Reason To Be (A Zouis Family AU)

Part Four, Chapter Eleven

They wait until Harry is curled up on the couch with a blanket wrapped around him, tired eyes focused on reruns of Brooklyn-99 on the TV, before they leave the room.

Louis can't bring himself to say a whole lot. Molly isn't someone he's spoken about or even thought of in a long time; but something about his situation with her all that time ago and what Harry has been through at the hands of Brad is strikingly similar. And he knows that pain. He knows how hard it can be to come to terms with the abuse that has become so familiar and normalised. He knows that some days will be better than others and other days, worse. So much worse. He intends to do whatever he can to help the kid through each one as it comes.

But for right now, they need to speak with Niall. To say that it's been an emotionally exhausting day despite being barely ten AM is an understatement.

Zayn glances over his shoulder as he hovers his knuckles in front of the door to Niall's room, blowing out a breath. "You ready for this?" He asks softly, and Louis doesn't hesitate in nodding because Niall is their baby and he needs them just as much as Harry does right now. He would never discount that, nor would he put one of them before the other.

That doesn't mean it isn't a lot for them to handle as parents.
It just means that he's willing to bear whatever weight it takes to get his kids back up on their feet.

He watches Zayn rap his knuckles against the wood, both of them pausing as they wait for a reply. Nothing comes and Louis frowns, waiting for his husband to simply open the door a crack instead, peering in.

"Ni?" He calls out softly, the two of them slowly filtering in, closing the door ajar behind.

The kid is on top of his duvet now in a way that tells them he's already been out of bed, the hood of that oversized jumper he had worn last night pulled over his head, his back to them as he faces the wall, legs curled up into himself slightly. Louis can tell just by watching the slight rise and fall of the fifteen year old's shoulders that he's awake.

He crosses over the naturally lit room, curtains opened, and sits on the edge of the mattress, his hip mere centre-meters away from the bottom of the boys back. Zayn kneels on the floor just in front of him, head at eye level with the back of Niall's hood.

Looking down at him, Louis can see that the boys eyes are half open, blinking slowly beneath the shadow of his hood, lashes fluttering. He raises a gentle hand and strokes his fingers up and down his upper arm over the material covering it, a small, sad sort of smile playing at his lips. He hates seeing Niall like this when the majority of the kid's life, he's been the opposite. It never gets any easier.

"Hey, sweetie," he murmurs.

Niall sniffs, keeping his body facing the wall but rolling his head on the pillow to look at him with half-lidded eyes that are ringed with red and circled with dark bags even after what amounts to a full night's sleep. "Hi," he whispers, voice soft and so quiet that it's barely even there.

It's better than nothing.

He presses his lips together and doesn't ease up on the movement of his hand up and down the boys upper arm, shoulder to elbows. "You didn't come down for breakfast," he says gently.

Niall just stares at him for a moment, looking exhausted before he rolls over fully with a small breath, pushing himself up on the bed so that he's sitting up against the headboard and his pillow, knees coming up to his chest. The sleeves of Harry's hoodie devour his hands as he wraps his arms around himself. Louis allows the notion of his own hand to finally stop, pulling it away into his lap.

"Not hungry," is all the kid says, and Louis winces.

After the disappearing act he had pulled the previous day, Louis has a feeling that the kid never took a break to stop for food. Nor had he eaten much before he left.