......... it's a new chapter yolo swag i hope you guys like it i'm sorry about the crappy short author's note like i am /literally/ about to fall asleep on my own ass right now i'm so tired lol anyway comment and vote and stuff yah i love y'all :-)
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Niall leaned forward and buried his fingers in his hair, tugging on the strands lightly. The waiting room was poorly lit and ghostly, with him and Liam being the only two people inside. Empty chairs stood aligned along the walls, the sharp scent of disinfectant stinging in their noses.
“What’s the time?” Liam asked after a moment, and even though his voice was quiet, it was hoarse, like the words were being beaten and bruised on their way out of his mouth.
Niall lifted his head up, glancing at the clock on the wall. “Ten past twelve.”
“Are you hungry?”
“I’ll be fine,” Niall rubbed his bleary eyes, resting his cheek against his palm and staring straight ahead at the seats opposite him. “Are you?”
“No,” Liam sighed.
Niall nodded, not responding.
“Are you alright, Niall?” Liam asked gently after a moment. “I mean – do you want to talk about it?”
“There’s nothing to talk about,” Niall exhaled and sat back up, leaning against the wall and hugging his arms around himself. “He had a breakdown. He was nervous and anxious and upset. He’ll be fine.”
Liam touched Niall’s shoulder softly. “You were frightened.”
Niall shook his head and blankly kept his eyes on the wall, but he could clearly remember the waves of panic that broke out across his flesh, biting him with sharp canine teeth.
“Listen, I don’t want to sound like an arse, I really don’t,” Liam took a deep breath and paused. “But, um. Niall, how long are you going to keep this up?
Niall turned to look at him, raising his eyebrows at the sudden change in conversation. “Keep what up?”
Liam shrugged, drawing away slightly like he was talking to a raging animal. “This whole thing. With Zayn being like that.”
“Being like what?” Niall asked loudly, daring Liam to say aloud the words he knew that everyone else was thinking, somewhere down inside.
Liam closed his eyes and rubbed at the lids. “You know what I’m talking about.”
“You think I’m going to dump him?” Niall could barely get the words past his teeth, biting them into furious pieces as they made their way out.
“No,” Liam said quickly, widening his eyes, hands rising up in self-defense. “No, I’m not saying that. I’m just saying – maybe you need to take a break too. Just for this year, while he’s away. Give him his time to recover. And when he’s back, pick up from wherever you left off.”
Niall stared at him. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“I’m just –“
“No,” Niall interrupted suddenly. “This isn’t a fucking movie. Zayn can’t just cut me out of his life for a year, and neither can I. We don’t pause wherever we want and then rewind and play again, Liam.”
“I know, Niall,” Liam said, his voice slow and deliberate. “But I just think that Zayn should focus on himself. Not worry about your relationship while he’s in there.”
“And I think that you should mind your own damn business,” Niall snapped, pushing himself up and heading for the door.
And then he paused. “Shit. Wait – no,” he turned around, sighing tiredly. “I’m sorry. I know you’re – trying to help. I’m sorry, but I just. I’m nervous too, yeah? That’s all. I can’t lose him.”
Liam nodded, licking his lips. “Yeah, I understand. It’s alright. I shouldn’t have brought it up.”
Niall opened his mouth to reply, but just then, the door behind them turned, and he looked over his shoulder to see a short, brown-haired man in a lab coat exiting Zayn’s room. He had a file tucked under his arm, his glasses pushed to the top of his head.
“Is he okay?” Liam asked automatically.
“He’s fine,” the man said. “I’m Dr Benson, by the way. A psychiatrist. I won’t be his official doctor during his therapy; I just came to have a look at him. I hope that’s alright.
“No, no, it’s fine,” Niall said. “So what’s going on? With Zayn, I mean.”
Dr Benson motioned toward the chair. “I think you’ll want to have a seat for this. Mr Horan, was it? And Payne?”
They nodded.
“Right,” he pushed his glasses back down onto his nose and waited for both of them to get seated. “So. In psychiatry, although there’s no exact definition for it, we tend to refer what Zayn’s just been through as a nervous breakdown. An outburst of short psychological trauma, or mental collapse. We call it ‘snapping’, under the weight of a lot of stress.”
Niall somehow found Liam’s arm and dug his fingers into the skin, but he didn’t say anything.
“Breakdowns are temporary, but they’re persistent, especially with someone as unstable as your friend,” Dr Benson said. “What you need to know about attempted suicides is that most people who fail the first time will try another. I’m sorry that you have to hear this, but Zayn has an atrocious mental health record. An addiction to self-harming, major depression, a lot of pent-up anxiety, we’re even suspecting some mild schizophrenia. A struggle with fame and sexuality, and multiple panic attacks, and now a failed suicide attempt. That’s a lot for anyone to take, you understand?”
Niall nodded stiffly, feeling the blood flush down from his face with every passing second.
“And he’s very young, too,” Dr Benson continued. “Not mature enough to know how to stabilize and regulate his thoughts. He doesn’t know how to control the negativity or how to keep himself together. I’m not saying that it’s his fault, but he definitely isn’t able to deal with this on his own.
“Now, what happened tonight, even though it’s not fatal to him, it’s going to leave him feeling guilty and stupid and over reactive. He’s going to feel like he messed up, like he put you through unnecessary trauma. And the reason I’m telling you this is because you need to convince him otherwise. You need to let him know that it’s okay, that you understand, because sometimes that’s all these patients need to hear to feel a little better. Unfortunately, we did need to put him down on restraints as per hospital procedure, because we need to ensure that he doesn’t harm himself or anyone around him. They’ll be off in two hours, though. All I need from you is a little co-operation in this matter. He’s already struggling with a lot of mental pain, it would be best if you were kind and forgiving toward him, at least until he’s feeling a little better.”
“Is he, um,” Niall’s voice slipped for a second. “Is he still like that?”
“Like what?”
“Going on about how he’s not sick and everything,” Niall said quietly. “Acting that way.”
“No, no, he’s calmed down,” Dr Benson smiled slightly. “But he will be prone to more outbursts if you’re not careful.”
“Can I, uh, see him now?” Niall asked. “Is he okay?”
“He is, he’s fine, but he might be a little drowsy, or even asleep from the medication,” Dr Benson said. “We did start him off on a very mild antidepressant, just to control his mood a little.”
Niall was already heading toward the door. “Thank you,” he said, pausing outside and taking a deep breath. Through the gaps in the curtain he could see Zayn’s figure, lying down under the covers, and flashed back to the night he came to talk to him after the attempt, but then crushed the thought.
That was then. This was now. Things were different, Zayn had said so himself. Niall wasn’t angry or frustrated anymore – just sad. He wasn’t quite sure if that was better, or worse. But it was a start, and he was going to let it go.
He turned the knob and went inside.
-
Harry poured himself his sixth wine glass, lazily swirling the ice cubes around the top. It was weak, cheap shit, but he was too sad and too drunk to care. All he wanted was to get into bed with Louis’ body curved under his, steady and solid and there, making up for all the lost time, folding in like a paper crane and taking up the space in his life that Harry never knew was so empty.
He didn’t remember when the bitterness faded away – somewhere around his third glass, while he was well on his way to getting drunk – but now he could feel the numbing loneliness sitting in a ball inside him, just hurting from the inside out. He’d always been a people’s person. He hated being by himself, being abandoned, being alone. Now the four people that he knew best were all somewhere else.
Harry swallowed the nasty wine, grimacing at the sudden, bitter taste. His vision was starting to get hazy, everything turning into bright, blue eyes, bigger than the rest of the world, more beautiful than the ocean.
“Louis,” he sighed. “M’miss you.”
Harry let out a sudden mirthless laugh. He was fucking stupid for even thinking of this, right now. Louis didn’t give a shit about him.
His phone was on the table. He’d sent a series of texts to Louis, during different stages of the alcohol intervention; but none of them received a reply. Louis’ number flashed on the screen brightly, and Harry blinked at it. His stomach felt like it was being shredded, the CALL button lingering beside the contact.
He barely took a second to make up his mind. Hitting call, he lifted the phone to his ear, leaning back against the chair and listening to it ring.
The line went dead after the second sound.
Harry tried again, and again, and again. No reply. Just Louis cutting the line off every two seconds. Harry kept trying, but Louis kept declining the call, and Harry found it harder to call back each time.
“Fuck!” he slammed the phone down onto the table suddenly, curling his body into a ball on the chair, burying his face between his knees. “Fuck him. Fuck him. Fuck him. I don’t need him.”
Harry’s eyes were already wet, and he scrubbed them harshly against his sleeve, breathing deeply to regain his composure. Here he was, alone in a huge, empty house, while the one person he’d given his heart to was away, refusing to talk. He straightened up, taking one final mouthful of wine and then pushing it aside with his arm.
He could remember everything he’d done with Louis here. The first time they’d seen the house, awestruck by the large rooms and endless space. He remembered Louis laughing when he bought that fucking purple couch, remembered slowly falling into him like rain, and the way Louis wrapped his arms around him while they watched Bridget Jones’s Diary. He remembered the first time he kissed him, against the door of his bedroom a few nights after Niall was hospitalized. He remembered the hands and the skin, fists full of dreams and sleep, and he remembered Louis blowing him in the kitchen, a few days later when the other boys weren’t home.
He remembered how all of it stopped when Eleanor got pregnant, how even though Louis could barely look at Harry without hurting him, he still held him in the mornings, wiping tears aside like diamonds. He remembered that night in the tub when Zayn and Niall came home, and how Louis didn’t want to talk about it for a week. Remembered Vegas, and the way Louis had punched him, leaving bruises like spilled paint on the skin, and the way his mouth made all the pain go away later on.
He remembered getting home, and Louis being honest with him, stealing fugitive kisses and making love to him freely, the way Harry felt to have Louis inside him. He remembered the beach and the car and bed, remembered Louis laughing like the fucking sun even though he was two knuckles deep inside Harry. He remembered Eleanor finding out, and the way Louis shut the door without a word, remembered all the sleepless nights wishing he were brave enough to talk about all of it.
Why weren’t they ever able to look at each other and tell the truth? Harry was tired of the way Louis loved him like a flame and then set him on fire, leaving him to burn. He exhaled, mind growing heavy with the thoughts he didn’t want to admit having, the things he didn’t want to admit feeling.
Closing his eyes and slumping onto the table, Harry tried to draw the curtains in his brain shut, and to stop thinking about Louis, just this once.
--
Fuck you, Louis. You don’t even need to talk to me anymore.
Shit. I’m sorry. We do need to talk. Please hurry back.
Why aren’t you replying?
Lou.
Is everything ok?
Loius,,. I’m lonely.
Louusi. Pllese.
Immsis you so much,
I lovevv yoiu
Fufk LOsui pleAees COME HOME
I’mgfucking crying lou please
Lpiso Come home baby I promise i’ll make it good
please eplease i love you os much lousi
Louis clicked his phone off and slid it back into his pocket, shrugging his blazer off and letting it fall onto the wooden platform beside him. Harry had continually texted him all night, the messages getting more drunk and less literate with each one. But even under the clumsy fingers shaking with alcohol, and the short, abrupt texts, Louis could feel Harry through them. He could see him sitting at the dinner table, thinking of him, sending him these messages.
Louis wished he could reply. He really did.
“It’s lovely here,” Eleanor sighed contentedly, sinking her toes under the sand and leaning back onto her elbows. “I’m not quite sure I’ve ever come here before.”
“It’s called Spiff’s Crown,” Louis said quietly. He didn’t mention how he found this place, high out of his senses, or how Harry drove all the way for him and the two of them spent hours dancing and talking by the sunrise.
Eleanor pulled the jade chopstick out of her hair, letting it fall in smooth waves down her back, skimming the sand softly. “I really like you, Louis.”
Louis looked up at her wordlessly.
“And – I know we’ve put each other through a lot of shit,” she said, the words almost sighing their way out of her. Louis could feel them fill the space between them. “But you – you’re a good person. And I love that about you.”
Louis pulled his knees up to his chest. “I’m not a good person.”
“You are,” Eleanor said softly. “I appreciate this, you know. What you’re doing here. Making everything okay again.”
Louis glanced at her tummy, thinking of the growing baby inside her. “I’m just trying to do the right thing, Eleanor. I’ve fucked up so bad, and I’m really sorry.”
Eleanor nodded, looking away for a moment.
“I have the baby to think about,” Louis said. “It’s the only thing that matters to me now.”
Eleanor took a deep breath, leaning back up suddenly. “Come on, let’s step into the water,” she said, getting up and taking Louis’ hand, pulling him to his feet. “It’s probably nice and cold.”
“Are you – sure?” Louis was surprised, but he followed her anyway, letting her guide him toward the water.
The ocean moved in easy waves, mildly chilly, in a dark, midnight blue. Louis paused to roll his pants up slightly to stop them from becoming wet. He curved his fingers around Eleanor’s thin wrist, tried not to think about how he’d done this exact same thing with Harry – how that had felt nice, easy, natural, and how this was forced, unsure, clumsy.
“Come here,” Eleanor said gently, tugging him by his lapels and wounding her arms around his neck. The weight on his shoulders was familiar, but something he’d neglected to think about for so long. She brushed his fringe aside, smiling. “Your hair’s growing too long.”
Louis shut his eyes, but he felt ready to scream.
“I’m sorry, too, yeah?” Eleanor whispered.
Louis nodded, but his insides felt like they were being pelted. “Yeah,” he said, voice constricted. “I know.”
She leaned in, mouth finding his in a soft, careful kiss. Louis took a moment to react, but then he just stood there, unmoving, while she kissed him. Her mouth tasted like cherry gloss, rose petals and forgiveness, but he couldn’t bring himself to return it.
She pulled away. “What’s the matter?”
“Nothing,” he shook his head, breaking out of the embrace, almost wondering what he was doing there. For a moment he felt lost, like he couldn’t remember who Eleanor was or why she was kissing him beside the ocean. “Nothing’s wrong – just, uh, give me a moment to think.”
She frowned, but did as she was told, stepping aside from him. “What’s this about?”
“Nothing,” he said again, trying to wade through the thoughts in his head like broken glass. “I’m sorry, I need – excuse me for a second, please. I need to make a phone call.”
Eleanor’s eyebrows did a dramatic dive toward each other, furrowing together in both distaste and confusion.
“I’m really, really sorry,” Louis said, already turning and pushing through sand on his way back to the phone, not waiting for her possibly explosive reaction. “It’s urgent.”
Finding the device, he picked it up and searched through his contacts for Harry’s number, immediately hitting dial. Eleanor watched him suspiciously, but made no attempt to follow. He turned his back to her and held the phone up to his ear.
The line ringed twice, and then Harry picked up.
“Harry,” Louis whispered, furtively glancing back to make sure Eleanor wasn’t listening. “Harry, talk to me. I can’t do this alone.”
“What d’you want?” Harry’s words slurred together terribly, but his voice gave away his delight at the call. “I’m sleeping.”
“I’m sorry, I just – I needed to hear your voice,” Louis said quietly. “How are you?”
“I’m very drunk,” Harry laughed a little. “You?”
Louis felt himself almost laugh back, thinking of Harry and the way he was probably leaned on the table, laying his head on his arms and smiling through the phone.
“You didn’t reply to me,” Harry accused suddenly. “You prick.”
“I know, I’m sorry, but she was watching,” Louis glanced back at Eleanor again, lowering his voice. “Listen, Harry, I think there’s something wrong.”
“Oh, would you like a cookie for that?” Harry asked sarcastically.
“No, I didn’t mean with us,” Louis explained patiently. “With Eleanor. She’s being strange. I don’t know what it is, but every time I mention the baby she changes topic.”
“Maybe she had an abortion,” Harry sighed dully. “When are you –“
“You’re not serious are you?” Louis asked, widening his eyes slightly. “That she – that she got rid of our baby?”
“I don’t care, Louis,” Harry whined. “Come home, I miss you.”
“Yeah, I will,” Louis said quietly. “I will, love, just give me some time. I need to figure out why she’s being so weird. Um, take care. I’ll call you soon.”
“No!” Harry yelped suddenly. “Don’t go.”
Louis felt something inside him crumble, rolling out of his body and leaving cold emptiness in its place. “I’m sorry. I have to. I’ll call you as soon as I can. I’ll be home real quick, I promise.”
“I love you, Louis,” Harry said softly. “So fucking much.”
“You’re drunk,” Louis reminded him, but there were warm glows starting to light up inside him. “You’re going to deny this conversation by tomorrow.”
“It’s true, though,” Harry let out a long sigh. “Wish it wasn’t.”
“Goodnight, Harry,” Louis said, his voice quiet and controlled.
Without waiting for the other boy to reply, he hung up, even though all he wanted was to dive in through the phone and find Harry’s voice and hold on to it for the rest of the night.
-
When Zayn woke up, he was alone.
The hospital ward was dark, dimmed lights crawling up the walls and making it hard to see anything. His head felt heavy, thoughts sluggishly moving along at half their normal pace. It was difficult to keep focused on any one image because everything was swaying, half-blurred, like a dream. All washed-out silver and tapering black, colors buried away in the shadows.
He tried to sit up, but was met with resistance. A closer look discovered that he had leather restraints tied around his wrists and ankles, holding him down. His old stitches had been dissolved away, and new ones replaced them. Both his arms were freshly bandaged, reeking of sterile hospital sanitizers.
He took a deep breath, trying to assess the circumstances.
“Ah, fuck,” he murmured, pulling lightly at the restraints. They were bound tight, giving way to very little movement. The memories from yesterday – how long had it been? – seeped into his brain like leaking water entering his thoughts. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”
What the hell had he been thinking? He could hardly believe that he’d acted like that. He didn’t even remember the reason, all that came to him was the wild savage anger and electric panic that surged into every vessel in his body, glowing bright red and burning like fire. And Niall. Niall standing there, terrified, blue eyes swimming and the way he’d held onto Zayn, like he was dying.
“Fuck,” Zayn said again, leaning his head back against the pillow and exhaling. His body felt like a candle, dim and tired. There were half-conscious thoughts wading around his head, but he couldn’t find the effort to understand them. Words piled up and evaporated, numbing back down his throat like medicine.
The memories came in waves, each one crashing down like a tide and washing away his strength. Glass, dust, blood. They were so powerful that they shook his entire body, rupturing through his veins and flowing in his blood, consuming him like a storm smashing against shattered windows, screaming winds and lightning leaving burns everywhere.
Zayn took a deep breath and stared down his arms. The images were coming on stronger now, the way his brain felt like it was being torn to shreds, the overwhelming voices. The way he’d ripped his skin open and let the demons run. The runways on his arms stained with old scars, embroidery, pale pink and faded ash.
“Oh, God,” he exhaled, the breath leaving him in pants, chest flaring open, his hands shaking like crystal chandeliers. “Oh my God, shit, shit – shit.”
“Zayn?”
Zayn stopped mid-breath, felt all the air in his lungs shatter like an explosion. His voice sounded dry, clinging onto his lips before withering up when he spoke. “Niall.”
The other boy was standing at the door, visible in the rectangle of light thrown across the floor. It was dark, but Zayn could see him like a sketch, all soft mouth and blue eyes that captured the light around them. “Are you, um, feeling alright?”
Zayn closed his eyes and swallowed. A hot, thick lump was building up in the back of his throat, rising dangerously, his eyes wet. He could remember screaming and crying and stumbling into Niall like a collapsed building, the way he fell apart at his feet.
“Oh my God,” he whispered, “I’m so sorry.”
Niall looked away, blinking rapidly, almost like he’d just remembered something that he’d been trying to forget.
“Listen, I know that – that I scared the shit out of you, and I know that I panicked, but –“
“No, no, don’t apologize,” Niall interrupted, but his voice was shaking like shutter blinds. “Do you, um, do you want to talk about it, or?”
“I don’t know,” Zayn let the air out slowly, pressing his mouth into a hard line. “But listen to me, Niall, I didn’t feel like myself, I swear to God– I’m so –“
“Zayn, stop it,” Niall shut his eyes, and his voice sounded dark blue, filled with heaviness. “I was scared, alright? I wanted to run away. I wanted to lock myself in the bathroom and cry until everything was over. But if I hear you say one more word about how you’re sorry or how this is your fault, I am going to turn and walk the fuck out of this room.”
Zayn bit down on his lip, hard, sucking in a sharp, quick breath.
“You’re not going through this alone, okay,” Niall continued, voice chipping like broken porcelain. “So stop acting like you are. You’re still the same, wonderful person I love. And I understand, yeah? Things got difficult, you panicked, and you gave in. No one can be strong all the time. It’s alright.”
Zayn tugged on the restraints involuntary, turning his head away and wiping his eyes against his shoulder. “I didn’t mean to put you through something like that.”
“You didn’t put me through anything,” Niall said softly. “It’s – it’s okay, Zayn. I need you to know that. Do you understand me? I refuse to let you feel like shit just because you were overwhelmed by a few feelings. You are strong and brilliant and beautiful, you are goddamn Zayn Malik.”
Zayn shook his head and shut his streaming eyes.
“No, please,” Niall lowered his voice, “listen to me. I love you, Zayn. I love you and I’m really sorry you feel like this all the time, but I’m doing all I can to make it better. Please let me help you.”
Zayn kept his face turned to the side. Niall’s side of the room was all light, bright and blinding, and the other side of the room was dark and empty, lifeless. He wasn’t sure which one he wanted right now, which one he needed.
“Do you need some time alone?”
Zayn shook his head, taking a deep breath and forcing himself to keep it together, and turned to look at Niall. “Thank you for being here.”
Niall’s face made a broken expression, like he was trying to smile but couldn’t quite manage it. “Don’t be daft. I’m always here,” he said gently, sitting down beside Zayn and taking his hand.
The touch spread like wildfires around Zayn’s skin, thawing the ice and replacing it with gold and honey, heat filling him softly. Like warm orange flares, pulsing through the space between their skins. He could feel it move through every vessel in his body in rivulets, like a deep fever dream, building up on itself until it was burning bright blue, the same color of Niall’s eyes.
“You matter more to me than anything else in the world,” Niall said, voice adding to the warmth. “And nothing is going to ever change that, do you understand?”
“Yeah,” Zayn closed his eyes briefly, because he did. Opening them to look at the beautiful, glowing boy beside him, he lightly squeezed Niall’s wrist and slid their fingers together, holding on like petals on a blooming flower.
“We’ll be okay,” Niall said. “You and me both.”
Zayn nodded, feeling a smile thawing onto his face like a small fire. “Thank you.”
Niall used his free hand to brush tenderly at Zayn’s face, fingers landing on the skin and leaving warmth in their place, melting the ice away. “I love you. As ridiculously much as I say it.”
Zayn did smile this time. “I love you more.”
Niall opened his mouth, probably about to respond with some witty remark, but paused when the door behind them opened again.
Zayn flicked his eyes toward the rude interruption, but he was barely able to make out the figure standing by the entrance. In this light all he could see was broad sketches of shadow and shape, a blend of something he couldn’t recognize.
“Zayn?” Liam’s voice said half a second later, sounding unusually small and careful. “Your family’s here to see you.”
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