Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Zayn was sixteen when he realized he was suicidal.

He had been lying in bed for two weeks, pretty much. School had ended, and now that it was summer, Zayn didn’t really see a point in getting up and making something of his life. He just didn’t care.

His mom had left him, his dad wanted him dead, and his friends had betrayed him. They’d ripped him away from the only parent he had left. Zayn was so painfully alone, and it was starting to look like he would always be that way.

All this time he had been working his way through school so he could go to college, get a job, and get out of this awful town. But what was the point? Bad things happened to Zayn; it didn’t matter where he lived. Bad things would always happen to him. Always. He was ugly, and stupid, and annoying, and he couldn’t do anything right.

So he might as well kill himself.

No one would miss him. His friends didn’t care about him the way Zayn thought they did, and Mrs. Poulston was only keeping him in her house out of obligation. His own mother wouldn’t know the difference; she probably wouldn’t even hear about the funeral and if she did, she wouldn’t come. His dad would be happy.

So why not kill himself? Why not kill himself and end all this pain and suffering? He hadn’t been beaten in weeks now that he lived with Louis, but his body still showed the signs of abuse. His arm was crooked after his dad broke it. So was his nose. His body was small both in height and weight from not eating enough. And even if he looked perfect, Zayn still would think he was awful, due to the verbal abuse he had suffered for so long.

So why not kill himself? Why not kill himself?

“Zayn, c’mon out, it’s dinner time. Mom says you have to eat,” Louis said, knocking on the door to the guest room. Or –really- it was Zayn’s room. It was where he spent nearly all his time, after all, and Zayn needed some place he could call his own after he’d been forcibly removed from his house. “Zayn… Zayn, c’mon.”

Instead of saying something back, Zayn threw a pillow at the door. He didn’t want to eat dinner. He didn’t want to do anything; he just wanted to lie here and rot.

“Fine. I’m getting mom,” Louis complained.

Zayn could hear his feet run down the hall and tramp down the stairs. He heaved out a sigh and sat up. He knew Mrs. Poulston wouldn’t allow him to skip dinner. If Louis was stubborn, then his mom was difficult beyond all reason. She was the most rigid, inflexible person Zayn had ever met, aside from his father. The only difference was that Mrs. Poulston was stubborn about things like making sure he ate and making sure he took showers.

He kicked off the covers and forced himself upright. When he opened the door to his room, he found himself face to face with Mrs. Poulston.

“Louis said you weren’t sure you would come downstairs,” she said, eyebrows furrowed together in confusion. Zayn just sighed. “Okay… Well, it’s quesadilla night! You like quesadillas, right?”

“I guess,” Zayn mumbled. He didn’t feel hungry at all, but he followed Louis’s mom down the stairs anyway.

The table was set, and Zayn took his place at the foot. He didn’t say much of anything as food was passed around the table. His quesadilla looked warm and gooey, but nothing had been appetizing to Zayn lately.

“Zayn, the guys were gonna come over later. We were gonna watch Captain America? It’s like… in theaters, and we were all gonna go together, and like… you should come. Niall’s gonna be there. I know he’s been missing you,” Louis piped up halfway into the meal.

Zayn ran a hand through his hair but didn’t say anything. He didn’t have energy to go out and see a movie. And honestly? As much as he loved Niall, he hadn’t been missing him at all. He felt so wronged by the way his friends pulled him away from his home without his permission, by the way no one ever listened to him and what he wanted.

And what Zayn wanted was his dad. Or… the dad he had when he was seven, anyways. The dad who only fought with his mom about little things, like who was going to the dishes or what movie they should rent from Blockbuster. And come to think about it, he wanted his mom, too.

He wanted people who cared about him so badly. It was all he could focus on –how unlovable he was- and it made his heart beat faster just to think about.

Even here at the kitchen table, Zayn’s heart rate picked up as he thought about how desperately he wanted his parents back. He made a choking noise, and suddenly Louis’s hand was on his back. “Zayn… Zayn, are you okay? Are you okay?” Louis asked. Zayn didn’t answer. “Zayn, you’re crying.”

A shaky hand reached up to brush his cheek, and Zayn realized that –yes- he was crying. “S-sorry,” he answered, cheeks flushing. How embarrassing could he be? He was such a baby, crying for his mommy and daddy like a two-year-old.

“What’s wrong? Did I say something? What’s wrong?” Louis begged, clearly overwhelmed, but Zayn didn’t feel much like helping him. It was partially Louis’s fault he was in this mess in the first place. He could be at home right now, crying privately in his closet, but instead he was at the Poulston’s house where he never had any time to himself.

“C-can I go to my room?” he sputtered out. Maybe if he was crying, he’d be allowed to skip dinner.

Mrs. Poulston wrung her hands a little, clearly unnerved by the way Zayn was crying, but she obviously didn’t know what to do about it. “Take your plate with you,” she advised. Zayn was happy to listen if that meant getting out of there.

He grabbed his quesadilla and ducked away from Louis’s touch. He rushed up to his bedroom, refusing to listen to whatever Louis and his mom had to say about him after he left. All he wanted to do was throw himself on his bed.

Zayn shook under his covers as tears poured silently down his cheeks. He couldn't handle this anymore. He couldn't handle this anymore.

It had been twenty-four hours since Zayn had last left his room. He didn’t have to go to the bathroom, which was weird, but it wasn’t like he had eaten or drank anything in awhile. He was such a fucking mess, he couldn’t even feed himself properly, much less get out of his bed.

He couldn’t even be bothered to sigh when he heard someone tap on his door, despite how annoyed he was. It seemed like Louis had been knocking for him every ten minutes. When was he going to understand that Zayn didn’t want to talk to him? He’d been here for weeks. You’d think he would have gotten it by now.

“Hey, Zayn… All the guys are here. We’re gonna play Monopoly, you should come,” Louis spoke through the wall.

“Yeah, Zayn, come hang out with us.”

Zayn took in a sharp breath of air. That wasn’t Louis’s voice. None of the boys had ever come upstairs to check on him before –Mrs. Poulston had a strict ‘no boys but Louis upstairs’ policy- but Zayn knew that voice. That was Niall’s voice. Niall. Who he hasn’t seen since school let out.

Zayn stood up on tired, underfed legs and padded over to the door. He unlocked it and took a deep breath to steel himself before cracking it open. The first thing he saw was a shock of blond hair.

“Zayn.” Niall practically cooed the word. All of a sudden, Zayn was beyond overwhelmed. It only take one word from Niall for Zayn to simultaneously feel every ounce of pain he’d been hiding from under the covers and feel completely comforted.

He needed a Horan hug, and he needed it now.

“Do you want me to step in?” Niall asked, seemingly sensing how upset Zayn was when he didn’t say anything.

Zayn nodded and shuffled to the side a little bit. “Only you, no one else,” he clarified, voice hoarse from disuse. Louis looked positively crestfallen, but Zayn chose to ignore him. Technically, Niall had dragged him away from his father just as much as any of the other boys –if not more so, considering Mrs. Horan was the one most adamant about getting him away from his dad during their meeting- but Niall meant so much more. Niall made him feel better; he made everything better.

Zayn was in love with Niall, and he could forgive him no matter what happened.

Niall slipped into the room and shut the door behind him. The blonde hesitated for a moment, toeing at the ground for a breath or two before he looked up. His blue eyes pierced through Zayn’s clouded brain. “Can I just… I just really need to hug you,” Niall gushed like the words came out without his permission.

“Please,” Zayn replied. The one little word was enough for Niall to rush forward and sweep him up into a hug. His arms were tight, but it didn’t hurt. If anything, this was the most gingerly and gently Zayn had ever been held, despite how desperate Niall seemed to have his arms around him. Zayn’s eyes watered. “I’ve missed you so much,” he choked out after a moment or two. No wonder he’d been nothing but a useless lump, lately. How was he supposed to function when he didn’t have Niall?

“Well, that’s silly. That’s silly, I’ve been here this whole time,” Niall replied. His voice sounded thick, like he was holding back tears. Zayn wasn’t about to judge him; not when he was in the same boat.

“But I couldn’t… I mean… It’s just I was mad, though. Like… Niall, you told on my dad,” Zayn answered.

He was so conflicted. On the one hand, he needed Niall. He was desperate for Niall. Over the years, Niall had always been the place where Zayn found safety. The second they separated was the second things got messy for Zayn. Like how when they used to walk home together holding hands together, his dad would start yelling the second Zayn let go. He didn’t want to let go anymore. He wanted Niall all the time.

But that didn’t change the fact that Niall had tattled. He had told social services that his dad was abusing him. Even though that was true, Zayn hadn’t been ready to admit it, and he certainly hadn’t been ready to move away from home. Maybe it was only for a couple months, but it still was a massive upheaval of Zayn’s life and it had certainly affected him emotionally.

“Because he was abusing you, Zayn,” Niall replied, getting to the thick of it. Zayn flushed bright red.

“No.”

Niall sighed. “Zayn-“

“No,” Zayn said a little louder, refusing to admit it. If he admitted it, that would make it true, and Zayn wouldn’t be able to handle it if all of this was real. He was already thinking about killing himself, he didn’t need another reason to commit suicide. “He just… wasn’t nice.”

“Okay,” Niall responded easily, rubbing Zayn’s arm a little bit. “Okay, so he wasn’t nice. Aren’t you glad that you get to be away from him for a little bit? You liked staying over at our houses before. And I know for a fact that Louis loves you very much, and you’ve known his family since you were very little. Like… you knew him before you knew me. Aren’t you happy to be somewhere you know is safe and full of people who care about you and love you?”

Zayn’s cheeks only grew warmer. He shrunk away from Niall and crawled into bed. Even standing had been exhausting lately. “I just wanna go home.”

“But why? You used to hate being home, Zayn. That’s why my mom let you sleep over on school nights. Even she knew you didn’t like it.”

“You don’t understand,” Zayn groaned.

The mattress dipped as Niall took a seat on its edge. He rubbed Zayn’s back a little bit, and he all but melted under the touch. He was still frustrated, but Niall was too soothing for his own good. “So how about you explain it, Zee? Just talk to me for once.” Zayn kept quiet for a moment. “It’s just you and me, you know? Anything you wanna talk about, now would be the time to do it.”

“It’s just… I dunno. He isn’t nice, but he’s my dad,” Zayn replied. “And it’s really good of him to put up with me because I’m so… I’m so awful.”

“Babe…” Niall tutted, switching from rubbing across Zayn’s shoulder blades to rubbing up and down his spine. “Why would you say that? Who thinks your awful?”

“He does,” Zayn yelped, frustrated. He turned to lie on his side and wrung his hands together. “He tells me all the time, you know? Like… He’s honest with me, unlike other parents, and he’s always telling me I’m such a waste of space, and that I’m stupid, and ugly, and he’s… he’s right.”

“That’s not right. You’re great, Zayn. He shouldn’t have ever said any of those things to you, none of them are true.” Niall seemed to be getting progressively more and more upset. There were tears slipping down his cheeks. Zayn didn’t know how to handle that. He was usually pretty good at taking care of Niall, but he never knew what to do when he was the reason his friends were sad. He tried to listen to what they needed, but no amount of tissues or hugs seemed to fix things whenever they talked about his home life. “Why do you want to live with him, when he’s terrible to you?”

“He’s my dad,” Zayn repeated, choked up. Niall’s tears were starting to get to him. “He gets frustrated with me and he isn’t nice to me, but at least he doesn’t hate me. At least he’s here. That’s more than I can say about my mom.”

Niall seemed to quiet at that. He didn’t say anything for a moment. Zayn was about to ask if something was wrong when Niall bent down to take off his shoes. The blond kicked his sneakers to the floor and peeled back the covers. He tucked himself in next to Zayn, spooning up behind him and holding Zayn around the middle.

“What did I do?” Zayn asked. He felt like something was wrong, even though Niall was holding him. He was confused.

“You never talk about your mom.”

Zayn bit his lip. “I mean… there’s not much to say. She’s gone.”

Niall huffed out a sigh, and Zayn could feel his breath on his shoulder. “Do you miss her?”

“I… No. She stopped caring about… about me. But I miss having a mom, you know? Like… it would be so good to have someone to do my laundry or to have someone to make dinner. Cause my dad doesn’t, like, do that.”

“I wouldn’t think he would,” Niall muttered. Zayn didn’t have a response for that. He wasn’t used to Niall being angry with anyone, and Zayn certainly didn’t know how to defend his abusive, alcoholic father. His dad wasn’t a good person, and Zayn wished he could stop loving him, but he couldn’t. “I just don’t get it, Zayn, you have everything you want right here. Mrs. Poulston is happy to take care of you, and… and you have us. Like your friends. You have me. Why are you so angry about being here? Why are you so sad?”

Zayn didn’t know if it was Niall’s inflection –he sounded so confused and so desperate- or if it was the words themselves, but something broke in Zayn’s heart. He curled in on himself as a giant sob ripped through his body.

“I d-d-don’t know,” he wept, trying to scrub tears from his eyes as quickly as possible, but they still managed to escape and dampen his pillow. Niall’s hold around his middle just grew tighter, and Zayn could feel the other boy’s body from his head to his toes, they were so pressed together. Zayn was ashamed to admit that he leaned into Niall as he cried.

“You’re okay, Zayn. You’re okay.”

But he wasn’t okay. He was a hot mess, and that didn’t seem to be changing any time soon.

“Knock knock!” a familiar voice sing-songed. Zayn sat up in bed.

Niall poked his head into his bedroom, a giant smile on his face. He stepped in when he saw that Zayn was decent and didn’t seem to be angry about his sudden presence. He had a giant box in his hands.

“I thought that you might be getting pretty bored in here. Like… cabin fever and all that?” he asked. Zayn nodded, still a little dazed about having a visitor. He wasn’t used to people just stopping in. But he wasn’t complaining; he loved having Niall around. “Louis said that you have like… a million portraits in your room at home. I thought you might wanna paint some. Or like… draw. So. Here!” he said, spilling his box load all over the bed.

Tubes of paint, brushes, pallets, canvases, and other supplies poured out onto Zayn’s covers. The whole load must have cost a fortune. Zayn knew a lot of the brands and labels on the supplies, and they weren’t exactly cheap. He held up one of the tubes of paint. “Oil,” he mused. He had been hoping to try oil paints, but he never had the money to buy the things he needed.

“Yeah, is that good? I know we take art together, but I have no idea what you use, or what the difference between all this stuff is,” Niall replied sheepishly.

Zayn looked up at Niall, a giant smile emerging on his face. His massive grin matched the blonde’s for once. “This is great,” he replied emphatically. He hadn’t thought that anything could break through the depressive cloud that had been holding him down lately, but he stood corrected. Niall always knew just how to cheer him up. “Here, hold on a second, let me just get a real quick shower and some fresh clothes, and then maybe we can try some of this stuff together,” he offered.

Niall’s eyes brightened. Zayn figured it had something to do with the fact that he was willingly getting out of bed and taking care of himself, but if he thought too much about that he’d only get further depressed by how pathetic he was. (After all, lying in bed all the time didn’t make him a very productive person.)

He skedaddled to the shower and used all of ten minutes to wash his hair and body. He quick gave himself a shave at the mirror and threw on a fresh pair of jeans –hand-me-downs from Liam per usual- and a t-shirt that he stole from Harry back when Zayn was talking to him.

Geez, it had been forever since he had seen Harry and Liam.

After brushing his teeth, Zayn met Niall on his bed. “Okay… Okay, this is really all for me? Because I’m going to freak out if this is all for me.”

“It’s all for you!” Niall chirped. Zayn clasped his hands together. “Why don’t you paint something, yeah? You wanna do a portrait? I’ll model for you!” Niall offered, and Zayn almost laughed.

Niall had already modeled for him so many times; he just didn’t know it. Any time Zayn thought Niall did something cute, he painted a picture of it.

“Alright, sure,” he agreed with a smirk. “Why don’t you… If you’d just rest your cheek on your hand?” he nudged Niall’s limbs until he was sitting cross-legged and sort of angling his head up at him. “Cool. And then look at me like I’ve just done something silly at art club.” Niall quirked an eyebrow, and Zayn let out a gush of air, his lips parting into a massive smile. “Perfect… perfect, okay. I’m just gonna do water color for now cause it’s easiest and it’ll go fast. I don’t want you posing for too long,” he explained, reaching under his bed to fish out his own meager supply of paint. He used Niall’s brushes and his paper though.

It was just that oil would have to wait until he had some time to fiddle around.

Zayn made quick work of painting Niall. He blocked in all this base layers rather quickly, and Niall laughed as his face barely started to take shape. “I look like a bunch of blobs,” he snorted, and Zayn nudged Niall’s shin with his toe.

“Quiet, you. I’m working over here.”

Niall was almost too easy to paint at this point. His face was continually changing year after year, but Zayn knew the basic structure better than he knew his own face. He knew Niall’s coloring and the paints he would need to create it. He knew how each line should be created from the bridge of Niall’s nose to the curve of his chin.

“I’m bored,” Niall whined.

“You’re the one who offered to model!” Zayn replied, leaning back on his pillows a little bit. He did his best to capture the blond highlights in Niall’s hair. They were brighter than usual due to the summer sun baking down on him. His skin was a little pink from spending so much time outside, especially his cheeks. He was rosy and warm. It was no wonder why Zayn had started smiling again within ten minutes of Niall walking in the room.

“Are you done yet?”

“Almost.”

“Are you done yet?”

“Almost”

“Are you done yet?”

“Almost!”

“Are you done yet?”

“Yes!” Zayn replied, flipping the portrait around so Niall could see. A cute little gasp escaped Niall’s mouth.

“Holy shit,” he replied. It was always weird to hear Niall swear, but in this case, Zayn figured it was a good thing. He had made Niall proud; he had impressed him. That was always what Zayn was aiming for. “Since when have you gotten so good at painting people?” Niall asked.

Zayn shrugged. “I dunno… I’ve had a lot of practice.” Which was true. Zayn had a lot of practice painting Niall, anyways. If you asked him to paint Louis, Liam, or Harry, it wouldn’t be nearly as beautiful. These were paints Zayn knew well and a muse that Zayn knew inside and out. It was destined to turn out right.

“It’s wet?” Niall asked, his fingers hovering above the paper Zayn had used. He nodded.

“Yeah, it’s wet… It’ll be dry soon. Then you can touch it.” Niall’s fingers recoiled.

“Okay,” he answered easily. If it wasn’t an insane thing to do, Zayn would think that Niall wanted to rub his face all of his portrait, what with how close Niall’s nose was to the paper and how desperately he wanted to touch it. “Can I keep it?”

“Sure. I mean… it’s your paper and all. You can have whatever you want.”

“Well, I don’t want to take it just because it’s like… my supplies, and I have a right to take it,” Niall said uncertainly, meeting Zayn’s eye for the first time since getting his hands on his portrait.

Zayn smiled at him reassuringly. “Niall, you can always have whatever you want of mine, okay? You tell me what you need, and I’ll make it happen.” He didn’t know what had gotten into him today, but Zayn felt capable for once. He felt like he could do whatever Niall needed, even if that meant getting out of bed an running a marathon.

Niall just blushed and looked down at his toes. “I’ll keep that in mind,” he replied, and Zayn could hear the smirk in his voice.

He nudged his friend with his foot again. “Why don’t you lie down, huh? If you’ve got another hour or so to waste on a portrait, why don’t you let me do one of you snuggled in the sheets? It’s like… it’s fun to paint fabric with all it’s twists and turns and stuff.” Niall obeyed his request and Zayn set to work. If there was one thing worth living for, it was probably afternoons like these spent with Niall.

Zayn decided that today would be a good day to get back to making something of his life. He had spent the last few days messing around with the paint Niall had gotten him, and he had gotten bored. He was taking it as a good sign. If he was bored, that meant he wanted more out of life than what he could get just lying around in bed all day.

The first step towards getting his confidence back was eating breakfast. Zayn padded downstairs in his socks, stretching out his tired limbs, when he heard Louis’s voice coming from the kitchen.

“It’s like… I’m trying not to be annoyed or jealous? But I’m so annoyed. And I’m so jealous,” he admitted. Someone made a tsking sound.

“Louis, he loves you, too. He loves all of us equal, I’m sure. We’re all best friends, remember?” That was Niall’s voice.

“Then why does he only let you in his room? Not us?” And that was Harry.

A sinking feeling settled in Zayn’s stomach. He knew he hadn’t been acknowledging his other friends lately, at least not like he had been acknowledging Niall. He hadn’t seen Liam or Harry in a month, and he only talked to Louis when he was forced to come down for meals.

He hadn’t thought about how that might affect his friends, though. They probably felt awful. Zayn knew that he would be a mess if one of his friends didn’t want to see him anymore. Zayn hadn’t even told them why he was so upset, really. He just shut them out cause he was scared, but that had been wrong, and now he could hear tears in Harry’s voice.

“I dunno… You guys could get him a present, maybe. That seemed to make him really happy. I think, like… I think he maybe needs to be reminded that you guys care about him after everything that happened at school. He kept saying we weren’t listening to him, you know?”

“Not all of us have like… a hundred dollars to drop on art supplies, Niall,” Liam whined. Zayn hovered by the door of the kitchen and peaked in. All the boys were in pajamas, and Zayn figured that they were just waking up from a sleepover. No one had invited Zayn, but he was sure that was because they figured he wouldn’t come.

“That’s not fair. I earned that money, that was my allowance.”

“Pssh, more like your life savings,” Louis grumbled.

“He needed something to cheer him up!”

“And look where he ended up? Still depressed as ever, still moody as ever, and still ignoring us as much as ever.”

Zayn cleared his throat and four sets of eyes turned to look at him in the doorway. He flushed bright red. He felt awful. How did he even begin to apologize for something like this?

He blinked quickly to avoid tears rolling down his cheeks, and he hugged around his middle. “Um… I couldn’t help but overhear, and I’m… I’m really sorry, I was just… upset, and I’m… I was just gonna get some fruit loops and maybe try watching TV today, but I can leave? I don’t want to make you mad. I’m really sorry about everything, and like… I’m just really sorry,” he sputtered. He hiccupped a little, and stomped his foot once in frustration. He was so sick of crying.

“Oh, Zayn, don’t be sorry. Stay, get your fruit loops,” Liam replied, his face crumbling as he and Zayn made eye contact for the first time in weeks. Zayn nodded his head awkwardly and went to the cupboard. He poured himself a bowl –still crying- and everyone watched as he sorted himself out.

He was going to take a seat next to Niall, but Harry pulled him into his lap. His nose buried into Zayn’s shoulder. “Don’t cry, okay? Don’t cry, cause then I’ll cry, and I really missed you, and it’s really good to see you, and we should be smiling, not crying,” Harry said wetly. Zayn winced as his shirt grew damp with snot and tears. He tangled his fingers up in Harry’s hair as he ate his cereal.

“You guys are both hot messes,” Niall teased, poking both Harry and Zayn’s legs with his spoon.

“Shut up. You were a hot mess, like… the whole time you didn’t get to see Zayn,” Harry complained, and Niall immediately flushed bright red. If Zayn wanted to question his blush, he wouldn’t have had the chance. Harry’s arms wrapped around his middle so tight, he could hardly breathe.

“You were gonna watch TV, Zayn?” Liam asked, interrupting. “Do you think we could watch with you?”

“Sure,” Zayn choked out, wiggling in Harry’s arms to get him to loosen up a little bit.

Nothing was really fixed. Zayn still felt terrible about not getting to live with his dad, and he still didn’t have much of a will to do anything but lie around. However, at least he wasn’t going it alone anymore. Reaching out to his friends was a good first step.

Zayn hadn’t spent his summer doing much more than watching movies and playing video games with his friends. Mostly, he was counting down the days until he got to live with his dad again. Apparently, a social worker had set up an interview with his dad, but his father had arrived drunk.

His dad had been incoherent. Needless to say, he didn’t make much of a case for why Zayn should be in his custody again, and their case would be revisited in another three months.

In the mean time, Zayn still had school. He was a junior, after all. College was something he needed to start thinking about, and he wouldn’t be accepted anywhere if he tried to get by with the same crappy grades as last year.

Of course, just because Zayn woke up and went to class, that didn’t mean he was doing well. It was exhausting to do homework when he felt so depressed and anxious, and it was hard to pay attention when he had so many problems at home occupying his thoughts.

“How are you doing, Zayn? You feeling okay?” Louis asked. Zayn looked up from his locker, realizing how badly he had been spacing out.

“Oh, um… yes. I just couldn’t remember what book I needed.”

“You have history next!” Louis chirped, reaching into Zayn’s locker for him and passing him the proper textbook. Zayn took it with a grateful smile and put it in his book bag. Louis was always stopping by his locker. He was always there between fourth and fifth period to help Zayn with his things.

Of course, Louis wasn’t the only one who had been supportive lately. It seemed like all the guys were doing their best to check up on him, help him with classes, and make sure he was comfortable. Zayn didn’t know if it was helping him with school any, but he did know it was helping him feel like someone cared. They were all so attentive. As embarrassed as Zayn was for needing all this focus, he couldn’t help but lap it up.

“Here, let me walk you to biology,” Louis offered, linking arms with Zayn and walking him to his classroom. Zayn let it happen. He was pretty sure Louis’s class was in the opposite direction, but he wasn’t going to stop him. As he neared the classroom, an excited squeal reached his ears.

“Zayn!” Harry called, waving from their lab table in the back of the room. It apparently didn’t matter how many times Zayn showed up for class, Harry would always be surprised and excited to see him.

“Have a good class!” Louis chirped from his side, sending him into the room with a butt smack. Zayn watched him scurry away before loping over to Harry. He took a seat next to his friend.

“Ready for bio?” Harry asked. His hair bounced as he turned to look at Zayn properly.

“Eh.”

“C’mon, we got this,” Harry promised, holding his hand out for a high-five. Zayn reciprocated. If there was one thing he was sure of, it was that Harry and his friends had his back at school.

Llll

The boys looked up from their lunches, startled, when a pair of unfamiliar hands smacked down on the tabletop. Zayn jumped especially high.

“Hey, you guys are single right?”

Zayn furrowed his eyebrows up the girl who had so abruptly interrupted their lunch. She was pretty. He recognized her as someone who tended to hang out with the cheerleaders and all the other popular, pretty people in his high school. Zayn was half sure her name was Melanie, but he didn’t want to call her that and get it wrong.

“Um, I suppose we all are,” Harry replied, and Melanie rudely stuck her hand in his best friend’s face.

“Not you. These two. Zayn and Liam,” she said, nodding her head towards the pair. Zayn put a hand on his chest as if to ask ‘me?’ and Liam looked equally confused. The girl nodded. “Yeah, you guys. My friends have like… these horrible, massive crushes on both of you, and they wanted to know if you’d be interested in a double date.”

“Why didn’t they come over and ask?” Niall questioned, his face screwed up with confusion.

Melanie sighed like Niall was the stupidest person she had ever talked to, and Zayn scooted closer to Niall as if to protect him. “Because they were nervous, and I’m not. Look, do you guys wanna get hooked up with two cheerleaders or not?”

Louis was the only one who brightened at the question. “Liam! Zayn! You guys should totally do it! How cool would that be?!” he asked excitedly.

Liam turned eight shades of pink. “I dunno… I’m trying to hold out for the right person, you know? Someone I really like,” he hinted, looking up at Louis desperately. It was like he was pleading Louis to say something contrary, to tell this girl to go away, to sweep Liam up possessively… Anything but pair him up with a stranger. Zayn could only imagine how he’d be looking at Niall if the blond tried to hook him up with some strange girl.

“Listen,” Melanie interrupted. “There’s really no good reason to say no. You guys are all weirdos who, like, never talk to anyone but each other, and never come to parties, and never do anything, like, good or important. But. But. Two of you happen to be hot,” she explained. “This is your chance.”

“Niall’s hot.”
“Louis’s hot.”
“Harry’s hot,” Zayn, Liam, and Louis all said respectively.

Zayn could practically see Liam’s face fall a little further when Louis’s first instinct was to protect Harry. Zayn didn’t think Louis liked Harry in that way, but he could see why Liam would.

“Are you in or not?” Melanie asked.

Louis turned to Liam. “Do it, Liam. You and Zayn would be like… the talk of the whole school! Maybe you’ll even get a new girlfriend! Maybe this girl will be like… the one, or whatever.”

Liam looked like he was about to cry. He ran his fingers through his hair and looked down at the tabletop. “I mean… I guess… Sure. I’ll go,” he answered. He looked up at Zayn hopefully. “Will you come, too?”

Zayn bit his bottom lip. He’d never really been interested in girls, but he had always wanted to be. It would make all this so much easier. Maybe a girlfriend would help him get over Niall. “Do you think I should do it?” he asked the blonde.

Niall stared at him calculatingly for a moment, and Zayn couldn’t read his expression. “Sure,” Niall said after a long pause, shrugging his shoulders. Disappointment swept over Zayn.

“Okay, I’m in.”

“Great! Here’s my friends’ numbers,” Melanie said, slipping Liam and Zayn each a separate piece of paper. “They’re free on Friday night at seven. You guys have to pick them up,” she ordered before leaving.

Zayn and Liam locked eyes. This was either going to be the best or the worst night of their lives.

Liam played nervously with his collar as drove towards the girls’ house. He and Zayn were both in the car, driving to where their double dates were staying. Liam seemed terrified. “I can’t believe we’re doing this,” he muttered. “I can’t believe Louis… he just… We don’t even know these girls, Zayn. Why are we doing this?”

“Dunno,” Zayn answered, fussing with his own collar because it seemed like the thing to do. He didn’t look half as nice as Liam did. He was borrowing one of Louis’s shirts because he was the smallest of his friends, but it still seemed to hang off of him. “This might be a good way to like, move on, you know? From certain people?” he mentioned, not trying to be too obvious. But things were clearly going nowhere with Niall and Louis. It was about time they stopped thinking about their friends as anything more than that: just friends.

“I… Yeah, you’re right,” Liam sighed. Zayn could hear the exhaustion in his voice. “At least these girls actually like us. That’s more than I can say about Louis.”

“Who has who again?”

“You have Waneeza and I have Amy,” Liam answered right as he pulled into one of the girls’ driveway. Zayn took a deep breath. He turned to look at Liam who looked frozen with his hand on the keys. If Zayn didn’t know any better, he’d think that Liam was debating whether he should turn the car off and go to the door, or floor the car in reverse and get the hell out of there.

“It’s only one night, right? Like, just a few hours. You can put up with anything for a few hours,” Zayn said knowingly. He’d gone through hell at home, and he knew full well what his body could tolerate. He wasn’t scared of an awkward evening. It would be easier than any of the abuse he had suffered.

“One night,” Liam repeated. He finally turned off the engine and got out of the car. Zayn followed his lead and walked up to the front door with his best friend. “Can you ring the doorbell?”

Zayn chuckled. “Yeah, I’ll do it,” he said, pressing the button. He nudged Liam lightly in the ribs. “Stop being such a scaredy-cat.”

Liam gave him a sheepish smile, and jumped when the door opened.

Amy’s mom stood at the door. She eyed Zayn and Liam critically. Despite being the brave one earlier, Zayn couldn’t help but shrink under her gaze. “You two must be here for Amy and her friend,” she said. They nodded, and Amy’s mom opened the door up wider to let them in. “Girls! Your dates are here!” she shouted up the stairs.

Amy and Waneeza stepped out onto the balcony at the top of the stairs. Zayn turned to look at Liam, only to notice the disconcerted look on his face. Zayn felt pretty uncomfortable, too. The girls were dressed in crop tops and mini skirts, and it was weird to see so much of a stranger’s body on the first date. All of a sudden, Zayn was worried that these girls expected more than just a night out for dinner and a movie.

“Hey,” Waneeza said, breaking the silence and walking down the stairs. She was somewhat clumsy in her too high heels. Amy didn’t say anything in greeting, just sort of stuck her nose up and followed her friend.

“Hi,” Zayn said. He elbowed Liam in the side.

“Oh, right, hi,” he followed up. This was so awkward. Why did these girls even want to go out with them in the first place? They didn’t even know each other.

There was an unbearably long awkward pause where Amy’s mom just stared at them with an amused smile on her face. Zayn could feel his skin prickle. This had been a terrible idea; they had nothing to talk about.

“Well,” Amy said, sounding a little annoyed. “Tell us we look nice and take us to your car already,” she demanded.

“You look beautiful,” Liam promised.

Zayn tried not to laugh at his friend. Liam was definitely a people pleaser, and he always did what he was told immediately, even when it was a girl from school who he barely knew. Instead of giggling at him, though, Zayn turned to Waneeza. “You look great, too. Liam’s car is out in the driveway.”

They walked out to the car after Amy promised her mom she’d be home by eleven. Zayn sat in the back with Waneeza and Amy sat in the passenger seat. “So we thought we’d watch a movie and go out to dinner after or before, or… well, whatever you girls want.”

“Actually, I was hoping we could go to the drive in. They’re playing Jaws,” Amy said. The words alone made her sound polite, but her tone seemed cranky. Zayn couldn’t blame her. He and Liam hadn’t been making a good impression so far. Maybe their friend –Melanie, or whatever- had been right. Maybe they didn’t talk to anyone besides each other because Zayn certainly didn’t know how to make small talk with these girls, and Liam didn’t seem to know either.

“Sure,” Liam agreed. And that was all that was said for the rest of the car ride.

Zayn’s chest constricted more and more as the silence continued. It was so humiliatingly awkward, and it just got worse the longer no one said anything. But Zayn didn’t know what to say. “So, um… Do you guys like popcorn at movies?” he asked as Liam parked the car in the drive in. He was proud of himself for thinking of something.

“Yeah,” Waneeza replied.

“I guess,” Amy said.

“Oh,” Zayn answered. Honestly, slitting his throat might be a better option than staying in this car any longer. He almost wished Liam would have turned the car into a highway guardrail when he had the chance.

“I’m going to go get our tickets,” Liam said, rolling down the car windows before turning off the engine. Zayn had been jealous of Liam multiple times in his life, but he’d never been more envious of his friend as he watched him get out of the car.

“Wait… Aren’t you gonna get our tickets?” Waneeza asked Zayn, gesturing between the two of them.

Zayn flushed. “Um… Actually, Liam is going to buy everyone’s ticket, I think.”

Amy turned around, peering at Zayn over the shoulder of the passenger seat. He hated the judgmental look she was giving him. “So it’s true? You really are poor?” she asked. Waneeza at least had the gall to look embarrassed.

“Amy,” she hissed, clearly upset.

Zayn’s blush turned even darker. “Well, like… I dunno, I guess,” he replied, wishing he could bury his head in the sand. This was the worst date of his life.

“See, I told you, Waneeza,” Amy said, glaring at her friend. Waneeza didn’t say anything, just turned to stare out the window. She seemed embarrassed, but Zayn didn’t really understand why. He was the one who had just been humiliated.

Liam came back with popcorn. He passed one bag to Amy and the other bag back to Zayn. He seemed to notice that the car had become a different kind of tense in his absence, but the movie previews started before he could question it. At least they had something to fill the silence.

Two uncomfortably silent hours later, Liam and Zayn were pulling out of Amy and Waneeza’s driveway after dropping them off. All of a sudden, Liam slammed the breaks. Zayn looked over, confused and scared as he saw Liam’s shoulders shaking and his head on the steering wheel. “Liam, are you-“

“Oh. My. God,” Liam wailed. He lifted his head from the wheel and Zayn realized he was laughing, not crying. “That was the worst double date in the history of the world. The absolute worst one,” he said in hysterics. At least he was smiling.

Zayn cracked a grin at his best friend. “Yeah… yeah, that was pretty awful.”

“Just pretty awful? How did everyone manage to go so long without talking? I think we all only managed, like… twelve words total,” he gasped, laughing so hard he could barely breathe. Zayn ran a hand over his head. Liam’s laughter was infections, and he couldn’t help but laugh a bit as well.

“The guys are going to feel so guilty for pushing us into that,” he replied, thinking of how Louis poked and prodded Liam into going, and how Niall had just stood back and let it happen. Liam’s laughter faded out a bit.

“Ah… Yeah. Louis is the worst sometimes.”

Zayn looked out the window for a minute. Liam put the car in gear again and finished pulling out of the driveway and headed home. “You know… After everything, I think I’m only more convinced that I only want Niall now. I’m never doing that again.”

“Me neither,” Liam agreed, biting his bottom lip. “Except, I’m pretty sure if we don’t try to date other people, we’re destined to be alone for the rest of our lives. Like… Louis is never going to want me.” Zayn offered him a weak smile.

“At least we can be sad sacks together?”

Liam laughed again, albeit somewhat sadly, and held his hand out for a fist bump. “Better to be pathetic together than pathetic alone.”

“F for fuck me,” Zayn muttered under his breath, frustrated as he got yet another failed test back. Harry turned around in his seat to look at him, concern obvious in his face.

“You didn’t do well?” he asked. Zayn just sighed. He could see from here that Harry had gotten an A on his chemistry test; meanwhile, Zayn hadn’t even managed a forty percent.

He just… he hadn’t had any focus lately, and he certainly hadn’t had any drive. It was hard to see the point in schoolwork when he could always just kill himself and never have to think about the future. Plus, getting such crappy grades all the time only served to make him feel stupider and stupider, and there was no point on something so dumb and moronic walking the face of the earth. Maybe he really should die.

“It’s fine, Harry,” he replied. Harry didn’t look so sure. “Really, it’s fine. It’s just… hard living with the Tomlinson’s. I just want to go home. I miss my house. I think once I’m back at home things will get better,” he promised. People used their home lives as an excuse for doing poorly in school, right? That was a valid excuse, right?

Harry nodded, curls bouncing. “Yeah… Okay. Just let me know if you need help with anything, all right? Like… I don’t want you to fail just because things are messy outside of school and stuff, you know?”

Zayn nodded. Up front, his teacher got the next lesson started, but Zayn didn’t pay attention. He stared down at his failed test as tears welled up in his eyes. He finally understood why his dad beat him so often. He was such a shitty person. He couldn’t even get half the questions right; how did he expect to function in the real world?

Zayn took in a shaky breath as he tried not to cry. Never before had he so adamantly wanted to kill himself before, but all of a sudden he could really and truly see himself taking a few too many pills or cutting his arms up far too deep. He obviously wasn’t cut out to be a human being, so what was the point in pretending?

Zayn’s breath got quicker and quicker and his body felt heavier and heavier. He did nothing but waste space, steal air, and cause trouble. He was the most useless person on the planet; it was no wonder his own dad didn’t want him. It was no wonder that Niall didn’t love him.

Zayn raised his hand. “Can I go to the bathroom?” he asked. Everyone turned to look at Zayn, hearing the waver in his voice.

The teacher arched an eyebrow. “Sure,” she responded, holding out a hall pass for Zayn to take.

He rushed to the front of the room to take it. The second it was in his hand, he ran as fast as he could to the bathroom, his stomach tossing and turning. Zayn tasted bile in the back of his throat, and before he knew it, he was vomiting into the toilet. Tears brewed in his eyes.

One of these days he was going to do it. He was going to kill himself. He had to.

“Are you sure you want to do this, Zayn?” Niall asked, holding one of Zayn’s bigger boxes in his long, lean arms. Zayn looked up at his house, excitement and fear both blooming in his heart.

“Yes,” he answered definitively. His dad was the only family he had left, and it had killed him to be separated from his father for so long. Honestly, Zayn even missed the abuse. He missed having someone tell him what to do and make sure he was punished properly for his actions.

Zayn wasn’t a masochist, but he knew he deserved to suffer for being such an awful, disgusting person.

“You heard the man, lads. Let’s get this show on the road,” Louis said, grabbing one of the boxes out of the trunk of his mom’s car. All the boys had gotten up early on a Saturday to help move Zayn back into his house. Social services had finally allowed him to move back home, and Zayn didn’t want to waste any time. Plus, his dad usually had the early morning shift at the convenience store down the road, so he probably wouldn’t be home for a few hours. That gave Zayn and his friends enough time to unpack uninterrupted. Louis stopped at Zayn’s side before he even stepped on Zayn’s front yard with his things. “You are absolutely sure, right? You really think this is a good idea?”

“Yes,” Zayn answered again. He didn’t understand why he had to prove it so many times. He’d been talking about how excited he was to go home for months now.

“It’s just that we can take all your stuff and move it back to the Tomlinson’s right now, you know?” Liam asked. “Or to my house, or Harry’s house, or Niall’s house. You don’t have to live here.”

“But I want to live here. Wouldn’t you guys want to live with your dad?”

“Not if he hit me,” Niall said, face screwed up, and Zayn wished he would stop doing that. He hated how bluntly Niall spoke about it. Zayn hated acknowledging that his father was abusive, but the blond seemed determined to make him face that reality.

“He doesn’t hit me.”

“Zayn-“

“You guys said you would help me move in,” Zayn interrupted. “Are you going to or not?”

His friends shared a look with each other. Zayn hated when they did that; he hated feeling like he was on the outside. “We’ll help you, Zayn,” Harry eventually spoke up. He grabbed Zayn’s duffle bag. If there was one thing that was nice about living with the Tomlinsons, it was all the free stuff. He had never had more toiletries, clothes, and shoes in his life. Plus, with all the art supplies Niall gave him, Zayn actually felt like he owned things. He never felt like he had anything of his own before. He had possessions.

Zayn opened the door to his house, and sighed as he saw what a mess it had become. He could see into the kitchen, and it was an absolute pigsty. He was pretty sure his dad hadn’t done dishes since he left. The floor was disgusting in the front hall. His dad had tracked in mud, dead leaves, and grass. The living room was absolutely revolting with beer cans all over the floor and a stain on the wall that was probably from when his dad was too drunk to remember to pee in the toilet.

Everything was dusty and smelly, and he couldn’t help but feel embarrassed that his friends were walking in on such a disaster.

“Zayn, are you really, really, really sure you want to live here?” Niall asked again. Zayn turned to look at him. He looked ashen, and guilt welled up in Zayn’s chest. Maybe he should have moved in by himself.

“I’m usually the one who does all the cleaning,” he said with a shrug, trying to blow it off.

His friends didn’t say anything. Zayn didn’t need them to speak to guess what they’re thinking. He lead them up through the house, noticing the dishes piled in the sink and the mold growing around the bathtub ledge as they carried his things up to his room.

Some of Zayn’s art has been destroyed in his absence. Niall made a choking noise behind him. “You’re… you’re an interesting subject matter,” Zayn mumbled, as if that could possibly excuse the hundreds of paintings he had on his walls, all of the same set of blue eyes and blond hair.

Niall squeaked, his eyes wide and terrified. Zayn watched as Louis wrapped an arm around Niall’s waist and Harry patted his hair. He was so obviously shaken, and Zayn knew it was all his fault.

“Look, Niall-“

“You can’t live here, Zayn. This is crazy, this is where a crazy person lives. Why can’t you see that you’re torturing yourself by coming back here?” Niall demanded. Zayn flushed and looked to the other boys for help. Their eyes were all bolted to the floor, as if they were trying to stay out of it.

“I think it’s best if maybe you guys leave,” Zayn said gently. He was tired of being angry at his friends for caring. Just because he didn’t care about what happened to him, that didn’t mean Harry, Liam, Louis, and Niall didn’t.

“Not unless you come with us,” Niall said firmly.

“No, Niall… Let’s just go,” Louis interrupted. Zayn relaxed as, finally, someone came to his aid. Louis rubbed Niall’s back but looked over at Zayn. “You know my house is always open to you, okay? You can come back whenever you want.”

“You can stay with me, too,” Harry promised, voice hoarse. Zayn’s shoulders tensed up. It was like they were sending him off to war or something.

“Me, three,” Liam tagged on weakly.

Niall just glared, and not just at Zayn. He glared at all of them before turning on his heel and stomping out of the house. Zayn let out a sigh and glanced over at his closet, feeling like he might need to lock himself up for a bit before he started unpacking.

“You’re okay on your own, Zayn?” Harry asked, eyeing him warily as if he might snap at any moment. Zayn nodded. “Okay… Okay, well, we’ll see ourselves out then. See you at school tomorrow, alright?”

“Alright,” Zayn whispered.

The second his friends left, Zayn locked himself up in his closet and cried.