Escaping the Inevitable


AU where Zayn has Cystic Fibrosis and Louis is bulimic and they meet in the ICU Zayn tried to calm Louis down and Louis fights with his self image Harry is a surgeon who gives Zayn his new lungs And Liam is a dietician who Louis hates with a passion because he doesn't think anything is wrong with him So Zayn steps in And Zayn is the only person who will listen to Louis It really isn't Louis fault And now Zayn knows that So now zayn can help Louis out and be the only support system he's ever had {Top Zayn, Bottom Louis}

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1. By Your Side

"I'm not ill, I'm not ill!" I heard someone shout as they were being wheeled in o gurney to the ICU. "I'm fine, let me go!" They put him in the room across from mine, and I sighed. I knew I wasn't going to be getting any sleep now. Whenever they brought in feisty patients, I never got any sleep. They always put me back in the ICU from outpatient when my coughs became bloody, but I never died. No matter how many times they called my birth family and my sisters and brothers came. Well, half siblings. It's complicated.

I rolled over in my bed and looked out the doorway from where I was sitting up in bed now, and watched as they moved him from the gurney to the hospital bed. I was watching them as he thrashed about and they put the restraints on him. I felt bad for the guy. I believed him, if no one else would. He deserved to be heard.

I made eye contact with a nurse, who huffed and shut my curtains with enormous force so that I couldn't watch them work on the boy. He looked around my age, and I felt bad for him. it wasn't fair that they weren't hearing him out. I wanted to be there for him and comfort him because no one else was going to. He didn't have any family with him, and I felt awful for the guy. It certainly wasn't fair that any of us had to be in here. but maybe he was put in here for good reason. Who knew?

Apparently they had started asking him questions, to which he responded with some frantic answers, his voice getting more and more high-pitched by the second. That was the problem with this place; it didn't have walls in the ICU.

"No, I don't, I eat! I eat! I promise! I don't do anything to myself! I'm fine, please, let me go!" He begged and I felt some tears welling up in my eyes. I had seen it before. Teenagers come in for eating disorders and self harm and such, but I had never seen an adult. It was sad. I wondered what this man was going through.

They asked him a bunch more questions and they left his room, and he was alone. He answered them all cooperatively, but still falsely, and my curiosity was at a peak. So much so that I absolutely had to get out of this bed and go talk to the guy.

I pulled my heart monitor pads off after I muted the beeps and then pulled my IV along with me as I made my small trek out towards his bedside. Though, it may have seemed like a short journey, but it was a big journey to me. It was going to take passing by valleys and climbing up mountains to get there without running out of breath.

Since I had cystic fibrosis, it was hard to even move without running out of breath. So, yeah, this was going to be hard. It was going to take everything in me to get to the other side of the hall. But I was going to do it. I was going to wheel my oxygen tank and my IV fluids behind me and go to this guy's bedside. He needed someone. And I was going to be this someone. Even if it killed me. I would rather die determined to help someone else than doing nothing at all.

But, I made it. I made it into his room, and I could hear him loud and clear when she yelled at me. I didn't back down, though. I was determined. I was not going to take orders from him right now.

"Get out! Get away from me! I don't want anyone to see me like this!" He said, turning his head to see me sitting down in the chair beside his bed and beside his heart monitor. I held my chest up high and sat up straight to make sure I was breathing okay now. He looked down at me with his grey eyes, and I felt a shiver run through me. He was so skinny and small that it was a bit unnerving to know that he had let himself get like that. He was going to be in here for a while, I could tell that much.

"Shhh, you'll get me caught!" I hissed at him, but backed down for a second. It's going to be okay. They wont hurt you here. They just want to help. So do I. I'm Zayn." I say, introducing myself and making sure he knew that I was okay and that he was going to be okay and that something was going to end up going his way at some point.

"Zayn..." He mumbled out, and I could tell he had been sedated and they were starting to kick in now. That's probably why they had left.

"That's a nice name. I like that. I'm Louis. I play footie. Or, played." He said and sighed. "I had gotten into an accident. A car accident, and it jacked up my leg. So, I had to quit. That's when I could tell In was gaining more and more weight. I had to stop. I didn't know what else to do. I-I'm not crazy!" He said, defending himself with tears in his eyes. God, I felt bad for the kid, who I would later find out is older than me.

"You'll be okay. Everything is going to be okay. You're going to get back on your feet and you're going to get back to playing footie. Who did you play for?"

"D-Donny. I played for Doncaster. I was good, too. I was typically left wing or forward. I was damn good. I miss it so much. All I do now is sit at home and critique myself. It's awful." He said and sighed, letting a few tears pool in his eyes and finally relieve them and let them spill over. I felt so bad for him. I took his hand that was restrained and squeezed it gently. It was warm but bony. I could feel each individual bone and I couldn't tell that there was even a hint of muscle on those bones. It was concerning, and I just hoped that he would help himself out before he ended up really hurting himself.

"Hey, look at me. Just think about getting back on that field, yeah? That beautiful green field with the goals. Remember that feeling of your cleats sinking into that field. Yeah, remember that?" he nodded, and I couldn't help but smile at him.

"Mr. Malik! What are you doing out of your bed?! I went to do rounds and I almost had to call security on you!" My night nurse yelled as she saw me sitting in the chair, holding his hand. "You are not to talk to other patients! How many nights do we have to go over this?" She groaned and walked over to me, pulling me up to my feet and taking my oxygen tank handle and rolling it behind us as she aggravatedly lead me back across the hall. I felt my heart drop as he cried out again, wailing for me to come back, and I had to turn my head away from watching him. I felt awful for him. I was his only consolance. It was very depressing to watch, but I had to get back in my bed.

Crawling back in my bed, I sighed as the nurse reattached my heart monitor patches to my chest and then walked back out after checking to make sure everything was in order. Listening to him wail was hard on me. Listening to him weep was even harder. It was destroying me. But i would see him tomorrow. I just didn't know it yet.

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