--
Niall nervously stood outside the office. The pleasant receptionist had told him to take a seat while waiting, but he was far too anxious. Besides, if he sat down, there wasn't any way to be sure that he'd be confident enough to stand up again.
He glanced down at his phone as it beeped. A text from Zayn asking "where are u?".
Niall thumbed in a quick reply saying he was down at the grocery, and Zayn told him to pick up some bread while he was there. Niall agreed.
"Niall Horan?"
Niall looked up at the lady who'd popped her head out of the office.
"Hi," he said, unsure of how else to respond.
She smiled. "Why don't you come in?"
He nodded, following her into the room. His hands were shaking. He'd never actually faced the management without any of the other boys. It was probably stupid, but they were people in black suits who happened to have a lot of money, and Niall was just a normal teenage guy who liked to sing.
"So what's the deal?" he asked, fighting to keep his voice steady.
The lady had short, sleek blond hair that bobbed around her shoulders, and piercing green eyes. "Allow me to introduce myself," she said. "I'm Clara Martins."
"Pleasure to meet you," Niall said, shaking her hand stiffly.
"Likewise to you," she said politely, taking a seat behind the desk, in a tall leather chair. "How are you this morning?"
"Uh, not bad," Niall said, swallowing. "And yourself?"
"I'm good, thank you for asking," Clara smiled.
"Listen, uh, I don't wanna sound rude or anything," Niall said. "But I've only come here for one reason, and that's to help Zayn. So it would be nice if you could get to the point here."
Clara pushed a lock of blond hair behind her ear. "Alright, if you insist," she said. She opened the drawer to the desk, reaching in a pulling out a few files.
Niall's eyebrows rose.
"Have a look at these," she said, sliding them across the table.
Niall's fingers flipped open the first folder. It looked like a résumé, and he recognized it immediately. "Why am I looking at Johnny Depp?" he asked, flicking his eyes up to glance at Clara.
"Keep looking," she told him.
Niall opened the second folder. It was almost the same, except that this time it was Angelina Jolie. He cast a confused look at Clara. "I don't get it."
She motioned her hand toward the third folder.
Niall sighed, opening it up, his eyes skimming over the page. Demi Lovato. "What's this got to do with anything?"
"Why don't you have a look at the final one," Clara suggested.
Niall flipped open the last folder, and with a shock he realized that it was Zayn's. "What is this?" he asked quietly, raising his eyes to look at Clara.
She gathered the folders up again, all except for Zayn's, stacking them neatly into the drawer. "These," she said, "are a list of celebrities who have struggled with self harming behavior."
Niall was still confused. "What's that got to do with anything?"
She smiled. "They're also a list of my patients."
Niall opened his mouth. "Your... patients?"
"I'm a psychologist, Niall," Clara said, as she leaned back against the leather chair. "And I specialize in the therapy of self-harm and depression."
"Zayn isn't depressed," Niall said.
"Maybe not, but he is self-harming," she replied.
Niall bit his lip. "So you're gonna start seeing him?"
"Not forcefully," she said. "I will only see him if I have your consent."
"My consent?" Niall asked. "You should be asking Zayn, it's him who needs help, not me."
"I understand that, Niall," Clara told him. "But I think you'd be able to agree that Zayn hasn't been.. himself, lately?"
"What do you mean?"
"You see, self-harmers, or cutters, more specifically, tend to be possessive over their habits," Clara said. "It's an addiction, like drug use or alcohol consumption. If you try to take an alcoholic's drinks away from him, he'd get violent. If you stop a drug addict from smoking his crack, he'd start acting out dangerously."
"So if you take away Zayn's blades, he'd go crazy too?"
"Not crazy," she said, shaking her head. "The medical term is 'displaying withdrawal symptoms'."
"Okay, so Zayn would start displaying withdrawal symptoms too?" Niall asked, trying out the medical terms. They tasted foreign on his tongue.
Clara nodded. "The severity of his withdrawal depends on how dependent he is on cutting."
"He cuts alot," Niall said. "He's got scars literally everywhere on his body."
Clara pulled out a yellow notepad and a fountain pen, writing down something. "Are there any places on his body that he doesn't have scars?"
"Well, he's got them on his arms, and his thighs, and his shoulders," Niall thought back on all the times he had to ignore the roughness of the wounds when he was with Zayn. "But I haven't seen any on his back, or his you-know-what."
"You seem to know your friend's body quite well," Clara smiled.
Niall blushed suddenly. "Yeah, I guess."
"I take it as the two of you are very close?"
Niall nodded, wondering if he should tell her that he was sort of in love with Zayn. He decided not to bring it up until she did.
"When did you first find out about his cutting?"
"Two months ago," Niall said.
"And what was your reaction?"
"I was really angry," Niall said, watching as she scribbled. "I mean, I got pissed at him for acting like nobody cared. And I guess I felt like it was all my fault."
"And why did you feel that way?"
"He never cut before- before he kissed me," Niall stammered.
"He kissed you?"
"It was a dare," Niall said, wondering how to explain. "I mean, I kind of started liking him before that, and he kissed me and he said he liked it so I dunno."
Clara nodded, scribbling away at her notepad. "So is he your boyfriend, at this point?"
"Yeah," Niall blushed.
"Are you the closest to him, out of all the boys?"
"I guess so," Niall said. "I mean, he trusts me more than the others."
"That's perfect," she said. "And has his cutting gotten to the stage where you think he needs help?"
Niall faltered. "What does that mean?"
"How often does he cut?" Clara asked.
"Uh, he does it alot," Niall said uncomfortably. He didn't like thinking about Zayn's cutting, much less discuss it with a stranger. "Sort of everyday, maybe even more."
"Even more?" Clara paused writing, looking up at Niall with her meticulously tweezed eyebrows arched. "Meaning?"
"Meaning like four times a day," Niall said. "He does it very often."
"And what's the longest time that he's gone without doing it?" Clara questioned.
Niall thought back. "He didn't cut for a whole week, in Vegas."
"That's very long, quite an achievement, I'd say," Clara said, smiling in approval. "Was there anything stopping him?"
"Not really," Niall said. "But, well, he was happier in Vegas. He's kind of a party animal, so he had loads of fun there. We all did. So maybe he wasn't all that tempted to hurt himself."
Clara nodded, jotting it down. Her pen made scratching noises on the paper as she wrote. "And what have the other boys done about his cutting?"
"They haven't really done anything. They all handled it much better than I did," Niall admitted. "They supported him, I mean, they're not happy with it, but they're not blaming him for it either."
"That's good," Clara said. "What's his relationship like, with the rest of the boys?"
Niall bit his lip, thinking. "He's close to all of us. He's got this really trusting relationship with Liam, but that's nothing special because Liam's sort of like a big brother to all of us. He takes care of everyone. And Zayn's close to Harry, they even shared a room in Vegas. He's protective over Harry," Niall said. "And Zayn fights with Louis a lot, but they get along quite okay."
"He fights with Louis a lot?"
"Yeah," Niall said. "It's because Louis' really hot-tempered. He gets angry really easy, and he's under a lot of stress at the moment."
"Are their arguments very serious?"
"No," Niall told her. "They're just normal bickering, getting off at each other once in a while."
"I see," Clara said. "And how would you describe Zayn's sexual activity?"
Niall felt heat rise to his face. "Um."
"These are just for the records, don't worry," Clara laughed. "I'm not going to go tell the newspapers."
"Well," Niall squeaked in a tiny voice. "We kind of had sex in Vegas."
"Was it penetrative?"
"What?" Niall scrunched his nose up.
"Did you go all the way?" Clara rolled her eyes.
"Yeah, but only twice," Niall said. "So far."
"And what did you do the rest of the time?"
Niall blushed again. "Grinding. Blowing. The ish."
"Does Zayn enjoy doing it with you?" she asked.
"Yeah, I guess," Niall mumbled.
"And how long have you been together with him?"
"Around a month, I think," Niall said.
"What was Zayn's sex life like before he got with you?" Clara asked, still scribbling.
"I'm not sure, he didn't have a girlfriend, but I think he did go out and sleep with girls at the club," Niall said, not bothering to hide his jealousy. "Sometimes he brought them home."
Clara flipped the filled page over and continued jotting notes on a fresh one. "But all the sleeping with girls was before he started cutting, right?"
"Yeah," Niall said.
"Have you come out with your relationship to the rest of the boys?" Clara asked.
"Yeah, I mean, not officially," Niall shrugged. "But they were sort of rooting for it, and they just guessed after a while. Not that either of us were bothering to hide any of it."
"What were their reactions?"
Niall fumbled around all the questions. "They were happy for us, they didn't have anything against it. And well, Louis and Harry are kind of the same."
"What does that mean?" she looked up.
"They've had a thing for each other quite a while ago, but none of them admitted it until recently," Niall said. "And Louis has a girlfriend, but he's slept with Harry lots of times."
Clara frowned. "And he told you?"
"Harry told me."
Clara nodded. "What was Zayn's reaction to their relationship?"
"He's protective over Harry, like I said," Niall told her. "But he knows that Louis' got this huge soft spot for Harry. So I guess he doesn't have a problem with it."
"Good," Clara nodded. "Have you ever spoken with Zayn about getting help?"
"Yeah," Niall said "He told me he'd do it when he's ready."
"When do you think he'll be ready, like he says?" Clara asked.
"Probably never," Niall admitted, looking down.
"Do you think he's ready?"
"I think any time is a good time for him to stop," Niall sighed. "He's already landed in the hospital ICU once, I don't need it to happen again."
"What happened the last time?"
"He stabbed himself in the hip," Niall's voice quivered. "It was really bad."
Clara's eyelids lowered in sympathy. "So you really think he needs help?"
"Yeah," Niall took a deep breath and exhaled. "I want him to get better."
Clara reached under the table to pull out a sheet of paper. "Why don't you take a look at this."
Niall's eyes scanned over the page, reading phrases like "therapy sessions", "psychological treatment", and "inpatient".
"Inpatient?" he read the last one aloud. "What does that mean?"
"It means he'll be admitted into a rehabilitation centre," Clara said gently, looking at him with sharp green eyes.
"Oh," Niall's face fell in gradual realization, as he finally understood the management's plan for them. "Oh."
Clara gave him a patient smile. "You don't have to sign the document if you don't think it's required."
"Isn't there another option?" Niall asked weakly.
"He could always come for outpatient therapy once a week," she offered. "But seeing as its quite a bad addiction, and there's nothing holding him back when he's at home, I'd say that his recovery would be a lot less painful and a whole lot faster if he stays at the centre."
Niall rubbed his hands over his face. "Jesus," he mumbled. "So what happens at the rehab centre?"
"It's very comfortable and homely there," she assured him. "Basically it's like an extended hotel stay, with plenty of warm meals and friendly roommates. He'll be given daily medication, and be restricted from using any sort of sharp materials, and he'll also have to speak to the therapist once a week, but other than that, it will be no different than staying at a five star hotel."
"Am I allowed to visit?" Niall whispered.
She shook her head sympathetically. "No visitors are allowed into the centre."
"Why not?" Niall demanded. "That's a stupid rule, what if he gets lonely?"
"Rules are rules, no matter how stupid," Clara shrugged. "And I'm sure he'll make very nice friends there."
Niall stared down at the paper, so hard that the fine black print started to swim in front of his eyes.
"Do I have to make this decision now?" he asked.
Clara exhaled. "Your management told me to get either a yes or no from you by today."
"They're such creeps," Niall whined.
Clara smiled. "I know. They made me sound like an assassin, didn't they?"
Niall nodded, still looking at the document doubtfully. "What if I say no?"
"Then you would be denying your boyfriend a spot in the most effective and exclusive rehabilitation centre in the world," Clara said. "You won't find a place like this anywhere else, Niall. Your management went through a lot of pain to get you this spot. Don't throw it away."
"Couldn't I come back some other time?"
"It would take you a three year waiting gap before you get another place here," she told him. "Are you ready to wait that long?"
"Can't I make a reservation or something?" Niall asked desperately.
"This isn't a restaurant, Niall," she said. "We're too busy for that."
"Shouldn't I ask Zayn?"
"Zayn will say no, you know that, don't you?" Clara said. "He isn't in the right state of mind to agree that he needs help. But you are."
Niall continued staring at the document in his shaking hands.
"Don't you want him to get better?"
Niall sighed. "I do, but-" he looked up at Clara, trying to find the right words. "I don't want to force him into anything, you know?"
"Forcing him into therapy is probably the kindest thing that you would be able to do for him at this point," Clara said gently. "Instead of slowly letting him destroy his own body."
Niall thought about Zayn's scars, and the fresh bleeding wounds, the sickening shade of red, the smell of blood, the way Zayn would hiss whenever Niall accidentally prodded the scabs. It was nothing but painful for both of them, and he knew it better than anyone else.
He lifted the pen on the table.
"Is that a yes?" Clara said, watching him.
Niall pressed the nib of the pen against the page, letting the ink blot through the paper. "Are you sure he'll recover?"
"Yes," she said. "I can guarantee it."
"And he'll be happy and safe and comfortable there?" Niall checked.
She nodded. "Definitely."
"How long will it be until he's released?" Niall asked.
Clara tucked a strand of blond hair over her ear. "About a year, or less, if he's showing good progress."
"Am I allowed to communicate with him at all?"
"After the first six months, you'll be allowed to call him on weekdays, with unlimited talk time," she said, smiling.
Niall nodded, taking a deep breath. "You'll look after him for me, wont you? You'll take good care of him?"
"That's not a problem at all, trust me," she said. "Our patients are top priority."
Niall hesitated. "I'm making the right choice, aren't I?"
"Yes," she said. "I promise you that a year later, Zayn is going to come out of the centre healthy and happy and extremely grateful to you."
Niall nodded again. He pressed the tip of the pen against the page once more as he made up his mind at last.
"Okay," he exhaled slowly, shutting his eyes and scrawling his signature onto the fine line at the bottom of the page. "Let's do it."
"Thank you," she said, taking the paper from him and filing it neatly. "You're very brave for doing this."
"I hope so," Niall said shakily as he stood up.
"We'll give you a call once we're ready," she said, standing up too. "It was a pleasure speaking to you today, Niall."
He nodded. "I want him to get better."
"He will, don't worry."
Niall sighed, nodding again. "I'll be on my way," he said, looking at the folder where he'd signed his name, on the table. He wondered what Zayn would say, wondered how he would react.
Stepping out of the conference room, he pulled out his phone, reading six new texts from Zayn reminding him to hurry up and get the bread from the grocery store.
--
Liam glanced up as Danielle entered the room with Eleanor, who was in tears.
"What happened?"
"Louis," Danielle said. "That's what happened."
Liam furrowed his brow. "I don't understand."
Danielle looked down at Eleanor, and it was clear that she was close to panic. "He hit her."
Liam frowned, eyebrows shooting up dramatically. "What?"
"Sweetheart, did he hit you?" Danielle asked Eleanor gently.
"He told me not to tell," Eleanor whispered.
Liam stood up, pushing a hand through his hair, exhaling. "I don't - I'm not calling you a liar, Eleanor, but Louis wouldn't just hit a girl," he said slowly. "And he said he didn't touch you."
"She's about to have a panic attack," Danielle said, gently squeezing around Eleanor's shoulders.
Liam opened his mouth. Closed it again. "When did he do it?"
"Yesterday, before he left," Eleanor said.
Danielle let out a heavy sigh, putting a hand gently on Eleanor's shoulder. "I know he's got a right to be mad," she told Liam. "But beating up his girlfriend isn't even close to acceptable."
Liam stared at her. "I honestly don't believe Louis would do something like that!"
"Look at the poor girl!" Danielle exclaimed. "Look at how she's crying, what else could have happened?"
Liam bit his lip. Something inside him felt like telling Danielle that he thought Eleanor was faking everything, but Danielle looked genuinely pissed off at Louis and worried for Eleanor. "I'll - I'll talk to him, okay?" he sighed. "Just get Eleanor to bed and give her a cup of tea, yeah?"
Danielle nodded, her hands still protectively placed on Eleanor's shoulders as they turned and left the room.
Liam reclined back into the seat. He was so, so tired. Zayn had been sleeping in, Niall had been gone forever, Louis had disappeared for more than twenty hours and Harry vanished overnight. He knew none of them were in actual danger, they all just needed time alone, away from each other, but it still made him uncomfortable that they were all going out on their own. What they needed to do at this point was stick together, and no one was bothering with it.
Liam glanced up as the door was pushed open, Harry and Louis stumbling in, giggling, their hair damp and their eyes bright.
He raised his eyebrows at Harry's cartoon character pajamas.
Harry looked down at what he was wearing and laughed again. He had an arm slung loosely around Louis' waist, and one look at their giddy expressions confirmed that they'd ended up having sex with each other in the car.
"Did you use a condom?" Liam sighed, watching the two of them prance around the living room.
"Yup!" Harry replied cheerfully. He had circles under his eyes from lack of sleep, but he didn't seem to mind.
"God, Liam, you should've seen the look on his face -" Louis snorted, giggling. "When he came all over the leather seat of the car -"
"Spare me the details," Liam held up his palm, interrupting Louis.
"You look like you could use a good time," Harry offered, sidling beside Liam and kissing his cheek sloppily. "I'd be happy to oblige."
"Yeah," Louis laughed. "Make it a threesome."
"Yeaaaaah," Liam said slowly, backing away from both of them. "I don't think so."
"You don't know what you're missing!" Louis called as Liam pulled away. "Harry just gave me my first blowjob and he's really good at sucking people off -"
"Shut up!" Liam yelled back, rolling his eyes as Harry made a show of dropping to his knees and pretending to gobble off Louis' crotch. "You're both so disgusting."
Harry grinned, getting up and pulling Louis in for a kiss that lasted maybe ten seconds longer than Liam thought it would. He was surprised by their sudden display of romantic affection for each other. They weren't usually so.. open about their secret relationship.
"Louis, once you've calmed down later, I'm going to need to talk with you," Liam said.
"About what?" Louis piped up, giggling as Harry licked at his neck like a puppy.
"About your fiancée," Liam said, turning around to look at him carefully.
Louis' face hardened immediately, his smile flatlining. "I don't have anything to say about her," he said.
"Really," Liam said, observing him.
"She's a fucking bitch," Louis said viciously, his happiness fading. "That's all I have to say."
"Mind your language," Liam snapped.
Louis rolled his eyes.
"She told us that you hit her, Louis," Liam said quietly. "Is it true?"
"WHAT? 'Course not!" Louis yelled, pausing for a moment to stave off Harry's kisses. "What the fuck is she on about?"
Liam shrugged. "She's crying and upset and that's what she told Dani."
"That's bullshit!" Louis spat. "I didn't touch a hair on her head!"
"Why was she so upset?"
"Why don't you go ask her, she's the conniving one!" Louis yelled. "The most I did was shout at her, and it wasn't even that bad!"
Liam sighed. "Are you sure you didn't touch her?"
"I yelled at her and left her to cry," Louis glared at Liam. "Nothing more. I didn't hit her or beat her up or bruise her. I'm not fucking weak enough to hit a woman."
Harry was getting restless. He tugged on Louis' sleeve, whining quietly.
Louis gently pushed him off. "Look. I don't know what kind of shit Eleanor's been feeding you, but none of it's true, alright? I never lay a hand on her. I never would, Liam, you know that."
Liam sighed deeply. "Alright, Louis, I believe you," he said. "I'm just confused as to why she would lie about that."
Harry pulled Louis in for a few more hungry kisses, rendering him unable to reply, and Liam looked away uncomfortably.
"I don't know," Louis said finally, when he pulled away from Harry with swollen lips and pink cheeks. "But I swear, what she says about me hitting her is completely fake."
Liam nodded, sighing.
"Alright," he said again, shaking his head. The thoughts in his brain felt ready to explode, and he wanted to scream at everyone to just pull their crap together and fix their own shit themselves instead of leaving him to worry about everything on his own. He wanted to them to know how difficult they were making this for him, how annoyed and frustrated and pissed off he was inside. He wanted to tell them that he was trying to solve everyone's problems for them and all they could do was go out and get drunk at night and grab easy sex from each other.
But he didn't.
"Alright," he said again, putting on a polite smile as Harry went back to making out with Louis, and he was talking to no one in particular, more to himself than anyone else, as he walked out of the room stiffly with his hands pressed against his sides. "Alright. Just... alright, then."
--