Chapter Text
The hospital is already surrounded by fans and photographers when Niall arrives and he wonders how it’s possible that they all got there before him, how do they know where Harry is at all.
He’d been told to go through some back road that leads to what looks like a staff car park and he takes the wrong turn twice before he finally finds it. He doesn't really know anything, he's only been informed of the bare minimum, and while his hand is steady as he’s driving, he feels shaky as soon as he steps out of the car. He’s come straight from the airport and he’s not quite sure what time it is, or whether he’s eaten today at all.
He gets shown to an entrance through a staff smoking area, and a couple of nurses and doctors eye him curiously as he gets his sunglasses off to wipe at his eyes. He doesn’t remember crying at all, but his fingers come back wet with tears.
Someone ticks his name off a list and shows him to a service lift that only works with a key. Niall feels faint and fucking exhausted, and despite not really ever having had problems with lifts that are working fine, his claustrophobia almost gets the better of him. He feels the walls closing in on him and the ding meaning they’ve arrived on the right floor comes just at the right moment. The doors open and Niall can breathe again.
He must look shaky though, because someone with a hospital lanyard asks him if he’s okay, but they seem to realise how stupid of a question that is given the situation, because they abandon the enquiry halfway through the sentence. Niall takes a deep breath, trying to collect himself.
He’s not talked to Louis at all, they’ve only texted, and even that was only a couple of lines at most:
can you come? and yeah course lou tell me where,
and then Louis passed him onto someone with information about how to get to the hospital and get around the paps and security.
He’s pretty sure he was photographed at LAX despite airport security’s very best efforts, but he couldn’t care less at the moment. It probably would have been avoidable, but it’s not like anyone had time to plan this properly – Niall just wanted to get here as soon as possible.
They did vaguely discuss this with Liam over the phone and kind of almost-consciously decided that it was best only to fly out if and when Louis wanted them to, but the decision was mainly born because they didn’t really want to intrude while things were still happening.
They also didn’t want to make all of this harder on everyone – the situation was bad enough without having to hire security for the two of them as well, not even mentioning the media circus.
‘Maybe it would pull attention though,’ Liam said quietly after a while, almost like he was afraid of voicing this. ‘It could even… help? So it doesn’t look like it’s only Louis there…’
When Niall didn’t reply Liam quickly added, sounding guilty for even bringing it up, ‘Just so they don’t have to deal with all that shit on top of it as well.’
To be honest, Niall doubted that their public image or their PR contracts were a priority to either Louis or Harry right now, although he couldn’t help but agree with Liam a little bit. He hated waiting around, feeling useless, doing nothing; if someone told him a papwalk could have helped the situation in any way and make it easier for Harry’s family, however disgusting or inappropriate, he would have done it without hesitation.
Thankfully, almost as soon as they got informed that Harry was in hospital, Louis’s texts arrived, and the kind of silent desperation in them that Niall hoped maybe he was just imagining, made him anxious to get there as soon as he could.
He was going to get there first, as he was flying from New York, while Liam was coming from London, but maybe it was better that it worked out that way – at least they didn’t cause as much of a scene, arriving in LA together.
Niall knew that there were some pictures of Louis at Heathrow out there, ones that fans took from a distance, as he was getting out of a car with Lottie close by his side, straight from Doncaster with almost no luggage at all, pale and young-looking, hiding in an oversized hoodie. At that point however no one apart from them actually knew about Harry yet; the story only broke a day later, and as far as Niall knew, Louis has managed to go unnoticed while there.
He spots Anne and Gemma at the end of the hospital corridor immediately; their hunched over figures are dark, but unmistakable as they sit on the row of chairs laid out in front of a room that Niall assumes is Harry’s. There’s something wrong with that picture, Harry’s mother and sister outside the room, but Niall is too tired to really think about it.
His heart is in his throat as Gemma wraps him up in a tight hug – she’s wearing makeup that looks days old and her eyes are red from crying.
Anne hugs him too, but it’s a little half-hearted, like she’s distracted by something, and well, that’s kind of understandable.
There’s an awkward moment as Anne sits back down, while Niall and Gemma just stand there, and he stares at the two of them, kind of lost as to what he’s supposed to do now.
‘You can go in if you want,’ Gemma says finally, sounding almost nonchalant, her voice lacking emotion. Niall’s not sure what to make of it. ‘He’s probably sleeping anyway.’
Niall nods, turns to the door with a shaking hand. It occurs to him that maybe he should say something to Anne, something comforting perhaps, but he would feel kind of awkward turning away from the door now that he's grabbed hold of the doorknob, so he just leaves it. He doesn’t knock before opening it – if Harry’s sleeping, he doesn’t want to wake him.
He is not sure what to expect (prepares himself for the worst, but deep down hoping for the best), but Harry lying in bed, curled around Zayn, holding onto him for dear life in his sleep, is definitely not what he had thought he would find. Louis is sitting on the other side of the bed, holding Harry’s hand tightly, looking like he’s afraid to let go of him for even a second.
The first thing Niall notices is how shit Louis looks. There are dark dark circles under his eyes, his hair looks unwashed and greasy, carelessly held back with a headband that Niall thinks probably actually belongs to Harry. He doesn’t look like he’s shaved in days and Niall discovers with a jolt that he knows exactly how many days it’s been since he did, and the reason why. He does look like he’d been crying a lot recently, but his eyes are dry, like he has no tears left anymore, or maybe even like he’s got sick of it and just willed himself to stop. There is definitely stealth in his gaze; he looks desperate and scared, yeah for sure, but determined as well, and that’s just so familiarly Louis, always fighting and never giving up, that Niall almost collapses in relief.
‘Hey,’ Louis says softly with a shadow of a smile, standing up to hug Niall, as he steps inside the room, closing the door behind himself carefully. As Louis lets go of Harry’s hand to come closer however, several things happen in very quick succession.
Harry jolts awake, sitting up, his hands desperately reaching out in search of his lost grip on Louis, tugging Zayn with him, as well as several IV wires and hospital cables that are attached to him. His breathing sounds sickly and heavy, and it takes Niall a few seconds to realise that he’s having a panic attack.
Niall doesn’t understand at first why Zayn is not trying to comfort him somehow, as he’s obviously in distress, even looks like he’s trying to get as far away from Harry as possible. But then, as a result of Harry’s panicked flailing around, Zayn accidentally touches his back and Harry lets out a horrible high-pitched shriek. It’s not necessarily loud, but certainly animalistic; terrified and unlike anything Niall’s ever heard from him before.
Louis’s already back at his side though, letting Harry grip onto both his arms in a way that is surely painful, and Niall thinks he can see Harry draw blood as his nails dig into Louis’s skin.
Louis doesn’t seem to notice it though; he’s concentrated on Harry’s face, murmuring in a low, but unwavering voice,
‘I’m here, Haz, I’m right here, love. I shouldn’t have let go of your hand, darling, I’m sorry, but I’m here now, okay? You’re safe, you’re in hospital, and I’m right here with you, yeah?’
His words don’t have any visible effect on Harry. There is a fraction of a pause, then Louis adds, a tad more pleadingly, ‘Can you feel you’re holding my hand, Harry?’
Harry is definitely drawing blood now, so the question seems quite absurd and Niall almost lets out a snort he can’t help, but then Harry shakes his head, and the sound gets stuck in Niall’s throat.
Harry still seems to have difficulty breathing and his eyes are shut tight. He’s shaking.
‘Alright, that’s fine,’ Louis continues on without missing a beat. ‘Let me hold your hand then, love, okay? You need to let go of my arm, Haz, yeah? I promise, I’m not going anywhere, I just can’t hold your hand proper if you’re grabbing my arm, baby. That’s it, you’re doing great, just remember to try and breathe, I’m right here with you, not going anywhere.’
It takes a good minute for him to finally get out of Harry’s death grip, but Louis is calmer and more collected than Niall’s perhaps ever seen him, lacing his fingers with Harry’s immediately after he’s let his arms go.
Niall catches a glimpse of how a couple of Harry’s fingernails seem to be broken and half-missing, like maybe he was scratching at something hard or solid for a long while, but then Louis brings Harry's hand up to his own chest, spreads Harry’s fingers out over his own heart.
‘Can you feel my heartbeat?' Louis says and he places both his own hands over Harry's. 'Yeah? Just concentrate on that, H. Time your breathing. In and out. Come on, you can do this. Breathe with me, love. In and out.’
Niall seeks out Zayn’s gaze, who is still sitting in Harry’s bed, but he’s looking at Harry and Louis and seems to have gone completely motionless, looking like he’s concentrating hard so to not accidentally touch and scare Harry again, especially now that he has his back to him and is turned towards Louis.
So standing there in the door watching Louis repeat the words in and out, over and over again, trying to get Harry to sync his breathing to Louis’s heartbeat, Niall finally takes stock of Harry.
He is paler than normal, almost seems translucent in a way, as he rocks back and forth with his eyes closed, hands on Louis’s heart.
Niall’s stomach lurches in alarm as he spots the red and lilac rings around Harry’s wrists that can’t be anything else but rope burns. It hits him then, just how real it all is.
Harry has broken fingernails because he was scratching and scraping, trying to get out. His wrists are bruised because he was tied up with a rope. He is having a panic attack because Louis let go of his hand while he was sleeping.
It’s suddenly too much and Niall has to lean back against the hospital room door, because his legs feel like they are about to give out on him.
He’s relieved to see no sign of other injuries though, and if he didn’t know better, on first glance, he’d say Harry was just battling with the flu. He’s sporting dark circles under his eyes, just like Louis, but they are not as prominent, he’s got stubble too, but it’s barely noticeable.
His hair is fluffy and clean-looking, like it’s been recently washed, but then was just left to dry and was not brushed, and the unruly, tousled curls fall into his face, that’s only – Niall now notices – a little bit thinner than it perhaps should be.
There is something about him though, something sickly and dark and devastated, the way he just looks unwell in a way that’s not necessarily physical and Niall can’t exactly put his finger on it – not sure if he wants to, really.
He realises what it is a moment later, as soon as Harry opens his eyes.
‘That’s it, nice and slow. In and out. You’re doing great, love. Can you open your eyes for me?’ Louis is saying and at first Harry shakes his head, kind of like a petulant child throwing a tantrum, but then the next time Louis asks, he finally complies.
Niall takes a sharp breath in. Harry is not fully conscious. He might be moving his muscles, listening to Louis's voice, but now that his eyes are open, Niall realises, he's very much out of it, sort of like he's in shock. It's the numbness in his eyes that is so scary, and there’s so much unadulterated fear in them that Niall feels himself tear up involuntarily.
He looks scared- no, he looks terrified. Niall is not sure if it’s because of this, or because of some medication maybe, that he appears so unaware of his surroundings. It’s almost like he’s drunk and not so sure where he is and how he got there, like the room is spinning and nothing really makes any sense to him at all.
His breathing has finally slowed down though and he’s not panicking anymore, but he’s still rocking back and forth a bit and his eyes just don’t seem to be able to focus on anything in particular.
He’s never looked less like himself, Niall thinks suddenly, and he shivers at the thought.
‘Look at me, love,’ Louis asks him, reaching out with one hand – Niall notices how careful he is to keep his other one holding onto Harry’s at all times – and lightly touches the side of his cheek, guiding him a little to look in the right direction.
Harry slightly recoils from Louis’s hand at first (and the pain that flashes through Louis’s face for a split second fucking breaks Niall’s heart into million pieces), but then visibly relaxes into the touch as he realises its familiarity, leaning his face into Louis’s hand.
‘I’m right here, love. You’re in hospital, baby, you’re safe. You know who I am?’
For a heart-shattering moment Niall thinks Harry will shake his head again, but after a beat he seems to be able to finally focus in on Louis, and he actually nods quite determinedly.
‘Okay, good, you’re doing great, love. Just keep breathing for me, yeah?’ Louis continues ever so patiently, and Niall admires the way he doesn’t sound patronising, or like he’s talking to a child at all, even though Harry clearly has a hard time understanding what’s going on. ‘I let go of your hand, love and you had a bit of a panic attack, but I’m not going anywhere, yeah? I’m right here.’
Harry nods again, then opens his mouth, and Niall can’t wait to hear his voice again, because no matter how unrecognisable he looks like when he’s this lost and out of it, his voice, Niall’s sure, will be the same. But then no sound comes out at all and Harry suddenly looks like he’s just seen a ghost, shaking violently again, sealing his lips tightly shut, like he’s afraid he’s done something wrong when he tried to speak.
Niall can see Louis momentarily tighten his grip on Harry’s hand that’s still resting over Louis’s chest.
‘It’s okay if you want to speak, love – you’re allowed now,’ Louis reassures him and it’s only because of how accustomed Niall is to hearing Louis’s voice in in-ears and headphones, how familiar he is with its nuances, that he picks up on the slightest falter on the word allowed. And, oh fuck.
Harry nods and tries again, and Niall thinks he’s trying to form a p with his mouth, but there’s nothing coming out, like his words are permanently stuck in his throat.
‘That’s okay, darling, take your time,’ Louis encourages him, but Harry just closes his eyes and shakes his head, like that way it will all just go away, like he’s trying to shut out the entire world. Niall wonders how many times he’s tried to do that while he was locked in there.
Then suddenly – with his eyes closed still – Harry lets go of Louis’s hand, then clumsily brings it up to his chin, with only his index finger straightened, the tip of it touching his lips, pointing upwards. The movement is so abrupt that at first Niall’s afraid that he’s trying to hurt himself, but then Harry lets his hand fall back down and slide off his other one that is lying outstretched on top of the duvet.
Louis is frowning and he looks just as puzzled as Niall feels, (why would Harry shush Louis, when he’s the one who can’t talk?), but then suddenly understanding seems to dawn on him.
‘Oh, you’re signing!’ he says almost triumphantly. Harry opens his eyes at that and Niall understands now, it was not a stay quiet motion, it was sign language – he remembers how Harry and Louis used to just spend hours and hours giggling over a BSL For Dummies book in some corner.
Louis repeats the motion: touching his lips with his pointed index finger with his right, then opening it and - not wanting to let go of Harry's hand with his left - sliding its heel off Harry's open palm rather than his own. ‘Promise. Want me to swear on it, yeah? H, of course, I promise! I’m not going anywhere, babe. Not without you.’
Harry nods at that, looking a little more relaxed, and his rocking finally subsides a bit.
There’s a moment of silence while he just kind of blinks up at Louis aimlessly for a while, and it’s easy to see how desperately he’s trying to make himself smaller and attempting to disappear behind his hair, tugging his blanket a little further up with every heartbeat, almost compulsively – another thing to hide under.
And then Louis does something, and well, Niall’s witnessed Louis do many brave things in his time: he’s seen him do countless stupid brave things, like jumping off stage equipment, or breaking and entering into venues and hotel linen cupboards, stealing bowls of sweets from lobbies, saying things to people he really shouldn’t. And of course, he’s seen him do brave things when standing up for something he believes in, always always fighting for what’s right, even against all odds – fighting for his family, for his right to love, for his band, for his pride, but- fuck. Smiling a sun-bright, encouraging and infinitely hopeful smile at a broken and quivering Harry, cowering in a hospital bed is the bravest thing Niall’s ever seen him do.