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Zayn remembers the phone call very clearly. Not necessarily what was said, but the emotions that flooded his system at the words.
Niall was hurt.
Zayn remembers grabbing his keys out of that stupid bowl on his kitchen counter that Niall had mercilessly teased him about when they last saw each other two months ago.
Niall, their Irish sunshine, the baby, the one they were supposed to protect, was in the hospital.
Zayn remembers trying to calm Louis down over the phone because his best friend is breaking and Zayn can’t be the only strong one right now.
“Zee…he was hit by a drunk drive…I can’t–”
“Breath, Louis.”
Zayn remembers Harry begging him not to drive when Louis finally handed the phone over.
“...take a bus or a train, just please don’t drive!”
Zayn remembers calling a taxi. It’s not what Harry told him to do, but at least Zayn isn’t the one driving.
When he finally gets to the hospital, there are easily thirty plus fans outside, all pressed against the barriers in front of the huge front entrance and Zayn knows he won’t be able to keep it together if he has to sign autographs and answer stupid questions like management always tells them to do, not when Niall is right on the other side of those walls, swallowed by the sheer magnitude of the building, fighting for his life.
Paddy appears at the car door, and Zayn braces himself for the overpowering cacophony of screams he knows he’ll hear as soon as he opens the door. So when he does finally step out of the vehicle, the silence hits him like a brick wall.
There’s just nothing. No grabbing of the clothes, nor cries for attention. Instead, the crow parts for Zayn to make his way unhindered and all he sees in either direction are scared and tear-stained faces.
Somehow, it’s worse than the normal fanatic behavior.
He’s five feet from the door-so close-when a hand reaches out to touch his sleeve. He turns and it’s a young girl, probably about sixteen, seventeen, face red and puffy and terrified.
“Is Niall going to be okay?” She asks, voice small and uncertain.
The world seems to hold its breath.
Zayn remembers feeling very lost in that moment. He remembers hearing a sob from somewhere in the throng of people when he responds with an, “I don’t know.”
Zayn remembers how the girl saw his own fear and uncertainty and told him that Niall would be okay. That he always was.
The Bradford boy nods numbly and when Paddy pushes him through the hospital entrance, he doesn’t protest. Because he knows that nothing ever breaks Niall.
But what if this does?
— — — — — — — — — —
Louis feels the somewhat control on the emotions in the private waiting room completely break when Zayn steps through the door. They’re all scattered as far apart as they can be in the tiny space provided, and as much as Louis wants the physical comfort and touch of someone else, he knows that if one of the boys goes to hug him, he’ll break down again and this time he won’t be able to stop.
But then Zayn walks in, face pale and sickly looking, and Louis feels his heart break all over again.
Liam steps forward first, arms open and Zayn falls into them. At first Louis questions whether or not to join them. It feels like such a raw moment, but the Doncaster lad quickly realizes that he needs a hug just as bad and screw the consequences, he’s going over there and he’s going to hug them until they’ve all had a good long cry together.
Louis feels Zayn’s arm wrap around him and clutch at his hoodie. A small part of him that had still been questioning whether or not it was a good idea, goes quiet.
Zayn sniffs. “I took a taxi.” His voice has never sounded smaller. “I know you said not to drive, Harry, but I didn’t and there’s not really a lot of other options like.”
“It’s okay.” Harry says back, just as despondently, joining the small huddle. “I’m just worried.”
“Me too.” Louis confesses in a whisper and he can feel his throat closing up.
Zayn holds him a little tighter.
“We got to be strong for our Nialler.” Liam responds, ever the calm, resolute one. “Has anyone told his parents?”
Louis quickly nods, because Zayn suddenly looks like he’s about to cry and Louis can’t handle Zayn, steady calm, chill Zayn crying right now.
“Paul called them right after he called me.”
Louis feels everyone take a collective sigh of relief that they won’t be the ones to have to tell Niall’s family that their son might not make it.
“Do you know what they said?” Liam asks.
They’re still huddled in a circle, so when Louis shakes his head no, he feels the others tighten up again.
“How are you doing?” Zayn asks in a whisper.
“I don’t know. Feels like I’m in shock, if I’m honest. Just numb.” Louis responds, just as quiet.
Zayn leans his head sideways, until they’re touching and pulls them all infinitesimally closer, before speaking again.
“There’s something else.”
Louis’ blood runs cold.
“The fans know.”
Chaos erupts and everyone’s asking questions but all Louis feels is confusion, despair and a little bit of anger.
“How’d they find out?” He asks, and somehow, over all the other questions, Zayn hears him.
“I don’t know. But there's, like, at least thirty. like right outside the front entrance..” Zayn replies.
Liam turns away and curses and Louis wants to too but he needs to make sure Zayn’s okay.
“Did they mob you?” Harry beats him to it, and poor, poor Harry sounds horrified.
“No! No, they were so quiet, like, not a sound and they let me right through. They were all crying, like, it was terrible to see.” Zayn’s quick to correct them and protect the fans.
That used to be Niall’s job.
Louis swallows heavily, because he suddenly feels like he’s about to be sick, the room to small and stifling and he’s about to cry and the stupid, proud part of him doesn’t want anyone to see it.
But of course they notice, because they’re his brothers and they’re tired together in some intrinsic, irreversible way. Louis feels arms wrap around him from behind and he knows it’s Harry from the way the hug seems to envelop him. Someone sandwiches him in, and Louis knows it’s Liam from the smell of his aftershave and the careful way Liam holds him. Tattooed arms come around his shoulders from the side and Louis tries so hard not to let a sob come out, but it does anyway, all broken and harsh sounding, because he feels all his boys except one and Niall’s absence is so painfully obvious that it hurts to even breathe.
“I just want him to be okay.” He whispers, trying to swallow down the emotions he’s feeling so that instead of standing there hysterically crying and making a scene, he can be the oldest like he’s supposed to be.
“Me too.” Liam whispers back.
He holds them all a little tighter and prays to whoever might be listening that please, please let Niall be okay.
— — — — — — — — — —
Liam hopes that everything will be alright. He hopes that if Niall was really in trouble that Paul would have called management and the doctors would have said something by now. He hopes that this won’t be the thing that breaks the band. He hopes, selfishly, that even if Niall can’t tour after this, that they can still make music. (He hopes that if Niall really isn’t okay, that he’ll be able to keep on living without Niall, that Niall’s absence won’t completely shatter him (even though it would)).
Liam hopes that they’ll hear news soon, because the silence is slowly diminishing his hope and positive attitude, and it’s not his job to be the cheerful, encouraging, always-optimistic-lad, that’s Niall’s, but Niall isn’t here and so it falls on Liam to lift the atmosphere of devastation, but it’s hard, so hard.
Everyone is slowly cracking under the pressure of no news and Liam hopes that the saying, “No news is good news” is true because he doesn’t think he could handle bad news right now.
He tries not to worry, because Niall always hates causing anyone worry, that’s why he didn’t tell anyone about his knee surgery four months ago–
Oh no.
Niall’s knee–
Liam’s face must show his horror, because the rest of the boys are suddenly there, around him and they must be talking because their lips are moving but he can’t hear anything.
“His knee.” He manages to choke out. “He just got it fixed, and it’s probably ruined again.”
It’s silent in the waiting room; they’re all remembering those weeks of intense physical therapy and pain medications that made Niall irritable and sad.
Liam hopes that they won’t have to go through that again.
He hopes Niall’s just going to be alright.
He hopes they’ll get through this.
He hopes.
He hopes.
The door opens and the doctor appears and, for all his hoping, Liam knows it’s not good news.
— — — — — — — — — —
Harry wishes that he could fix the problem. He wishes he could take away Niall’s pain, Zayn’s anxiety, Louis’ tears and Liam’s worry. Harry wishes he could undo the past twenty-four hours, because the doctor said that Niall’s injuries were extensive and severe, and that he’d need at least two months of physical therapy before he could even do what he used to do everyday, things as simple to Harry as walking and running.
Niall won’t be able to do those high jumps that he loves so much anymore.
Or at least, not for a while.
The doctor (she introduced herself as “Dr. Trisha Montgomery” and her name is the same s Zayn’s mom’s and that has to mean something good because Harry doesn’t believe in coincidences) tells then about the proper care and treatment Niall will need if he’s to recover at home and away from the hospital with its boring white walls and cold decor. She tells them about the broken ribs from the steering wheel, and the knee surgery they will have to do to fix his knee (again, Harry thinks absently and then realizes that Liam was right), and the shattered collarbone, the broken arm and crushed wrist, and something about a plate they had to insert into his spine, but Harry stopped listening after the crushed wrist part, because guitar is Niall’s life, it’s what he needs to breathe, to express himself and Harry realizes that if anything from this could possibly ruin Niall, it’ll be this.
The others must realize it too, because the second the doctor is gone, Louis puts his face in his hands and Liam looks like he’s about to cry for the first time since the initial call.
“What are we going to do? How do we tell him?” Harry asks hesitantly, and he wishes that the answers to life were simply and easy to find.
“I… I don’t know.” Liam responds, and his voice sounds so desperate.
“We need to remember, like, what the doctor said, like, this isn’t forever. He’ll be able to play again, we just need to make sure he has the right support team around him, like, to encourage him and whatever.” Zayn, while his eyes glisten, seems to be the only one not totally despondent at the news.
Harry wishes he had Zayn’s confidence in things turning out okay. (He doesn’t realize that Zayn’s only this confident because he’s desperate, and if no-one will take up the leadership role in this situation, it has to be him.)
Louis looks up from his hands, eyes unseeing and red. “Did she say when we could go see him?” His voice is flat and weak, (and Harry wishes, oh, he wishes.)
This seems to wake Liam up, and he blinks, sniffs and answers. “She said he was just coming out of surgery and that a nurse will come and let us know when we can go see him.”
“Do we know when they’ll operate on his knee?” Harry wishes it wasn’t necessary, but he knows it is, and he knows that Niall will need them when the time comes.
“Probably as soon as he’s stable, I’d imagine.”
Despite the bile rising up in Harry’s throat at the thought of Niall being anything but the stable healthy version of himself that he was the last time they saw each other, he can’t help the whelm of emotion and affection at Louis’ words. Louis, who seems to be more coming to terms with it than accepting it, which is honestly such a Louis thing, and it makes Harry’s chest ache with how much he loves these boys and all their quirks and mannerisms.
Liam simply hums in agreement, and the room falls silent again.
While seeming to take forever, and yet no time at all, the nurse finally arrives, a sympathetic smile on his face.
“If you’ll follow me, I can take you four to see your friend.”
Wordlessly, they follow him down the hall. Harry wishes he wasn’t so terrified, and he wishes that it wasn’t necessary to have Paddy outside Niall’s door, keeping him safe like a guard dog, and he wishes that Paul didn’t have to fight with management to postpone the tour, and he wishes so hard he nearly misses the nurse speaking.
“A lot of strings were pulled to get you boys permission to see your friend. But after today and tonight, visiting hours only and no more than two at a time.” He pauses and seems to consider his next words. “Don’t let all the wires and beeping scare you. It looks worse than it is.”
Harry takes a deep breath and wishes he was braver as the nurse opens the door.
— — — — — — — — — —
Niall knows the minute his boys step into the room. He can feel them, their presence, like the sun coming out from behind the clouds on a rare day in Ireland.
Niall knows why they’re not touching, why they’re hesitant to come near him, because he woke up alone and saw the damage, and every bit of the accident came rushing back and so he closed his eyes so he wouldn’t have to see, wouldn’t have to remember, and he’s pretending to be asleep, because he knows that if he faces up to reality, the depression and anxiety will slam into him and he doesn’t want to deal with that, not right now and not alone.
But now his boys are here, and they’re scared to touch him because it looks like every bit of him is damaged except his face. Niall knows that he’s probably broken every bone in his body with that collision, (he can still feel the moment of impact, the sound of the screeching, twisted metal, and the pain, so much pain ) because he recognizes whatever pain medication they’ve given him, and instead of just his knee being numb, it’s his entire body, and underneath the numbness, there’s just a steady dull throb that reaches down into his bones.
And that’s a bit terrifying if Niall’s being honest.
A hand is suddenly touching his face and Niall knows it’s Liam, because who else could it be? Louis will be afraid to touch him, (because that will make it more real, will give him a memory of how Niall’s skin felt when he was lying in the hospital after almost dying–) Harry will be afraid to touch because he might accidentally hurt Niall and Zayn probably hasn’t even approached the bed yet, still in shock.
“Oh Nialler.” It’s Liam, because of course it is.
Niall should hope he knows his boys well enough. (He’d be personally offended if he didn’t.)
He knows that Louis is observant and will soon notice that he’s not actually asleep, so he supposes he should go ahead and face the music, even though he really, really doesn’t want to.
But…
His boys are here.
So Niall knows that even though life might really suck these next few weeks of recovery, he’ll be okay.
He’ll be okay.
Niall opens his eyes.