Chapter Text
--Zayn's PoV--
Tonight was the best night of my life. A few weeks ago, my best friend Niall had gotten me tickets to see my favorite indie rock band in a live performance. I still don't know how Niall managed to get these tickets for me, let alone how he got me tickets in the third row rather than me having to sit on the lawn in the very back.
Now, here I was driving home, more than a little smashed. I had Louis to blame for this. I'd invited him to come with me since it wasn't really Niall's scene. Louis and I had gotten completely drunk, we'd had a quickie in one of the bathrooms, and then he'd sent me on his way.
As I was driving, I made the conscious decision to go and stay the night at Niall's house instead of driving on to my own home. His judgmental looks weren't nearly as intimidating as my mother's. Niall was more apt to forgive me quickly and he would also have food.
I turned, realizing too late that I had just ran a red light. The last thing I remember seeing, was a pair of head lights followed by a loud crash. Damn, my head hurt. Then, everything went dark.
--Niall's PoV--
I was running down the hall of a hospital. I caught blurs of white coats and overly cheery nurse's uniforms as I made my way towards my desired goal.
I finally made to the nurse's desk that I'd been sent to after my failed first attempt when I entered the hospital and I skidded to a stop. I just stood there for a moment as I struggled to catch my breath.
Finally, I opened my mouth to speak. "What room is Zayn Malik in?" I asked, trying my best not to sound panicked. Truth was, I was scared shitless.
The young nurse gave me a sympathetic look. She had curly brown hair, brown eyes, and a name tag that said 'Eleanor' pinned over her breast. "Mr. Malik is in room 312. However, he can't have any visitors besides immediate family or significant others" she told me.
That's all it took before I broke down. Before 'Eleanor's' eyes, I went from being a man to becoming a blubbering mess of tears. This was just all too much for me today.
"Oh, Niall honey, there you are!" a feminine voice wailed. I turned, still sniffling, to see Zayn's mother running towards me. She was crying just as hard if not harder than I was. She wrapped her arms around me for a hug and I hugged her back, burying my face in her neck.
Mrs. Malik pulled away. "Come on Niall, let's take you to see Zayn" she said and took my hand in hers.
She'd just started pulling me away when 'Eleanor' called us back. "Excuse me, Ma'am! He can't go in there unless he's immediate family or in a relationship with the patient!" she exclaimed.
"Then I guess it's a good thing this boy is dating my son isn't it!" Mrs. Malik yelled back, angrily. She'd never stopped moving, dragging me towards room 312.
We stopped when we reached the closed door. "Why did you lie?" I asked her.
Mrs. Malik smiled sadly. "A few reasons. You are a boy and you are his friend, so I wasn't technically lying. I know you love Zayn, Niall. Plus, you shouldn't have to sit out in the waiting room because of some dumb hospital rule. Now, do you mind if I go get an hour or two of sleep since you'll be here with him?" she asked me.
I nodded. "Of course. Take as long as you need" I told her before hugging her again.
She hugged me back and then moved away, reaching up and giving my cheek a light caress. "Zayn is so lucky to have you" she said before walking away from me.
I sighed and watched her walk away for a moment before entering room 312.
I entered the room and gasped when I saw Zayn lying there. He looked so sad and helpless on that bed with the tubes coming out of him. An IV drip and a little tube under his nose to help him breathe.
It took everything in me not to tackle Zayn, shake him, and beg him to wake up. I held it together, though. I'm not sure how. I moved slowly towards Zayn and climbed onto the bed with him. I laid in the small space between him and the edge of the bed, trying my hardest not to hurt him...not that he could tell me if I did.
He was in a coma. It sounded so harsh to me, like it was the end. No word sounded more hopeless like the word coma.
I rested my head on Zayn's shoulder and cried. I couldn't help it. I let it all out. When it came down to it, this entire thing was my fault.
I'd thought I was such hot shit when I'd gotten ahold of those Arctic Monkey tickets for Zayn. I knew how much he liked his indie rock groups and when my mate, Harry, told me he didn't want his third row seats anymore and asked if I wanted to buy them off of him, I'd jumped at the chance.
Zayn's face had just lit up when I gave them to him for his birthday. He was fucking ecstatic. I'd understood why he hadn't asked me to come with him to the concert, I'd never been into that kind of music, but it still hurt that he'd asked his meaningless fuck buddy instead of me.
What did Louis Tomlinson have that I don't? Besides a heft supply of drugs and easy access to alcohol being that he was legal no matter where he went. From the USA to Ireland, that boy could be served alcohol and Zayn loved alcohol more than anybody I knew.
Was it that I was a virgin? I knew how sexually active Zayn was and I'd more than accepted it. If it was the right person, the right person being Zayn, I would be more than willing to have sex with him. I just didn't want to have sex just to say that I had. Especially as a homosexual man.
I sighed. None of that was important right now. All that mattered was Zayn, my Zayn, waking up. I needed him to so badly.
I tried to push all of those thoughts to the side, to the back of my mind, so that I could focus on Zayn.
I cried myself to sleep that night, still lying next to him.