Liam's stomach drops the moment he opens his revision text book. It's the end of winter break in his final year of high school, and he has mock exams when he goes back, not to mention his real, final exams just a matter of months down the line. Even the thought makes his chest tighten in a way that it hasn't for a long time.
At fifteen, his anxiety has lessened over the years. Not faded, per se, just...declined. He has a million support systems - his parents, his brothers, his friends, and his girlfriend of three years now. But he still can't seem to shift the ever growing weight on his shoulders every time he thinks about his grades. Hours of studying never seems to be enough.
Which is why, whilst his family is downstairs watching a movie, he's holed away in his room staring at the quadratic formula and attempting to will his mind into remembering it so he can move onto something else.
Every time he tries to read the formula though, something else skews his focus and he has to read it all over again. First it's the cold wind entering the vent above his window, which he gets up to close before sitting down again. Then it's the ticking of his alarm clock beside his bed, so he gets up again to temporarily remove the batteries. Then his mind wanders off to other places for a while - how Emily had told him that her parents weren't going to be home that weekend and he should come over, how he had turned her down because he needs to study, how he had tried to have a conversation with his Dad earlier on only for it to be disrupted by a phone call from Niall's English teacher offering extra support for him when he returns to school because of his 'attention span problems'.
Eventually, his eyelids grow heavy and he really just wants to get an early night for once; but he refuses to sleep until he has learned that damned equation so he shoves his chair back with a huff and leaves his room for the first time since dinner.
Everyone is still awake and far too lively for almost eleven PM downstairs. When he passes through the living room, Niall is attempting to climb behind the television stand in the corner only for Papa to hurry over and grab the eight year old underneath the arms, hauling him back.
"Ni! There are cables and all sorts behind there. Do you want to get electrocuted?" He asks, at which Niall grins and nods with enthusiasm.
"Yeah, Papa! It makes your hair go like this," he says, then promptly sticks his hands in the man's dark hair and tugs it upwards.
Papa can't help but chuckle at that, shaking his head at the smallest of their family. "It's a good thing I love you."
Niall hasn't changed a bit from when he first came to their family as that baby faced toddler. He still carries Red around with him everywhere he goes, has that same cheeky grin and the power to wrap anyone around his little finger with one of his adorable smiles. He's certainly still got the same level of energy within him too; constantly bouncing around or fiddling with something, unable to sit still or stay quiet for long.
Which is why the boy gets into trouble in school. He may have only just started year four with their Dad as one of his teachers, but everyone seems concerned that his behaviour is going to make it difficult for him to make the transition from primary to high school in less than three years.
And Liam loves his baby brother, of course he does, but he would really appreciate a little bit of quiet every once in a while. He's fifteen and he has important exams this year, and he needs all the silence to study that he can get. Which really, is impossible in this house.
Papa glances up when he notices Liam in the room, smiling at the boy. "Hey dude. We thought you'd gone to bed," he says, and Liam just shakes his head, burying his hands into the pockets of his hoodie.
He wishes he could go to bed, but he can't yet. Even if this stupid maths problem keeps him up until the following morning.
"No. I'm just studying, thought I'd come down and grab a drink," he replies, and the man eyes him for a moment before giving a small nod.
"Good idea, keep that smart brain of yours hydrated. Just, don't overdo it. You gotta sleep, bud," he tells him, and Liam just smiles at his Papa's concern, shrugging it off.
"I know, Pops," he mumbles, before leaving the room and going into the kitchen instead.
Dad is checking Harry's bloods with him. At eleven and in his first year of high school, Harry tends to take care of his diabetes all by himself, but their parents make sure to stay as involved as possible with his health where they can.
"You're perfect, Curly," the man says, and Harry eyes him suspiciously.
"Can you do it again, just in case?" He asks, and Liam rolls his eyes, practically able to quote his younger brother off by heart at this point.
It's the same fiasco every night since he watched a dumb documentary about children with diabetes in which a little girl went to bed one night only for her levels to drop dramatically, causing her to fall into a coma in her sleep which she never came out of, unfortunately. Now Harry has some sort of fear of the same thing happening to him, meaning he has an alarm set for every two hours throughout the night so that he can check his levels.
Everyone, even his doctors, have tried telling him that actually disrupting his sleep cycle is more likely to do damage to his health than the probability of his levels unexpectedly dropping in the early hours and throwing him into a coma.
But Harry has the idea in his head now, and for a practically genius eleven year old who can play two instruments and speak three languages fluently already, Liam can't help but think he sure can be dumb sometimes.
Still, he does have sympathy for the boy. He can't imagine having to inject himself multiple times each day, even if Harry does have a special pump called an omnipod that does all that for him now.
"Haz, you're going to be fine. If you keep giving into the fear then you're going to prolong it, kiddo," Louis warns, and Harry's face looks ready to crumple.
"But what if -"
"No, no more what ifs. I'm not checking it again, and I refuse to be waken up by your alarms every other hour again tonight. So hand the phone over too," he says, and the boy huffs.
"But Dad -"
Dads face softens then, because even Liam can hear the genuine fear in his brother's voice. "Sweetie, me and your Papa aren't going to let anything happen if we can help it. Your levels are fine and unless you go eat a bag of sweets or do something stupid - which we know you won't - then you're going to wake up tomorrow and be just fine. Okay?" He says softly, rubbing a hand up and down the eleven year old's arm.
Harry gulps but gives a tentative nod, handing over his phone. "Okay," he murmurs, then glances up to Liam, who's been hovering in the doorway and not wanting to interrupt.
Dad turns too then, looking a little surprised. "Sorry Bear. Didn't even realise you were standing there. Everything okay?" He asks, and Liam smiles slightly, giving a tired nod.
"I'm good, Dad," he says, managing to squeeze past and turn the kettle on. "I'm making coffee. Anyone else want anything?" He asks, making the man's eyebrows shoot up a little as Harry hops off the stool and goes back to the living room.
"Coffee? You do know it's gone eleven, right?" He asks, and Liam gives a shrug.
"School doesn't start for another week, it's not like I need to be up," he mutters, preparing his mug and dumping in a couple teaspoons of instant coffee.
Dad gives a small frown but then turns back to packing away Harry's bg machine. "Hm. Just make sure you start preparing yourself for early mornings again because I'm not about to be your personal alarm clock like last term," he comments, and Liam rolls his eyes a little, not really all that fussed by it but wanting to be dramatic.
"You won't, Dad," he groans. "Em's brother's gonna start picking me up and dropping me off anyway, so I have no choice but to be up."
"Oh yeah? And is Harry involved in that offer or are you gonna abandon him and let him walk by himself?"
Liam winces at that, turning to face his father as the kettle boils. He's only a couple inches shorter than the man now, and he knows it'll only be a month or two more before he's taller. Papa, of course, still towers over him.
"Dad, come on. He's made enough friends, can't he just walk with them?" He asks, because of course he loves Harry. But he doesn't love having his brother there when he's trying to flirt with his girlfriend...though he supposes there won't be much flirting going on when her twenty year old brother is present anyway, come to think of it.
Dad shoots him a look, blue eyes holding a tinge of disappointment that he can hardly stand to see - it transforms his stomach into knots all over again, anxiety returning full force. He corrects himself before the man even has time to open his mouth.
"But it's fine. I'm sure Em's brother won't mind," he says, and Dad smiles a little then.
He presses a kiss to Liam's head before moving across the room to put the medical kit back on top of one of the cupboards. It has to stay somewhere too high for Niall to reach since the kid had managed to crack into it once and come dangerously close to injecting himself with what would have been a deadly dose of insulin. Needless to say, their parents had both almost had heart attacks before all the yelling started, and Niall thankfully hadn't tried it again since.
As soon as the kettle finishes boiling, Liam fills up his oversized mug and tugs his sleeves over his hands to pick up the hot ceramic. Dad smiles at him again. "Don't be up too late, okay bud?" The man says gently.
Liam smiles back with a tiny eye roll at the man's expense, before he leaves the room. "Course not Dad."
He doesn't go to sleep until four AM that night.