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If there's one thing that had stayed with Zayn since childhood, it's his unbridled hatred of hospital rooms.
Not even hospitals, like most children, but the rooms themselves, in all their stale, sterile glory. He thinks it probably stems from that one time when he was four, and shattered his foot, and didn't quite understand why he couldn't leave the bed or the room for a month. He had immediately assumed he was dying, and that hopeless feeling that had washed over his tiny, four year old self is the same feeling that washes over him every other time he's been trapped in a hospital room for more than a day.
The nurses had done their part to add life to the one he's in now, and while he's not sure if it's because they somehow realized how uncomfortable he is, or if they know that this Christmas could very well be his last, it means a lot to him.
They had strung up lights along the walls, and the rails of his bed, and around the large tree they had propped up in the corner of the room. They had swapped all his beanies out for terrible holiday patterned ones, and had gifted him armfuls of tacky Christmas sweaters which now sit in the bottom drawer of his nightstand. They had even wrapped his IV pole in tinsel, and, on one of Zayn's worst days, when he was too sick to even sit up in bed, they had wallpapered the wall across from him in every Christmas and get—well card and picture from Niall he had been given.
It had cheered him up instantly, but it hadn't kept him up for too long. He's unexplainably grateful for everything the nurses have done for him, and while it had helped make his stay more comfortable, it had made him miss home so much more. He's missing out on what could quite possibly be his last Christmas with his family, and he almost thinks he'd choose the stale scent of lemon pledge to the constant reminder that, hey, this is where you're stuck for the holidays.
He sighs softly, idly tapping the oximeter on his finger against the rail of his bed. He knows he should be grateful that he's even lived this far into the year, especially given how developed the tumors were when they were discovered and how long he had waited before being diagnosed. The nurses still come around occasionally to remind him how lucky he is, but he'll be the first to admit, alive or not, he feels no better. He's still missing Niall's fifth Christmas, and the first Christmas he'll probably remember. And unless, years from now, Niall will remember the trips to the hospital to say Merry Christmas to Zayn, or Zayn lives through his cancer until the next Christmas, Niall won't remember him at all. Zayn will become that vague voice or touch in the back of Niall's memory, only kept from fading out altogether by pictures and Liam's stories of him. And no matter how selfish he knows it probably sounds, he doesn't want his only child to forget him.
He sighs again, finally sitting up in bed when the phone resting next to his hip starts to chirp. It belts out Niall's favourite song, and Zayn quickly holds it to his ear, unable to keep from smiling softly. "Hello?"
"Hi, baby," Liam greets, and Zayn's smile widens.
"Hi."
"How are you feeling?"
"I'm okay," Zayn tells him, tapping the oximeter against the rail again. It had become something of a nervous habit. "Can't complain."
Liam laughs. "Well enough for a visit before dinner?" He asks, and he sounds every bit like he's trying to keep from sounding too hopeful.
Zayn taps the railing again, feeling a fresh wave of guilt wash over him. He knows Liam misses him — and Zayn does, too, so much it sometimes knocks the breath right out of him — but he's trying his best to pretend he doesn't, for Zayn's sake. He's gone to lengths to tell Zayn that he loves him, and wants to visit him all the time, but he knows how sick Zayn gets some days and how much he needs his rest. And it makes Zayn ill, sometimes, when he thinks about it; how much Liam's sacrificed because his dumbass husband had to go out and get himself lung cancer. He had even tried to drop out of law school in the beginning, but Zayn had forbidden that.
"Of course," he murmurs finally, tapping his finger against the rail. He sometimes rips his IV out when he does it, and the nurses ask him almost daily to stop. "If you promise to stay for dinner."
"I'll have to check my schedule," Liam replies, and Zayn laughs loudly. "Uh, I'm gonna have to move some things around, but it looks like I'm free. I take it we'll be supplying the dinner?"
"Please?"
"I guess," Liam says, and sounds passive, but Zayn can still hear the grin in his voice. "Do you want me to smuggle in pizza again?"
Zayn can actually hear his heart monitor jump at the idea. He laughs again. "Please?"
"Sure," he says, and sounds annoyed again, but then Zayn laughs and his voice softens considerably. "Anything for you," he murmurs.
His heart monitor lurches again. "I love you."
"I love you too," Liam whispers, and pauses for a moment before he clears his throat and says, "And there's someone else here that loves and misses you a lot and would really like to talk to you if that's alright with you."
"Tell him to say yes!" Niall's voice chirps in the background, and Zayn loves them both so much he's suddenly biting back tears.
"Yes," Zayn says, instead, and Liam only laughs before there's faint commotion on the other line and Niall's voice suddenly explodes through the speakers.
"Daddy!"
Zayn smiles widely. "Hi, love."
"I miss you!"
"I miss you too," he tells him softly. "How was school today?"
"Fine," he chirps. "But Tony spilt paint all over my picture I was making."
Zayn grins again. "Did he say he was sorry?"
There's a rustling on the other line that sounds suspiciously like nodding. "And then he drew me a new one!"
"That's so nice of him!" Zayn says, and Niall giggles.
"And then he helped me make a whole bunch more before home time!" He says excitedly. "We made them for your wall!"
Zayn glances over at the wall across from him, smile softening considerably. Earlier in the year, when Niall had told his class only one of his daddies could make it in for the conferences because the other was very sick in the hospital, his teacher had immediately made every student and attending parent make Zayn a card. A lot of the students had even made him more than one, all brightly coloured and covered in small drawings. Zayn has every single one of them posted to the wall — except Liam's, which had been mildly inappropriate and Zayn keeps buried beneath his pile of Christmas jumpers.
"And we made other things today too!" Niall barrels on, apparently bored of waiting for Zayn to reply. "But they're a surprise. I'm gonna give them to you when we get there."
"You don't have to give me anything," Zayn protests, but Niall huffs.
"I do! It's Christmas!"
He laughs. "But I don't have anything for you!"
"Doesn't matter," Niall says, and his voice leaves no room for argument.
Zayn smiles widely. "Alright, love. I'll see you in a few minutes, okay?"
"I love you!"
"I love you too."
.
Zayn must fall asleep, because when he blinks his eyes open again, his room's a shade darker and his husband's standing next to his bed.
"Good morning, baby," he greets softly, and Zayn blinks again, on the verge of falling right back to sleep.
Liam smiles. "We can come back, if you wanna get some rest."
Zayn nearly flails, reaching out to Liam so quickly he nearly gets tangled in his cannula. He's barely awake, but still enough of himself that the thought of Liam leaving makes him slightly nauseous. "No," he murmurs, voice thick. He clears his throat. "Please stay. I'm okay."
Liam nods, and sits in one of the chairs next to Zayn's bed. He pulls Niall into his lap, who immediately climbs away and onto the bed next to Zayn, sliding beneath the blankets. Zayn sits up, and Niall — wary of all the tubes Zayn's hooked up to —makes himself comfortable under his arm with a giggle.
"I missed you, daddy," he chimes, and Zayn kisses his hair.
"I missed you too."
Niall nods proudly. "Can I give you your present now?"
"Already?" Zayn asks, raising his eyebrows, and Niall nods again. He cracks a grin. "Okay."
Niall giggles, and hands Zayn a small box, watching him earnestly as he slides it open. Inside's a large collection of knit bracelets, some threaded with small, silver charms.
"I made the bracelets," Niall explains, leaning over Zayn to peer at them. "My teacher gave me the charms to put on 'em 'cause she says they're lucky and help sick people get better."
Zayn nods, heart swelling. "They're beautiful, love." Niall beams, and Zayn laughs, only kind of watery. He takes them from the box, all ten of them, and slides them onto his free wrist with a smile. "Thank you very much," he murmurs.
"You're welcome," Niall chimes, and then, almost as an after thought, "Merry Christmas, daddy."
Zayn kisses his hair again, voice breaking as he murmurs, "Merry Christmas, love."