1D Minis

It hits them all really hard; it’s a Thursday night, and Zaynjust up and says, over dinner, “I’m sorry, I can’t do this anymore” and – and tobe honest, they all expected it to happen, it’s really fucking hard to be partof a five-way relationship; the comments, the looks, the “are you cheating onso-and-so?” or “did you break up with so-and-so?” when one of them goes outwith another, but – it hurts, so bad.

So bad, when Zayn leaves that night to Niall and Liam cryingand Louis looking on, so confused, and Harry begging him to stay, and hurtsreally bad when Friday Zayn comes in when all but Liam are at work and packs upsome of his stuff to Liam looking on, heartbroken and absolutely stricken, ithurts so bad when Niall and Louis and Harry come home later to most of Zayn’sstuff missing.

To be fair to Zayn, it hurts him too; he goes and stays witha couple of friends, who comfort him as he cries himself to sleep, because hedidn’t want to do it, to end theirgoing-on-two-year relationship (four years with Liam, three with Liam and Louis,two with Liam and Louis and Harry and Niall), but he just. Comments got to him,he thinks, a lot more than the others; they’re all resilient, Harry and Niall justlet things roll of their backs, Liam largely ignores them, Louis straight updoesn’t let anybody deal him any shit, but hecan’t. It was bad enough when it was just him and Liam and Louis, and justgot so much worse when Harry and Niall showed up, too, and he can’t deal withit, not anymore.

At least, not for a bit.

It’s three p.m., he’s trying to work, trying to draw thepanel that’s due the next week, when he gets a text from Louis. He thinks aboutignoring it, because all the boys have been texting him off and on, begging andasking and he just needs some time, but he glances down at it anyway and sees –and sees something that absolutely gives him a heart attack.

niallhurt car hit him were at royal London

He – he can’t, he stares at the text for a few moments,vision getting tunnel-y as he takes it in, because shit, shit, Niall's hurt and Zayn’s not there and Zayn needs to bethere, now.

Royal London is only a few blocks from the house he’s stayingat, he thinks, staring at his phone as he grabs his coat, his keys, stares athis phone as walks out of the house, locks it, and starts walking – cab, he needsto get a – he hails a cab, quickly, tells the driver where he needs to go,finally answers Louis.

on myway

He’s there in no time, shoves a few bills in the cabbie’shand with a “keep the change” and rushes out to Louis’ text of emergency wing were in the waiting roomand he goes in, finds the three others quickly, and rushes over to them allstanding up, hugging him.

“Is he okay?” he asks, barely able to breathe, only sees Harryand Liam crying and Louis sniffling as they all sit down, but Liam nods.

“He’s in surgery, he’s gonna be fine.”

Which thank god, Zaynwouldn’t be able to deal if he wasn’t perfectlyokay, and Harry’s leaning on his shoulder as Louis tells him that “he wasn’twatching where he was going, Harry was with him, the driver didn’t see him and Harrycouldn’t pull him back in time” to which Harry sobs, again, and Zayn pulls himclose, fuck.

“He’s gonna be fine,” Liam assures him again, “Just – broken collarbone,broken leg, a couple of broken ribs, nearly punctured a lung.”

Zayn pulls Harry closer as Louis grabs Harry’s hand, and Liamleans on Zayn, too, and it feels almost right, again, and Zayn sighs, what was he thinking?

***

When they finally get to see Niall, just coming back awakeafter surgery, a bit doped up on pain meds and in too many casts and hooked upto too many machines, Zayn gives him a gentle hug first, whispering “I’m sosorry, I love you, I love you” and Niall laughs a bit, hugs him back, andsmacks him with his good arm.

“Yer an idiot and I love ya, too,” and Zayn realizes it, then;it doesn’t matter, the comments, what other people think. It doesn’t feel good,but it doesn’t matter, because he’s in love with these four boys, and theirrelationship may not be normal, or functional all the time, but he fucking loves these boys, and he really can’t live without them.

He moves back in a few days later, when they take Niall backhome, and it does feel so right.

****

“Hey,” Niall says, sliding into his usual seat. Harryis already in his, a looks up from where he’s writing something. A bright smilesplits his face, one that Niall returns happily.

“Hey,” Harry responds, “How was your weekend?”

Niall shrugs a bit, setting down his book, pen, andnotebook on his desk.

“Went out on Saturday, wit’ some mates, y’know, theusual.”

“Hmm,” Harry hums, looks back down at his notebook,fiddles with his pencil, “Meet anyone?”

Niall wants to laugh at the question, because he had met someone – and had promptlyturned her down, fit and gorgeous as she was.

“Nah,” he proceeds with instead, “Got me eye on someoneelse.”

Harry looks up to see Niall smiling softly at him, andhe smiles back just as their prof begins the class.

***

It’s been like this the entire semester – they have aclass together a couple of weeks, and after class on Monday’s they go getcoffee together and just talk for an hour before Harry has to go to his nextclass, and it’s – Niall would say they’re almost to the point of dating, hethinks, he thinks they’re flirting with each other. He sure as hell is flirtingwith Harry, at least, and it’s – they go on coffeedates (well – he gets coffee, Harry gets tea, but still, it’s at a café),they have each other’s numbers and text each other on the regular when theyaren’t in class.

He’s ninety nine percent sure they’re flirting witheach other.

That’s why when he goes out the next Friday night andhe sees Harry he gets really happy until he notices that Harry is completelyhitting on the bar tender (and like okay the bar tender is completely hot, Nialldefinitely has something for tattooed dudes with sharp jawlines who doesn’t),which. Niall's a bit drunk, and no doubt he can hold his own when it comes tobeer but he’s had quite a bit plus a couple of shots so he’s getting there. Andwhen he’s drunk…he comes out a bit, he knows this.

So it shouldn’t be a surprise to anyone when he juststalks through the bar up to Harry, who’s leaning forward and smiling at thebartender, and says, “I thought we had somethin’.”

To which Harry looks over and his face brightens and hesays, “Niall!”

Niall thinks for half a moment that he misread it all,that they’re just really good friends, but his mouth is moving faster than hisbrain so he blurts out, “Weren’t ya flirting with me?”

The bartender is looking on this with a raised eyebrow,and Harry’s face falls a bit as he looks around the bar, too loud for aconversation like this, and then nods.

“Yeah,” he says, slower than normal, “I’m sorry if itmade you uncomfortable – ”

“Why would it?” Niall interrupts, a bit confused, a bitslow, and Harry shoots the bartender a glance before he gets up, tells Niall, “Canwe take this outside? Bit too loud,” and Niall just blinks at him a couple oftimes before nodding, and they do that – walk outside.

“I thought we were flirting with each other,” Harry saysas soon as they stop, leaning against the side of the building. Niall does thesame, sticking his hands in the pockets of his jeans.

“I was,” he says, a bit confused by what’s going on. Harryseems so too, cocks his head to the side.

“Then – ” he starts to say, then stops, and Niall fillsit in for him.

“’Til ya flirted with the bartender in there.”

Harry flinches back, then stares at Niall, and finallylaughs.

“Wait,” he says, laughing some more, “You thought I wasflirting with Zayn?”

Niall's eyebrows shoot down, because that’s what it’dlooked like, to him.

“Zayn’s my best friend’s boyfriend, I would never flirtwith him.”

Which – oh. It’s just –

“But ya had tha’ smile.”

“What smile?” Harry asks, then seems to realize, and hesmiles, again, like that, “Oh, yeah. My mum calls it the ‘I like you’ smile, apparentlyI only use it around people I feel comfortable with.”

Oh. Niall's less confused now, but now he knows for surethat Harry was flirting with him, too, and he wonders –

“Then why haven’tcha kissed me yet?”

Harry laughs again, and the cool air’s sobering up Nialla bit and he’s realizing all that he’s saying, but it doesn’t matter, Harry doesn’tseem at all put off by it, because he just says, “Is now alright?” and puts onehand on the side of Niall's face and kisses him.

Oh. Niall's a lot less confused now. He pulls his hand out of his pocket, puts it on Harry’s hip,and kisses him back.

****

hi yes sorry these are taking time s2g everything is complicated rn I was gonna do this earlier then a friend needed a ride so that took about an hour but also s2g I’m writing I am thanks for your patience lovelies. 

When Harry is five hismom dies. It’s pretty tragic for him, because he’s always been such a mama’sboy, but he turns out okay, he thinks. At least, until his dad decides to marryagain, to this awfully gorgeous but kind of awful woman who Harry doesn’treally like. He doesn’t tell his dad this, though, because his dad seems so happy, for the first time since his momdied, and he hates ruining people’s happiness, especially people who he’s closeto.

When he’s fifteen, justa couple of years after he gets a stepmom, his dad dies. Harry feels like it’sa bit sketchy, his death, but nobody really believes him, and because he’s leftwithout any sort of family, he ends up being put into the custody of hisstepmom. Who, with her daughter Kristyn, is kind of awful to him; they make himdo all he chores around the house, all the cooking and cleaning, and along withthe house and Harry his stepmom also inherited his Dad’s prized diner, so shemakes Harry work there long hours, too. All in all, he doesn’t have much timeto do anything besides go to school, work, do his chores at home, do homework,and sleep.

So all in all, when he’ssixteen years old, he doesn’t feel like there’s much to look forward to. Except– except maybe Niall Horan, who’s co-captain of the football team (he knows; cliché,but Niall Horan is so much more than someone who plays footy; he’s kind of likethe sun, in that he’s so bright and his very presence lights up a room). Harry mayhave a little crush on him (huge crush more like, Harry’s best – and only –friend would say), but there’s a couple of big problems with that; he’sstraight, Harry’s pretty sure, though he’s always careful not to assume anyone’ssexuality. And number two, most importantly, he’s dating Kristyn, Harry’sstepsister. Who totally knows that Harry has a crush on him, and totally rubs it in Harry’s face.

So he has that brightspot in his life. The only other one he has is this pen pal he sort of startedwriting to when he was fifteen, just after his dad died; he’d neededfriendship, and Liam was great but also busy and lived on the other side oftown. So he’d found this pen pal website, which had set him up with somebodywho went by the username of 4ever_irish (he swore to Harry once that he wasonly thirteen when he came up with the name, can you blame him really), andthey emailed each other on the regular.

4ever_irish was his onlyother friend besides Liam, and the only things he really knows about the personis that he lives somewhere near the Manchester area (where Harry lives), thathe’s originally from Ireland, and that he’s somewhere about Harry’s own age.

When Harry is seventeen,in Year 13, Kristyn and Niall break up, and it’s a great day that’s only beatenby 4ever_irish accidentally revealing that he goes to the same school Harry does.When Harry hurriedly emails back with “no way me too” (among a few otherwords), they decide to meet up at the masquerade school formal that’s happeninga few weeks away and overall, it’s a verygood week for Harry.

That’s shattered whenhis stepmom forbids him from going to the formal, stating that she “needs himto work at the diner that night, it’s on the schedule”.

Except – except that whenhe thinks about it, he can’t think of a good reason to listen to her and not go. Liam agrees with himwholeheartedly, the only person who knows how awful his stepmom can be, andtells him to get ready anyway, he’ll pick him up, they are going to that formal (Liam is also the only one that knows about4ever_irish and their plans to meet up, and though he worries his lip with a “buthow do you know he’s not a creepy oldman or something” and Harry only gets him to calm down with “you’re going to bethere we’re going to be in the middle of a crowd of students they’re not gonna let a creepy old man into a school formal”).

As soon as they hit theschool Harry’s looking for 4ever_irish (“ok i’ll wear a suit w/ a white and redrose and a red mask”). Liam laughs as he gets frustrated, looking over the seaof people, until – he sees him, and his stomach drops, because he swears to god he knows that hair fromsomewhere.

“Found him,” Harry tellsLiam, pointing, and when Liam sees him he looks at Harry with the sameexpression – he knows who it is, too. Harry takes a deep breath, then shoves atLiam.

“Go find yourgirlfriend.”

Liam laughs again butdoes, leaves Harry to go – he fights through the crowd to wear 4ever_irish isstanding, looking over the crowd himself from a corner, takes a deep breath ashe approaches him and is about to speak when the other boy asks, “Ganymedeofros?”,which was Harry’s username (shut up, he was a nerd, he loved Shakespeare, sowhat), and now he was sure who it wasbecause the voice.

“Niall?” he asks insteadof “4ever_irish?”, and Niall's eyebrows shoot up above his mask.

“Ya know me?”

Harry reaches up to pushhis own mask off, and Niall's face shows his shock.

“Harry?”

“Nice to meet you,4ever_irish,” he nods, heart beating in his throat, and he’s totally notexpecting Niall to say “thank god” before kissing him, because – wait, what.

“Y’know, for most o’ myrelationship with Kristyn you were on my mind,” Niall confesses when he pullsback, “Dunno why I didn’ break up with her sooner. Didn’ think you were intome.”

“Um,” Harry says a bitstupidly, “Yeah, I was.”

Niall laughs, Harry’sfavourite laugh, and pulls off his own mask.

“Glad you’re Ganymede, wasa bit scared, to be honest.”

“Same about Irish,” Harryresponds, still a bit in shock, then embarrassingly asks “Can you kiss meagain?”

Niall just laughs,though, and does as requested.

***

okay so I changed it up a bit to shorten it up a bit but also bc I mean like Harry’d be able to keep it a secret once he realized who 4ever_irish was. 

I am so totally up for lilo definitely feel free to hit me up with lilo prompts. 

this might not be as smutty as you wanted but i really wanted to build it up a bit and honestly this is hard to all fit into a short fic so but I'm happy with this

warnings: incest and a blowjob

*

what even is this? i was trying to think of something they could be fighting about but i honestly couldn't think of anything so. 

*

“Fucking hell you’re annoying,” Harry snapped from his place on the floor in front of Louis’ bed, to that exact person. After a long day stuck with each other trying to get some writing done on their day off, they might’ve wanted to go out (they did), but there’d been an incident the day before just a few hours before the concert where Louis and Liam had been nearly attacked by a few very determined fans, and so due to temporarily tightened security here they were, stuck in the hotel.

“Like you’re any better,” Louis replied from the bed, where he’d been talking to Niall before Zayn and Liam had burst into the room, arguing with each other. Louis, who was already annoyed and tired from the long day stuck inside, had attempted to intervene, which had ended up just getting Zayn to turn on him, and it wasn’t long before Louis and Zayn were the ones fighting. Liam’d sat down on the couch, his angry face on, and Harry, who’d been watching someone on TV, was quick to get annoyed with the three of them.

“Um,” Niall started, watching them a bit warily from his position next to Louis. It wasn’t like this was common, but the past couple of days had been a bit stressful and they were all tired of being holed up.

“Way more bearable than you,” Zayn told Louis, who rolled his eyes.

“He was talking to you, too, you fucknut,” Louis replied.

“Fucknut?” Liam asked, amusement ringing in his voice, and Niall let out a little sigh of relief at the break in the tension. That relief left just a second later, though, when Zayn snapped at Liam.

“Like you have any room to talk, you complete arsehole.”

“Will all of you be quiet?” Harry asked, voice raised, “You all are arseholes at this point.”

“I don’t have anything to do with this,” Liam tried, glaring at Harry.

“Can’ we – “ Niall began again, this time cut off by Louis.

“Pretty sure that’s not true,” he looked at Liam, “You can be a right shit sometimes.”

“Fuck you,” Liam shot back.

“You all are being shits right now,” Niall pointed out, “Can’ we be quiet and make the bes – ”

“Can’t you shut it?” Harry snapped at him, voice raised and heated, “You’re not even part of this.”

“Like you were either,” Louis said at the same point Zayn nearly growled out, “Don’t talk to him like that.”

Harry glared at them both as Zayn sat down next to Niall, putting his hand around the blond’s ankle.

“You are – ” he started, before he caught sight of Niall's face. He looked a bit pissed, but also taken aback, and was looking down at his hands. Harry sighed, tired.

“‘M sorry, Ni,” he said instead, reaching back to touch Niall's leg until he was looking at Harry, “I shouldn’t’ve yelled at you, you were just trying to be helpful.”

Niall looked a bit appeased, but made a face anyway.

“I jus’ think we’re all tired and need a bit o’ sleep and you all are probably no’ arguing ‘bout anything important.”

Everyone was looking at Niall, now, and Liam gave a snort, glancing at Zayn.

“We weren’t. Sorry, Niall.”

“Yeah,” Louis gave Niall a light shove, “An’ just remind me not to get in the middle of those two next time.”

Niall gave a small laugh, shoving Louis back.

goodness gracious this was prompted a long time ago, but here you are

*

It had been three years and one month since they’d gotten together (like, officially; there’d been handjobs here and there and some major flirting, but officially, they’d gotten together three years and one month ago), so Harry really should be used to this by now.

But he’d not.

He’s completely not okay with anybody but family and their closest friends and maybe a couple people from the crew who’d been there for a while touching Louis.

Because, fuck whatever people said about gender roles or hypermasculinity or people being their own and nobody else’s, Louis was his, god damn it. Louis was his just as much as he was Louis’. They were each other’s.

It had been three years and one month since they’d gotten together, it had been four and a half years since they’d met, and Harry still got pissy whenever someone other than family and the select few others touched or whispered to or (very rarely, but sometimes) with people Harry really disliked even looked at Louis.

And okay, as much as Louis was his, Harry didn’t think he owned Louis or anything. He was a bigot or a douchebag, he was just…Louis was very, very special, and even more special to him, and he didn’t like it. It made him feel all sorts of itchy when people touched Louis, itchy under the skin and a bit hazy with flared-up anger and frustrated.

Like he felt now, as he watched some D-list celebrity who’d somehow gotten an invite to the party they’re currently at sling an arm around Louis’ shoulders. The dude was a bit drunk, it wasn’t hard to tell, and Louis was tipsy, too, didn’t look very uncomfortable even when the guy put his mouth to Louis’ ear to talk. But Harry certainly didn’t like it.

He extracted himself from the conversation he’d been having with some actress to go over to Louis, wrapping a hand around his wrist, maybe a little possessively, pasting on a smile and asking, “Who’s this?”

Louis looked around to him, eyebrows raised just slightly, a shadow of amusement on his face.

“Oh, this is – ”

“Braxton James,” the man introduced himself as, swinging around the arm that wasn’t currently around Louis for a handshake. Harry lifted his hand a little too slowly, after a moment, and could feel Louis’ amused gaze on him.

“Harry Styles,” he replied, and Braxton laughed, just a bit strained at the little heat in Harry’s voice.

“‘Course ya are, though, everyone knows who you are.”

“Right,” Harry agreed, pushing himself a bit farther into Louis’ space, smile dropping slightly. Braxton looked on, a bit confusedly, eyes dropping to where Harry’s hand was still around Louis’ wrist.

“Well. Nice meeting you both,” Braxton dropped the arm around Louis, giving them both a little two fingered salute, “See ya later!” He backed away a couple of steps before turning around, spotting someone else on the other side of the room, and letting out a small shout as he walked away.

“Not if I can help it,” Harry muttered under his breath. Louis gave a light laugh, pulling his wrist free to clasp Harry’s hand in his own.

“Quite a show, really. He wasn’t hitting on me, y’know. He’s probably just tactile.”

“Good for him,” Harry grumbled, “I jus’ don’t like it.”

Louis gave him another laugh, pulling Harry around so they were facing each other.

“People touch me all the time, it’s part of the job, y’know that,” he grinned. Harry scrunched his nose under Louis’ look.

“Doesn’t mean I have to like it,” he shrugged, leaning in just a little to whisper, “You’re mine.”

Louis gave a small eye roll as he pulled back, but his grin was full blown.

sequel to this which was written like forever months ago

warnings: like the briefest two mentions to sex ever

*

“‘M serious y’know,” Harry said about a week later, as Louis was coming down from an orgasm. It was only about four o’clock in the afternoon, and Harry’d told his parents he’d be at the library studying with Niall, and Niall, who knew about Louis and who’d “support everything ya do, Haz, ya know that”, had agreed to cover for him that day if anyone asked (i.e., his parents) asked. Instead, he was at Louis’ house, where Louis’ dad was still at work and his mum off with his sisters at ballet and footie practice (Louis’ family knew about Harry, and according to Louis quite liked him, but Harry was adamant about not having sex whilst any family members were in the house).

“Serious about what?” Louis asked, snuggling up to Harry so that his soft hair tickled Harry’s neck. He twitched away slightly, laughing for a second.

“‘Bout you coming over for dinner. I think my parents’d like you better if they actually had a conversation with you.”

Louis laughed, then, propping himself up on an elbow and running a couple of fingers through the cum that painted Harry’s chest, considering.

“Don’t think your dads’d much like me period. ‘M older than you, and I do give a bit of a bad boy vibe, don’t I? Even Niall said so, ‘n’ you know he looks for the best in everyone.”

“Abi has like five hundred tattoos himself and Dad’s got almost as many. They promised me a couple for my seventeenth birthday, so I don’t think they care much about that. Plus, Dad’s told me stories about how Abi used to be all quiet and had a complete bad boy image ‘til you got to know him. It’s really the same with you.”

Louis gave a small huff at that.

“Failed half my A-levels, though, didn’t I? They’re not going to be too happy about you daint someone who can’t keep up in intelligent conversation with you.”

Harry snorted.

“You keep up with our conversations just fine, and anyway, you’re retaking them this year. You’ll do better, actually study for them. Dad failed out of uni after a term anyway. They can’t hold that against you, not that they’d care much.”

Louis stared at Harry for another couple of seconds before leaning over and giving him a small, gentle kiss.

“If you want me to, of course I’ll come over for dinner. Just let me know when.”

Harry grinned at that, kissing Louis again, and Louis couldn’t help but give a large smile back.

“Now,” he said, crawling over so he was sat atop Harry, “What say you to a quick shower before anyone gets home and I have to whisk you back off to your house?”

Harry’s smiled went a bit wider for a moment before turning into a smirk.

“Only if you let me suck you off while we’re in there,” he responded, and Louis let out a high, light laugh.

“Like ‘m gonna say no to that.”

*

It’s quite short but I hope it’s good! 

*******

Anyone even moderately acquainted with Zayn was well aware of his one of his truest fears – storms. Thunder absolutely freaked him out, and howling wind, if it was bad enough, made him physically cower. It had gotten a lot better since he was a kid, but even at twenty one there was something about storms that got to him.

The boys had learned of this early on; one night at the X Factor house there’d been a storm, a pretty violent one, and Niall and Harry had found him in the bedroom huddled in in the corner of his bed, attempting to read but obviously shaking as thunder clapped outside. Also early on, they’d adopted ways to help him deal.

Since then, yeah, he’d gotten more used to storms; he could generally sleep through the calmer ones that started after he was already asleep, and wind didn’t bother him nearly as much anymore.

But when a storm raged while they were in a vehicle or on the bus – all bets were off. He absolutely hated travelling while it stormed.

The best thing was definitely having the boys there. Where his mum and older sister had comforted him before, his boys did now. And now, when they all boarded the same bus as a thunderstorm started, immediately popping in a DVD and making tea and cuddling up with him on the couch and  yeah, Zayn definitely felt safer and even happier pulled up against Niall and squished between him and Louis as Liam handed him a cuppa and Harry started the film.

The storm continued long after the film ended, and Liam pulled out his phone and earphones, pushing them into Zayn’s hands while telling him to “check out this new playlist I just put together” and Zayn was well aware it was something to get his mind and ears off the thunder above them because Liam had done it pretty much every time they were together when there was a storm, so he put in the earphones with a small smile and let himself listen.

Hey, when I say anything, I mean anything. If this isn’t what you were looking for, I apologize deeply; I am currently dealing with an eating disorder of my own and sometimes these things leak into my writings about them. But I hope it’s alright! Thanks for the prompt, feel free to whenever you want to!

tw bulimia, eating disorder, ed behaviour

****************

Niall was spiralling into darkness over his porcelain prison when his parents found out.

Actually, when he told them. Almost on accident, it burst out of him alike a trapped bird finally free, one night after a quiet dinner with just him and his dads.

It came out in short stutters of pre-explanation and “’m sorry”s and then “’s bulimia, ‘ve done lots of research” and both his parents looked shocked and sad and –

He hadn’t fully meant to tell them, and three weeks later, he’s split between feeling relieved and frustrated because suddenly it’s so much harder because he’s never left alone at home and it’s not like the urge goes away and suddenly binging without throwing up is going on.

It’s another quiet dinner when his dad brings it up, glancing at his husband before looking at Niall with pitiful eyes and Niall has to stop himself from rolling his eyes.

“Don’ pity me, it doesn’t help.”

“Sorry,” Liam concedes, “Your father and I just wanted to talk to you about – ” he stops, glances at Zayn again.

“Seeing a therapist,” Zayn continues for him, “Or a psychologist.”

“Somebody to help better than we can. I’ve already got a list of a few in the area that specialize in eating disor – ”

“Fine,” Niall grunts, looking back down at his food, “Whatever, I will.”

It’s enough that both is parents give him an encouraging smile.

*

*

*

It’s after his first session with the therapist (who almost immediately suggests group therapy in addition to their meetings) that he goes to the store, nervous and disgusted with himself and unsure. He buys the laxatives anyway, physically shaking as he pays for them, impulse-buying a pint of his favourite ice cream and a bag of crisps, too. It’s a full two days before he breaks down and binges, though. He can hear his dad in the study, no doubt doing some writing, as he sneaks into the kitchen and quietly pulls out all sorts of food, rushing it up to his room.

He does try, after – tries not to think about it, tries to ignore his shaking and focus on the show he’s watching, but it finally gets to him. He goes into his bathroom and pops a couple of the pills, feeling all sorts of guilty and relieved and it’s all the same feelings that come vomiting without the vomiting. It’s only a couple of hours later that he thinks that maybe, though, vomiting is more up his alley.

Its two weeks later that he comes home from school to find his dad in his bedroom, sitting at his desk with the bottle in his hands.

“Dad…” Niall starts, but Zayn holds his hand up to stop him.

“It’s okay. I understand. I just – you haven’t talked about it much, to me or your father. And I didn’t even know you used these,” he shakes the bottle, “And I need you to know I’m here for you. We both are. We want to help you.” He pauses, eyebrows scrunched, looking at Niall.

“How long as – this – been going on?”

Niall is quiet for a moment before he looks down, dropping his bag and sitting on his bed.

“Started a little after my fourteenth birthday.”

“So just over three years,” Zayn calculates, sighing.

“But the,” Niall pointed to the bottle still in Zayn’s hand, “Jus’…jus’ a coupla weeks. Only done it twice. When you or dad are home. When I can’t…”

“Yeah,” his father says, looking at him again, “These aren’t good for you. Your body.”

Niall snorts.

“Either is vomiting.”

There was another short pause.

“Will you please talk to us, Ni?”

Niall looked up, into his father’s eyes. He didn’t know if he was relieved or frustrated by their interventions. Probably both. But his blurting out of the truth to them – that had been a cry for help, intentional or not. Some part of him wanted to get better. His parents knew, now – he might as well let them try to help. Even if that meant discussing what was going on with him, even if that meant explaining it all, even if he wasn’t completely comfortable with it. They deserved that much. He deserved that much.

Here you are love. This is what I went with, not sure it's exactly what you wanted, but. Hope you like it!

TW: mentions of past death

 *

At first, it had been really, really hard to do anything but mourn the loss of the love of his life. It had been hard enough to take care of himself besides his four year old son. Niall's mum had come, stayed with him and Mikey for a while to help take care of him, let Zayn mourn for a while, but she was mourning, too, and it took everything the two of them had to take care of Mikey.

Because Niall. It hadn’t been sudden, his death, it had even been half-expected; when he had been diagnosed with stage four lung cancer almost two years previously, they’d all been told that the chances of him recovering from it were next to none. He was too far gone, and Zayn had berated himself for ages afterward, wondering why he hadn’t pushed Niall to go to the doctor sooner, back when the persistent coughing had first begun, but Niall’d had pneumonia not long before and they’d both thought it was just a continuous symptom of that. It wasn’t until Niall had talked to him a few times, letting him know that it wasn’t his fault, and that he needed Zayn that the older man had gotten over himself and forced himself to instead focus on Niall. He was the one who was sick. Getting on himself about it wasn’t going to help.

But that didn’t mean that his death, less than two years later, didn’t hurt. Because it did. A lot.

Probably the worst of it was that Mikey, now five years old and about to start Year 1, kept asking what had happened to his Papa. He was too young, didn’t quite understand about death, couldn’t comprehend that Niall wasn’t coming back, and all Zayn could do was pick him up and hug him close and try to turn his attention away from his Papa. But it was hard, because Zayn missed Niall more than anything, too. He wished he could be as naïve as Mikey. He wished it didn’t hurt so much.

“Time to get up, bud.”

It was the first day of Year 1 for Mikey, a time that Niall had been so looking forward too, and Zayn was waking up their son, who, much like his father had, had a very hard time getting up before ten in the morning.

“Don’ wanna, Daddy.”

“Sorry, Mikey, you’ve gotta. First day of first year! You should be excited.”

Mikey cuddled under his covers, yawning (rather adorably).

“Can I see Papa before we go?”

It had been four months since the funeral, but Mikey was still holding onto the notion that Niall was eventually going to be back. Zayn winced, waiting a moment before answering to make sure his voice didn’t crack.

“Sorry, bud, he can’t be here right now. But I made your favourite. Chocolate chip pancakes.”

Mikey opened his eyes at that, a bright smile blooming across his face.

“Okay,” he nodded, slipping the covers off himself, “Carry me to breakfast, Daddy.”

Zayn smiled at his son, reaching down to pick up the rapidly growing boy. A few more years, he thought, and it wouldn’t be so easy to pick him up. He better cherish it while it lasted.

They ate breakfast together, and then Mikey was heading back up the stairs to get dressed as Zayn took care of the dishes. He glanced the picture of Niall on the wall in the main room, a canvas of a picture Zayn had captured so many years before, just before Mikey had been born. He was happy in that picture, laughing at something, the sun behind him, and Zayn had thought himself so lucky to have the man. Beyond lucky. He was gorgeous, and that picture only showed the best of him.

He missed him.

“You’d be so proud of him, Ni,” he whispered, staring at the picture, “He’s getting bigger. First day of year one.” He heard Mikey’s footsteps on the stairs and took a deep breath. “Wish you were here.”

“’M ready, Daddy!” Mikey called, heading into the main room, too. Zayn handed him the backpack from it’s spot on the floor by the door, and grabbed his keys.

“Say bye to Papa,” he said, and Mikey grinned, looking at the photograph.

“Bye Papa! I’ll be good, I promise!” he told the picture, and Zayn cracked a smile before ushering him out the door.

It very honestly depends. As of right now I haven't started work yet and I haven't gotten a second job yet, and summer classes just started yesterday, so I'm far from swamped. Before I restarted this, it had been months since I'd written a prompt, and so it depends on how motivated I am, too. I've had a severe case of writers block for way too long (months upon months) that's just now starting to recede, and right now I'm very motivated to write, especially 1D fanfiction. Smut generally takes longer, again depending on the mood I'm in. 

However I do try very hard to get prompts done within a few days, at the very most. This also depends on how many prompts are in my inbox; the more there are, the longer it might take me to get yours done.