Liam bites his nails so low that they grow sore whilst he sits in the waiting room at the hospital. Hospitals make him nervous, they always have. He doesn't remember much about his Mum, but what he does is all set in the sterile whiteness of a hospital ward.
Of course, he's been to the hospital a bunch of times since then. For Harry, mostly, with his diabetes, and that's always frightening enough. And of course, there's that time Niall had shoved a pea up his nose. That hadn't been frightening at all; in fact, he remembers laughing so hard that the doctor had offered to give him a check up too because of all the wheezing.
This time just feels different.
Papa had come to school unannounced and picked him and Harry up, and all he'd been worried about at the time was skipping class. And he hates to admit it, but even now, the worry about all of his missed work is still gnawing at the back of his mind.
He hadn't said much. Just that Niall was in the hospital and it seemed really serious, and when they'd arrived, Dad had come out of one of the cubicles crying and for one heart stopping moment, he'd thought that Niall was...
He shudders at even the thought, claws of anxiety and guilt ripping at his insides.
Anyway, Dad had been quick to reassure them all that Niall was okay. Some of the others...not so much. Papa had gone through to see their brother with their Dad, and one of the nurses had taken him and Harry back to a smaller waiting room filled with toys and teddies.
He doesn't bother with any of it. He just keeps biting at his sore finger nails with his knee bobbing up and down rapidly in front of him.
He keeps replaying his words to his brother over and over in his head from that morning. His brain works in sly ways to convince him that those words had somehow caused this.
And it works.
His eyes get all teary and his breathing a little shaky.
When I said I wanted him to shut up forever, this isn't what I meant, he thinks to himself, but it doesn't reassure him at all.
His panic must be showing externally, because his free hand that grips the arm of the wooden chair he's seated on is suddenly covered by a smaller one. He sniffs and swipes at his eyes quickly, glancing across at Harry, whose hand is gripping his firmly like he needs the contact too, tears flowing freely down the eleven year olds face.
"He's okay, Haz," he says softly, trying to reassure his younger brother. He isn't sure he's doing a very good job - he hasn't slept much and he hasn't eaten lunch yet either, so his voice sounds sort of far away even to his own ears.
But Harry just gives a small nod, not bothering to dry his tear stained face. "Yeah. But - but Ni's not meant to have anything bad happen to him," he murmurs, as if it makes all the sense in the world. When Liam gives him a questioning frown, he continues. "I just mean...I've always protected him, and then when you guys found us, everyone else protected us both. And nothing bad's ever happened to him since. He's not meant to have anything bad happen to him," he repeats, voice cracking a little in the middle as more tears begin to fall.
And Liam has always been sensitive too, so his own eyes start to sting a little. He takes a small breath and moves his hand, putting his arm over his little brother's shoulders instead and pulling him into his side.
It's the most time he's spent with Harry in what feels like forever, now that he thinks about it, and he hates that this is what it has to come to to bring them together.
It only makes him feel guiltier.
The door swings open then, and they both look up quickly to see their Dad entering. His eyes are all red but he isn't crying anymore, though he looks like he might start all over again when he sees the two of them.
"Oh, boys," he breathes, letting out a soft breath before he crosses the room and crouches in front of their chairs, reaching out to take one of their hands in each of his.
Liam stares down at his chewed fingernails with a grimace.
"Is Ni okay? Can we see him?" Harry asks quickly, sniffling. Dad lets go of the eleven year olds hand and gently brushes the tears off of his cheeks instead.
"He's okay. He, uh, he's mostly sleeping at the moment. But he isn't badly hurt so he's coming home tomorrow with a bit of luck," he says softly, and Liam lets out a small breath of relief at that.
Harry just looks impatient. "But why aren't you letting us see him?" He asks, sitting forwards on his chair and flirting his eyes up from their Dad to the door as if judging whether he should run to see Niall while he has the chance.
Dad seems to register that too, because he moves his hand to press against Harry's chest, keeping him in his seat before he takes a deep breath and looking from one of them to the other. "He's not...he's not really himself just yet -"
"What does that even mean!?" Harry demands, always fiercely protective when it comes to Ni.
"He isn't speaking," he says, and Liam feels those claws in his stomach dig in particularly hard. His air seems to plummet out of his lungs. Harry looks alarmed. "And it might just be because he's tired and he's on some medication at the moment, but he was awake for almost an hour the last time and I couldn't get a single word out of him."
Liam needs to get out. He needs to get out and breathe.
I told him I didn't want to hear him again, he thinks to himself, stomach twisting.
"Let me try," Harry urges, voice sounding younger than usual. "He always talks to me," he says, and Dad looks conflicted for a moment before shaking his head.
"Sweetheart, he's sleeping now. The doctor thinks he'll probably stay that way until tomorrow because his body needs plenty of rest...you can try tomorrow when Papa brings him home, okay?" He says gently, and Harry looks ready to burst into tears again until Dad grabs his hand and gives it a firm squeeze. "Hey. He's okay. He's still here."
Harry nods. "Okay," he whispers, blinking rapidly.
Dad watches him sympathetically for a moment before he looks to Liam. And Liam isn't sure he's ever seen his Dad look so exhausted. He doesn't want to throw any of his own problems on top of him now.
"How you holding up, kiddo?" He says softly, giving his hand a gentle squeeze too.
He just nods. "I'm okay, Dad."
The man gives him a look that reads, 'I know you're not but there's nothing I can do' before he nods.
"Okay. Come on, I'm taking you guys home, we're going to watch a happy movie and eat some food, and we're going to all cheer up a little," he forces optimism, and Harry gives an uncertain nod.
Liam just chews his lip and wonders how they're supposed to cheer up knowing that a bunch of school kids just died and their Niall could have been one of them.
He doesn't watch the movie with his Dad and Harry when they get home. He tells them he's tired and he's going to bed, and then he tries to study for a few hours instead to distract himself from everything else. He only succeeds in stressing himself out further.
His phone buzzes and he glances down to see a text from Emily.
Em
hey. heard about what happened. was your little brother on that bus? xx
He reads over the words a few times before he puts down his book and picks up his phone instead.
Liam
yes xx
He waits a moment for a reply before his phone starts to ring instead. He contemplates not answering, because his head is buzzing and he can barely keep his eyes open. He isn't sure he's functioning enough to have a conversation, but he seems to answer the call in a trance anyway.
"Oh my gosh, Liam! Is he okay? Please tell me he is," Emily rushes the moment he holds the phone to his ear.
He moves from his desk to sit on his bed instead, looking out at the winterish night sky from his window. He's too tired to even be glad that Emily is talking to him again, so he just answers numbly. "He's - I don't know. Um, he's coming home tomorrow," he says softly, and Emily pauses for a moment.
"Are you okay?" She asks quietly and he sucks in a sharp breath at the unexpected question.
"I'm -"
Fine is what he wants to say. But the words catch in his throat and he lets out a pathetic sob instead, tears flooding his eyes.
"I don't know, Em," he murmurs instead, and she tries to soothe him over the phone.
"You said he's coming home tomorrow right? He must be okay. Don't worry, Li. Really. And you better not be studying again. You need to go to bed or be with your family or something instead, okay?"
He cries a little more at her caring words, sniffing. "You're too good for me, Em," he mumbles, and he hears her huff over the phone.
"You shut up Liam Malik. You're perfectly good too, you're just sleep deprived and stressed. So please, go to bed and when you wake up tomorrow, I promise you things will feel a little better."
He falls asleep on the phone that night.
.
Zayn sighs as he rests his elbows forwards on the hospital bed in front of him, stretching his back out from the armchair. He'd managed to catch a couple of hours of sleep but had woken up roughly an hour ago at four in the morning.
Niall is still sleeping on his back in the bed, casted arm rested across his stomach and head turned to face his Papa, face the pure picture of innocence in a way that reminds Zayn in the most gut wrenching way that Niall is his baby. Always will be. He's the youngest and the smallest and he's the one who has always gone to him first before going to Louis the way Harry and Liam do.
And now he's afraid that this one event is going to have changed all of that.
Even now, in his sleep, he's different. He's so still, his only movement the steady rise and fall of his chest. Zayn watches it with careful eyes, ready to pitch forwards and press on the call button behind the bed the second that his breaths so much as stutter.
Of course, he's just being paranoid. Niall is fine. And after the doctor comes back to give him the once over, he'll be able to take him home.
He reaches a hand forwards to brush a lock of hair from the boy's face. A nurse had washed it for him later on in the evening after the others had gone home, gently rinsing away the dried blood and dirt. Zayn had waited for him to start talking the girl's head off, but he just stayed quiet the entire time, eventually drifting off to sleep again.
Zayn had gone on his phone after that to check on the news, and that had been a big mistake. The photos of the crash site were horrendous, and he'd almost thrown up his lunch at the thought of Niall being trapped inside of that destroyed hunk of metal along with all of his classmates.
Louis had then called to say that Niall's class isn't expected back for at least a few weeks, and Zayn got to thinking about how heartbreaking it's going to be when the children go back without those who hadn't made it in the crash. That was a dark hole he'd had to drag himself out of quickly.
Luke, Niall's other friend from the bus, had been lucky enough to be directly at the front with just cuts and bruises. His mother had caught ahold of Zayn when she had been in her way out with Luke and her husband, asking how Niall was. He hadn't known how to answer to that.
But now he's just content with watching Niall. His fingers tentatively hover over every bruise and cut that stain his baby face, wincing at the raised scratch with the butterfly stitches stuck over the top of it.
As if sensing the hovering touch, Niall starts to stir, head rolling on the pillow as he lets out a small breath. Zayn holds his own, not wanting to prevent the boy from going back to sleep if he needs it. But Niall's eyes blink open owlishly in the dim light of the cubicle in the early hours, before they return to half mast and his head rolls back towards his Papa.
The man smiles gently, using his already outstretched hand to push his blond hair hair back softly. "Hey baby. How you feeling?" He asks, hoping, praying for a reply.
Niall just stares at him for a moment before letting out a small sigh.
Feeling a little desperate, Zayn leans in a little closer. "Come on, Shorty. You can talk to me, I'm your Papa. You always talk to me," he says lightly, attempting a smile which probably looks more painful than anything else.
Niall doesn't answer, seeming to get a little worked up himself as he lets out a short breath, tears already forming in his eyes. And Zayn could kick himself for practically pouncing on the poor kid the moment he opens his eyes.
"Hey, hey, it's okay. I'm sorry, baby. I just miss all that chatter of yours already," he admits, letting out a wet laugh.
Niall swallows before lifting his good hand slowly and resting it on the side of the man's head in a way that is filled with love. Zayn could cry, but he manages to hold it together as he lifts his own hand and holds it over the top of Niall's little fingers.
"I love you so much, Niall. You know that, don't you?" He says softly, and he holds his breath when he receives a small nod in reply, the boy watching him with careful eyes.
And it's crazy to think that this is the same boy who had been running around the house, talking so much that he barely seemed to take a breath between sentences, laughing happily just yesterday morning.
God, he'd give anything to hear his voice right now.
"And I know what happened yesterday was really scary. And it's all probably a bit too much to think about just yet. But just know that me and Daddy and your brothers will all be here for you no matter what," he says gently, and Niall sniffs, a tear running from one of his eyes and dripping from the end of his nose, onto his pillow.
Then he just tugs at Zayn's hand in top of his, pulling on it until he guides it to his own face, nuzzling into the touch and closing his eyes in a way that really does make the man cry quietly this time.
"I'm right here baby," he whispers as the boy drifts off to sleep. "I'm not going anywhere."