I joined him on the third and the door went caving in. The three of us ran into the flat, but quickly faltered when we looked around. All around the flat, leaning against every open space and hanging carelessly on the walls, was about 30 well done paintings of me.
"What the fuck..." Andy mummbled, looking around.
"He's here!" Liam pointed out, brining Andy from his shocked state and tothe man lying on the couch. His eyes were closed peacefully, and his hand that was hanging off the edge of the couch was softly grazing a painting of me, smiling, my eyes crinkling and all.
"Zayn?" I asked, remembering the name that the two lads outside had used. I ran forward and placed a hand on his cheek. He really was strikingly beautiful, even in his state. I placed two fingers on his neck, feeling a very faint pulse, slowly, and very slowly, fading out. i could feel his chest rise and fall until the breathing slowed completely.
"We're losing him," I breathed, a bit shocked that my heart sunk at the very thought of losing this stranger. I had never seen him before, maybe just another face in the crowd, but he had most definetly seen me before. I wanted to see his eyes open and discover the exact color they were. I wanted to hear his voice, and listen to his life story... where he came from and why he painted me. I found it creepy, extremely creepy, that he painted me in his spare time. But looking at him, he looked like just another depressed young adult, and I wanted to know why he was so sad and why he chose me over anything and everyone else to paint. Was I the light at the end of his dark tunnel or was I the hammer that was bringing him down.
I must have been staring at him for far too long, because Liam grabbed my shoulders and forced me out of the way. He put his hands together in the middle of Zayn's chest, and pressed down with the heal of his palms. The sickening cracks of his ribs snapping echoed throughout the flat.
I felt sick to my stomach for the first time since i got this job. This man lying on the couch, no longer fighting for his life, had this strong connection to me, and as creepy as it sounds, it felt like I had a connection to him as well.
I shook myself from my shell shocked state, and ushered his two friends outside the flat and into the hallway. They didn't need to see his friend like this. And they sure and hell didn't need to see my face plastered all over the walls with me inside.
"How long has he been depressed?" I asked, trying not to listen to Liam's grunts and Andy's moral support and Zayn's ribs cracking in the room with the open door.
"He could have been for months." The curly haired lad said, pulling at the roots of his hair with tears running down his face. "He was so good at hiding things and keeping secrets and he didn't want to hang out with us for weeks and I should have seen the signs sooner but I thought we just wanted to focus of his art, you know, make money but-"
the blonde one interupted his friend's rambling to ask me, "Did you know Zayn?"
I shook my head slowly, unable to get those paintings out of my head. "No. I've never spoken to him a day in my life."
It was silent. It was silent when the paramedics finally arrived, taking over Liam's CPR and rushing him to the ambulance. No one said anything more about the paintings,and thankfully, I didn't have to answer any awkward or unknown questions.
Liam being the kind person he was, offered Niall and Harry (we quickly learned their names) a ride to the hospital in our truck.
Normally we wouldn't follow patients back to the hospital, but with me being the main topic on this guy's mind, I'm pretty sure we all were curious as to whether or not this guy would be okay.
We dropped the two boys off with Stan and Liam, who walked them up to the counter, making sure that the hospital knew to tell them any and all information as it happened. I parked the truck near the back of the lot with Andy. We began making our way to the entrance, with my hands stuffed deep into my pockets, when he talked about the damn paintings.
"You have a right stalker..." He tried to joke, but that wasn't something to joke about. As creepy as it was (and it really was creepy) that he painted me and my face over and over again, I really felt a sense of pride and longing that I was this stranger's rock that held him into sanity... and I really hoped that I wasn't the one who drove him out of sanity.
I didn't even have the heart or words to repond to him.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
It had been three hours since we arrived at the hospital. They were flushing his system from all the drugs that was affecting his body. They said he was alright, and we could see him when he was in a stable condition. Andy, Stan and Liam left. They needed to go back to the firehouse in case another call came in. It made sense, I mean, I should have gone back with them. For some reason, I couldn't. I had to stay. Make sure this Zayn kid was alright. Hear his voice tell me that he's alright, and he won't do anything so bloody stupid again and then I'll be on my way. Eat a pizza and have a laugh with Liam. Go home and watch Netflix until I go to sleep. I mean, of course I'll be okay after this. I'll be just fine knowing that I had such a strong influence on someone I had never met before. Just fine.
Niall and Harry stayed with me. They didn't ask me any questions about the paintings they had to have seen, and I was thankful for that. I had no answers anyways. They had called Zayn's family, but they were on the other side of the world. Aparently, as Niall had filled Louis in, Zayn had moved away to New York as soon as he finished school, and began painting for a living. They promised to keep in contact with the nice family.
A man stumbled in moments after the call, mumbling something about 'knew that kid would have done something stupid' and 'should've done something else'. Harry spoke to the man quietly, a calming hand on his shoulder. The man's face was flooded with guilt, but then again, so were the other three faces in the room, including mine.
It was five hours after we arrived, and the man had to leave for work, leaving the three of us falling asleep on each other in the waiting room. Not a word was spoken for a good amount of time, until I realized that my shift at the firehouse ended an hour ago, calling Liam for a moment to beg him to clock me out and to cover for me if any one had asked about it. Liam told him not to worry about it, and that everyone understood why I would have wanted to be here. He quietly wished me and Zayn good luck on whatever happened. I nodded, not realizing that he couldn't see me, and hanging up.
The doctor finally came out, looking at the three of us before smiling softly, "Zayn's blood and stomach is clean. He should be waking up any time."
We nodded, and followed the doctor down the long hallway of the ICU. The hall spelt of old people and sterile and rubber and it made my stomach queasy. I hated hospitals, and I forced myself not to think about the fact that i really didn't want to see Zayn in this kind of place.
When we got to his room, he looked about the same as when I saw him on the couch. Lifeless, and pale. This time, wires were poking out from the creases in his arms by his elbows, and I really tried not to think about that.
We gathered around the room, and I was thankful that Niall and Harry accepted me as Zayn's 'welcome home' party. They treated me like one of their friends, and it made pride swell in my chest and I couldn't help but wonder why this man and his life had such an affect on me.
"Do you think he can hear us?" Niall mumbled, his eyes never leaving Zayn for a moment.
I shrugged, although I didn't think that he could see me.
"Zayn, buddy," Niall began as we scooted our metal chairs closer to the bed. I was just to his left and I could feel my palms getting sweaty. "Can you hear us?"
When there was no response, Niall and Harry both attempted to coax him out of his slumber. Telling him stupid jokes, promising him food when he woke up... everything you could think of. Neither of them seemed to understand that when he woke up, he'd still be in the state of mind as the moment he took the pills. I wasn't even sure if he would be disappointed or relieved if he woke and realized that his plan hadn't worked.
I stayed quiet, until ten minutes later, Niall and Harry began running out of things to say. I grabbed his hand on impulse and ran my thumb over the top. "Zayn? Can you hear us?" My voice sounded quieter than I had hoped. I cleared my throat and spoke up, "Could you wake up for us? We'd love to see your eyes."
Thankfully, Niall and Harry didn't judge me when I did this. They probably thought I was a long lost friend of his. Or maybe an old boyfriend that he couldn't get of his mind.
Zayn tilted his head just to the left, towards me, and his hand twitched in mine.
My breath hitched. I put on a brave face even though my heart was erratically beating and I was downright terrified of his reaction to me. "Zayn could you wake up for us? You're almost there, love." My voice was thankfully not shaking like the rest of my body.
His eyelids fluttered, and he slowly blinked his way in reality. I wondered breifly what he dreamed about, and if he dreamed at all. He didn't allow time for his eyes to get used to the bright lights before shutting them again.
"Louis," He mumbled, shifting slightly in the bed, squeezing my hand as if it were his lifeline. His deep raspy voice sending chills down my spine. His accent was thick and I thought I was going to reduce to a puddle right then and there.
I had no idea how he knew my name, and I was left for a loss of words. This man really did stalk me. This beautiful, torn apart man had a weird creepy connection with me. It should have creeped me out more than it actually did.
"It's too bright, Louis." He mumbled again. I sent Niall and Harry a frantic look, but they just smiled, because hey, their friend was alive.
"I know, Zayn. Just open your eyes, it'll get better." I found myself saying, thankful my mouth could work while the rest of me was panicking.
"Why do I feel tired and uncomfortable. Shouldn't death be peaceful?" He mumbled, hardly coherent, and still keeping his eyes shut.
"You're not dead, love." I whispered, stroking his hand with my thumb again.
His eyebrows scrunched together, and he opened his eyes. They blinked a few times, getting used to the bright light from the light above and the sun streaming in just after sunrise. A reminder of how long the three of us had been awake.
Once his eyes had adjusted, he turned to me, a confused look passing over his face. Then his gaze dropped to our hands intertwined, and suddenly I wondered if that was a good idea in the first place.
"Then how are you here? Am I dreaming?" He brought a hand to his head, holding his forehead as if he had a headahe.
I smiled slightly, "No, Zayn. You're awake and alive. And I'm here too." I added, suddenly wondering if this man killed himself to get away from me in the first place. I felt my heart drop and the urge to go home and drown in self pity was growing.
Zayn looked back and me in wonder, his brown eyes looking at me as if I was an angel brought down to earth just for him. That was something I could get used to.
"You're real." He whispered just to me, smiling in amazement. I gave his hand a reassuring squeeze and a bright smile. His happiness was so addicting already and I always wanted to be the one to cause it. I wanted to wake up next to him, and have him be my first and last thought every day. I wanted to kiss him and feel him and listen to him tell me about his life and if this is what just sitting next to him felt like, I couldn't wait until I could lay next to him after a long night of touching and touching and loving...
"Welcome back, Zaynie." Niall smiled.
________
surprise! Louis is aliiiiive hahah
But if you were still confused or curious, Zayn had first seen louis the first time he dropped off the painting for mr griffiths on the streets, and subconciously remembered and painted him.. if that makes sense
anyways thank you so much for reading!! comment and vote!!
(always check out my larry fic 'black coffee' if you havent already) ;D