Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The crackle of the campfire was the only sound for a moment, filling the quiet space between songs and laughter. The boys were sprawled in a loose circle around the firepit, bundled in hoodies and flannel shirts, guitars resting across laps or leaning beside tree stumps. The night was cool, peaceful, and blanketed in stars--the kind of night that begged for music and stories.

Harry, however, hadn't said much.

He sat with his knees drawn to his chest, hoodie sleeves pulled over his hands, and a pained look that he was trying to hide. He'd been quieter than usual since they set up camp earlier that afternoon, occasionally pressing a hand to his stomach, brows knitted in discomfort.

"Still not feeling great, H?" Niall asked gently, leaning over to pass him a can of Sprite he'd fished from the cooler earlier.

"Just a stomachache," Harry muttered as he accepted the can of fizzy drink with a weak smile. "Might've been something I ate..."

"Could be that weird gas station sandwich," Louis said with a half-smirk, trying to lighten the mood but not unkindly.

"Could also be that you had three of them," Zayn added with a chuckle, strumming a lazy chord on his guitar. Harry gave a half-hearted laugh but winced as he took another sip of the Sprite. It clearly wasn't helping much. He shifted uncomfortably on the log he was sitting on, trying to find a position that didn't make his stomach feel worse.

The others returned to their conversation--planning the next day's hike, teasing each other about who would snore the loudest--but Harry barely chimed in.

"I just wanna cuddle with someone," Harry's soft voice eventually cut through the firelight haze, almost like a whimper. "I feel sick."

"Come here, mate," Zayn said, setting his guitar aside and patting his lap. His voice was gentle but steady and warm with quiet affection. "C'mere, it's alright."

Harry didn't hesitate. He crawled over and settled in Zayn's lap, curling up like a cat seeking warmth, his head resting against Zayn's chest. Zayn wrapped his arms around him securely, one hand brushing through Harry's curls, the other rubbing slow circles onto his back.

For a few blissful minutes, it was perfect. The fire crackled, someone hummed a low melody and Zayn leaned down to murmur something comforting into Harry's hair. The rest of the boys smiled softly, glad to see Harry at ease, even for a moment.

But then Harry tensed.

He sat up abruptly, face pale, eyes wide with that unmistakable urgency. Before Zayn could react, Harry stumbled away from the group and barely made a few steps before doubling over and throwing up into the grass beside the fire. The moment froze--then the boys were on their feet.

"Oh, H," Liam murmured, already moving to help. Zayn hovered near, unsure whether to follow, guilt flickering in his eyes, but Harry shook his head weakly as he wiped his mouth with the sleeve of his hoodie.

"Come here; let's keep you out of the way," Liam said softly, guiding Harry back towards the fire and away from the mess. Then he sat down and pulled Harry onto his lap, arms steady and warm around him like a shield. Harry didn't protest. He simply collapsed into Liam's chest, exhausted, trembling faintly. His hoodie was slightly damp with sweat, and his cheeks were flushed. Liam's hand slid under Harry's hoodie, warm against the bare skin of his belly. He stroked soothingly, soft little circles that made Harry sigh and melt against him. "That's it," Liam whispered. "Just rest. You're alright now."

And before long, Harry was asleep. His breaths came slow and deep, his body limp against Liam's chest, one arm dangling over Liam's side, completely tucked into safety. The other boys slowly sat back down, keeping their voices low.

"You were great with him," Louis assured Zayn, nudging him lightly with his foot. The boy had been staring into the fire with a guilty look. "He just needed you both."

Zayn nodded, then reached for his guitar again, picking out a quiet tune while the fire danced. Eventually, when the fire had died down to glowing embers, and Harry was snoring gently against Liam's shoulder, the boys decided it was time.

Liam tucked him into his sleeping bag like a big brother would, brushing the sweaty curls from his forehead. Harry stirred slightly, sighing, a little "mmf" escaping his lips before he settled back into sleep.

-Time Skip-

The first faint streaks of sunlight filtered through the tent's canvas, golden and gentle. Birds chirped somewhere in the trees overhead, and the air had that crisp early-morning chill that settled over everything before the sun had fully risen. Inside the tent, it was still and quiet--save for the soft shifting of blankets.

Zayn stirred first, waking not by the morning light or the birds but by the sound of soft breathing that wasn't quite right. A stifled whimper. The kind someone makes when they're trying not to wake anyone. His eyes fluttered open, and his gaze landed immediately on Harry, curled on his side in the sleeping bag beside him. The younger boy was clutching his stomach again, face scrunched with discomfort, teeth sunk into his bottom lip.

"H? You okay?" Zayn asked, his voice hushed as he pushed himself up on one elbow.

"Stomach still hurts," Harry whispered, his voice hoarse as his eyes blinked open slowly, red-rimmed and glassy. "Woke me up a little while ago."

"Come here." Zayn didn't hesitate. Harry didn't even try to act tough--he just shuffled over and pressed himself into Zayn's side, his head finding its place tucked under Zayn's chin like it belonged there. Zayn wrapped an arm around him instantly, pulling the blanket over them and letting his fingers find Harry's curls. "Still feel queasy?" Zayn asked softly, stroking the back of Harry's neck.

"A bit," Harry mumbled into Zayn's chest. "Hurts... but I don't wanna wake the others."

"They'll wake up eventually," Zayn assures, smiling against the top of Harry's head. "Let 'em sleep a bit longer. You're alright; I've got you."

Harry hummed--just a quiet, content sound--and shifted until he was curled completely into Zayn's lap again, head nestled under his hoodie, arms loosely wrapped around Zayn's waist. His breathing stayed a little shaky, his stomach still rumbling with unease, but something about the warmth and calm of Zayn's touch helped. Zayn just held him. Gentle, protective, never rushing anything.

Eventually, the quiet was broken by Niall yawning and stretching in his sleeping bag, and then Louis grumbled something incoherent about early mornings. Liam was the last to wake, immediately scanning the tent until his eyes landed on Harry, safely curled into Zayn's arms.

"Still feeling rough, H?" He asked, smiling sleepily.

"Yeah..." Harry nodded, not moving from his spot. "Woke up sick again."

"We'll take it easy today," Liam said, giving him a sympathetic look. "No hikes, just hang out, yeah?"

"You're still the cuddliest sick person I've ever seen." Niall teased, reaching over to ruffle Harry's curls affectionately.

"He's like a heat-seeking missile," Louis smirked. "Locks onto whoever's warmest."

Harry didn't respond--just cuddled closer to Zayn, hiding his face more.

"Guess that makes me the warmest, huh?" Zayn grinned down at him. Harry mumbled something that might've been "always are", but no one pressed him for clarification.

The boys didn't bother rushing the morning. They lay around the tent talking softly, planning to make tea and toast some marshmallows for breakfast. Eventually, someone would head out to get more Sprite or find a place with cell service to check in, but for now, the tent was warm and slow, filled with quiet friendship and the rustling of sleeping bags.

-Time Skip-

The last morning of the trip arrived with golden sunlight and the faint scent of dew clinging to the grass. Birds chirped overhead, and the camp was buzzing with the slow energy of packing up--folding tents, stuffing sleeping bags into their impossibly small cases, and trying to remember whose hoodie ended up in whose bag.

Harry sat on a log near the edge of the clearing, hoodie sleeves pulled over his hands as he watched the others move around. He was pale and a little sluggish but better than the day before--better enough to smile when Zayn handed him a warm cup of tea and sit up a little straighter when Liam tousled his curls and asked how he was feeling.

"I'm alright," Harry said quietly. "Not great. But... I think I'll survive the car ride."

"That confident, huh?" Zayn teased, arching an eyebrow.

"I said I think." Harry grinned, albeit weakly. They packed down the camp within the hour, folding tents, stashing gear, and clearing away snack wrappers. The boys moved like a practiced team, full of teasing and shared glances, tossing bags into the boot of the car with a satisfying thunk.

By the time they were ready to hit the road, Harry had already claimed the back seat--not that anyone argued. He climbed in slowly, curling up against the window with a blanket draped over his lap, eyes heavy despite the late morning sun. Louis slid next to him on one side, Niall on the other. Harry blinked up at them.

"Zayn's driving?" He mumbled, half-pouting.

"Zayn's driving," Liam confirmed from the passenger seat. "I offered, but he said he wanted to blast moody playlists and pretend he's in a movie."

"I am in a movie." Zayn snorted from the front. "I'm the brooding lead with great cheekbones."

"Don't forget the tortured backstory," Niall laughed. As the car rumbled to life and pulled away from the campground, Harry shifted again--blanket tugged up to his chin, body leaning toward Louis until he was half-sprawled against him. Louis glanced down, instantly adjusting his arm so Harry could rest his head on his shoulder more comfortably.

"You alright, H?" he asked softly.

"M'tired." Harry nodded, eyes fluttering shut. "Not sick-sick anymore. Just... drained."

"Go ahead and sleep," Louis murmured. "We've got you."

And that's how Harry survived the car ride: not with toughness or bravado, but by dozing in and out of sleep, warm and safe, cuddled against Louis one moment and Niall the next as he shifted mid-nap. As one point, he mumbled something about needing a "lap", without hesitation, Niall guided Harry's head down into his lap gently, carding fingers through his curls as the countryside rolled past.

He was never fully awake, but he was never fully out, either--floating somewhere in that cozy, in-between space where voices blur together and time moves softly.

"He's like a baby koala," Zayn said at one point when he glanced at the rearview mirror more than once.

"Don't let him hear you say that," Liam smirked.

"He's too far gone." Zayn chuckled. By the time they reached the city, Harry was still curled up in the back, this time resting against Niall's side, breathing slow and steady. His stomach was calm, his head clear enough to manage a tired smile when they pulled into the driveway.

"Home," he mumbled, still half-asleep. "We made it."

"You made it," Louis said, squeezing his shoulder.

"You did more than survive," Zayn said, opening the door for him and offering a hand. "You thrived... via cuddles."

Harry snorted softly, still barely awake, and leaned into him on the way inside. And while the camping trip may not have gone quite as planned, none of the boys would've changed a second of it--not when it meant taking care of Harry, making him laugh even when he felt miserable, and giving him a space to just be soft, vulnerable, and so, so loved.

Chapter Text

The hum of the plane filled the small, enclosed space like a lullaby--or it might have been if Louis wasn't curled over himself in one of the worst states of his life. When it hit, they were a few hours into their flight to the next leg of their tour, somewhere over the Atlantic. At first, it had been subtle--a vague unease in his stomach, a little too much warmth under his hoodie, and an uncomfortable rolling sensation in his gut that he tried to ignore.

He shouldn't have eaten that pre-flight sandwich, and hell, he shouldn't have had that third Red Bull last night. Sitting beside him, Zayn was quietly bobbing his head to the music playing through his headphones, eyes half-closed, the picture of peace. Louis envied him. Across the aisle, Harry and Liam were mid-conversation, occasionally laughing about something they saw on Liam's iPad. Niall had somehow contorted himself into sleeping with a blanket over his head.

Louis shifted in his seat, swallowing hard, pressing his lips tightly. The motion of the plane--not bad enough to be true turbulence, but enough to make his insides slosh--wasn't letting up. His stomach gave an ominous churn. He leaned forward slightly; arms wrapped around his midsection as he tried to regulate his breathing. In, out. In, out.

"You good, mate?" Zayn asked, pulling out one of his earbuds after he noticed the movement. Louis didn't answer at first; he shook his head slowly, his face pale and clammy. A bead of sweat had formed at his temple. "Shit," Zayn muttered, sitting up straighter. "You're not gonna--?"

Louis reached for the sick bag in the seat pocket just in time. The sounds weren't pleasant--Zayn winced in sympathy as Louis retched, his body curling tighter around itself with each wave. Zayn gently rubbed a hand over his back, trying to be soothing even as he felt helpless. Louis finally slumped back, eyes glassy and exhausted. He still looked miserable.

"God," Louis mumbled, voice raw. "Kill me now."

"Can't do that, mate. Paparazzi would have a field day." Zayn gave him a soft, sad smile. Louis groaned in reply and leaned back for about five seconds before lurching forward again. Another round hit, and then another. He looked like he was barely holding it together, one hand pressed against his aching stomach while the other gripped the armrest so hard his knuckles turned white.

This went on for another hour. Every time Louis seemed to calm, the nausea returned with a vengeance. Zayn stayed by his side the whole time, alternating between offering sips of water, damp tissues, and steadying hands.

At some point, the sickness dulled just enough for Louis to collapse sideways--exhausted, drained, but not actively vomiting. He turned toward Zayn instinctively, like his body knew where the comfort was. Zayn caught him easily and adjusted so Louis's head landed gently in his lap.

"I've got you," Zayn murmured, running a hand through Louis's hair, brushing it back from his sweaty forehead. Louis didn't say anything, just curled up tighter, eyes fluttering shut, breathing shallow but starting to even out. Zayn kept one hand on his head, fingers threading through the strands in slow, rhythmic motions, and the other moved in soft circles over Louis's stomach.

The rest of the plane was quiet now. Liam glanced over once, eyes flicking from Louis's curled-up form to Zayn's concerned expression. He nodded in understanding before returning to his conversation with Harry, keeping their voices lower.

"He asleep?" Niall mumbled groggily from under his blanket.

"Yeah," Zayn replied, his voice a whisper. "Finally."

Louis didn't stir for the rest of the flight. When the plane began to descend, he flinched but stayed nestled against Zayn, clearly still feeling fragile. After they landed and disembarked, Louis stood on slightly wobbly legs, leaning on Zayn for support. The colour had started to return to his cheeks.

"You alright now?" Zayn asked, his hand still steady on the small of Louis's back.

"I'll live," Louis said hoarsely. "As long as we're done with planes for today."

"Come on." Zayn snorted. "Let's get you something bland and boring to eat."

Louis ended up with a plain bagel and a banana from the airport cafe. He managed to keep it down, much to everyone's relief. They climbed into the van waiting for them outside the terminal, and Louis immediately claimed a spot by the window, curling up again--this timeless sick and more tired. Zayn slid in next to him again, his hand finding its way to Louis's hair without a second thought.

Chapter Text

It was supposed to be a weekend of unplugging—no fans, management, or social media. Just the five of them, the stars overhead, and the crackle of a campfire in the woods. The weather had cooperated so far, the sky painted in soft pinks and oranges as the sun descended behind the treetops.

Their campsite sat by a lazy river, the tents pitched and a modest fire burning in the pit. Harry was busy humming to himself as he cooked over the flame—vegetables sizzling in the pan, a few skewers lined up beside him, already halfway done. The smell wafted through the camp, mixing garlic, rosemary, and something that Liam usually loved.

But not today.

Liam sat on a camping chair a little away from the fire, hunched forward slightly, his arms wrapped around his middle. A dull ache had been building in his stomach all afternoon, slowly blooming into nausea. It wasn’t sharp or sudden—it was the slow, creeping kind, the kind that left him sweaty and cold at the same time. He tried to speak up once, standing and approaching Harry.

“Haz…” Liam said quietly, his voice catching.

“Hey, mate!” Harry exclaimed, smiling brightly only and completely unaware. “Foods nearly done. You’re gonna love it—used that spice mix we got in Paris, remember?”

“Yeah… cool.” Liam gave a weak nod but didn’t have the strength to push further. He started to sway slightly, stepping back before Harry could see his face's paleness. Louis and Niall were deep into an intense match of makeshift football using a rolled-up pair of socks near the clearing. Both were barefoot, both yelling, and both laughing like little kids.

Zayn was further off, pacing with his phone against his ear, smiling softly as he spoke to someone on the other end—likely his girlfriend, judging by the soft tone and dreamy grin. Liam looked at each of them. He wanted to say something.

“Please. Something’s wrong.”

But the words died in his throat, too embarrassed to interrupt the peace, too nauseous to form a proper sentence. Instead, he retreated further from the group and sank back into his chair. By the time the food was ready, the sun had dipped below the trees.

“Alright, dinner’s up, gents! Come get it while it’s hot!” Harry called. Louis and Niall dropped their sock-ball with triumphant grins, racing each other to the fire. Zayn finished his call, rejoining the group with a satisfied smile. They gathered around eagerly, all except Liam. He was still in his chair, hunched even further now, one hand trembling slightly as he pressed it to his stomach. Harry noticed and frowned, bringing over a plate. “Hey, Liam? Here, mate, you’ve gotta eat something. You’ve been quiet all day.”

“I… I can’t.” Liam stuttered, shaking his head slowly, eyes glassy.

“Come on,” Harry said more gently, crouching beside him. “It’s not much, just some grilled veg and some rice. You’ll feel better with something in your stomach.”

“No,” Liam mumbled, voice tight. “I really can’t, Harry…”

Before Harry could reply, Liam’s entire body lurched forward. There was no warning—just a strangled cough and then a sudden, violent rush of vomit splattering the forest floor in front of him.

“Shit!” Louis yelped, stumbling back.

“Oh my god, Liam—” Harry dropped the plate instantly, eyes wide.

“Liam, hey, hey, breathe. It’s okay.” Niall said, at his side in a second. Liam coughed again, groaning as the nausea left him shaky and spent. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, too weak to be embarrassed, too sick to move.

“I didn’t feel good…” he whispered, tears of exhaustion prickling in his eyes. “Tried to tell you all…”

“Damn, I should’ve seen something was wrong,” Zayn said, hovering awkwardly, guilt clear on his face.

“I’m sorry, Liam,” Harry said, putting a hand on Liam’s back, his expression stricken. “I was so caught up cooking I didn’t even think…”

“It’s okay,” Liam mumbled, though he clearly wasn’t. His whole body was trembling now, cold sweat plastering his hair to his forehead.

“He’s burning up,” Niall said softly, touching Liam’s flushed cheek. “You’ve got a fever, mate.”

“We need to get you warm,” Harry said quickly. “Let’s move closer to the fire.”

“Too cold,” Liam shivered, teeth starting to chatter.

“C’mere, I’ve got you,” Niall said, not hesitating, as he sat beside Liam. He gently pulled him into his side, letting Liam lean heavily against him.

“Sorry…” Liam sighed shakily, his body curling into Niall’s warmth like a child.

“Don’t be stupid,” Niall said gently. “You don’t say sorry when you’re sick, alright?”

Harry grabbed an extra blanket from the tent and draped it over them as the group fell quiet around the fire. Zayn handed Liam a water bottle while Louis offered up a beanie he’d had stuffed in his bag.

They stayed like that for a while—Liam half-asleep against Niall’s chest, the others watching the flames flicker in silence, the guilt of not noticing sooner heavy in the air. As the night deepened, and the stars blinked into the sky, Harry and Louis packed the uneaten dinner while Zayn ensured Liam’s things were ready inside the tent.

Eventually, Niall stood slowly, shifting Liam with care.

“C’mon, let’s get you to bed, yeah?”

Liam mumbled something unintelligible but didn’t resist as Niall gently scooped him up in his arms. He was light with fever and fatigue, his head resting against Niall’s shoulder.

Niall laid him on his sleeping bag inside the tent, then crawled beside him, tucking the blanket around them both. Liam curled up immediately, face pressed into Niall’s chest. Niall softly stroked his fingers along Liam’s tummy, gentle and rhythmic.

“Settle down, Li,” he whispered. “Just sleep now. You’ll feel better in the morning.”

-Time Skip-

Morning came with a stillness that felt out of place in the normally rowdy camp. The boys all rose with sleep-lined faces, but their moods were subdued. Liam hadn’t stirred much through the night—curled tight against Niall, feverish and flushed, letting out the occasional whimper when his stomach rolled again.

It wasn’t even a question when Harry brought it up.

“I think we should head back today,” he said, voice hushed but firm as he poured a mug of tea for whoever wanted it. “Liam’s not getting any better out here.”

“Agreed,” Zayn nodded, already packing up his things. “The sooner we’re home; the sooner he can sleep it off properly. This place’s too cold for him.”

“Yeah.” With a sigh, Louis agreed as he stuffed his sleeping bag into its sack. “It was fun, but… he needs a bed. And, like, medicine. And maybe a bucket that isn’t a log.”

By the time Liam stirred, bleary-eyed and sluggish, the tents were packed and the fire pit doused. He didn’t protest the change in plans—barely had the energy to lift his head when Niall helped him into the backseat of their van, letting him stretch out across the middle bench.

“Alright, buddy,” Niall murmured, wrapping an arm around Liam as he curled into his side again. “Back to civilization. You just hang on.”

The road twisted through trees and winding hills, and the motion didn’t help Liam’s stomach at all. He whimpered softly, tensing up every time the van hit a small bump.

“I don’t feel good…” he mumbled.

“I know,” Niall said gently, rubbing slow, soothing circles on Liam’s back. “We’re gonna stop in a bit, okay?” True to his word, they pulled into a gas station about forty minutes in. Niall nudged Liam gently. “Hey, Li, we’re stopping. The bathroom’s right there.”

“Gonna be sick again…” Liam mumbled, sitting up shakily, immediately going green around the edges. Louis and Zayn helped him out of the van and into the small restroom while Harry grabbed bottled water and plain crackers inside the shop. The bathroom wasn’t exactly glamorous, but Liam didn’t care. He barely made it to the toilet before he was heaving again—body convulsing as what little food he’d been coaxed into earlier came right back up.

“You alright, mate?” Zayn asked, waiting just outside the stall door, grimacing with sympathy.

“No,” Liam croaked hoarsely. Once the worst of it passed, they cleaned him up and back to the van, his limbs trembling like jelly. This time, Niall slid into the driver’s seat, stretching his arms and cracking his knuckles.

“Alright, I’m good to drive,” he said. “Let’s get going again.”

“Rest of you, fight over who gets sick, Liam, next,” Louis teased lightly, but it was more to keep things normal than anything else.

Liam was too tired to speak, barely lifting his head until Harry helped guide him into the backseat again. This time, Liam rested his head in *Harry’s* lap, a blanket draped over his thin frame as he groaned softly.

“You okay there, love?” Harry asked quietly, brushing some of the sweat-damp hair from Liam’s face. Liam nodded, just barely.

Harry took the hint and slid a hand beneath Liam’s hoodie, finding the warm skin of his stomach. His palm moved in slow, gentle circles, grounding and calming. Liam shivered once, then exhaled in relief. “That helping?” Harry whispered.

“Yeah… thanks.”

He drifted in and out of sleep that way, lulled by the hum of the road and Harry’s steady touch. Occasionally, he’d stir, moaning softly, and Harry would resume the rubbing until Liam stilled again.

A couple hours later, they switched once more. Zayn offered to drive the final stretch, and Niall climbed back into the backseat without hesitation. As soon as Liam saw him, he reached out weakly.

“There’s my favorite,” Niall said with a gentle grin, settling beside him. Liam barely managed a smile before curling up, head tucked into Niall’s chest, arms wrapped loosely around his middle. Niall didn’t need prompting—his fingers automatically began threading through Liam’s hair, then trailing lightly down his back before resting on his stomach in soft, circular motions. “Shhh, that’s it,” Niall murmured. “You’re okay, Li. Just rest now.”

Liam didn’t speak. He didn’t need to. His breathing slowed, his body relaxing entirely as he melted into the warmth and safety of Niall’s side. The van bumped gently along the road, but Niall’s hand never left him—stroking hair, soothing his back, comforting his queasy belly in the way only Niall could.

When they finally pulled up to Liam’s flat hours later, he was fast asleep, snoring softly with his face hidden against Niall’s hoodie.

None of them woke him.

Harry quietly opened the door, and Louis grabbed Liam’s bag. Niall shifted just enough to cradle Liam in his arms again as he carried him inside.

Chapter Text

The stadium's roar echoed in Niall's ears long after the last song had ended. The adrenaline of performing, the chorus of fans screaming their names, and the bass thudding through the floor usually left him buzzed for hours. But tonight, that buzz was edged with something sharper, dull, and throbbing behind his right ear.

He had felt it earlier that day — a weird pressure behind his ear like something was building — but brushed it off. There is too much to do, and too many people are counting on him. Now, in the quiet lull backstage, it had returned full force. Niall pressed a hand to the side of his head, wincing slightly.

“You good?” Louis asked as he peeled off his stage shirt.

“My ear’s killing me,” he admitted, hand still clamped to his ear. “Was bothering me earlier, but... it’s way worse now.”

That was all it took. The casual post-show energy in the room shifted immediately. Harry turned toward him; his brows furrowed. Zayn set down the bottle of water he’d just picked up. Liam crossed the room in a few quick strides.

“Let’s get you changed, yeah?” Liam said softly, already tugging Niall’s sweaty shirt over his head, careful not to brush the hand that hadn’t moved from the side of his face.

The other boys moved in tandem, gathering his comfiest clothes — joggers, the old hoodie he always reached for when sick, and thick socks. They helped him dress, murmuring quiet reassurances as Niall winced and whimpered through the pain. Occasionally, he’d flinch, trying to find a better position for his hand, but nothing helped.

“Bus is ready,” Harry said quietly after a quick check. “Let’s get him lying down.”

By the time they got onto the bus, Niall was pale, eyes glassy with unshed tears. He sat gingerly on one of the bunks, curling up against the pillows. Liam crouched beside him, brushing his hair off his forehead, and froze.

“You’re burning up,” he murmured. “Guys, I think he’s got a fever.”

A quick rummage through the bus’s makeshift first-aid kit produced a thermometer, which Harry gently tucked under Niall’s arm. A few minutes later, it beeped. 38.5.

“Alright,” Liam said, standing up with a new purpose in his stride. “I’m calling a doctor.”

Liam slipped into the small lounge at the back of the tour bus, voice low as he pressed his phone to his ear and started explaining the situation to the on-call doctor’s office. The door clicked shut behind him, cutting off the soft sounds of the boys and leaving Niall in the bunk area surrounded by the rest of them.

Almost instantly, the room felt too quiet. The only sound was Niall’s quiet, stuttered breathing — uneven like he was trying to keep himself from crying but failing miserably. His hand was still glued to the side of his face, pressing so tightly that his knuckles had gone pale.

Harry was the first to move. He knelt beside the bunk, leaning in close and brushing Niall’s sweat-damp hair off his forehead.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he murmured, voice soft and coaxing. “You’re alright. Liam’s sorting everything. We’ve got you, yeah?”

Niall’s response was a sharp, broken whimper. His body tensed, curling in tighter on himself, shoulders trembling as the pain spiked again.

“It hurts,” he choked out, the words thick with tears. “My ears— I can’t— keep getting worse.”

“Breathe for me, Ni, just like that, in and out. We’re right here. I know it’s bad, I know. Just hang on.” Zayn moved in from the other side, climbing onto the bunk to rub slow, careful circles between Niall’s shoulder blades.

Louis sat at the foot of the bunk, watching helplessly for a second before crawling up and scooting until he could take Niall’s free hand in his own. He wrapped both of his around it, thumb brushing back and forth over Niall’s knuckles.

“I’m here, mate,” Louis whispered, his voice tighter than usual like he was keeping it together just for Niall. “Wish we could take it away, but you’re not alone. You’re safe, alright?”

Niall’s tears were falling freely now, his body shaking harder with each breath. The boys were doing everything they could — Harry smoothing his fringe back and whispering soft nothings, Zayn murmuring calm encouragement while never stopping the soothing motions on his back, and Louis grounding him with that steady pressure, holding his hand like it was the only thing tethering Niall to the world.

“I just want Liam,” Niall whimpered suddenly, a broken, pitiful sound that cut through them all.

“He’s coming, love. He’ll be back in a minute. Just hold on for him, okay?” Louis reassured; his throat bobbed as he glanced quickly towards the lounge where Liam had gone.

“You’re doing amazing. Just a little longer.” Zayn encouraged in a low voice. But nothing was working. No matter how gentle they were, how close they crowded around him with warmth and love, it couldn’t touch the sharp pain drilling through Niall’s ears. He was crying now, proper crying — face scrunched, nose running, his breaths hitching in hiccupping gasps.

That was the sight Liam walked back in on — his bandmate, his best friend, curled into himself in a puddle of blankets and agony, tears soaking the pillow beneath his cheek, surrounded by three boys who looked completely heartbroken and utterly helpless.

“I’ve got him,” Liam said softly, moving toward the bunk.

The others hesitated only a second before they slowly pulled away. Harry brushed a final kiss to Niall’s temple. Zayn gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze. Louis squeezed his hand before reluctantly letting go. Then, they all shuffled off to give them space.

The second Liam’s arms wrapped around him; Niall broke. Not in the way he had before — not just from pain — but in that quiet, relieved sort of way that comes when someone you trust finally shows up. His whole body sagged into Liam’s chest like he’d been holding himself up just long enough to make it to this moment.

“I’m here, love,” Liam whispered, curling around him protectively. “I’ve got you.”

Niall let out a soft, shuddering sob and buried his face into Liam’s chest. His hand was still pressed to his ear, but its grip loosened slightly now that Liam was holding him. The tears didn’t stop, but they changed — less frantic, more exhausted. Safe enough to fall apart.

“Hurts so bad, Li,” he whimpered, voice muffled in the fabric of Liam’s shirt. “Feels like my head’s gonna explode.”

Liam's arms tightened around him, his hand cradling the back of Niall’s head gently, his thumb brushing against the hair at the nape of his neck.

“I know, baby. I know.” Liam reassured. “Doctor said first thing tomorrow. We’ll go together. You just need to rest now. Try to breathe for me, alright?”

Niall nodded against him — or maybe just trembled. It was hard to tell. Liam shifted slightly, tucking the blanket around them, creating a cocoon of warmth and comfort. He started humming softly under his breath — a lullaby-like tune he used to sing to his nieces when they were sick — and let Niall curl in tighter, resting his head in the crook of Liam’s neck.

“You’re okay now,” Liam said again, voice so soft it was barely audible. “I’m not going anywhere.”

-Time Skip-

The doctor’s office was quiet, sterile, and way too bright. Niall sat in the exam chair, looking small in his hoodie, the sleeves pulled over his hands. The pain hadn’t lessened, and the car ride hadn’t helped. Every bump in the road sent new waves of pressure through his ears.

“Double ear infection,” the doctor finally confirmed after examining both ears. “Looks nasty. No wonder he’s in pain.”

Niall didn’t have the energy to be smug about being right. He leaned back against Liam, who stood beside him with a steadying hand on his shoulder. They were given a round of antibiotics, a fever reducer, and — the worst part — ear drops. The first attempt at administering them was... chaotic.

“Hold still, Niall, it’s just a drop,” Zayn tried, holding the bottle.

“I *am* still!” Niall snapped, jerking his head away.

“Mate, you’re literally not,” Louis muttered. Eventually, with Niall in Liam’s lap and his arms loosely pinned by Liam’s, the drops made it into his ears. He grumbled, glaring at everyone like a betrayed cat at the vet.

-Time Skip-

Back on the bus, the boys dimmed the lights and put on a movie. Blankets were passed around, and snacks were abandoned to keep Niall comfortable. Niall ended up with his head in Liam’s lap again, too tired to argue. He sniffled quietly, the fever finally starting to break. Liam stroked his hair gently, fingers working through the tangles.

The movie played in the background, but no one was paying attention. The energy was soft, quiet, and safe. About fifteen minutes in, Niall let out a tiny sigh, barely more than a breath. His eyes fluttered shut. Within minutes, he was out cold. The boys exchanged soft smiles over the back of the couch, careful not to wake him.

“He’s gonna be okay,” Harry whispered.

Chapter Text

Zayn woke up with a tight knot in his chest and a dull ache behind his eyes. It wasn't the usual kind of exhaustion from rehearsals or interviews. This was deeper, heavier. He blinked blearily at the unfamiliar ceiling of the tour bus bunk above him, the shadows of early morning filtering through the blinds. The silence around him only made the pang in his chest grow.

He missed home.

More specifically, he missed his mum.

Zayn turned onto his side, curling up as his stomach twisted with emotion. He bit his lip to keep it together, but the longer he lay there, his eyes burned with unshed tears. It wasn't just homesickness anymore--it was something else. A creeping ache in his limbs, a strange heat blooming under his skin. But all he could think about was hearing his mum's voice.

He slipped out of bed quietly and padded toward the small bus lounge, where Louis was already awake. He was sitting cross-legged with a bowl of cereal and his phone in hand.

"You alright, mate?" Louis asked.

"Can I... borrow your phone?" Zayn asked, biting his lip.

"Yeah, of course," Louis said, immediately setting the bowl down. "Everything okay?"

Zayn nodded stiffly, but his eyes gave him away. Louis handed over his phone without another word and gave Zayn some space, watching from the corner of his eye. Zayn sat on the little couch and dialed his mum's number. He took a shaky breath and hit call. The phone rang once, twice--and then her familiar voice answered.

"Mum?"

"Oh, Zayn, sweetheart! Are you okay?"

That was it. The dam broke. Tears spilled from his eyes as his mother's gentle voice washed over him.

"I miss you," he whispered, voice cracking. "So much."

"Oh, baby, I miss you too. Are you eating properly? Are the boys looking after you?"

"Yeah. They are. I just... I wanted to; hear your voice." Zayn let out a teary laugh and nodded, even though she couldn't see.

They talked for a few minutes--nothing too deep, just her soothing reassurances and his quiet replies. By the time he hung up, he felt slightly lighter emotionally... but heavier physically. Louis gently sat beside him as Zayn returned the phone, noting the flush in his cheeks and now he was hunched slightly.

"You alright now?" Louis asked softly.

"Yeah." Zayn rubbed at his eyes. "I mean, not really. I still feel... off."

"Off how?" Louis asked.

"My stomach's kinda weird. I feel... hot. Dizzy."

"Mate, you're burning up," Louis said, frowning, placing a hand against Zayn's forehead.

"Think I'm actually sick-sick," Zayn said, blinking slowly and swaying slightly. Without hesitation, Louis stood up and gently helped Zayn lie on the couch.

"Alright, no more moping in silence. You're not doing this alone." He said. Within ten minutes, Niall and Liam had been woken up--Harry stumbled in last, hair a disaster, rubbing his eyes.

"What's going on?" He mumbled.

"Zayn's sick," Louis said simply. "Like, fever, stomach, the works. He needs some looking after."

"Sorry, guys..." Zayn mumbled, still curled up on the couch, his cheeks red and his eyes glassy.

"Don't be daft," Niall said, pulling a blanket from his bunk.

"You look rough, mate," Liam commented, appearing a minute later with a bottle of water and a damp cloth.

"Feel rough." Zayn groaned.

"Do you think you're gonna be sick?" Louis asked, brushing his hand through Zayn's hair gently.

"Stomach's really bad..." Zayn muttered. Just as the words left his mouth, he suddenly lurched upright. "Bathroom," he croaked.

Louis was already helping him up and steering him toward the tiny bus bathroom. The other boys exchanged worried glances as they heard the door shut, followed by the unmistakable retching sound.

When Zayn finally emerged, looking pale and exhausted, Louis guided him back to the couch and helped him lie down again. He grabbed a hot water bottle one of the boys had filled, wrapped it in a towel, and gently placed it against Zayn's stomach. Zayn whimpered and curled around it, clearly still not feeling great.

"C'mere," Louis said, sitting down and letting Zayn rest his head on his lap. He began to rub slow, gentle circles over Zayn's belly, trying to soothe the ache. Harry queued up one of their favourite comfort movies while Niall fetched crackers "just in case," and Liam hovered with a bottle of paracetamol and a worried look.

As the movie played softly, Zayn drifted in and out of sleep, and the warmth of the hot water bottle and Louis's hand on his stomach kept him grounded. Every so often, he'd whimper or murmur something half-conscious, and one of the boys would reassure him that he was okay, that they were there. Even though the nausea and the fever, Zayn felt safer than he had in days.

"I miss home," Zayn whispered at one point, voice raspy.

"We know." Louis smiled softly, brushing Zayn's damp fringe back. "But we've got you, alright? We'll take care of you."

-Time Skip-

The movie had been playing quietly for a while now, some animated classics none of them were fully paying attention to. Louis's fingers moved lazily over Zayn's stomach in slow, soothing motions, his other hand resting lightly on Zayn's shoulder. Zayn had been silent for a long stretch, his breathing slow, somewhere between awake and dozing.  Louis shifted a bit, stretching his legs with a small groan. Zayn stirred at once, his head turning slightly but staying against Louis's lap.

"Hey," Louis said gently, brushing Zayn's hair back. "I'm just gonna get up for a bit, alright? Been your personal pillow for nearly two hours."

"Wait, where're you going?" Zayn asked, his fever-glassy eyes widened.

"Just to freshen up," Louis promised. "And maybe eat something before my stomach protests louder than yours."

"But--" Zayn's voice cracked as the smallest tremble passed through him. "You're not leaving, yeah?"

"Course not." Louis softened. "I'll be back in ten. Promise." He started easing Zayn off his lap and motioned to Liam, who was curled up nearby with a book. "Can you take the shift, nurse Payne?"

"Yeah, I've got him." Liam nodded, already moving closer to help. But something shifted as Louis carefully moved away, and Zayn was gently eased onto Liam's lap. The warmth and familiarity that had kept Zayn grounded slipped away with Louis, and the emotional dam--already weakened by the fever and homesickness--snapped again.

"I want Louis," Zayn whimpered, eyes filling with tears, trying to curl tighter around the hot water bottle.

"I'm here, mate," Liam said softly, touching Zayn's back. "He'll be right back, yeah?"

"Don't feel good." Zayn's breath hitched.

"I know, I know. You're alright." Liam reassured. But Zayn's body was tense now, his breath coming quicker, little choked sounds slipping out as the tears started to fall again.

"I feel weird," he whispered, voice breaking. "Everything's all hot and loud and wrong--:

"Hey, Z," Harry said, who had been watching from the floor, moved closer. "You're okay. We're right here."

"Want Louis back..." Zayn whimpered again, still clearly spiralling, overwhelmed by the fever and emotion, eyes searching for Louis in the blurry haze of the room.

"Zayn," Liam said gently, looking down at him, trying to find a way to help until Louis returned. "Do you want me to rub your stomach? Like Louis was doing?"

Zayn hesitated, sniffling, but gave a small nod. Liam shifted so Zayn could rest his head back on his leg, carefully placing the hot water bottle against his middle again. Then he began to rub slow, firm circles on Zayn's stomach, mimicking how Louis had done it. Zayn released a shaky breath when his hand made contact and visibly relaxed, his body uncoiling like a spring. "There you go," Liam murmured. "Just breathe."

Zayn sniffled again but finally stilled, his face pressed to Liam's hoodie. His fevered body leaned into the touch, and after a few minutes of quiet reassurance and soft stomach rubs, the tears dried up. He remained flushed and sick but calmer--no longer on the verge of a breakdown.

"You're like a human hot water bottle, Payno." Harry teased.

"If it works, it works." Liam shrugged, chuckling quietly. Louis returned a few minutes later, looking refreshed and holding a granola bar. He froze briefly when he saw Zayn curled against Liam, sleeping fitfully but no longer crying.

"He alright?" He asked.

"Settled once I started rubbing his stomach," Liam said quietly. "Didn't take long."

"He's clingy when he's sick. Emotional too. Think the fever's messing with him." Louis explained.

"I can swap out if you want your spot back," Liam offered.

"Nah." Louis shook his head. "If he's calm, let him stay. I'll sit behind you both." He did just that, squeezing Zayn's shoulder gently as he settled on the couch behind Liam. "You're alright, Z. I'm still here."

Still half-asleep, Zayn made a small acknowledgement sound and relaxed even more.

The rest of the afternoon was quiet. The boys kept the lights low and the TV running, taking turns watching over Zayn while he slept off the worst of it. The fever lingered, but so did the love.

Chapter Text

Harry had always been the softest sleeper of the bunch--always the last to drift off and the first to wake. The others didn't think much of it at first. Maybe it was just nerves from the shows or too much sugar after gigs. But when the third night in the row rolled around, and Harry came to breakfast with shadows under his eyes and a slight frown tugging at his lips, it was hard not to notice something was off.

He brushed it off easily enough when Louis asked.

"Just didn't sleep well," he'd said with a crooked smile, sipping on a too-strong cup of coffee. It wasn't until later that afternoon, when they were between interviews, that Harry groaned quietly while rubbing his temples, and someone finally called him out.

"You alright, Haz?" Niall asked, eyes narrowing as he watched Harry press his fingers into his forehead like he was trying to keep his skull from splitting open.

"Yeah," he said too quickly. "Just a bit of a headache. Think I haven't been sleeping much lately."

"You haven't been sleeping?" Liam asked, looking up from his phone. Harry shrugged like it was no big deal, but the flush on his cheeks said otherwise.

"Mate, why didn't you say anything?" Louis asked, not having it.

"Didn't want to be a bother," Harry murmured, voice low. Within an hour, plans had changed. Instead of their usual two-to-a-room setup, Liam booked a suite one big room with space for all of them. No more splitting off. No more lonely nights.

"You're not a bother, Harry," Liam said gently as they walked into the suite later that evening. "We've got you, yeah?"

The space was cozy, with a big, shared living area and two beds pushed together to make a sort of mega-bed, plus one extra for whoever wanted their own space. Harry looked around, eyes misty.

"Alright, Haz," Louis said, clapping his hands together. "First order of business--bath. A warm one. Get your muscles to calm down a bit."

Harry didn't argue. The warm water helped more than he expected--easing the tension in his shoulders, softening the pounding in his skull. He looked a little less like a ghost when he emerged in one of Liam's hoodies and his softest joggers, his curls damp and sticking to his temples.

"Milk?" Niall offered, already holding out a mug. "Helps with sleep, what my mum always said."

"Thanks," Harry said, taking the offered glass with a small smile.

"C'mere, sleepyhead," Liam said, already settled on the bed with his arms open. Harry curled up against him, sipping slowly at the warm milk. Liam's hand found his stomach, rubbing slow circles over the soft fabric of his hoodie, soothing and rhythmic. It was the touch that didn't ask anything of him--just comfort, just presence. By the time the mug was empty, Harry's eyes started drooping. "Lie down, sweetheart," Liam murmured, shifting slightly so Harry could stretch out fully. Harry let his head fall against Liam's chest, right over his heart.

The sound--steady, soft, and so there--lulled him even further. Liam's hand moved to his back, tracing gentle lines up and down, grounding him. Across the room, Niall was snuggling into one side of the mega-bed, already yawning. Louis flopped dramatically across the other, mumbling about needing his beauty sleep.

But Harry didn't hear any of it. He was tucked in safe, warm, and loved. With Liam's heartbeat under his cheek and that soothing hand on his back, his breathing evened out, and for the first time in days, Harry fell asleep within minutes.

Chapter Text

It was nearing midnight in the London townhouse they were all sharing for the week, and the house was silent, save for the occasional creak of the floorboards or distant car horns outside. Liam stirred in his bed, tangled in his duvet, head nestled into his pillow--but something had woken him.

A muffled sound.

He blinked into the darkness, holding still.

There it was again. A soft, broken sob.

Frowning, he sat up, heart dropping. That wasn't just anyone's voice--it was Louis.

Liam pushed back the duvet and padded barefoot into the hallway, moving silently toward Louis's room. The door was cracked open. The faintest light came from a small lamp on the desk. Inside, curled up on the bed, was Louis. His face was buried in his arms, body trembling with every breath as he tired--and failed--not to make a sound.

"Lou?" Liam asked, his chest tightening.

"Wha--Liam," Louis gasped, his eyes red and wide. "Sorry--just go back to sleep, I'm fine."

But he wasn't. His cheeks were wet with tears, his nose red. He looked exhausted. And scared.

"You're not fine," Liam said softly, stepping inside. "Talk to me?"

"Don't." Louis shook his head and turned away, rubbing at his face furiously. "I'm just being stupid. I'll get over it."

"You've been off all week." Liam points out, already climbing onto the bed, sitting beside him, and resting a hand gently on his back. "Is it the interviews? The schedule?"

"I... I can't do it tomorrow." Louis whimpered, giving the tiniest nod. "I can't, Liam. Please don't make me."

"We won't," Liam promised, his heart clenching at how broken Louis' voice sounded. "We won't make you do anything."

There was a pause. Then Louis lurched forward, hand clamped over his mouth. He barely made it to the bathroom before he threw up, the stress finally pushing his body over the edge. Liam was right behind him, holding his hair back, murmuring softly as Louis dry heaved over the toilet.

"Is everything alright?" They heard Harry's sleepy voice call.

"Kitchen bin's empty," Niall added from behind him. "If he's sick, I'll--oh."

Zayn came last, silent, eyes sharp with concern as he took in the sight: Louis trembling on the bathroom floor, pale and sweaty, Liam kneeling beside him. It didn't take much to understand.

"I'm sorry," Louis whispered, voice hoarse, pressing his forehead to the cool tile. "I didn't want to ruin everything."

"You didn't ruin anything," Zayn said quietly, crouching beside him. He reached out and gently slipped a hand beneath Louis's oversized sleep shirt, fingers featherlight on his abdomen, tracing calming patterns over his skin. Louis shivered but didn't pull away. "You're not alone in this," Zayn murmured. "You never have to carry it all by yourself."

Eventually, they got Louis cleaned up, brushed his teeth for him, and helped him back into bed. All four boys crawled into the massive bed beside him, and no one said a word about how close they all were or how they fit perfectly around Louis like puzzle pieces.

Niall curled around his legs, warm and steady. Harry pulled the duvet up Louis's chin and ran gentle fingers through his hair. Zayn tucked himself behind Louis, hand sneaking under his shirt again to rest comfortingly against his stomach, moving in slow, soothing circles. And Liam pressed up in front of him, arm draped around Louis's side, rubbing his back in quiet loops.

"It's just... everything's been so much. The press, the rumours, the schedules. I feel like I can't breathe sometimes. Like I'm drowning in it." Louis admitted, voice barely above a whisper. He hesitated. "And I didn't want to say anything because I didn't want to be the weak one."

"You're not weak, Lou," Liam assured, pulling him closer. "You're one of the strongest people I know. But strong doesn't mean silent."

"We're in this together, remember?" Harry reminds him.

"Always," Niall agreed. Louis exhaled, shaky but relieved, the weight finally loosening from his chest. He felt warm, surrounded by them, the panic in his gut easing with every pass of Zayn's fingers and Liam's steady hand on his back.

"Okay," he whispered. "Okay."

They all stayed that way, pressed close, soft breaths filling the quiet room. Eventually, Louis's breathing evened out, and his body finally relaxed. Liam kept his hand moving slowly across his back, and Zayn didn't stop tracing light patterns on Louis's belly and sides, grounding him.

-Time Skip-

The morning light filtered in slowly through the curtains, casting a gentle glow across the bedroom. Louis stirred a little and snuggled between the warmth of his best friends. But the weight beside him was lighter now--fewer bodies and more blankets.

His hand reached out instinctively, brushing over empty sheets.

Gone.

Panic flared in his chest for a moment--had he dreamt it? The comforting hands, the whispered words, the safety?

But then he heard voices downstairs.

Not loud. Calm. Steady.

"I said no, Sarah. Not a maybe. Not a 'we'll see.' The boys aren't doing the interview today." It was Liam's voice. Firm, grounded. Louis blinked slowly, eyes still a little puffy, head aching from the crying and the sickness, but that voice rooted him. A tiny, watery smile tugged at his lips.

"I don't care if they already sent a car," Zayn added in his low drawl. "Tell them to send it back. Louis needs rest."

"Honestly, you should be lucky we're not demanding a week off. Because we could." Harry chimed in. Then, the call ended. Louis could practically hear them all relaxing again.

He dragged himself up slowly, his sleep shirt wrinkled, his hair a disaster, and his throat dry. But he didn't feel the same crushing weight he'd felt the night before. It was still there--he was still exhausted, queasy, and overwhelmed--but it wasn't as lonely now. It didn't feel like he was bearing it alone.

Padding down the stairs, he followed the smell of toast and the sound of the telly. The living room appeared: Niall wrapped in a blanket burrito on the floor, Zayn curled into one corner of the couch with a pillow under his arm, and Harry lying flat across the rug like a starfish. Liam was in the middle of the couch, remote in hand, with a steaming cup of tea on the table beside him.

"Hey." Liam greeted, looking up at the boy who hesitated in the doorway. "You alright?" Louis didn't answer. He walked over slowly and crawled into Liam's lap without a word, tucking himself in like it was the most natural thing in the world. Liam reacted instantly--his arms came around Louis's waist, anchoring him, and he felt how cold his skin was. "You're still not feeling great, huh?"

Louis gave a tiny shake of his head and leaned into his chest. Then Liam, recalling the night before, slowly slid a hand under Louis's oversized shirt. His fingers skimmed lightly along Louis's stomach and sides, imitating the gentle touches Zayn had given the night before. Louis melted into him with a sigh, forehead pressing Liam's shoulder.

The others noticed but didn't say anything--just smiled softly and let the movie play.

"Still got a bit of a knot in there, haven't you?" Liam murmured against Louis's hair, his fingers working slow, soothing circles.

Louis gave a small hum of agreement, eyes slipping shut again. He didn't feel like crying now--just tired. Safe. Cared for.

"Good technique, Payno," Zayn said with a look of approval.

"Had a good teacher." Liam chuckled.

"In case your stomach's up for anything later," Niall said, offering Louis a toast triangle from his blanket nest.

"Thanks, Ni," Louis mumbled, voice soft. The morning passed like that. A movie playing softly. Gentle hands. No schedule, no noise, no pressure. Just warmth, friendship, and the quiet understanding that whatever Louis needed--they'd give him.

Chapter Text

It was nearly 3:47 in the morning when Liam blinked his eyes open, throat raw and burning, a dull ache pounding behind his eyes. He coughed, wincing at how it tore through his chest, and slowly sat up in the hotel bed, blinking away the wave of dizziness that came with the motion.

"Harry..." he rasped, voice barely more than a whisper. "Haz?? In the dim light, he could just make out the shape of Harry curled under the duvet on the other bed, his long hair spilling onto the pillow. Liam mustered to pull his blanket off and padded over, shivering as the cool air hit his feverish skin. "Harry," he said again, a little louder, reaching out to nudge him.

"Liam?" Harry questioned, blinking groggily, voice thick with sleep. "What is it?"

"I don't feel good," Liam murmured, swaying slightly. "My head hurts. I think I've got a fever..."

"Just go back to bed, mate. You're probably just tired. Big day tomorrow." Harry told him, turning onto his side, tugged the duvet over his head and promptly fell back asleep.

Liam stood there momentarily, swallowing the lump that had nothing to do with his sore throat, then trudged back to bed. His limps felt like lead, and he collapsed onto the mattress, curling into himself as the fever rolled over him in waves.

-Time Skip-

The morning hit too quickly.

They were scheduled for an interview at noon, and by ten, the dressing room was a whirlwind of activity. Liam stumbled through his morning routine, pale and clammy, while Harry moved around him, chirpy and unbothered.

"Let's go, Li," Harry said, clapping him. "Try to smile, yeah?"

Liam winced but nodded, his voice too hoarse to answer. They made it into the car with Niall, Louis, and Zayn already chattering about the day ahead. Liam rested his head against the window, trying not to let the nausea crawling up his throat show. He could barely focus on what the others were saying--his skin felt too tight, and the lights outside were far too bright.

-Time Skip-

It wasn't until they arrived at the interview venue that things started to unravel. When they walked in, Lou was already there, sorting through her kits. As soon as she caught sight of Liam, she frowned, dropping her brush.

"Liam Payne, what on earth is wrong with you?" She demanded, striding over and pressing a hand to his forehead. Liam flinched, but it was too late--she'd felt the heat. "He's burning up! Harry, did you not notice how pale and sick he looks?"

Harry froze, a guilty look crossing his face as all the boys turned to look at Liam.

"I... he said something last night, but I thought he was just tired," Harry admitted, voice suddenly soft.

"He tried to tell you?" Louis asked, narrowing his eyes. "Mate--"

"I know," Harry interrupted, regret already painting his face. Liam swayed where he stood and then suddenly turned, bolting towards the nearest bin--barely making it in time as he vomited. Paul was on him in seconds, hand on his back as Liam trembled, coughing and heaving.

"That's it. The interview's cancelled," Paul said firmly. "We're leaving now. Return to the bus; we'll travel to the next city early."

"But I can still--" Liam started to say, but his voice cracked and broke into another coughing fit.

"No arguments," Paul said sternly. Liam tried to walk back towards the exit, legs wobbling under him, but Louis was already there, sliding an arm under his knees and another around his back.

"Oi--Louis, I can walk," Liam protested weakly, cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

"Yeah, and I can fly," Louis shot back. "Shut it and let me carry you."

-Time Skip-

When they returned, the bus was warm and dim, the engine rumbling a soothing hum beneath their feet. Louis settled Liam on the couch in the lounge area while Niall brought a blanket. Liam was already half-asleep, still sniffling and flushed, when Harry sat beside him, gently guiding Liam to rest his head in his lap.

"I'm so sorry, Li," Harry whispered, fingers brushing through Liam's damp hair, tracing soothing lines down his back. "I should've listened."

Liam didn't respond--he was asleep, breath shallow and soft, curled in like a child against Harry's legs. Louis settled next to them with Niall, who blinked sleepily up at him. Louis began absentmindedly running fingers through Niall's hair as well, and within minutes, Niall's head dropped into his lap, fast asleep. Harry watched them, still stroking Liam's hair, his heart heavy.

"I really messed up," he muttered.

"You did," Louis stated bluntly, glancing over at him. "But you're here now and taking care of him. That's what matters."

"He's not mad," Niall mumbled from Louis's lap, half-asleep but somehow still aware. "Li doesn't hold grudges."

Harry chuckled softly, overwhelmed by the warmth of his friends and the sight of Liam sleeping peacefully on him.

"Thanks," he murmured, mostly to himself. Louis didn't respond; he just smiled as he carefully stood, lifting Niall in his arms and carrying him to his bunk like he weighed nothing. 

Harry stayed behind, the bus gently rocking, Liam tucked safely in his arms. And for the first time all day, things felt right again.

Chapter Text

It started sometime in the early hours of the morning--quiet and subtle. Niall had barely stirred, only vaguely aware of the nausea gnawing at his stomach. He rolled over in his bunk on the tour bus, curling into himself, convincing his aching body it was just something he ate. Maybe the dodgy sandwich from the service station the day before.

By the time the bus rolled into the venue's parking lot, though, there was no denying something was wrong. Niall had vomited twice, both times barely making it to the tiny bathroom. He was pale, shivering despite the warm spring air, and his head pounded behind his eyes like someone was playing drums in his skull.

Zayn noticed first. Always quiet, always watching, he didn't miss how Niall's shoulders drooped or how he flinched at the stage lights during soundcheck. During a short break, he made his way over, crouching beside Niall, sitting on a crate, a towel pressed to his damp forehead.

"You alright, mate?" Zayn asked gently, brows knitting with concern.

"Yeah," Niall lied, looking up at the Bradford boy with bloodshot eyes. "Just tired."

"Jesus, Niall, you're burning up!" Zayn exclaimed, pressing the back of his hand to Niall's forehead. The heat radiating off him was immediate.

"Let's go, soundcheck's over! Costumes, five minutes!" A voice from Management barked from across the stage before Niall could reply.

"He's sick," Zayn said, voice firm, directing his words toward the looming figure of their tour manager. "He can't go on like this."

"Everyone's tired." The manager shrugged, barely glancing their way. "He'll be fine. The show's sold out."

"Sold out doesn't mean he should pass out on stage," Zayn snapped. But it didn't matter. The machine was already moving, and Management wouldn't let it stop.

-Time Skip-

An hour later, the show began.

The crowd screamed, lights danced, and Niall... Niall stumbled.

Zayn watched from across the stage, dread curling in his stomach. Niall's movements were sluggish, offbeat. His skin had gone a ghostly white under the stage lights and sweat poured from his brow. He wobbled more than danced, missing notes and forgetting lyrics. The crowd thought it was part of the act--at first.

Then it happened.

Midway through Little Things, Niall faltered, clutching his stomach. He blinked hard, swaying on his feet. And then--he doubled over and vomited. The mic hit the ground with a harsh crack, and the stadium fell silent.

Security rushed in. Fans screamed. The boys ran to him. Zayn reached him first, catching Niall just as he started to collapse.

"Shit--Niall, I've got you, I've got you."

The show was cut. Management had no choice.

-Time Skip-

Back on the bus, everything was chaos. Niall was shaking violently, eyes glassy and fever glazed. He barely responded to the others, only muttering Zayn's name repeatedly when they tried to get him out of his sweat-soaked clothes.

"I'm not leaving him like this," Zayn said, grabbing a basin of cool water and a towel. "He's burning up." Louis helped run a lukewarm bath while Liam found clean clothes and gingerly folded them on Niall's bunk. Harry paced like a panicked parent. "Come on, love," Zayn whispered, coaxing Niall into the small bathroom. "Gotta cool you down."

Niall groaned weakly, leaning heavily against Zaynn as they stepped into the bath together. Zayn, still in his boxers and a t-shirt, held Niall close to keep him from slipping under.

"You're alright," Zayn murmured, supporting him with one arm, using the other to gently pour water over Niall's flushed skin. "I'm here. I'm not going anywhere."

Niall clung to him, knuckles white, head buried against Zayn's neck. His breathing was shallow, tears mixing with sweat.

"Zay... sorry... messed up..." he slurred.

"Shh," Zayn hushed him, stroking his damp hair. "None of that, baby. You didn't mess anything up. They shouldn't have made you go on. You were brilliant for even trying."

Eventually, the fever began to drop. Niall's shivers slowed, and his breathing evened out. Zayn dried him off with the towel Louis had left, dressed him slowly, and then carried him bridal style back to the bunk.

"Lay with me," Niall mumbled, fingers weakly grasping for Zayn's hand.

Zayn didn't hesitate. He climbed into the narrow bunk, letting Niall curl up on his chest. One arm wrapped protectively around his waist, the other threading through his hair.

Niall mumbled another apology.

"Shhh, angel," Zayn whispered. "Just sleep. You're safe now."

Niall released a tiny breath and relaxed, head rising and falling with Zayn's steady heartbeat. Zayn kept stroking his back and hair, humming quietly, the bunk rocking gently with the motion of the road.

-Time Skip-

It had been a few hours since the chaos. The bus was dim, lit only by the soft glow of the halfway lights. Outside, the city passed in a blur, but inside the bunk area, time felt frozen.

Zayn hadn't moved in hours. He lay on his back in the narrow bunk, Niall sprawled on top of him, his head on his chest, a blanket wrapped around them like a cocoon. Niall's fever had dropped, though he was still burning warm, his cheeks flushed and body sticky with lingering sweat. but his breathing was slow now, calm. For the first time that day, Zayn could breathe too.

But the calm didn't last.

It started with a weight in his chest. A pressure that grew tighter with every passing minute. He kept running through the events of the day--the moment Niall had collapsed, the panic, the helplessness, the way he'd screamed for help over the sound of a silenced stadium. And the worst part? That they hadn't listened. Someone he loved had begged for rest, and they'd been ignored.

Zayn blinked up at the ceiling. His throat burned. He wasn't going to cry. He couldn't cry.

But he needed to breathe.

"No, Zay..." Niall mumbled, stirring immediately as Zayn tried to carefully shift himself from under Niall's sleeping form.

"I'll be right back, love," Zayn whispered, brushing his fingers through Niall's hair. "Promise."

"Want me to stay with him?" Louis asked, appearing like a ghost from the shadows of the hallway.

"Yeah." Zayn agreed; he could feel himself breaking mentally. "Just for a few minutes."

Louis gave a soft nod and slid into the bunk as Zayn slipped out. Drowsy and flushed, Niall let out a soft whimper of protest, trying to reach back for Zayn.

"Hey, it's just me now, Nialler," Louis whispered, settling beside him. "You're alright." At first, Niall looked like he might resist--his hand kept reaching blindly, his breathing shaky. "I've got you," Louis soothed, rubbing slow circles on his back, then moving to Niall's stomach, rubbing gently in wide, lazy motions. "Just sleep. Zayn's coming back soon."

Within minutes, Niall's hand went limp, his body melting into Louis's chest. He sighed in his sleep, mumbling something incomprehensible before drifting off again, warm and safe under Louis's comforting touch.

-Meanwhile-

Zayn sat alone in the lounge area, elbows on his knees, hands pressed together like he was trying to keep himself from falling apart.

He was shaking. Not from cold, but from the adrenaline, the leftover fear, the way his heart had never quite slowed down since the moment Niall had gone down on stage. The image of Niall's place face and the sound of him retching over the mic kept replaying in his head like a broken film reel.

"Zayn?" Zayn tensed at Liam's voice, wiping at his face like maybe he wouldn't notice. But Liam did notice. And he didn't say anything--just crossed the room and sat beside him, wrapping an arm around his shoulders.

Zayn didn't pull away.

When Liam's hand rubbed slow, firm circles between his shoulder blades, Zayn let out a breath that hitched halfway through. He pressed his hands to his eyes, trying to stop the tears--but one slipped out anyway.

"It was too much," he whispered, voice cracking. "He was so sick. And they didn't care. They didn't care, Li."

"I know, mate. I know. It wasn't right. But you were there for him. You did everything you could. And he's okay now--because of you." Liam soothed, holding onto the crying boy tighter, rubbing his back. Zayn nodded into Liam's shoulder, letting himself be held for a little longer. The worst of the emotions finally started to leave him in quiet waves.

Eventually, his breathing steadied. The shaking stopped.

"You ready to go back to him?" Liam asked gently.

"Yeah." Zayn gave a small nod. "He's probably wondering where I am."

"Louis held down the fort," Liam assured him, squeezing his shoulder. "Go take back your back."

-Back At The Bunk-

Zayn returned to find Niall still curled up, half-asleep on Louis, who was now humming something tuneless under his breath. As soon as Zayn appeared, Niall stirred, blinking blearily.

"Zay?"

"Yeah, angel. I'm here."

Niall reached for him immediately.

"Alright, alright." Louis chuckled, carefully extricating himself. "He's all yours, cuddle monster."

"You're warm,"  Niall mumbled, nuzzling his face into Zayn's chest and latching on like a koala.

"So are you," Zayn whispered, wrapping him up in his arms and pulling the blanket over them again. Niall gave a sleepy hum as Zayn resumed the soft hair-stroking and back rubs, and within seconds, he was out again--his breathing slow and even, body completely at peace.

Zayn kissed the top of his head. His heart still ached, but for now, Niall was safe. They were safe.

And Zayn would make sure it stayed that way.

Chapter Text

Zayn sat curled in the corner of the tour bus couch, hoodie drawn over his head, fingers tugging at the sleeves as if they could distract him from the tight knot that had settled in his stomach hours ago. His knee bounced in that jittery way that told Liam everything he needed to know.

Zayn was anxious.

Liam stretched out across the other end of the couch with a casual air that belied his constant attentiveness and watched his friend quietly. The others were busy at the front of the bus, arguing over movie choices or rifling through snacks. But Liam's focus never left Zayn, who was chewing at his lip and staring into space.

"Hey," Liam said softly, shifting closer, "you good?" Zayn nodded without looking at him, which was exactly how Liam knew he wasn't. "You sure?"

"Yeah," Zayn sighed. "Just... tired, I guess."

"Liar." Liam protested, smiling gently. And then, before Zayn could react, Liam reached over and poked him right in the side.

"Oi!" Zayn yelped, twisting away.

"That didn't sound very tired to me." Liam teased, poking the boy again, a little lower this time.

"I swear--Liam, don't," Zayn warned, though the corner of his mouth was already twitching with the beginnings of a smile.

Which, of course, only encouraged Liam.

"Oh no," he said with mock seriousness, "you've got that look. The "I'm officially on a mission" look." 

And with that, Liam launched a full-scale tickle attack on Zayn's side. Zayn shrieked with laughter, squirming helplessly beneath him, hoodie riding up as Liam's fingers reached his belly.

"L-Li--Liam, stop!" Zayn gasped between cackles, twisting and kicking in a failed attempt to escape. "That tickles!"

"That's the point, mate!" Liam laughed, his voice filled with triumph. He didn't stop until Zayn was breathless, his face flushed from laughter, and the anxious crease in his brow was gone. 

Finally, Liam collapsed beside him, both panting, Zayn giggling softly under his breath like he couldn't quite stop. The tension in his shoulders had melted, the knot in his stomach was uncoiled.

"Thanks," Zayn murmured, almost shyly, as he gave Liam a grateful look.

"Always," Liam said, bumping their shoulders together.

-Time Skip-

Later, after dinner and movie negotiations had been settled (Niall insisted on Shrek 2 and no one argued), the whole group piled into the main living area. The lights were dim, the atmosphere cozy. Zayn, still a little wrung out from the earlier laughing fit, curled up on the couch again, right against Liam, who opened his arms without a word.

Zayn rested his head on Liam's chest, the steady beat of his heart grounding and soothing. The movie played, the others chuckled and quoted lines, but Zayn didn't make it past the halfway mark. His breathing slowed, soft and even. His lips parted slightly as he drifted off, entirely at peace.

Liam glanced down, watching the rise and fall of Zayn's shoulders. He pulled the blanket over him more snugly, one hand resting gently on his back.

Chapter Text

The van hummed steadily along the highway, tires humming against the pavement as scenery blurred into the monotonous stream of trees and road signs. The air conditioning was on full blast, but the stuffy interior of the car made Harry feel it was barely working. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat for what felt like the hundredth time, his stomach turning again with an ominous twist.

It had started not long after they left their last stop--a roadside diner with greasy food and a slightly off-smelling restroom, Harry hadn't eaten much, just a few fries and a bite of someone else's burger, but something had clearly not sat right.

Over an hour later, he regretted that bite more than anything.

"Ugh," he muttered, pressing his forehead to the cool window. His hand curled protectively around his middle as another wave of nausea rolled over him, this one stronger than the last. He closed his eyes, breathing through his nose as his mouth filled with saliva--a warning he knew too well.

"Harry?" Liam's voice was low and concerned. "You alright?"

"I think I'm gonna be sick." Was all that Harry could say. Everything happened in a blur after that.

"Pull over!" Liam called to the front, his voice urgent but calm. "Next gas station or whatever--just pull off!"

Niall, who was driving, gave a sharp nod and veered towards the next exit, following signs for a service station. The tension in the car skyrocketed as everyone exchanged worried glances. Louis twisted around in his seat to glance at Harry, who was now hunched forward, pale as a sheet, and clutching his stomach like it might fall apart at any second.

They skidded to a stop outside a grimy-looking gas station, the fluorescent sign flickering as if even it couldn't be bothered to stay fully lit. Harry practically stumbled out of the car, one hand covering his mouth, the other fumbling for the bathroom door.

Liam was right behind him.

Inside, the bathroom was as disgusting as expected--cracked tiles, peeling paint, and the overwhelming stench of bleach barely masking something worse. But Harry barely noticed. He dropped to his knees in front of the toilet, one hand bracing against the wall as his body prepared for the worst. Liam didn't hesitate. He knelt beside him, one hand on Harry's back, rubbing gentle, steady circles.

"It's okay," Liam murmured. "Just breathe through it, yeah? I've got you." Harry gagged a few times, but nothing came up. The nausea was relentless, teasing, a sick game his body was playing. His breathing was shallow, sweat beading along his hairline, but the comfort of Liam's presence anchored him through the worst. After what felt like an eternity, Harry slumped back on his heels, shaky and pale but no longer on the verge on the verge of throwing up. He leaned against the grimy wall, not even caring about the state of it, and let out a low groan. "You okay?" Liam asked softly.

"Yeah. I think I'm done. For now." Harry nodded. Liam helped him to his feet, careful and slow, and kept an arm around his waist as they returned to the car.

Louis and Niall had swapped spots, now in the front. Zayn, who'd been in the back with Liam and Harry earlier, slid into the middle row without a word of protest. Liam guided Harry to the backseat, helping him settle into the corner before climbing beside him.

Harry immediately reached for Liam's hand, fingers wrapping tightly around his. Liam gently squeezed it, wordlessly promising he wasn't going anywhere.

The car pulled back onto the road, quieter now. Everyone gave the two in the back their space. Harry's head leaned towards Liam's shoulder, and Liam shifted until Harry could stretch out a little, guiding him down until his head rested in Liam's lap.

"You're alright," Liam whispered, brushing a hand through Harry's curls, soothing and slow. His other hand slipped under the hem of Harry's hoodie; fingers warm as they moved in soft, rhythmic circles over his stomach. The skin beneath was clammy and tense, but the touch eased it, little by little. Harry let out a shaky breath and closed his eyes, his grip on Liam's hand loosening as his body relaxed inch by inch. "Try and sleep, yeah?" Liam murmured, continuing to card his fingers gently through the thick curls. "I've got you."

Harry mumbled vaguely like "thanks" before finally giving in to sleep, his breathing evening out, the tension in his limbs melting away under Liam's careful touch.

-Time Skip-

The sun was starting to dip behind the trees, painting the horizon in shades of gold and lavender. The drive had been long, and the mood in the van remained subdued. Though Harry hadn't thrown up, he was far from recovered--his skin was still pale, his eyelids heavy, and every few minutes, he would let out a soft whimper or shift uncomfortably in Liam's lap as though his stomach was still waging a war.

"There's a motel about ten minutes off the next exit. We should stop." Niall cut through the silence, glancing at the GPS and then in the rearview mirror.

"Agreed," Zayn muttered, already scrolling for directions on his phone.

"Yeah. No way he's making it another few hours like this." Louis agreed. Liam looked down at the boy resting against him. Harry's lashes fluttered a little, a small frown tugging at his lips

as if the conversation hum was enough to tug him from sleep. Liam's hand hadn't left his stomach--it kept moving in slow, calming circles.

"Let's stop," Liam agreed softly. "He needs a bed. And something that isn't moving at 70km per hour."

-Time Skip-

Within twenty minutes, the boys were pulling into the parking lot of a small, slightly rundown but clean-looking roadside motel. It is one of those single-floor strip-style buildings with flickering neon signage and mismatched lawn chairs outside each door. It wasn't glamorous, but it would do. Louis hopped out first, stretching dramatically before glancing back at the van.

"You guys coming or...?" He asked. Inside, Liam was having a bit of a problem. Harry had shifted as they pulled to a stop, blinking blearily, but he still hadn't moved from Liam's lap--and didn't seem eager to.

"Haz," Liam coaxed gently, brushing his fingers along Harry's cheek. "We're here. You've gotta let me up, mate."

"Don't wanna move..." Harry groaned and curled tighter into him.

"I know, but the bed's inside. A proper bed. And I'll still be there," Liam promised. "Just gotta get out of the car first, yeah?"

Another groan.

Liam tried to sit up, but Harry was deadweight--clearly awake enough to be stubborn but too exhausted and sick to cooperate.

"Alright, move over." Louis rolled his eyes, poking his head back through the open door. "Let the big guns handle this." Liam chuckled and carefully slid out from beneath Harry, easing his head onto a folded hoodie as a pillow. Louis leaned down, arms looping under Harry without hesitation. Harry whined softly but didn't fight it, letting Louis lift him like he weighed nothing. "You're like a human-sized hot water bottle," Louis muttered as he carried him inside, cradling Harry's head against his shoulder. "And just about as floppy."

Harry gave a half-laugh, half-sigh, too tired to form actual words.

Their room was simple: two queen beds, a single bed in a corner, an old dresser, a humming mini fridge. and a TV that hadn't been touched since 2006. But it was clean, cool, and dim--and right now, it looked like heaven.

Liam was already on one of the beds, shoes kicked off, laying back with his arms spread in invitation. Louis carried Harry over to the other bed first, setting him down gently and starting to tug at his hoodie.

"Let's get you into something more comfortable, yeah?" Louis said softly.

"Don't feel like moving..." Harry mumbled, blinking up at him, glassy-eyed.

"You don't have to. I got it." Louis helped him out of the hoodie and swapped it for an old, oversized t-shirt Liam had pulled out of Harry's bag. He helped him shimmy out of his jeans,

leaving him in just the t-shirt and boxers, then guided him towards the second bed where Liam was waiting.

As soon as Harry saw Liam's arms open, he practically melted into him.

"There we go," Liam murmured, wrapping both arms around him, one sliding under Harry's shirt to resume those soothing circles against his tummy. "Back where you belong."

Harry let out a sleepy, grateful hum, nestling so close that his entire side was pressed along Liam's torso. His head tucked perfectly under Liam's chin, one hand fisting the front of Liam's shirt.

"Thanks for... carrying me..." he mumbled towards Louis.

"Don't mention it." Louis grinned, flicking the light switch off on his way to the other bed. "I'll expect payment in cuddles when you're not trying to puke on me."

Zayn and Niall entered a minute later, both keeping their voices down. Niall tossed Liam a water bottle, which he set on the nightstand just in case Harry woke up parched. Zayn quickly patted Harry on the foot and turned the TV volume down to a whisper.

Soon, the room settled into a calm, the quiet hum of the AC filling the space. Harry was already half-asleep, pressed tightly into Liam, one leg thrown over his. Liam's hand never stopped its gentle motion on Harry's belly. The other stroked through his curls repeatedly until the tension in Harry's body finally melted for good.

Chapter Text

Louis blinked against the blinding stage lights, a deep throb hammering behind his eyes with every pulse of the sound system. The rehearsals were in full swing. The rest of the boys scattered across the stage, running through harmonies and blocking while their team made notes, adjusted lighting, and shouted instructions over the hum of instruments.

He gritted his teeth and forced his feet to move in time with the beat. He couldn't mess this up--not when the show was only hours away. But every step felt heavier than the last. The migraine had crept up slowly that morning, a dull ache that bloomed behind his eyes after a restless night. He'd ignored it like he usually did. But now it was blooming--loud, hot, and blinding.

His vision blurred at the edges, the overhead lights became painful daggers that seemed to pierce his skull, and every note, even his own voice, reverberated like it was bouncing around inside a metal box in his brain.

"Lou, take that line again," a voice called from the edge of the stage. Louis gave a weak nod, trying to focus, but his tongue felt heavy. He missed his cue completely.

"Mate?" Niall's voice, his warm and familiar voice, cut through the haze. "You alright?"

"Yeah." Louis waved him off, attempting a shaky smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "Just a bit knackered, that's all."

But Niall wasn't convinced. He narrowed his eyes, watching as Louis swayed slightly where he stood. His skin was ghostly pale, a thin sweat clinging to his forehead. Niall stepped closer, catching Louis as he staggered, blinking hard like he couldn't focus.

"Alright, that's enough," Niall muttered under his breath, slipping a steady arm around Louis' waist. "You're done for now." Louis opened his mouth to protest, but the words tangled up with the nausea rising in his throat. He leaned into Niall instinctively, grateful for the support. "C'mon," Niall said gently, guiding him offstage with practiced ease. "Let's get you out of the light."

The difference was instant as soon as they stepped into the shadowed corridor behind the stage. Louis sagged against Niall, eyes squeezed shut, breath shallow. "Hang on, almost there." Niall tightened his grip and guided him down the hallway towards their dressing room, nodding at a couple crew members who looked on with concern. He didn't stop to explain. Louis came first. Once inside, he helped Louis onto the sofa, grabbing a throw pillow

to tuck behind his head and dimming the lights until the room was a soft, quiet cocoon.

"Here," Niall said softly, pressing a cool water bottle into Louis' hands. "Sip this."

"Didn't wanna mess things up..." Louis defended, taking a shaky sip.

"You didn't," Niall said immediately, crouching beside him. "Don't even think that. You were pushing yourself too hard. Should've said something sooner."

"Didn't wanna be a burden," Louis mumbled, cracking one eye open, squinting through the pain.

"You could never be a burden, ya muppet." Niall rolled his eyes affectionately. "Especially not to me."

The quiet hum of the distant stage filtered into the room, but it felt far away now. Safe. Warm. Louis let his eyes fall closed again as Niall dipped a cloth in cold water from the mini fridge and gently laid it across his forehead.

"Just rest," Niall murmured, brushing a thumb over Louis' temple in a soothing motion. "We've got time. I'll cover for you out there."

"You sure?"

"Always."

Louis let out a soft sigh, finally letting the weight of the pain settle now that he didn't have to fight it anymore. With Niall there, steady and calm, he could let go.

-Time Skip-

The crowd's roar was thunderous, vibrating through the floor and walls like a living thing. Louis stood just offstage, one hand braced against the wall, the other shielding his eyes from the floodlights spilling in from the wings. The migraine hadn't gone--hadn't even lessened--but he'd insisted on going out there anyway. He had to. The fans were waiting.

Niall hovered beside him, close enough to catch him if he stumbled. "You sure?" he asked again, worry etched into every line of his face.

"I'll be alright." Louis nodded weakly.

"Alright." Niall didn't believe that for a second. "Let's do this then. I got you."

And he meant it.

Louis's opening number was a blur. He kept up--barely. The flashing lights were daggers in his skull, and every cheer from the crowd was a sonic bomb. But he stayed upright, moving through the chores on muscle memory, hitting the essential notes where he could.

Niall was never far from him. Every time Louis faltered on a lyric, Niall stepped in, seamless and smooth, covering for him without drawing attention. He adjusted the harmonies, filled the gaps, and gently shifted closer to Louis without making a scene. As always, it looked like they were vibing off each other to the crowd.

By the third song, Louis missed a cue entirely. He froze, swaying on his feet, staring out into the blur of lights and waving arms. Niall didn't miss a beat. He drifted closer, bumping shoulders with him lightly as he took over the next verse. "I've got you," he said low enough that only Louis could hear, his mic angled away.

Louis gave a small, grateful nod. He couldn't say anything back. Didn't need to. The rest of the concert passed in a haze for him. There were stretches he didn't remember--just flashes of noise, sweat, and Niall's voice pulling him along like a lifeline.

-Time Skip-

Hours later, the tour bus rumbled softly down a dark highway, far removed from the adrenaline and chaos of the venue. The boys were scattered around the front lounge, exhausted but still buzzing from the performance.

Louis was curled against Niall on one of the sofas, a hoodie draped over his shoulders. His head rested on Niall's chest, legs tucked in, arms limply wrapped around a throw pillow. He was barely keeping his eyes open, the migraine finally ebbing into something dull and heavy now that the lights were gone, and the world had gone quiet.

"Seriously, Lou, you scared the hell out of us," Liam said gently across the lounge. "You were white on stage."

"Didn't wanna cancel..." Louis murmured, voice muffled against Niall's shirt.

"Yeah, but you nearly collapsed, mate," Zayn added, sounding more worried than anything.

"You should've said something earlier," Harry added, tucking himself into the armchair by the window. "We'd have made it work."

"He did say something," Niall said softly, rubbing slow, soothing circles onto Louis's back. "Just didn't use words."

"You noticed." Louis huffed a tired laugh, shifting slightly in Niall's lap.

"Course I did." Niall's hand drifted up into his hair, gently carding through it. "You're loud as hell when you're healthy. You go quiet? That's when I know something's wrong?"

The others chuckled quietly at that, the tension slowly easing out of the room.

"You covered for him like a pro," Liam said. "Barely even noticed he missed anything."

"Yeah," Zayn agreed. "Smooth, mate."

"That's the job, innit?" Niall shrugged, not taking his eyes off Louis, whose breathing had started to slow into a steadier rhythm. "We've got each other's backs."

There was a hum of agreement around the room, but Louis had gone quiet again, eyes fluttering shut against the soft cotton of Niall's shirt. His breathing deepened, his hand clutching weakly at Niall's hoodie before falling still.

"He's out," Harry said, smiling faintly.

"Good," Niall said, looking down at the sleeping figure in his lap, brushing a strand of hair from Louis's face. "He needs it."

Outside, the night rolled on, the headlights cutting through the darkness as the bus carried them to their next stop. The quiet murmurs faded one by one as the others drifted to their bunks, leaving Niall sitting there with Louis curled up in his arms.

He didn't move. Didn't need to.

He rubbed his back in slow, steady motions, heart full, eyes soft.

And Louis slept--safe, warm, and held.

Chapter Text

The van hummed steadily along the winding stretch of highway, tires whispering against the asphalt, a soft rhythm that echoed the sleepy pulse of later afternoon. Clouds hung lazily in the sky, dimming the sun to a warm glow that bathed the vehicle's inside in gold. The crew was either asleep or plugged into headphones, lost in music, or scrolling through endless feeds. But in the middle row, they were just Liam and Louis.

Liam had been drifting in and out of sleep for the past hour. Touring always left him exhausted in a way that seeped into his bones. His head had started against the windows, then slowly migrated to the middle seat, and now--almost shyly--it had settled in Louis's lap.

Louis, for his part, didn't say a word about it. He barely moved and didn't even glance around to see if anyone noticed. Instead, he adjusted just enough to give Liam a more comfortable angle and then resumed the slow, gentle strokes of his hand through Liam's thick, slightly tousled hair.

It was a quiet intimacy--not the explosive kind of grand gesture. It was something steadier. Older. Like they'd been doing this for years.

Liam murmured something soft in his half-asleep haze, shifting slightly until his ear rested fully against Louis's stomach. Louis chuckled under his breath, the sound so low, and found that it barely stirred the air.

"Comfy, Payno?" he whispered, not expecting a response. And Liam didn't give one. His breathing was already slowing, falling into sync with the soft sounds around them--the rhythmic thrum of the road beneath, the gentle vibration of the van's engine, and the soothing, quiet gurgles of Louis's stomach beneath his cheek. The sounds were oddly comforting, grounding him even as he slipped deeper into sleep.

Louis looked down at him--the crease in Liam's brow had disappeared, lips parted slightly, lashes fluttering against his cheek. There was something so achingly soft about him like this. Strong, dependable Liam, who always carried too much weight on his shoulders, now completely surrendered to the quiet.

Louis's hand never stopped moving, fingers threading lazily through Liam's hair, then trailing down to stroke his forehead in gentle, aimless patterns. His thumb brushed the corner of Liam's temple, soothing away the remnants of whatever dreams still clung to him.

The van hit a small bump in the road, barely noticeable, but Liam stirred slightly. Louis hushed him without thinking, a soft "shh" like one might give a sleeping baby, and his hand stilled for a moment on Liam's cheek. When he felt the tension melt again, he resumed the slow stroking.

He hadn't meant for this to feel so much. Hadn't meant for his chest to ache in that warm, too-full way. But how could it not be when Liam was like this? Trusting. Peaceful. He rested his whole self in Louis's lap like it was the most natural place int he world.

Louis leaned his head against the window, letting his eyes slip shut, though he didn't sleep. He didn't want to. Not when there was this to hold onto.

The van curved gently along a stretch of road flanked by trees, their shadows flickering across the windows like ghosts of leaves. Somewhere in the back, someone coughed, then went silent again. The world felt suspended, like they were floating between stops, between hours -- between lives.

He could feel the faint rise and fall of his stomach with every breath, and he wondered if Liam could, too -- if the little noises it made, those soft digestive murmurs, felt like lullabies against his ear. Judging by how he'd gone completely slack, sinking deeper into Louis's lap, he must've found it comforting.

Louis smiled and brushed a few hair strands back from Liam's forehead. He didn't say it out loud -- wouldn't dare break the spell -- but his heart whispered it, nonetheless.

"I've got you."

Because he did. And he always would. He let the silence stretch, filled only with the low hum of the road and the occasional soft exhale from Liam's nose. Outside, the sky blushed towards dusk. Inside, everything was still.

Louis glanced down again and took in the curve of Liam's cheek, the long line of his lashes, the faint dimple that ghosted his face even in sleep. He felt the sharp tug in his chest again -- the one that always came when he realised how much he loved this boy, how much he had for years, in loud and quiet ways.

He didn't need fireworks. He didn't need declarations. This was enough for a van ride, a lap, and a hand in hair. After a while, Liam murmured again, this time more sleep than words, and Louis bent just slightly, whispering something soft and meaningless in return. A reassurance, maybe. A promise as the van rolled on.

Chapter Text

Niall's groan echoed through the tour bus like a dying whale, dramatic and loud enough to make Liam snort from the sofa.

"Oh god," Niall moaned, flopping down onto the lounge bench like he'd been shot. "My head's killing me."

"Oh no," Louis raised a brow from his place at the mini-kitchen counter, nursing a protein shake he's never admitted tasted like grass. "Not another Niall Horan emergency," he said, tone dripping with sarcasm. "What is it this time? Stubbed toe? Mild inconvenience? Slightly under-toasted toast?" 

"I'm serious, lads," Niall mumbled, squinting at the ceiling. "I think it's a migraine. The light's too bright. The noise is too loud. Your voice especially, Louis."

"You had two Redbulls, a packet of Sour Patch Kids, and half a burrito in an hour, Niall." Harry pointed out, sprawled out in joggers and a loose tee with a banana halfway to his mouth.

"It's not the food!" Niall whined, draping his arm over his face like he did Shakespeare in the park. "My brain's trying to claw its way outta my skull."

"Try water. And sleep. Works for most humans." Zayn suggested, putting his earphones in, clearly trying to ignore everyone.

"Y'all are so heartless," Niall muttered, curling into himself on the bench. "This is actual torture."

"Drama queen," Louis whispered to Liam, who chuckled.

-Time Skip-

An hour later, things weren't so funny.

Louis was the first to hear it--soft, wet-sounding retching from the tiny bathroom at the back of the bus. At first, he thought maybe someone was playing a prank. But the sound came again, raw and miserable.

"Oi," he called down the hallway. "Everything alright?"

No response--just another gut-wrenching heave.

"Is that...?" Harry asked, looking up from his phone. They all stood. Louis was the first to reach the door. It wasn't locked, so he pushed it open slowly--and instantly regretted teasing Niall.

The Irish boy was hunched over the toilet, one arm braced against the wall, the other clutching his stomach. His face was pale and clammy with sweat, and his eyes squinted shut as if the dim bathroom light were stabbing at him.

"Oh shit," Louis said, crouching next to him. "Niall, mate, why didn't you say it was this bad?"

"Did... said it was a migraine..." Niall whimpered, barely able to speak.

"Bloody hell," Harry gasped, appearing behind Louis. "He's white as a ghost." Niall gagged again, dry-heaving, and Harry immediately stepped forward. "Come on, we need to get him to bed."

Zayn grabbed a water bottle and a cold compress from the fridge, suddenly alert. Liam came in with a bin and a towel, his guilt already written across his face.

"I'll help him walk," Harry said, gently pulling Niall's arm over his shoulder. "Nice and easy, Ni. I've got you."

-Time Skip-

Back in the bunk room, they eased Niall onto the bottom bunk; Harry stayed beside him as the others worked like a well-oiled machine. Louis drew the blinds and dimmed the lights. Zayn handed Harry the cold compress, and Liam fetched Niall's anti-nausea meds from the tour medic's kit.

"Don't go," Niall croaked, clinging to Harry's shirt with quiet desperation.

"I'm not going anywhere," Harry murmured, climbing into the bunk and letting Niall press against him. "You're alright now. Just breathe, yeah?"

Niall made a soft noise, curling closer, his face tucked into Harry's chest.

"Need anything else?" Louis asked, voice uncharacteristically soft.

"We've got it." Harry shook his head. One by one, the others retreated to give them space, faces still full of guilt and concern.

-Time Skip-

For the next hour, Harry stayed exactly where he was. Niall's body was trembling, every little movement a clear sign he was in agony.

"It's like knives behind my eyes," Niall whispered, one hand still fisted in Harry's shirt. "And my stomach... it's flipping upside down..."

"Shhh. I know." Harry cooed, brushing sweaty hair from Niall's forehead. "Just let it pass. You're doing so good." He alternated between rubbing slow, gentle circles on Niall's back and

tracing soft patterns on his stomach to soothe the roiling discomfort. When Niall let out a quiet sob, Harry leaned down and kissed the top of his head. "You're safe, Ni. I've got you. Just try to relax."

His fingers drifted into Niall's hair, scratching lightly at his scalp, the motion rhythmic and comforting. Niall's breathing slowly started to even out, his tense body slackening just a little.

"Hurts," he mumbled again.

"I know, love," Harry said softly. "But you're not alone, alright? We're all here. We're sorry for being dicks about it earlier."

Niall didn't respond, but the way he tucked himself tighter into Harry said more than words ever could.

-Time Skip-

When the buys hit the next fuel stop, Niall was finally asleep, curled like a child in Harry's arms. Louis peeked in and smiled softly at the sight.

"He okay?" he whispered.

"Sleeping." Harry nodded, brushing his thumb gently across Niall's cheek. "Took a while, but he's out."

They were quiet for a beat, both watching him breathe.

"We were kinda awful, huh," Louis said.

"Yeah." Harry agreed. "But we'll make it up to him."

"Good. He deserves that." Louis nodded. As he turned to leave, Harry looked down at the boy curled into him, the lines on his face finally easing.

"I've got you," he whispered again, tightening his hold.

-Time Skip-

When Niall woke, it was to the gentle sway of the tour bus and a warmth pressed against his side. His stomach ached--sore and tender like it had been through a war--and his mouth tasted like something had died in it. But his head was... better. Still foggy, like he'd had one too many beers the night before, but the jackhammer behind his eyes had dulled to a manageable throb.

He blinked blearily, confused for a moment, before realising his face was nestled against Harry's chest, the steady thump of his heartbeat like a grounding rhythm. Harry's arms were still wrapped around him, one hand tangled in Niall's hair, the other resting on his hip. Harry was asleep, lips parted slightly, brow relaxed.

Niall shifted, and the movement made his stomach give a warning flip. He groaned softly. Harry stirred instantly.

"Hey," he said, voice raspy from sleep. "You awake?"

"M'head's a bit better..." Nial nodded weakly.

"Stomach?" Harry asked, brushing the hair from Niall's clammy forehead.

"Sore. Still dodgy." He winced. "Feel like I got kicked in the gut by a horse."

"Sounds about right." Harry gave a soft chuckle as he pressed the back of his hand to Niall's cheek. "You're not as hot anymore. That's good." There was a knock at the bunk door. "Come in," Harry called gently.

"Hey." Liam peeked in, a soft smile on his face. "He up?"

"Yeah," Harry said. "Woke up a few minutes ago."

"I was thinking I could... take over for a bit?" Liam suggested, stepping closer. "You've been with him all night."

Harry looked down at Niall, who was clinging tighter to his shirt.

"I don't want you to go," Niall mumbled, voice thick and slightly whiny. "You helped. I like you here."

"I know, mate," Harry said gently, smoothing his hand down Niall's back. "But I'm not going far. I just need to eat and stretch my legs a bit, yeah?"

"I'd really like to help, Niall," Liam said, crouching beside the bunk. "I feel like a right idiot for not believing you. Let me make it up to you?"

"But I feel safe with Harry..." Niall pouted, sniffling.

"You'll be safe with me too," Liam said, voice sincere. "Promise. I'll do everything he did. You can boss me around if I get it wrong."

"He's good at that." Harry smiled. Niall hesitated, torn between the comfort of familiarity and the guilt in Liam's eyes. Eventually, he gave a tiny nod, though his grip on Harry didn't loosen immediately.

"Okay," he murmured. "But only if you rub my back."

"Deal." Liam agreed without hesitation. Once the transition was made (very gently, very slowly), Niall curled against Liam's chest instead. It felt different--Liam was broader, warmer somehow--but not bad. Still soft. Still safe. Liam wrapped both arms around him, adjusting the blankets and resting his chin lightly on Niall's head.

"You were really that bad, huh?" Liam whispered. "I'm so sorry, Niall. We all thought you were just messing around."

"I wasn't," Niall muttered, his voice barely audible. "Thought I was gonna die in that bathroom..."

"I should've known better." Liam agreed. "Next time, I'll believe you the first time. I promise." Niall said nothing, but after a moment, he shifted a little closer. Liam took the hint and started rubbing small, steady circles on Niall's back, carefully and slowly. Just like Harry had. After a few minutes, he moved to Niall's stomach, drawing gentle patterns with his fingertips over the blankets. "Better?" Liam asked softly.

"Mm," Niall hummed. "Still hurts... but that helps." They stayed like that for a while--Liam rubbing circles on his sore belly, occasionally stroking his hair, whispering soft reassurances. And though Niall had resisted at first, he found himself relaxing into it more and more. Liam's heart was steady beneath his ear, his hands warm and comforting. "You're good at this," Niall mumbled eventually.

"Wish I hadn't been a prat earlier. But I'm here now." Liam smiled a little sadly.

"I forgive you." Niall nodded, fingers clutching the edge of Liam's shirt like a security blanket.

"Thanks, Ni." Liam swallowed thickly.

"Can you stay for a bit?" Niall asked in a whisper.

"As long as you want."

And with that, Niall burrowed in fully, cheek pressed to Liam's chest, breathing slowly and even. Liam held him close, one hand in his hair, the other tracing soft patterns on his stomach until Niall finally drifted back to sleep.

-Meanwhile-

In the main lounge, Harry peeked back towards the bunk hallway, where the quiet had settled in again.

"How's the patient?" Louis asked, handing him a cup of tea.

"Switched snuggle partners." Harry smiled, accepting the cup of tea. "Liam's on duty now."

"About time," Louis said. "You looked ready to fuse with the mattress."

"He'll be alright." Harry chuckled, sipping his tea. "He just needed someone to believe him." 

"We all messed up," Louis stated bluntly.

"Yeah," Harry agreed, staring into his cup. "But at least now we're trying to make it right."

-Time Skip-

By midday, Niall was definitely feeling better. His stomach was still a bit fragile, and his head buzzed in that post-migraine haze, but the worst had passed. He remained dramatically bundled under three blankets, socks on his feet, a warm compress on his belly, and a bottle of water clutched like a precious relic.

Liam had reluctantly handed over cuddle duty once Niall fell back into a light nap, though not before promising he'd return with snacks and a heating pad. Meanwhile, Harry had made himself busy in the kitchen brewing tea like he was preparing for war. Zayn had been the quiet one all morning, lurking at the edges, guilt twisting in his chest.

He hadn't meant to brush Niall off. He just... didn't know what to do when things got emotional. It was easier to pretend nothing was serious. But seeing Niall vomiting, pale, and trembling--that had stuck with him. The guilt lingered like smoke in the air, impossible to ignore.

So, when Niall finally appeared in the main lounge, bundled up like a sick Victorian child with his hair still mussed and a visible pout on his lips, Zayn was the first to speak.

"Look who's up," he said softly, tilting his head. "You alright, blondie?"

"M'feeling better." Niall nodded slowly, eyeing the pile of pillows already forming on the lounge couch. "Still a bit bleh, but I'm okay."

"Well, look who's come crawling out of the deathbed." Louis teased, who had just returned from the back bunkroom with a bag of crisps and a fluffy throw.

"I nearly died, thank you very much." Niall protested, unimpressed.

"You had a migraine," Louis said, teasing. "Not a mortal wound."

"Felt like both," Niall huffed dramatically, plopping onto the couch with a soft groan. "And none of you believed me."

"That's why," Liam cut in gently, "you get to the center of the universe for the rest of the day."

"Seriously?" Niall asked, unconvinced.

"All forgiven, yeah?" Louis said, plopping next to him. "But only if you agree to let us make it up to you."

"We were gonna put on a movie." Zayn cleared his throat. "You in?"

"Only if someone cuddles me again." Niall bargained, and all heads turned toward him.

"Again?" Harry questioned with a raised eyebrow.

"You lot owe me," Niall said matter-of-factly. "I'm emotionally fragile. Could crumble at any moment."

"He's milking it now." Liam chuckled. 

"Right then. Let's indulge the little prince." Louis agreed instantly.

"My turn," Zayn said, patting his lap. "Come on then, Nialler. I've got the softest hoodie, anyway."

Niall's eyes lit up just a bit too quickly for someone who was truly still miserable. He shuffled over with his blankets and practically collapsed into Zayn's lap, sighing dramatically as he settled in.

"That's more like it."

"Comfy?" Zayn let out a breathy laugh and adjusted the pile of blankets over Niall's legs, wrapping one arm around his shoulder, the other absently stroking his hair.

"Mmm," Niall hummed. "Don't stop playing with my hair."

"Demanding," Zayn muttered under his breath but obliged nonetheless, fingers threading gently through Niall's soft, messy strands. The movie started with some random comedy Louis picked, but the boys didn't pay much attention. Their focus stayed on the quiet boy curled up in the middle of them, slowly relaxing increasingly with every passing minute.

"Your hoodie smells like you. It's nice." Niall mumbled, leaning further into Zayn's chest and occasionally letting out a tired little sigh.

"Thanks, I guess?" Zayn smirked. They all shared snacks--though Niall stuck to dry toast and a few sips of tea--and when the movie hit a particularly funny scene, Niall didn't laugh quite as loud as usual, but the smile on his face said enough.

"You doing alright, love?" Louis asked at one point, brushing a crumb from Niall's cheek. Niall looked around at them--Harry on the armrest, Liam on the floor by his feet, Louis right next to him, and Zayn still cradling him like he was made of glass.

"M'feeling pretty lucky, actually." Niall nodded.

"You better." Louis grinned. "We've turned into your personal cuddle squad."

"Don't think that's gonna stop me from demanding more," Niall said, eyes fluttering shut as Zayn stroked his hair. "You lot feel guilty. I'm cashing in."

"Cheeky." Zayn chuckled.

"You've earned it." Harry leaned over and pressed a soft kiss to Niall's head.

"Yeah, I did." Niall sighed contentedly. And just like that, the room settled into warmth again--quiet giggles, the hum of the movie, and the soft sound of someone being loved back to health.

Chapter Text

It was one of those rare nights--no interviews, no shows, no screaming crowds or cameras in their faces. Just the five of them, sprawled across the couches in the flat, a movie playing softly in the background. The lights were dimmed, bowls of popcorn were half-eaten, and soda cans were sweating on the coffee table. The energy in the room was mellow, a kind of quiet that only came from deep familiarity and shared exhaustion.

Zayn had started sitting upright, back against the cushions, legs pulled up lazily in front of him. But his posture had slackened somewhere between the second explosion and the hero's dramatic monologue. His eyelids drooped, blinking slowly and heavily, and his head tipped slightly. Then, slowly, it drifted sideways until it came to rest gently against Liam's shoulder.

Liam glanced down at the dark-haired boy curled into his side, a soft smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. Zayn's face looked peaceful in the low light, lashes fanning his cheeks, his breathing soft and steady. He looked like he'd been running on empty and finally let himself stop, finally let himself rest.

Carefully, Liam shifted slightly to get more comfortable without disturbing him, letting his arm drape lightly around Zayn's back. His other hand--without much thought, more instinct than anything--wandered to Zayn's stomach, resting just over the soft curve beneath his hoodie. His fingers moved in slow, lazy circles, barely touching, just enough to soothe.

Zayn let out a quiet, almost inaudible hum and nuzzled closer into Liam's neck.

"Mmm... warm," he mumbled, voice thick with sleep and barely coherent.

"That's me," Liam murmured, chuckling under his breath as he stroked his belly slowly and gently. "Human hot water bottle."

Zayn didn't answer, not really. Just another soft sound, almost like a purr, and a slight twitch of his fingers where one hand had settled in Liam's lap. Liam glanced over at Harry, Louis, and Niall--still engrossed in the movie, or at least pretending to be, though Louis shot him a look that screamed soft with a little smirk.

Liam rolled his eyes good-naturedly and turned his attention back to the boy leaning against him. He felt a swell in his chest, something tender and aching all at once. For all his cool exterior, Zayn was warm and soft when he let his walls down. And right now, here, like this--head resting against Liam's shoulder, breath tickling the side of his neck, stomach rising and

falling under his palm--he was the softest Liam had ever seen him. He bent his head slightly, brushing his lips against Zayn's temple. "Sleep, yeah?" he whispered.

"Only if you stay," Zayn said, shifting again just enough to get closer.

"I'm not going anywhere," Liam replied, voice barely a breath. The movie continued, but for Liam, time had slowed. Zayn's soft breathing, weight against his side, and the slow rhythm of his hand over Zayn's belly became the whole world. At that moment, Liam didn't need anything else.

-Time Skip-

The credits rolled on the screen, the dramatic orchestral score swelling as the last name faded from view. The boys groaned and stretched Niall sat up straighter, cracking his back with a wince; Louis fumbled around for the remote to queue up another movie; Harry wandered off in search of snacks. The usual post-movie shuffle.

Liam, however, remained frozen.

Zayn was still fast asleep, head tucked against Liam's shoulder, one arm slung lazily across his waist, legs tangled just close enough to make movement almost impossible. His breath puffed warm and steady against Liam's neck. Sweet. Adorable, even.

Also: Liam really, really needed to pee.

"Zay... mate," Liam whispered, trying to nudge Zayn without fully waking him. "I gotta go."

"Mmmnno," Zayn grumbled in protest, tightening his hold like a sleepy octopus.

"Zayn," Liam tried again, gently patting his back. "I'm serious. I'm about to explode."

"What's the matter, Payno? Held hostage by a sleepy koala?" Louis asked teasingly.

"A little help?" Liam glared.

"I volunteer as tribute." Louis raised his hand dramatically.

"It's just for a second, I swear," Liam said when Zayn gave a soft, disapproving sound as Louis slid into the now-vacated space beside them. Zayn opened one bleary eye, then the other, giving Liam a betrayed look like Liam had just promised him a puppy and then handed over a stuffed toy. But after a quiet moment, he let out a tiny sigh and loosened his grip. Liam slipped from under him with a whispered "thanks" and made a beeline for the bathroom.

"C'mere, your big sleepy lump," Louis muttered, not wasting any time, gently guiding Zayn to recline against him instead. Zayn mumbled something unintelligible but didn't resist, tucking his head against Louis's chest with a sleepy sigh. By the time Liam returned--considerably more comfortable--Zayn was already fully snuggled into Louis's hoodie-clad side. Louis had an arm thrown around him like it was the most natural thing in the world, one hand resting on Zayn's back, occasionally tapping a rhythm to the new movie's soundtrack.

"You've been replaced, mate." Niall teased, giving Liam a look.

"Apparently so." Liam huffed a laugh, rubbing the back of his neck as he looked down at the two of them.

"He's like a cat." Harry grinned, now back with a bowl of something crunchy, as he flopped beside Niall. "Warm spot's all he wants."

Liam considered squeezing in and reclaiming his spot, but something about how content Zayn looked made him pause. His face was peaceful again, lips parted slightly in sleep, hands curled loosely against Louis's side. Louis caught Liam's eye and mouthed, "You're good," with a shrug.

So, Liam nodded, sinking into the armchair instead and pulling a throw blanket across his lap. The second movie started, the familiar sounds of explosions and banter filling the room once more. Liam settled in and relaxed, even as his eyes flicked toward the couch occasionally.

He wasn't jealous--not really. He'd had his moment. Now, someone else got to be lucky with a Zayn-shaped heater for a while. And Zayn? Zayn didn't stir, didn't protest. Just kept sleeping, safe and warm, wrapped up in the quiet comfort of his boys.

-Time Skip-

The second movie had rolled halfway through--some ridiculous sci-fic flick Niall had picked for the explosions and zero plot. The room was dim and warm, full of the soft rustle of snack bags and the occasional chuckle when a cheesy line landed just right.

Zayn stirred against Louis, brow twitching slightly, and then slowly blinked his eyes open. He looked dazed--his hair ruffled; lips parted as he tried to process the world around him. His eyes darted around sleepily before they landed on Liam, now sitting in the armchair just to the side, partially reclined, blanket over his legs, watching the screen.

"Liam?" Zayn asked, confused.

"Hey," Liam said, looking over immediately. "You alright?"

"Where'd you go?" Zayn asked, blinking a few times. His voice was quieter now, almost like he wasn't sure if he was asking about five minutes ago or an entirely different day. "You were right here."

"You kinda held me hostage while you were asleep," Liam explained, crouching beside the couch. "I was bursting for the loo. Louis took over while I escaped."

"Didn't know you left," Zayn mumbled, staring at him, still looking lost.

"Mate, you clung to him like he was oxygen and sleep-mumbled, "Don't go." Louis gave a soft snort from above him. "Pretty sure we all got a little emotional."

Zayn rolled his eyes, cheeks tinged faintly pink and tried to bury his face into Louis's side again.

"Hey, no hiding." Liam chuckled. He moved around to the other side of Louis, settling beside them on the couch so he was just within reach. He held his hand out in offering, and Zayn, without a word, reached out and laced their fingers together under the blanket draped over him and Louis.

Liam gently ran his thumb across Zayn's knuckles, slow and soothing, and watched as Zayn's breathing evened out again, his eyes fluttering closed again.

"I feel like the world's softest sandwich." Louis joked, peeking down at Zayn's hair pressed to his chest.

"You're the bread. He's the filling." Liam agreed jokingly.

"Don't say that while he's asleep on me," Louis whispered. "I'll never hear the end of it."

But there was no protest from Zayn, just a sleepy squeeze of Liam's hand and a content sigh. He didn't fully wake again; he stayed nestled against Louis while clinging softly to Liam, as if he couldn't quite pick between the two and decided not to. The movie kept playing. Liam didn't care what was happening on screen.

All he knew was that Zayn was warm and safe and still holding his hand like he was anchoring himself in the moment. And Liam was more than happy to stay right there.

Chapter Text

The tour bus hummed along the endless stretch of highway, dimly lit by the overhead nightlights and the occasional flash of headlights from passing cars. The rest of the lads were sprawled in the main lounge, headphones on or laughing quietly over some old YouTube clip, lost in their own world.

Zayn's heart wasn't in it.

He glanced down the hallway that led to the bunks, the nagging worry from earlier settling deeper into his chest. Harry had disappeared hours ago, saying something vague about needing to lie down. He hadn't come back out for dinner. Niall had joked that Harry was probably hibernating like a bear again, but Zayn hadn't laughed.

There'd been something in Harry's face--tight around the mouth, too pale under his freckles. He knew that look. Slipping away from the others, Zayn padded barefoot down the narrow corridor, careful not to bump into anything in the dim light. He paused outside the third bunk down; the one Harry always claimed on tour. The curtain was half-pulled shut, only a sliver of darkness visible through the gap.

"Haz?" he murmured, voice low. No answer.

Zayn gently pulled the curtain back.

Harry was curled in on himself, lying on his side, arms wrapped tightly around his middle. His face was creased in discomfort even in sleep, curls stuck to his forehead, and his t-shirt was rumpled around his ribs. He looked flushed, too warm, even though the bus was cool. Zayn felt something ache in his chest. "Harry..." he whispered again, crouching to get closer. One green eye blinked open blearily, confused before recognition softened his expression.

"Zaynie," he croaked. His voice was hoarse, thick. "M'sorry. Just didn't feel good."

Zayn didn't waste time with reassurances. He gently climbed into the bunk, careful not to jostle him too much, and slid in behind Harry, wrapping an arm around his waist. He could feel the tension in Harry's body immediately--a tautness in his stomach, like he was trying to hold it all together.

"You're okay," Zayn said softly, warm breath brushing the back of Harry's neck. "Just relax."

"Been feeling off since this morning." Harry let out a shaky breath. "Thought it'd go away but... it's worse." Zayn's hand crept under the hem of his shirt, brushing soft, slow circles on the overheated skin of his stomach. Harry twitched at first, then melted under the touch,

the tight coil of pain loosening just a little. "S'burns," he admitted quietly, almost ashamed. "Stomach's really sore."

"I've got you, yeah? Just rest." Zayn reassured, pressing a gentle kiss to the back of his shoulder. Harry didn't answer, but the tension in his body eased slightly. Zayn kept his hand moving in slow, soothing patterns, murmuring nonsense into the silence--old lyrics, half-sung lullabies, whatever he could remember in the haze of worry and affection. Harry's breathing evened out slowly, his head tilting slightly to rest against Zayn's shoulder.

Minutes passed--maybe hours--as the bus rolled on. Zayn lay awake long after Harry drifted off, his hand still pressed warm and steady against his stomach, guarding him like he could ward off the sickness through sheer will.

-Time Skip-

The hours ticked by on the quiet, steady roll of the tour bus, and the faint glow of the overhead lights painted shadows on the walls. The lounge was growing quieter, the other lads' laughter dying as the fatigue from the long day set in. Sitting with his legs stretched out on the couch, Niall glanced around, a bit puzzled.

"Where'd Zayn and Haz go?" he asked, half-joking. "They vanish into the depths of the bus, and we haven't seen 'em since dinner."

"Maybe they're just... I dunno, taking a break?" Liam suggested with a shrug, looking up from scrolling through his phone. "You know how Harry gets when he's not feeling well. Probably just resting."

"Well, it's been, like, hours. Zayn's usually not the type to just... disappear like that." Louis pointed out, who had been idly flipping through the latest magazine issue.

"Maybe we should go check?" Liam suggested. "Just to be sure. You know Harry doesn't always mention when he's really unwell."

"Yeah, alright. I'll check on them." Niall volunteered, pushing himself up from the couch and headed down the hallway, tapping gently on the bunks. He stopped before Harry's, noticing the quiet behind the curtain. He hesitated momentarily, feeling the weight of the situation from before. "Harry?" he called softly, pulling the curtain back a little. His heart nearly skipped a beat when he saw the two figures curled up together. Harry was tightly nestled against Zayn, his face flushed and peaceful, the rise and fall of his chest slow and steady. But the closeness caught Niall's attention--Zayn had wrapped himself protectively around Harry, one arm holding him while the other rested under Harry's shirt, gently rubbing circles on his stomach. Niall blinked, unsure what to do, before he stepped closer, whispering, "Zayn? Haz?"

The soft rustling woke Zayn first. His eyes fluttered open slowly, groggy from the hours of sleep and quiet comfort. He looked up, a sleepy smile crossing his face when he saw Niall standing there, but it quickly faded into concern.

"Shhh, Niall," Zayn murmured. He didn't want to wake Harry fully. "He's still not feeling well."

Niall frowned, looking down at Harry's curled form. He was clearly still running a fever, his skin hot to the touch beneath the shirt Zayn had lifted. Zayn had kept him close all this time, trying to provide warmth and comfort as best as possible. But now, with the others standing there, Niall realised how much time had passed.

"We've been out here for a while," Niall said quietly, stepping closer to the bunk. "Do you want me to take over for you? You've been with him for hours now. He needs a bit of rest, right?"

"Yeah, but... be gentle with him, alright?" Zayn nodded.

"Course," Niall replied, already sliding into the bunk. He shifted a little, trying not to disturb Harry, but his hand hovered briefly before resting softly on Harry's belly, mirroring Zayn's earlier motions. Harry stirred at the touch, mumbling in his sleep, but his eyes remained closed. He shifted again, a slight frown pulling at his features, his stomach tensing in response to the new touch. Zayn watched for a beat, sensing Harry's resistance even in his sleep. But before he could say anything, Harry kicked his feet out in protest, letting out a quiet whine.

"No, Zayn... s'not you..." Harry mumbled, trying to pull away, even though his body was still too sluggish to do much.

"Hey, mate, it's me, Niall. Zayn's just resting, alright? He's still here." Niall is quick to reassure. Harry made a small, frustrated sound, his eyes flickering open with a pained, unfocused gaze. He looked at Niall, blinking a few times, before his body relaxed again, clearly still exhausted.

"Don't go..." Harry mumbled, but his voice was weak, his face softening as he seemed to accept the shift. His hand found Niall's, bringing it back to his stomach, where the soothing circles resumed.

"I'm right here, Haz," Zayn assured, hand lingering on his shoulder for a moment, squeezing lightly. "Just sleep. We're all taking care of you."

Harry's breathing evened out as Niall's hand resumed the gentle circles. He sighed, his face relaxing again. A moment later, Zayn's hand fell away, and the warmth of the bus and the tenderness surrounding them both worked to lull Harry into a deeper sleep.

"Everything okay?" Louis asked, peeking down the hallway from the main lounge.

"Yeah, he's just a bit out of it. Should be okay, though." Niall smiled softly, keeping his voice low. Louis nodded and stepped back toward the lounge. Still hovering protectively near Harry, Zayn gave Niall a grateful nod before easing back to let him take his place.

"I'll be right here, okay?" Zayn whispered to Harry, brushing his curls out of his face. As the bus rumbled on through the night, the lads settled into a rhythm, taking turns keeping watch over Harry as he slept, each offering comfort in their own way. But Zayn's presence was never far, his quiet support filling the spaces where words weren't needed.

-Time Skip-

The quiet hum of the tour bus was broken only by the soft sounds of the wheels rolling across the road as the first light of dawn began to filter in through the windows. It was still too early for most, but Liam was already awake, as he often was. The others were still sleeping, their bodies sprawled across the couch and the bunks, lost in the deep quiet of the night that seemed to stretch into the morning.

But Liam noticed something out of place as he stood up and stretched. He looked down the hallway and saw the curtain to Harry's bunk pulled back slightly, the space empty. Frowning, Liam padded quietly down the narrow corridor, his steps soft. As he passed the other bunks, he noticed Zayn still in his own, his curls a messy tangle against the pillow, clearly not awake yet. But the small shift in the air drew Liam's attention--a faint, low sound of discomfort coming from Harry's bunk.

Liam reached the door and peeked inside. There, curled in the small space, was Harry, awake but clearly struggling. His face was scrunched in discomfort, eyes fluttering open as he shifted his position, his hand moving to rub at his belly, but the familiar touch he'd become accustomed to from last night was gone. Niall was still asleep, sprawled out next to him, his hand resting on Harry's stomach but no longer moving.

"Harry?" Liam's voice was soft as he knelt down beside the bunk. Harry's eyes blinked open at the sound, though they were uncomfortable.

"Liam," Harry murmured weakly, his voice scratchy from the sleep. He winced slightly, his stomach giving another twinge of pain. "Stomach's bad again."

Liam's heart squeezed at the sight of Harry, pale and fragile, curled up in discomfort. He looked at Niall, still deeply asleep, his face soft and peaceful despite the earlier tension. Liam sighed, placing a gentle hand on Harry's arm.

"I'm gonna take you out to the couch, alright?" Liam said, his tone soothing. "I'll keep you close. You can rest there, and I'll rub your belly like I promised."

"Okay, but... don't let go. I need it..." Harry nodded reluctantly.

"I won't mate. I'll stay right with you," Liam reassured him, gently helping him sit up. He moved slowly, mindful of Harry's discomfort, until Harry stood with his help, one of Liam's arms around him for support. Liam guided Harry to the lounge, where the bus swayed gently down the road. The others were still asleep, oblivious to the early drama unfolding in the back of the bus. Liam settled Harry onto the couch, smoothing a blanket over him as he sat beside him. Harry curled up on his side, his head resting against Liam's shoulder as he tried to find a more comfortable position.

"I've got you," Liam said quietly, rubbing small, soothing circles on Harry's belly, mimicking the gentle pressure Zayn had given him earlier. "Just breathe. We'll wait for the others to wake up. You're not alone, yeah?"

Harry sighed softly, his body starting to relax a little. He shifted against Liam's chest, closing his eyes and letting himself be guided by the comfort of the steady touch. For a moment, it almost felt like everything else didn't matter. His stomach still hurt, but with Liam there,

rubbing his belly so gently and offering soft words of comfort, it felt like the ache was something distant.

"I missed this," Harry mumbled, his voice soft but full of affection. "When I'm like this... it's easier when someone's here."

"Always, mate. You don't need to go through this on your own. We're a team." Liam reassured, his heart melting at the words, and he shifted a little to make himself more comfortable, adjusting his hand on Harry's belly.

Harry nodded, his breathing evening out, the pain easing just a little as Liam rubbed his stomach. The motion was slow and deliberate, with a soft rhythm that kept Harry calm. Liam glanced over at the other bunks, wondering how much longer it would be before the others stirred, but for now, it was just him and Harry.

The warmth of the bus and the comfort of their proximity settled in, and Harry finally let his eyes drift shut. Exhaustion started to overtake him, and the soothing sensation of Liam's hand on his stomach made everything feel a little bit more bearable.

It was quiet, save for the low hum of the bus and the occasional soft sound of Harry's breath. The ache in his stomach was still there, a dull throb, but for now, it was manageable.

As the minutes passed, Harry felt himself slipping into sleep again, the discomfort at least fading into the background for now.

Liam's hand stayed steady, rubbing gently over Harry's belly as they waited in the stillness, both content to be there for each other in the quiet morning hours. There was no rush, no hurry--just the soft, quiet moments that only the two could share in this peaceful space in the early morning hours when the world outside was still asleep.

Chapter Text

The tour bus rattled lightly as it sped down the dim highway, city lights melting into darkness outside the window. Inside, the soft hum of the engine was only slightly drowned out by Harry's laughter as he recounted some ridiculous story from their last interview. Niall tweeted a sarcastic comment, and Liam groaned in good-humoured exasperation.

Louis, however, wasn't laughing.

He sat slouched in the farthest corner of the lounge area, one leg pulled up onto the seat, his hand gripping at the base of his skull. His eyes were squeezed shut behind his sunglasses--still on despite the hour--and his jaw was locked tight. What started as a dull throb behind his eyes mid-afternoon had gradually snowballed into something far worse. The headache had sunk its claws into his skull and morphed into a full-blown migraine, and now every sound, every vibration even the low light of the bus interior made him want to retch.

Zayn had noticed it long before anyone else. He always did. When Louis didn't quip back at Niall during the third interview. When he didn't sing along with the radio on the ride back. When he sat down on the bus and quietly pressed his fingers to his temples instead of flopping dramatically onto the couch like usual.

Zayn watched him now, hidden behind the bus's warm lighting haze. He nudged Liam and nodded towards the back, keeping his voice low.

"I think Louis isn't feeling great."

"Shit." Liam cursed, following his gaze. He got up and subtly corralled the others toward the bunks, offering a casual, "Let's wind down for the night, yeah? We've got soundcheck early tomorrow." Harry didn't question it; he just gave a sleepy grin and dragged Niall off with him.

When the others were out of earshot, Zayn moved quietly to the small control panel and dimmed the overhead lights until the bus was bathed in a gentle amber glow. Then he turned towards Louis, whose posture hadn't shifted even slightly.

"Hey," Zayn said gently as he stepped closer. "You okay?"

"Head's fucking killing me," Louis answered through clenched teeth.

"You should've said something earlier," Zayn said in a hushed tone, crouching before him.

"Didn't wanna be a buzzkill," Louis said, opening one eye and wincing at the even low light. "Everyone was in a good mood."

"You're allowed to feel like crap, y'know." Zayn pointed out. Louis gave a small, pained shrug. Zayn slid onto the seat beside him without needing to ask, close enough that their knees touched. "C'mere," he said quietly, opening his arms in an unspoken offer.

Louis didn't hesitate. With a tired sigh, he shifted, lying down slowly and resting his head in Zayn's lap. His arms were tucked close to his chest like a kid seeking comfort. Zayn adjusted himself so Louis could lie more comfortably, then ran his fingers through his hair's soft, tousled strands.

The motion was slow and intentional. His fingers combed from roots to ends, sometimes scratching gently at his scalp in the way he knew Louis liked. He could feel the tension in his friend's body slowly begin to ebb with each pass. The flickering in his eyebrows stopped, and the lines of pain around his mouth softened.

"You're magic," Louis muttered under his breath, voice thick and muffled into Zayn's thigh.

"Nah." Zayn huffed a laugh. "Just good at knowing what you need."

"Don't stop." Louis sighed, his shoulders rose, and he fell with another deep breath.

"Not planning to." The hum of the road faded into the background. Time slowed. Zayn continued the soft ministrations, occasionally brushing his thumb along Louis's temple or behind his ear. He could feel Louis drifting, his breathing deepening, and his muscles relaxing further. He was finally finding relief in the quiet, the darkness, and the comfort of Zayn's touch. Zayn looked down at him fondly, thumb still carding gently through his fringe. "Go to sleep, Lou," he whispered. "I've got you."

Chapter Text

Movie nights were a scared tradition for the boys. They looked forward to them after a long week of promos, interviews, and travelling. It was the one time they could kick back in sweatpants, argue over which movie to watch, and demolish a ridiculous amount of snacks without judgment.

Tonight was no exception.

The living room was warm and dimly lit, fairy lights strung lazily around the bookshelves, casting a cozy glow. Pillows and blankets were scattered everywhere, and the coffee table was stacked with popcorn bowls, bags of crisps, gummy bears, chocolate bars, and a suspicious amount of fizzy drinks.

True to form, Niall had planted himself in the middle of the couch, legs already tucked under a blanket and a bowl of popcorn nestled in his lap.

"This is gonna be a legendary night," he said with a grin, already halfway through a handful of Sour Patch Kids.

"You said that last time," Liam chuckled from the other side of the couch, stretching his arm over the back behind Niall's shoulders. "Then you passed out ten minutes into DIe Hard."

"Yeah, well," Niall replied around a mouthful of popcorn, "this time I'm prepared."

-Time Skip-

Three movies in, though, things had taken a turn. The laughter had started to quiet down. Niall, who had been cheerfully munching on gummy worms and alternating between sips of cola and bites of chocolate, now looked...off. He shifted under the blanket, rubbing his stomach in small, slow circles. Liam noticed first.

"You alright, mate?" he asked, leaning in closer. Niall's usually bright eyes looked tired, and he was breathing through his mouth like he was trying not to focus on something unpleasant.

"Ugh. Yeah, I think I just...ate too much," Niall mumbled, pressing a hand to his belly.

"Mate," Zayn said, pausing the movie. "You didn't just eat too much; you demolished the snack table. I watched you chase a mini-Snickers with a cheese puff."

"Don't remind me." Niall gave a weak laugh, then winced.

"Want a hot water bottle?" Harry asked from the floor with his head propped on a pillow. "Helps when I overdo it."

"Yeah, actually. That sounds good," Niall said, curling closer to Liam's side. Liam was up in a second, gently ruffling Niall's hair before heading off. A few minutes later, he returned with the soft, warm bottle wrapped in a worn cover shaped like a sleepy-looking sheep.

"Here," Liam said softly, tucking it gently against Niall's stomach. "Just hold that there for a bit."

"Oh, that's magic..." Niall sighed with relief. The others smiled, fond and amused, as Niall shuffled closer to Liam, resting his head against his shoulder. His stomach gave a pathetic little groan, and he grumbled something unintelligible before going quiet.

Liam didn't seem to mind one bit. He shifted so Niall could be more comfortable, one arm draped loosely around him as the movie resumed.

"You good?" Liam murmured in his ear.

"Yeah," Niall breathed, already sounding sleepier. "You're warm."

"Hot water bottle's doing all the work," Liam teased gently, but he gave Niall a soft squeeze anyway. It didn't take long. Between the warmth of the hot water bottle, Liam's steady breathing, and the soothing background noise of the film, Niall's eyes fluttered shut. His stomach still ached, but it felt a little less terrible when Liam was there.

By the time the credits rolled, Niall was fast asleep, a slight snore escaping him occasionally. Liam didn't move, not even to stretch. He just smiled down at the messy blond hair tucked into his shoulder, holding him like it was the most natural thing in the world.

"He's out," Zayn whispered with a grin, quietly tossing a blanket over them.

"He'll regret the snack mountain tomorrow," Harry added, stretching out like a cat.

"Yeah," Liam said softly, brushing some hair off Niall's forehead, "but he looked happy. Worth it, I think."

Niall blinked blearily, still half-asleep, his limbs heavy, warm, and utterly disinterested in moving.

"Mmm," he mumbled, voice thick with sleep.

"Hey," Liam said, voice low and gentle, barely above a whisper. "You awake?"

"Mmmh...don't wanna move," Niall mumbled, burrowing his face against Liam's hoodie.

"Didn't think you would." Liam chuckled, brushing a hand through Niall's messy hair. "But this couch isn't exactly a proper bed, Ni. You'll sleep better if you move."

"Nooo," Niall whined, clinging just a little tighter. "You're warm. It's fine."

"Mate, you're basically lying on me," Liam teased, though his tone stayed soft and indulgent. "And I can't feel my leg."

"'S your fault for being comfy," Niall slurred, sleep tugging at the edges of his voice again. There was a moment where Liam just sighed, affectionate and resigned.

"Alright," he said quietly, "if you don't move, I'll move you."

Before Niall could protest--or do much of anything--Liam shifted carefully, gathering him up in his arms with an ease that made Niall blink in groggy surprise.

"Wha--Liam...?" he murmured, arms automatically looping around Liam's neck as he was lifted from the couch like a sleepy toddler.

"You're clingy as hell when you're sleepy and full of sugar," Liam said, grinning. "Come on. You'll thank me later." Niall didn't argue. In fact, he pressed his forehead to Liam's shoulder with a contented little sigh as Liam carried him down the hallway. He was warm, still full (uncomfortably so), and the ache in his stomach had faded to something dull and manageable. The weight of the hot water bottle was gone, but Liam's arms felt even better.

Liam nudged the bedroom door open with his foot and lowered Niall gently onto the bed, immediately grabbing the nearest blanket and tucking it around him. "Nap time," he said, smoothing a hand through Niall's hair. "I'll let the others know you're out for the count."

But a sleepy hand caught his wrist just as he turned to go.

"Stay?" Niall asked, eyes barely open but full of that quiet vulnerability that always hit Liam like a punch to the chest. "Just for a bit?"

Liam didn't hesitate. He climbed onto the bed without a word, settling beside Niall and pulling him in without being asked. Niall immediately curled in like it was the most natural thing in the world, one hand fisting gently in Liam's shirt. They lay like that, tangled and warm and breathing in sync, the hum of the house soft around them. Liam pressed his cheek to Niall's head and closed his eyes.

"Next time," he murmured, "maybe don't eat five different types of candy in one sitting."

"No promises," Niall said sleepily as he drifted easily off.

Chapter Text

The hotel suite was quiet save for the low hum of the air conditioning and the soft scuffle of suitcases being dragged over the carpet. The boys had landed only an hour ago after a transatlantic flight that seemed to stretch for days, and they were all bone-tired--but no one more than Zayn.

Zayn looked like exhaustion personified: hoodie pulled over his messy hair, shoelaces trailing from half-tied sneakers, and backpack slung carelessly off one shoulder. He barely spared a glance at the room before letting out a deep sigh, stumbling toward the nearest bed, and quite literally collapsing face-first onto it.

Niall watched from the doorway, his duffle bag hanging from his fingers. He was tired too--the kind of tiredness that made your limbs feel like jelly, and your eyelids refuse to stay open--but seeing Zayn like that made him pause.

"Ni," Zayn mumbled, rolling onto his back with a low groan and cracking one eye open to look at Niall. He reached one lazy arm out towards him, fingers curling in the universal sign for "come here."

"What?" Niall questioned, a slow grin tugging at his lips.

"C'mere," Zayn repeated, more insistent this time. "Cuddles. Please."

That was all the encouragement Niall needed. He let his bag drop to the floor and toed off his shoes, crossing the room in a few steps. Zayn didn't even wait--as soon as Niall was close enough, he tugged on his wrist, pulling him down onto the bed with surprising strength for someone who looked half-dead.

Niall landed with a soft "oof," limbs sprawling, the mattress bouncing slightly beneath them. Zayn let out a satisfied hum and buried his face into Niall's side like a cat claiming its favourite spot.

"Okay, okay," Niall chuckled, squirming a bit. "You're gonna suffocate yourself like that, mate."

But Zayn didn't respond--he just let out a content sigh and nuzzled in closer, his arm lazily flopping over Niall's stomach. He smelled faintly of cologne and recycled airplane air, and his entire body radiated warmth and sleep. Niall shifted a bit, careful not to dislodge Zayn as he readjusted them into something more comfortable. It took a bit of maneuvering--Zayn wasn't exactly helpful in his current half-asleep state--but eventually, Niall managed to wedge himself up against the headboard, pillows stacked behind him and pulled Zayn into his chest.

Zayn melted against him immediately, his head resting right over Niall's heart, one leg slung over Niall's lap possessively. His breathing was already slowing, deepening.

"That better?" Niall murmured, brushing a few loose strands of hair off Zayn's forehead.

Zayn didn't answer with words, just let out another pleased hum that vibrated against Niall's ribs. His hand came up to cutch at the hem of Niall's shirt, holding on like a security blanket.

Niall let his head fall back against the headboard, one hand stroking gently through Zayn's dark hair. His fingers moved in slow, soothing patterns, combing through the soft strands, occasionally scratching lightly at his scalp. Zayn's entire body responded, relaxing even further, muscles unclenching, and breaths evening out like waves lapping at the shore. The room was bathed in golden afternoon light streaming in through the window. Outside, the city buzzed with life--horns honking, voices calling, engines humming--but inside the hotel room, there was only calm.

Only the soft rhythm of Niall's heartbeat, the gentle brush of fingers through hair, and the feeling of two boys tangled up in quiet comfort. Niall looked down at Zayn, whose face was now entirely peaceful, eyelashes fluttering faintly as he drifted in and out of sleep.

"You were really wiped, huh?" Niall whispered, not expecting a response. But Zayn surprised him, murmuring something barely audible into his chest. Niall leaned down to hear better.

"Long flight," Zayn slurred. " Only way to recharge... is with you."

Niall's heart skipped a beat, then thudded hard beneath Zayn's cheek. He smiled, soft and fond, brushing his thumb along Zayn's temple.

"You're a sap when you're tired, y'know that?"

Zayn didn't respond--he was out cold now, deep in sleep, face still nestled into the crook of Niall's arm like it was the safest place in the world. Niall tightened his hold, his fingers never ceasing their gentle movements through Zayn's hair. He didn't mind staying like this--didn't mind at all.

Touring was chaos; flights were long, shows were exhausting, and the days could blur together like a whirlwind. But this? This was the still point in the storm. Zayn curled up in his arms, his heartbeat syncing with his own. Warm, safe, quiet.

Chapter Text

It started off small. Harry had been looking for a little pale, but everyone was chalking it up to the early mornings and late nights. Tour rehearsals were brutal, and Harry was the kind of person who pushed through things with a smile--even when he clearly shouldn't. Louis had noticed the slight tremble in his fingers this morning, the way he blinked longer than usual like he was trying to will himself stay upright.

But Harry being tired wasn't exactly breaking news. It wasn't until halfway through choreography rehearsal when Harry stumbled during a simple step and nearly face-planted on the studio floor, that things snapped into sharp focus.

"Woah--" Liam was the first to lurch forward, grabbing Harry by the elbow.

"Jesus, mate," Niall muttered, catching the mic stand Harry had almost taken down with him. "You alright?"

"I'm fine," Harry said automatically, even as he wavered where he stood.

"No, you're not," Louis said, crossing the room faster than anyone else. He touched Harry's arm, and his brows immediately drew together. "You're freezing."

"Just got a bit dizzy, sleepy--" Harry protested, attempting to swat him off with the world's weakest shrug.

"You're burning up, Harold." Louis didn't let him finish, using the full name to make a point. That wasn't true, was it? Louis pressed his hand to Harry's forehead and confirmed his suspicion. The pale skin was clammy and much too warm. He exchanged a look with Liam, who nodded and returned to Harry. "That's it. You're done. Hotel. Now."

"Louis--"

"No. No arguing."

"I can still rehearse--"

"You nearly fainted on your face, and you think I'm letting you finish choreography?" Louis argued. "Absolutely not."

Harry blinked at him, unsteady and defeated in that soft way he got when he didn't have the energy to protest. Louis didn't like that look. It scared him a little if he were being honest.

Ten minutes later, Louis shoved the keycard into their shared hotel room door, practically dragging Harry inside by the wrist.

"You're mad," Harry mumbled, voice hoarse as he dropped onto the bed.

"No," Louis said, kicking the door shut and kneeling down to help Harry out of his boots. "I'm furious."

"Thought that's the same thing," Harry commented.

"It's not. I'm mad because you didn't tell me you felt like shit. You let yourself get this bad."

"I didn't think--" Harry started, but the end of the sentence got lost in a round of chesty coughing. Louis winced at the sound of it.

"Exactly. You didn't think." Louis helped him out of his hoodie, frowning at the thin shirt underneath that clung to his damp skin. "You're drenched."

"Hot and cold," Harry said weakly, leaning back against the pillows. Louis returned to the bathroom with a cold, damp cloth. He sat on the edge of the bed and gently dabbed it over Harry's forehead and cheeks.

"Why didn't you say anything?" he asked more quietly now. "You've been pale all day."

"Didn't wanna be a bother," Harry mumbled, his eyes fluttering closed, lashes sticking to the tops of his cheeks.

Louis's chest ached.

"You're never a bother," he said. "You're an absolute melon." Harry gave a soft laugh that ended in a coughing fit. Louis immediately helped him sit up, rubbing his back until the hacking calmed down. Once he was finally breathing easier, Louis pushed the duvet down and pulled it around Harry properly. "You're gonna sleep now."

"You gonna leave me?" Harry murmured.

"What kind of question is that?" Louis scoffed.

"Didn't wanna be alone." Harry cracked one eye open.

"You're not gonna be." Louis toed off his trainers, crawled over to the other side of the bed, and slipped under the covers beside him without a second thought. "Move over, sweaty."

Harry smiled faintly, shifting enough for Louis to press in beside him. He curled his freezing toes against Louis's warm legs, and Louis didn't even complain. "I'll keep watch," Louis said softly. "You sleep. I'll be here."

"Promise?" Harry mumbled.

"Promise," Louis said, tangling their fingers together.

Chapter Text

The rain tapped gently against the windowpanes, a soft percussion to the quiet symphony of the house. The sky had turned a sleepy gray, casting a silver hue across the wooden floors and the scattered throw blankets. The fireplace crackled lazily in the corner, sending occasional sparks upward like tiny, glowing stars.

Louis lay curled against Harry, the world outside forgotten, distant, and unimportant. His head rested just above Harry's heart, tucked beneath his chin, safe in the warmth of their shared cocoon on the sofa. Harry's arm was wrapped securely around him, and the other hand moved slowly, delicately, stroking Louis' cheek with the pads of his fingers.

It was a rhythm, almost like breathing--gentle strokes that soothed Louis in a way nothing else could.

"You good?" Harry's voice was low, a quiet rumbled Louis felt more than heard, deep in his chest.

"Mm-hmm," Louis hummed, eyes fluttering closed. "Better than good."

Harry's lips brushed the top of his head in a tender kiss, which made Louis' chest ache. Not from pain but from love--the kind that bloomed gently, growing roots in silence and comfort. The kind that lived on soft mornings and shared mugs of tea in old jumpers and mismatched socks. In heartbeats.

Louis shifted a bit closer--if that was even possible--curling tighter into Harry's chest, the sound of his heartbeat the only melody he ever needed. It was steady, calm, and familiar--it had always been, even in the worst moments. The sound had grounded him and reminded him of who he was and where he belonged.

Right here.

"Y'know," Louis murmured, his voice rough with comfort and sleep, "your heartbeat... it's my favourite sound in the world."

"Yeah?" Harry smiled, his fingers halting on Louis' cheek for a moment, only for a second before continuing their slow patterns.

"It's like... music." Louis nodded, his nose brushing Harry's neck. "But it's just for me."

"It is yours, Lou," Harry whispered with a soft laugh. "Every beat always has been."

"You mean that?" Louis asked, pulling back just enough to look up at Harry, blue eyes shining in the firelight.

"Of course I do." Harry smiled, looking at Louis like he was the most precious thing in the world.

There was silence for a beat.

"I used to think I'd never find this," Louis whispered, almost afraid to break the moment. "Peace. Safety. You."

"You'll never lose it," Harry assures, tightening his arms around him as if he could somehow pull Louis into his heart and keep him there. "Not with me. You're safe here. Always."

The words settled into Louis's bones like a lullaby, his breath catching on the edge of something so overwhelming, so good, it almost hurt. He tucked himself back into Harry's chest, hand slipping beneath the hem of Harry's jumper just to feel skin--warm, real, his.

The fire continued to crackle. The rain danced outside. Inside, Louis listened to the steady drum of Harry's heart, a private concert that played only for him.

They didn't need to speak anymore. Words were beautiful, but they weren't necessary here.

Chapter Text

Liam never slept on planes.

It wasn't that he was afraid of flying--he'd gotten over that years ago when private jets became more common than commercial flights for the band. No, it was more that his brain refused to switch off at high altitudes. Maybe it was the hum of the engines or the subtle shaking of turbulence, or maybe it was just that his mind never knew how to rest when it had the space to overthink.

So, it became a bit of a running joke: while the rest of the boys would eventually doze off on long-haul flights, Liam would be sat up, headphones in, eyes on some movie he wasn't really watching, legs jiggling like a metronome set to "mildly anxious."

But this time was different.

They'd just finished a whirlwind leg of the tour--six countries in nine days, performances, press, after-parties, and barely a wink of sleep in between. By the time they boarded the overnight flight to LA, Liam looked more like a ghost in a hoodie than a pop star. Even Harry, who'd spent the last hour buzzing about the snacks, paused to squint at him.

"Mate, you alright?" he asked, brow furrowed.

"Yeah," Liam said, voice low and scratchy. "Just... knackered."

He slumped into his seat--next to Louis, as always. Like so many others, their usual seating arrangement had somehow become unspoken over the years. Zayn was by the window across the aisle with his sketchpad. Niall was already passed out two rows ahead with a blanket wrapped around his head like a burrito. Harry sat behind them and started folding his legs like a yoga instructor in an airplane seat.

"You look like you've been dragged backward through a hedge, mate," Louis commented, giving Liam a once-over.

"Thanks," Liam murmured, eyes already half-lidded. The plane hadn't taken off yet, but Liam leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes. Louis raised a brow. That was new.

He gave it five minutes before Liam would perk back up, ask for water, pop his earbuds in, and ride out the next ten hours staring out the window like a human embodiment of mild insomnia. But five minutes passed. Then ten. The plane levelled out in the sky, and Liam still hadn't moved.

Louis turned his head slightly and found Liam slumped just a little toward him. His arms were folded tightly, head nodding with the soft rhythm of the plane, eyes fully closed now. A soft, contented breath escaped his nose.

Louis blinked.

"Oh my god," he whispered, a grin spreading. He turned in his seat, glancing over the back toward Harry. "He's asleep," he mouthed.

"No way." Harry mouthed back; eyes widened. Louis nodded. Then, as subtly as he could, he shifted just enough so Liam's head could lean against his shoulder without waking him. It was awkward at first--his arm was at a weird angle, but he adjusted, with his shoulders squared and his back slightly curved to fit the slope of Liam's weight. Liam exhaled again, softer as he'd just sunk into a warm bed.

"Well, would you look at that?" Louis smiled to himself. Across the aisle, Zayn looked up from his sketchpad and caught Louis' eye. Louis tilted his head slightly toward Liam, and Zayn grinned knowingly before quietly pulling his hoodie over his head and settling into his seat with exaggerated care.

The cabin became a bubble of quiet warmth for the next few hours. Every time someone made a movement, Louis sent them a look that said, 'if you wake him, you'll have me to deal with.' No one dared. Harry even silenced his phone. He spent the next thirty minutes making origami birds out of napkins to have something to do with his hands.

Meanwhile, Louis sat perfectly still, afraid to jostle the sleepy weight against his shoulder. Not that he minded. Liam's breathing was slow and even, a rhythm that Louis found oddly comforting. He could feel the heat of his friend's cheek against his upper arm and the light tickle of his fringe brushing his neck.

It wasn't often they had moments like this anymore--quiet ones. Everything had been so loud for so long. Fame had turned up the volume on their lives; most of the time, they just tried to keep up. But now, at 35,000 feet, Liam was resting, and Louis was... still.

And that stillness felt good.

Eventually, about two hours into the flight, Liam stirred a little. His nose scrunched as if trying to fight off the pull of sleep. Louis tensed instinctively--but Liam didn't sit up. He let out a tiny sigh and nuzzled further into Louis' shoulder like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Louis felt his heart tug in the way it sometimes did when one of the boys did something unintentionally adorable. He turned again to Harry, who had just noticed the shift and mimed dramatically, wiping a tear from his cheek.

Harry gave him a thumbs-up and silently passed him a pack of gummy bears through the seat gap.

Louis didn't dare move enough to open them.

Eventually, the lights dimmed, and the cabin fell into a hush. Outside the windows, the sky was inky and vast, stars flickering in a blanket of deep blue. Louis leaned his head against the seat and let his eyes flutter shut, careful not to disturb the sleeping weight beside him.

-Time Skip-

The plane touched down with the softest thud, barely enough to jostle anyone fully awake. Louis felt it more than heard it--the shift in gravity, the low hum changing pitch, the subtle bounce as the wheels kissed the runway.

Liam didn't move.

Louis looked down. He was still out cold, his mouth slightly open, and his cheek smushed into his shoulder. His hoodie had slipped halfway down his forehead, making him look like a very tired monk--a very cute, tired monk. Louis huffed a laugh under his breath and looked around.

"Still dead to the world?" Harry asked in a whisper, already clocked to the situation from his seat behind them.

"Gone," Louis whispered back. "You'd think I drugged him."

"You didn't, right?" Zayn asked as he stretched across the aisle, yawning and peeking over.

"No," Louis rolled his eyes. "I just have magic shoulders, apparently. The seatbelt sign dinged off. The plane had fully landed, and the aisle buzzed with the usual rustling--bags overhead, people stretching, that one impatient bloke in first class already standing before the doors opened.

Louis, however, stayed frozen in place because he now had a new problem. He had to wake Liam up. He gave him a gentle nudge with his elbow. Nothing.

Another nudge. Still nothing.

"Liam," Louis murmured, quiet at first. Then, a little louder, "Payno. Come on, we're here." Liam made a vague noise somewhere between a hum and a sigh. His eyebrows twitched, but he didn't lift his head. "Mate, I know you're enjoying the best nap of your life, but if we don't get off this plane, we'll live on it."

Still no real response.

"You want help carrying him like a toddler?" Zayn asked, who was now clearly amused.

"Don't tempt me." Louis snorted. He tried again; this time more direct. One hand on Liam's shoulder, giving it a firm shake. "Li. Wake up, love. We've landed."

That finally got something--a grumbly groan and a slow blink. Liam turned his head slightly and squinted up at Louis, eyes glassy with sleep, lashes sticking together.

"Are we there?" he mumbled.

"Yeah, sleepyhead," Louis said, softer this time, in a tone one might speak to an injured animal. "Time to go." Liam stretched an arm up vaguely, like a child reaching for something he hadn't decided if he wanted yet. Then he rubbed at his eyes with a closed fist and blinked again. He still wasn't really awake. Louis stood and grabbed both their carry-ons, slinging one strap over each shoulder. He held a hand out, palm up. "C'mon. I've got you."

Liam stared at the hand for a beat before wordlessly putting his own in it. His fingers curled loosely around Louis', warm and sluggish, and it was just... absurdly soft. Louis tightened his grip slightly, guiding him into the aisle. The other passengers were filing out now, and the flight attendants offered practiced goodbyes, but Liam didn't register any of it. He just followed Louis, taking heavy steps and slow blinks as if he was still only half in his body. 

"You alright there, granddad?" Niall teased as they waited at the jet bridge. Liam yawned into Louis' shoulder and murmured something unintelligible. Louis just grinned.

"Think I'm gonna need a nap after this nap," Liam mumbled as they headed toward the private car waiting just beyond the terminal exit.

"We'll get you to bed soon, promise," Louis said. "One more ride."

When they got to the car, Liam slumped into the back seat immediately, not even bothering to adjust his hoodie. Louis followed, dropping into the seat beside him. The moment the door shut, and the world outside dimmed, Liam leaned back in Louis' direction--slow, heavy, like a gravity made the decision for him.

His head settled on Louis' shoulder again without a word. This time, holding still or playing it cool was unnecessary. Louis just smiled, leaned slightly toward him to share the weight, and let him. Liam was asleep again before they even hit the freeway.

-Time Skip-

By the time the car pulled to their hotel, Liam was barely more conscious than when they'd landed. His head had only stirred once during the ride, shifting briefly from Louis' shoulder to his chest before settling again with a quiet sigh as if Louis was just a slightly warmer, breathing pillow. Louis had given up trying to fight how fond he felt. Besides, he figured it was sort of his job at this point.

Niall, Zayn, and Harry had already exited the car and collected their room keys. Louis lingered by the open door, gently nudging Liam's shoulder.

"We're here, Li. Come on, time to move again."

"Too bright," Liam groaned, eyes scrunching shut tighter.

"You've been out for the last ten hours." Louis offered both hands this time and, with some coaxing, managed to help Liam out of the car and into the hotel lobby. He wobbled a bit, clinging to Louis like gravity was stronger in LA than elsewhere. Louis slung one of Liam's arms over his shoulders and carried most of his weight as they made it to the lift. They had two rooms booked--one for Liam and Louis to share, the other for the rest of the boys. It had just made sense. Louis was the only one who could consistently deal with Liam's

overthinking or convince him to switch off. The others loved him to bits, but Louis... well, Louis just got him. When they reached their floor, Liam was still half asleep on his feet. "You're such a bloody mess," Louis chuckled under his breath, maneuvering the keycard into the door of their room. "One plane ride, and you turn into a literal toddler."

Liam mumbled something Louis didn't catch, but he smiled dopily, eyes heavy, cheeks flushed from sleep. Once they were inside, Louis helped guide him to the bed. Liam flopped down like a starfish, face-first into the nearest pillow.

"Finally," he groaned.

"You're hopeless." Louis snorted, starting to pull off Liam's trainers. Liam didn't argue. He just flipped onto his back with a lazy smile and looked up at Louis through sleep-lidded eyes. 

"Stay with me?"

"What?" Louis questioned, pausing mid-step. Caught halfway between sitting on the edge of the bed and going to unpack his bag.

"Just... stay," Liam murmured. "Just for a bit. I know it's dumb... my head's still weird from flying. Don't wanna be on my own yet."

Louis' heart did that soft, squeezing thing again. He hesitated a moment before kicking off his shoes and climbing onto the bed beside him.

"Alright. Just until you knock out again."

But of course, Liam had already knocked out again. The second Louis lay back, Liam shifted closer, curling his arm over Louis' stomach and resting his cheek on Louis' shoulder like it was muscle memory. Louis froze for a second--then relaxed, letting one arm rest behind Liam's back. It was... warm. Easy. Comfortable in a way that felt carved out over years of friendship, late-night talks, and tired laughter in hotel rooms. A quiet knock came at the door not five minutes later. Louis barely turned his head. "It's open."

"We're heading out to find food and sunshine," Harry said, poking his head in, holding three sunglasses and a hotel map. "You two coming?"

Louis looked down at the boy, who was basically melting into his side, his face slack with sleep, and his mouth slightly open. He looked like he could sleep another week.

"Think I've been drafted into cuddle duty," Louis said.

"Tough gig," Harry smirked.

"Go." Louis shooed, rolling his eyes. "Bring me back a coffee. Or a smoothie. Or both."

"You're not even moving, how are you gonna drink--"

"Just go, Styles." Harry winked and disappeared. Louis heard him laughing with Niall and Zayn in the hallway.

The room went quiet again, filled only with the hush of the air conditioning and the soft sound of Liam's breathing against his chest. Louis let his eyes drift shut. The jet lag was catching up with him, too, now that he was still.

And if he let himself fall asleep right there, arms full of sleepy Liam, it was only because it was the most peaceful he'd felt in days.

Maybe even weeks.

Chapter Text

The car ride to the studio was unusually quiet.

Niall sat against the window; sunglasses perched on his nose even though the sky was overcast. His arms were crossed tightly over his stomach, fingers twitching in his lap. Liam glanced at him from across the backseat, frowning slightly.

"You alright, mate?" Liam asked softly.

"Yeah. M'fine." Niall said a little too quickly. But he wasn't. Not really.

The nerves had been building since the night before. He couldn't understand why this particular interview had him so on edge--they'd done a hundred of them, maybe more--but something about today felt heavier. Maybe it was the size of the audience, the live broadcast, or the pressure to be charming, funny, and flawless on command. Whatever it was, it sat like a rock in his belly, coiling his insides into tight, anxious knots.

Liam didn't say anything else but didn't take his eyes off him either.

By the time they reached the studio, Niall was pale and a little sweaty. He stood a bit too still while the others laughed and joked with the crew. His hands were shoved into his pockets, and his shoulders were hunched like he was trying to shrink into himself. Liam stepped over quietly.

"Niall," he said gently, touching his arm. "C'mere a sec." Niall blinked at him, confused, but let himself be guided to a quieter corner of the green room. Liam sat them down on a worn couch and turned toward him. "Talk to me. You look like you're gonna bolt."

"I dunno." Niall shrugged, tugging off his sunglasses, revealing his eyes that were glass with stress. "My stomach's in bits. Can't stop thinking about messing up or freezing or--God, I'm being stupid."

"You're not stupid," Liam said firmly. "You're nervous. That's normal. Just means you care." He hesitated, then reached out and touched Niall's back, slowly rubbing up and down between his shoulder blades. Niall didn't protest; his posture softened slightly under the touch. Liam smiled a little, encouraged. "Is it mostly nerves or are you feeling sick too?" he asked, keeping his voice low and calm.

"My stomach's cramping up a bit." Niall shrugged. "Feels weird. Like butterflies but worse. It might've been the eggs I had this morning. Or just... stress. I dunno."

"That happens to me too sometimes," Liam assures him, moving his hand in slow, soothing circles. "Your stomach gets all tangled up in your brain, yeah?"

"Yeah." Niall grimaced and pressed a hand to his middle. "Feels like I'm gonna be sick, but I know I won't. Just... ugh."

"Lie back a bit," Liam said gently, guiding him to lean against the couch cushions. Niall obeyed without argument, clearly trusting him. Liam shifted to rub soft circles over Niall's stomach with one hand while the other continued to stroke his back. The tension in Niall's frame slowly began to melt away. "There we go," Liam murmured. "Just breathe. Deep in through your nose, out through your mouth. I've got you."

Niall closed his eyes and focused on Liam's voice, on the warmth of his touch. The nausea didn't disappear completely, but the clenching in his belly eased. The crushing panic in his chest loosened its grip.

"You always know how to calm me down," Niall mumbled after a minute, voice hoarse.

"That's what I'm here for," Liam said with a smile, brushing some hair off Niall's forehead. "You've got this, Niall. You're funny and smart, and you're not alone out there. We're all in this together."

"Thanks, Li," Niall said, looking up at him, eyes clearer now, more grounded. "Seriously."

"Anytime."

"Ten minutes, boys!" A call came, and a sharp knock on the door.

"You feeling ready?" Liam asked, giving Niall one last rub on his back before helping him sit up.

"Yeah. I think I am." Niall said. By the time they stepped onto the stage, Niall was back to his usual self, grinning wide, cracking jokes, laughing at the host's questions. They didn't say a word if anyone noticed how pale he'd been before. Liam, seated beside him, kept a quiet hand on his knee under the table for the first few minutes, just a grounding presence.

-Time Skip-

The applause echoed in Niall's ears as the interview wrapped. The host thanked them cheerfully, and the audience clapped like clockwork, but Niall wasn't hearing it. He kept his smile up until the cameras stopped rolling, but something in his shoulders deflated when the red light went out. The adrenaline that had carried him through the last twenty minutes was draining fast, leaving his limbs heavy and his brain foggy. He blinked slowly, breathing as the others started chatting with the crew. Liam was already watching him.

"You did great," he said softly, brushing Niall's arm as they moved off-set. "Seriously. You couldn't even tell you were nervous."

"Thanks." Niall nodded, a small smile tugging at his lips. "Just wanna crash now, though."

"You and me both." Liam agreed. But as they made their way back through the hallway to the back exit, Liam noticed Niall lagging just a little. His steps were slower, his eyelids heavier, and he was hugging his arms around his middle again--but not like before. This wasn't the sharp, panicked tension from earlier. It was soft and spent. He was exhausted.

When they got to the car, the driver opened the door, and Liam ushered Niall inside first. The second he sank into the seat, Niall leaned into the corner and sighed, his eyes fluttering closed momentarily.

"Oi," Liam said with a small grin, climbing in beside him. "You're allowed to sleep, y'know. The interview's over. You earned it."

"Can I lean on you?" Niall asked, his head already tilting towards Liam.

"Course you can." Liam smiled, already shifting to make space. Niall curled up gently, resting his head on Liam's shoulder. He let out a long, slow breath as Liam draped an arm around him and pulled him in close, palm rubbing lazy circles against his side. "You really were brilliant," Liam murmured. "I know it took a lot out of you."

Niall didn't answer--he just nuzzled in closer, already halfway asleep. His fingers bunched in the fabric of Liam's hoodie, grounding himself as the steady rise and fall of the car lulled him further.

Liam stayed quiet, his thumb brushing gently against Niall's hip, keeping him anchored without waking him. He knew how hard Niall had pushed through those nerves today. Knew how much effort it had taken to smile and joke and act like everything was fine. Now that the pressure was gone, his body had dropped into recovery mode--and Liam was more than happy to let him rest.

They rode like that the whole way back, Niall tucked into Liam's side, safe and warm. By the time they pulled up to the hotel, Liam had to gently shake him awake, and even then, Niall just blinked up at him with sleepy confusion.

"Come on, sleepyhead," Liam whispered, helping him out of the car. "Let's get you to bed."

"M'tired," Niall mumbled, stumbling a little, but Liam caught him easily, steadying him with an arm around his waist.

"I know," Liam said with a quiet chuckle. "I've got you."

By the time they reached the hotel room, Niall was barely awake. He mumbled a half-hearted protest when Liam steered him toward the bed but didn't put up any real fight. His body was too heavy, too full of the kind of exhaustion that didn't just come from physical strain but from mental battles--the kind Liam had seen in him all day.

"Alright, easy now," Liam said, helping Niall sit on the edge of the mattress. "Let's get you out of these jeans. You'll sleep better."

Niall groaned in agreement; eyes fluttering shut as he leaned forward to untie his shoes. Liam crouched in front of him, swatting his hands away gently to do it for him.

"Liam," Niall mumbled, a little pout forming on his lips. "I can do it."

"You could," Liam replied, tugging off one sneaker, then the other. "But this is quicker, and I like fussing over you."

"You're a good lad, y'know that?" Niall said as Liam helped him out of his jeans and hoodie, leaving him in a worn t-shirt and boxers.

"Yeah, I've heard," Liam said with a grin, standing and tossing the clothes into a pile near his suitcase. He flicked off the main light, leaving the bedside lamp to glow softly across the room. "Alright. Lie back."

Niall obeyed, crawling under the covers and releasing a long, relieved sigh as his head hit the pillow. His hair was mussed, and his cheeks flushed from the long day. Liam hesitated momentarily, then tugged off his jeans and hoodie before climbing into bed beside him.

He didn't need to ask.

Niall immediately rolled towards him, tucking his face into the crook of Liam's neck and slinging an arm around his middle. His breath was warm against Liam's skin, slow and even already.

"You alright now?" Liam asked, wrapping an arm around Niall's shoulders and kissing his temple.

"Mhm," came the muffled reply. "Thanks for... today."

"Always," Liam murmured, his hand settling in the familiar spot between Niall's shoulder blades. He rubbed in slow, comforting circles, just like that afternoon. "You were brave. You got through it."

"Only cause of you," Niall said, so quiet Liam almost didn't hear it.

"You'd do the same for me." Liam pointed out. Silence settled in around them, warm and peaceful. The world outside the hotel room could wait. For now, it was just the two of them--wrapped in the soft quiet, wrapped in each other. Niall's breathing evened out within minutes, and his body fully relaxed for the first time all day.

Liam stayed awake a little longer, just listening to the soft sounds of sleep and feeling the rise and fall of Niall's chest against him. He held him close, content and still.

"You're safe," he whispered against Niall's hair. "You can rest now."

And he did.

Chapter Text

The storm had been going on for hours.

Rain lashed against the windows in heavy sheets, a steady roar underscored by distant rumbles of thunder and the occasional flash of lightning that lit up the darkened living room for a heartbeat. The wind howled through the trees outside, and the others--Harry, Louis, and Liam--had all retreated upstairs after an enthusiastic round of Mario Kart and even more enthusiastic arguments about who had cheated.

Downstairs, though, it was quiet.

Zayn and Niall remained curled up on the massive L-shaped couch, buried under two throw blankets and a pile of discarded pillows that had long since lost any sense of order or matching. The TV was still on, turned down low, playing something neither of them was really watching. It served more as ambient noise--something warm and human to contrast the angry weather beating at the house.

Zayn had migrated around the third rerun of Friends from sitting upright beside Niall to stretching out and resting his head across Niall's stomach. His dark hair was splayed across the soft fabric of Niall's hoodie, and his hand dangled off the edge of the couch, fingers twitching slightly as he drifted somewhere between awareness and sleep.

Niall's phone glowed softly in the dim light, one hand scrolling lazily through memes and news articles while the other rested on Zayn's head. His fingers carded gently through Zayn's hair, curling and uncurling slowly, rhythmically. There was a peace to the motion, a comfort neither of them needed to name aloud.

Zayn sighed, nuzzling slightly into Niall's belly, and closed his eyes. Beneath his ear, he could hear the quietest gurgles and churns of Niall's stomach, the subtle background hum of digestion that felt grounding. The occasional soft growl or bubble mixed with Niall's breathing's steady rise and fall--it was like a lullaby wrapped in warmth.

"You're gonna drool on me again," Niall murmured, voice low and amused. Zayn didn't answer with words; he just gave a small, contented grunt, his lips twitching into a lazy smile. He rubbed his cheek against Niall's hoodie in a more nuzzling way than an apology. Niall chuckled, his thumb tracing gentle circles at the nape of Zayn's neck. "You're a menace."

"You're a pillow," Zayn mumbled, barely audible. It was cozy. Intimate. The kind of moment that didn't ask for anything more than existing.

Outside, thunder cracked closer, making the windows rattle. Zayn flinched just slightly--barely a twitch--but Niall caught it. His hand stilled for a moment, then resumed its slow movements, softer now, more deliberate.

"You alright?" Niall asked softly, phone now forgotten and resting on the cushion beside him.

"Don't like storms," Zayn muttered, shifting and tucking his arms around Niall's waist. "Too loud."

"I know." Niall leaned down a bit, pressing a kiss to the top of Zayn's head. "You're safe here. Just us."

"Don't want to move," Zayn mumbled again.

"You don't have to."

The storm could rage all it wanted outside. Inside was all soft fabric and warm bodies and the quiet little noises that made up this strange, tender kind of domesticity they'd found. Zayn was breathing slower now, more evenly, and his grip on Niall had loosened slightly. His body was relaxing in that heavy, limp way that only happened when he felt completely secure.

Niall watched him for a long moment, his fingers continuing their soothing path through Zayn's hair, occasionally brushing down to the back of his neck or along the line of his jaw. He could feel the faint rumble of Zayn's breaths against his stomach and felt how Zayn leaned into the touch like a sunflower following the light.

"Love you," Niall whispered, not even entirely sure Zayn was awake enough to hear it. But Zayn's lips moved slightly, shaping the words back: "Love you too."

The storm could stay as long as it liked. They had time. They had warmth, blankets, and each other, and the world could rage outside as much as it wanted--nothing was getting in.

Not tonight.

Chapter Text

The roar of the crowd vibrated through the walls, low and steady like the pulse of a heartbeat. They were minutes away from stepping onto the stage and the energy backstage was electric--cheerful chaos as usual. Niall was bouncing on the balls of his feet, Louis was cracking jokes and tugging at Harry's hair and Harry was laughing like nothing could go wrong.

But Zayn couldn't breathe.

He stood a little apart from the others, hidden in the shadow of a tall stack of equipment cases, his back pressed flat against the cool concrete wall. His hands trembled where they gripped the hem of his shirt, twisting the fabric in tight little knots. His chest rose and fell too fast, and his head was spinning, spinning, spinning.

He didn't know what had triggered it--maybe it was the pressure, or the noise, or the expectation to be fine when inside; he felt like he was unravelling at the seams. All he knew was that the air was thick, his heart was hammering, and it felt like the walls were closing in.

"Zayn?" The voice was quiet, but Zayn still flinched. He didn't want them to see him like this. Especially not now. Especially not Liam. But Liam had already spotted him and was coming closer, his eyes softer and worried, his movements gentle. "Hey, hey," Liam said, voice dropping low like he was trying not to spook a frightened animal. "You okay, mate?"

Zayn shook his head, lips pressed tightly together as he tried to force his breathing to slow down. It wasn't working. Everything was loud. His thoughts, the crowd, the thudding in his chest--it was all too much.

"I--I can't--" he managed to whisper, voice thin and shaky.

"Oh, Z," Liam said, and there was no judgement in his voice. Just concern. Just warmth. He stepped closer slowly, giving Zayn the chance to pull away if he needed to. "It's okay. Just breathe with me, alright?"

Liam reached out and placed a hand on Zayn's back, rubbing slow, steady circles between his shoulder blades. Zayn's eyes fluttered shut at the contact, the warmth grounding him a little. "There you go," Liam murmured, "you're not alone. I've got you."

Zayn gasped in another shaky breath, and Liam carefully wrapped his arms around him, holding him in a loose but firm hug. Zayn's forehead dropped to Liam's shoulder, his hands clinging to the front of Liam's hoodie like it was the only thing tethering him to the earth.

Liam kept talking, soft reassurances and reminders that he was safe. That he wasn't broken. That everything would be okay. His hands never stopped moving--calm, soothing motions that helped ease the tightness in Zayn's chest bit by bit.

By the time the stage manager came to tell them they had two minutes, Zayn's breathing had evened out, though his body still felt like jelly, and his eyes burned with unshed tears.

"You sure you're up for it?" Liam asked gently, thumb brushing under Zayn's eye.

"Yeah." Zayn nodded, voice hoarse. "Just... don't let go yet?"

"Never." Liam smiled softly and gave his hand a squeeze.

-Time Skip-

The show went on, and Zayn sang every note, hit every mark, and smiled at every fan. From the outside, no one would have guessed that he'd been barely able to stand just minutes before.

But Liam knew. And Liam stayed close.

He offered Zayn quiet glances of reassurance between songs, bumped his shoulder during a group bow, and made sure he had water ready the second they got offstage.

When they finally piled into the van for the drive back to the hotel, the adrenaline was wearing off--and Zayn felt the crash coming hard and fast. His whole body ached with exhaustion, the kind that seeped into his bones.

Liam sat beside him on the long seat in the back, opening his arms without a word. Zayn didn't hesitate. He curled into Liam's side, pressing his cheek to his chest, hands tucked between them like he needed to feel the steady thump of Liam's heart to remind him of the rhythm of his own.

Liam draped his hoodie over both of them, and his hand found Zayn's back again, rubbing gently.

"You did great tonight," he said quietly.

Zayn didn't answer, but his breathing slowed, and his body melted into Liam's. The hum of the van on the road became a lullaby, and within minutes, Zayn was asleep--safe, warm, and wrapped in the arms of someone who understood exactly what he needed.

-Time Skip-

By the time the van rolled to a stop in front of the hotel, Zayn hadn't stirred once.

The others were already gathering their things, chatting quietly and rubbing tired eyes, but Liam's focus was on the boy curled into his side, completely dead to the world. Zayn's face was soft and peaceful now, a stark contrast to the storm he'd weathered earlier. But Liam knew that exhaustion wasn't just from the concert--it was the emotional crash after the panic attack that had taken most of the fight out of him.

"Zayn," Liam said softly, giving his shoulder a gentle shake. "Hey, we're here, mate."

Nothing.

"He out?" Louis asked, peeking around the seat in front of them.

"Like a light," Liam said with a small, affectionate smile. "He's not budging."

Liam carefully maneuverer out from under Zayn without jostling him too much. Then, gently, he slid his arms under Zayn's armpits and lifted, guiding Zayn's arms up and around his neck. Zayn hummed faintly, eyes still closed, head drooping against Liam's shoulder. His legs instinctively wrapped around Liam's waist, clinging without waking.

The others stepped back to make room as Liam adjusted his grip and stood up with Zayn held securely against him, arms wrapped snugly around his back, Zayn's soft breathing puffing against his collarbone.

"He looks like a koala," Harry whispered, trying not to laugh.

"Shh," Liam hushed him fondly as they stepped into the hotel lobby.

The group moved together, a quiet little unit cutting through the opulent stillness of the late-night lobby. The receptionist didn't bat an eye--they'd long since gotten used to seeing the band parade through at all hours.

Zayn gave a tiny, sleepy whimper as the cooler air hit him. Liam adjusted his hold again, soothing him with a rub between the shoulder blades.

"How's he doing?" Niall asked softly, as they reached the lift and waited for it to arrive. Zayn shifted slightly at the sound, blinking blearily against Liam's shoulder.

"M'fine," he mumbled, voice thick and barely coherent. "Just tired."

"He's alright." Liam assured, giving a gentle smile and rubbing slow circles against Zayn's back again. "Just needs sleep, yeah?"

"Poor thing's probably knackered." Louis nodded quietly. "He didn't let it show up there, but that takes it outta you."

The lift dinged, and they all filed in, Liam still holding Zayn close. Zayn's fingers had curled lazily into Liam's shirt, his grip light but constant. Once they reached their suite, the boys started to peel off into their respective rooms. Liam brought Zayn into theirs, closing the door softly behind them.

"Alright, come on, let's get you out of these," Liam whispered. Zayn stood like a sleepwalker as Liam gently lowered him onto the edge of the bed. His eyes fluttered open just long enough to look at Liam before drooping again. "Arms up," Liam said gently.

Zayn obeyed without hesitation, lifting his arms as Liam tugged off his stage jacket and then his shirt, replacing it with one of Liam's soft hoodies. The sleeves swallowed Zayn's hands, but he didn't seem to care. He was barely holding himself up, swaying slightly as Liam crouched to remove his jeans, replacing them with soft cotton pyjama pants.

"There we go," Liam said, voice soft and proud. "All sorted." Zayn blinked slowly, then raised both hands toward Liam, palms open, fingers curling slightly--his silent, unmistakable request. "Come here," Liam chuckled, climbing into the bed beside him.

Zayn immediately curled into Liam's chest, head resting over his heart, arms slipping around his waist like he was afraid he'd float away if he let go. Liam pulled the blankets up over them both and started running his fingers through Zayn's hair, the other hand rubbing lazy circles on his back.

"Shh," Liam murmured, "You're safe. I've got you."

Zayn sighed contentedly against him, muscles relaxing all at once, melting into the bed--and into Liam. It didn't even take two full minutes before his breathing evened out, and he was completely, deeply asleep. Liam stayed there in the dark, listening to Zayn breathe, his hand never stopping its slow rhythm on Zayn's back.

And even though he was exhausted too, he wouldn't have moved for anything.

Because Zayn needed him.

Chapter Text

The dressing room was energetic, the air practically humming with anticipation. The stadium outside was already vibrating with the excitement of tens of thousands of fans, their screams echoing through the concrete halls of the venue. Louis was pacing in front of the mirror, adjusting his in-ears. Liam was running through the setlist again with a clipboard in hand. Niall was half-tuning his guitar, half-goofing around with a stagehand.

Harry, however, sat completely still, hunched over on the couch in the corner of the room. His head was buried in his hands, curls falling forward to shield his face. The harsh dressing room lights glared off the white walls, and every pulse of noise from outside sent a throb of pain straight through his skull.

Zayn noticed first.

He'd been watching Harry since they arrived at the venue--since he'd seen Harry grimace at the van's headlights in the underground car park and mumbled something about needing his sunglasses even though it was night. He'd hoped it was nothing, maybe just a hangover from too little sleep and too much travel. But now Harry hadn't moved in fifteen minutes, and the tremble in his shoulders wasn't from nerves. It was pain. Zayn crossed the room in a few strides and crouched down beside him.

"Hey, Haz... talk to me. What's going on?"

Harry let out a shaky breath, and Zayn's heart clenched when he lifted his head. His eyes were bloodshot and glossy, pupils too dilated. He looked pale, paler than usual, and his jaw was tight, like he was trying to stop his teeth from chattering.

"My head," Harry whispered, voice hoarse. "It's... it's so bad, Zee. I can't--I can't see straight."

Zayn didn't hesitate. He reached up and gently ran a hand through Harry's curls, trying to soothe him, to calm whatever fire was burning behind his eyes.

"Alright. It's okay. We'll sort it." The others were still talking until Zayn spoke louder this time. "Guys. Something's wrong."

Within seconds, the rest of the band was crowding around, concern replacing all pre-show excitement.

"Jesus," Louis muttered. "He looks like death."

"It's a migraine," Zayn said, soft but firm. "A bad one."

"What do we do?" Liam asked, brows furrowed. "We've got fifteen minutes before stage time."

There was a beat of silence. Then Harry gave a weak shake of his head, visibly wincing at the movement.

"I can't... I can't perform like this. I'm gonna throw up if I even try to stand."

"I'm calling it," Zayn said immediately, standing up and squaring his shoulders. "We're cancelling."

"Zayn--" Liam started, caught between worry and panic. "The crowd's already out there. Management will--"

"I don't care," Zayn snapped and then softened when Harry let out a whimper. "He's not going out there like this. None of us are. We're not leaving him behind."

Louis looked like he wanted to argue, but then he saw Harry curl in on himself tighter, shielding his face from the light.

"Right," Louis muttered. "Let's tell Paul."

The fallout came quickly. Management stormed in, demanding answers, voices raised, and phones rang. The boys stood their ground, a wall around Harry. Liam took the lead, calmly but firmly stating that Harry couldn't perform and that they wouldn't go on without him.

It took nearly half an hour to leave the venue, by which point Harry had thrown up in the bathroom and was clinging to Zayn like a lifeline, sunglasses on indoors and a hoodie pulled over his head.

The ride back to the hotel was quiet; Harry curled up in Zayn's lap in the backseat of the van, shaking slightly as Zayn rubbed slowly, grounding circles into his back. Harry could barely keep his eyes open when they reached the hotel suite.

"Come on, angel," Zayn murmured, guiding him inside. "Let's get you into bed."

The suite was big--plush furniture, floor-to-ceiling windows, luxury everything--but Harry only cared about the king-sized bed in the middle of the room. Zayn led him there gently, helping him out of his hoodie and into a soft, long-sleeve shirt.

Once Harry was tucked in under the covers, the curtains drawn, all lights off except a dim lamp in the corner, Zayn slid in beside him. Harry burrowed close, burying his face against Zayn's chest, fists curling in his shirt.

"I'm sorry," he whispered.

"Don't," Zayn said, kissing his head. "You've got nothing to be sorry for."

"They were all there," Harry mumbled, voice thick. "Waiting for us."

"They'll understand. Your health matters m ore than any concert." Harry didn't answer; they just let out a small sigh and pressed closer. Zayn pulled the blanket tighter around them, holding Harry as still as possible, trying not to jostle his head. After a few minutes, Zayn could feel Harry start to relax, the tremors slowing, the tension in his shoulders easing. "You're safe now, yeah?" Zayn whispered. "I've got you."

Harry let out the tiniest, grateful sound--somewhere between a sigh and a whimper--and finally let himself drift into sleep, comforted by the warmth of Zayn's arms and the silence of a room where nothing was expected of him except to rest.

Chapter Text

The concert ended in a blur of lights, screams, and sweat. The adrenaline was still tapering off for most of the boys as they laughed and joked backstage, buzzing with the high of another successful show. Harry was already half out of his shirt, Niall was texting someone with that goofy grin, and Zayn trailed behind them, humming something under his breath. But when they got to the dressing room, all their noise stopped.

"Is that--?" Harry whispered, already stepping closer. In the corner of the couch, Louis was curled up into himself, a hoodie pulled over his head, and his arms wrapped tight around his stomach like he was trying to make himself invisible. The room was dim, just one overhead light flickering gently, casting long shadows over the small, hunched figure.

"Louis?" Liam said softly, instantly walking over and crouching down. He kept his voice calm and low, like talking to a spooked animal.

"Hurts." Louis groans, muffled by his hoodie.

"What hurts?" Zayn asked, crouching beside Liam, concern etched on his face. Louis peeked out just slightly. His eyes were red-rimmed and glassy, cheeks pale under the faint sheen of sweat.

"My head," he murmured. "Feels like it's gonna split open."

"Oh, Lou..." Liam cooed, heart clenching.

"Why didn't you say anything during the show?" Niall asked gently, his voice soft and worried.

"Didn't wanna ruin it." Louis shrugged. "Crowd was mad tonight."

"You are so stubborn," Harry said, but there was no bite to it--just affection. He reached down to a rub a hand soothingly over Louis's blanketed arm.

"Come on, let's get you to the bus," Liam said, straightening up. "You shouldn't be sitting in here all curled up."

"Don't wanna walk." Louis mumbles, not moving, his fingers curled tighter into the fabric of his hoodie.

"You don't have to," Liam said without hesitation. "I'll carry you."

"Seriously?" Louis blinked at him slowly.

"Let me," Liam said, already reaching down to hook one arm under Louis's knees and the other behind his back.

Louis hesitated for a beat longer--then gave in with a soft sigh and let himself be lifted. As soon as Liam cradled him against his chest, Louis melted into him like he'd been waiting for this comfort all day. His head dropped against Liam's shoulder, cheek resting just above the neckline of his t-shirt, arms snaking out of the hoodie to cling tightly to Liam's neck. The hoodie sleeves dragged a bit with the motion, but Louis didn't let go.

"Thanks," he mumbled. "Too dizzy to move."

"I've got you," Liam whispered, already walking carefully through the backstage maze. The others followed quietly, subdued by the sight of Louis so quiet, so small.

The harsh venue lights buzzed overhead, but Louis kept his eyes shut, letting Liam's solid heartbeat and slow footsteps lull him. His headache still pulsed behind his eyes, but it was a little less terrible like this--tucked into safety. When they finally reached the tour bus, Liam tried to shift Louis slightly to get a better grip on the door handle, but Louis made a low noise of protest and clung harder.

"Don't--don't let go," he mumbled.

"I won't," Liam reassured, adjusting so he could open the door one-handed. "I'm not going anywhere." Inside, the familiar scent of the bus--laundry detergent, snacks, and the faint burn of leftover candle wax--wrapped around them like a blanket. Liam carried Louis straight to the couch in the lounge area and sat down carefully, keeping Louis tucked into his lap. Louis still wouldn't let go. His fingers had fisted into Liam's hoodie, pulling it tight like a lifeline. "You okay staying here for a bit?" Liam asked softly.

"Warm." Louis nodded, eyes already fluttering shut. "Comfy."

The others boys tricked in after them, glancing over to where Liam held their friend like he was the most precious thing in the world.

"We're not leaving him like that," Harry declared, tossing a pile of blankets onto the floor. "We're making it a movie night."

"I'll grab some tea," Niall said, vanishing into the kitchenette.

"Something chill," Zayn suggested, pulling out the DVD binder. "Nothing loud."

They set up around the couch, Harry tugging a pillow under Louis's feet, Zayn handing Liam a bottle of water "just in case," and Niall returning with warm mugs. A cheesy 90s rom com flickered onto the screen, soft music and warm lighting filling the space.

But Louis didn't make it past the opening credits. His breathing had evened out, lips slightly parted, one hand still gripping the edge of Liam's hoodie. Liam smiled faintly, brushing a strand of hair off Louis's clammy forehead.

"He's out," he whispered.

"Let him sleep," Zayn said, curling up with a blanket. "Poor lad deserves it."

-Time Skip-

The second movie was halfway through when the room started quieting down. Harry was slumped against Niall; eyes fluttering closed every few minutes. Zayn had stretched out along the the floor with a blanket thrown over him, arm tucked behind his head. Niall was still sipping tea but slower now, his energy waning.

Liam was still sitting on the couch; Louis draped over him like a sleepy cat, head heavy against Liam's chest. He hadn't moved once since dozing off, aside from the occasional twitch of his fingers in the fabric of Liam's hoodie.

"Alright," Harry whispered, rubbing his eyes, "I think it's bedtime."

"Seconded," Niall muttered, already getting to his feet with a groan. "My spine's done."

"Louis," Liam murmured gently, glancing down at the boy still curled into him. "Come on, let's get you to bed." Louis didn't respond. "Lou," Liam tried a little louder, rocking him just the tiniest bit. Louis made a noise--half whimper, half sigh--and burrowed deeper into Liam's chest. His arms tightened around Liam's middle.

"Yeah, he's not letting go," Zayn said from the floor, propping himself up on an elbow. "You'll be stuck like that unless you carry him and climb in bed with him."

"I wouldn't mind," Liam said softly, sounding tired. His voice had that warm fondness it always took on around Louis, but even he was blinking slower now.

"I can carry him to bed if you want to change..." Zayn suggested, sitting up and rubbing a hand over his face. "Get your own sleep clothes on. Just for a bit."

"He's kind of... glued to me." Liam hesitated.

"Yeah," Harry chuckled, dragging himself upright. "We noticed."

"Alright." Liam nodded slowly. "Let's try it. Just... be careful. He's cold but might get a bit fussy."

"Alright, Lou," Zayn said quietly, already reaching out. "We're just moving a bit. Gonna take you to bed, yeah?"

Liam carefully began to shift Louis away from his chest. The reaction was immediate. Louis whined, low and pained, and latched on tighter, like a barnacle. His fingers fisted harder into Liam's hoodie, and his legs curled around Liam's like he was trying to fuse them together.

"Shhh, Lou, alright," Liam soothed, trying to peel him off gently. "Zayn's gonna take you. I'll be there soon."

Louis made a tiny, distressed sound, eyes fluttering but never fully opening. His grip stayed firm.

"It's me, Lou. Zaynie. You trust me, right?" Zayn said softly, ever patient. "C'mon, just for a minute." Louis twitched at the voice, brow furrowed--but slowly, his arms loosened around Liam. His head lolled to the side, and when Zayn carefully pulled him into his arms, Louis curled into Zayn like it was second nature. His cheek found the crook of Zayn's neck, and he exhaled shakily, a little sound of relief. "Got him," Zayn whispered.

"Thanks, man." Liam exhaled, rubbing a hand over his face as he stood and stretched out his aching legs.

"No worries. Go get comfy."

Zayn carried Louis gently down the narrow hallway of the bus to the bunks. Louis stirred only a little, murmuring something too soft to catch, but he didn't let go. Zayn eased onto the bed with him, letting Louis half-lie on his chest.

"Still like a little furnace," Zayn murmured, brushing Louis's fringe back. "Poor thing." Louis made another soft sound and fisted his hand in the fabric of Zayn's t-shirt. "Alright, alright. I'm not going anywhere."

A few minutes later, Liam padded quietly, now dressed in his usual sleepwear--loose sweatpants and a hoodie. His hair was damp from washing up, and he looked more refreshed.

"You good?" he asked, voice low.

"He's calm now." Zayn nodded. "You want to take over?"

"Yeah." Liam offered a tired but grateful smile. "He'll probably sleep better on me."

Carefully, they traded positions--Zayn sliding out from under Louis and Liam easing in. Louis fussed for half a second at the change, but the moment Liam wrapped his arms around him again, Louis relaxed like a switch had been flipped. He nuzzled into Liam's chest, hoodie riding up just enough to show the soft skin of his back. Liam slid his hand underneath, fingers gently stroking slow, soothing lines along Louis's spine.

"There you go," he whispered. "Back where you belong."

Louis let out a breath, long and content, and settled completely.

"You're good with him," Zayn commented with a small smile.

"Yeah," Liam said softly, pressing a kiss to the top of Louis's head. "He makes it easy to care."

Zayn didn't argue. He just squeezed Liam's shoulder gently and left the room, closing the door behind him. In the quiet dark, Liam kept stroking Louis's back, humming a tune under his breath as Louis slept, warm and safe and held close.

Chapter Text

The room was quiet except for the slow hum of the fan rotating in the corner and the occasional creak of the old floorboards beneath the flat. Moonlight filtered through the thin curtains, casting a soft glow across the bed where Liam and Niall were asleep.

Or, had been asleep.

Liam sat bolt upright, chest heaving with sharp, uneven breaths, sweat beading on his forehead. His eyes darted around the dark room like he wasn't sure where he was, his body tense as a pulled wire. The dream was already slipping away--like water through his fingers--but the fear it left behind still clung to him like smoke. He ran a hand through his hair, trying to calm his racing heart.

"Liam?" A sleepy voice broke through the thick silence. Liam turned to find Niall half-awake, blinking blearily up from where he'd shifted onto his side. His hair was a mess of golden tangles, and his voice was thick with sleep, but his worry was clear. "You alright?" Niall asked, sitting up a little and rubbing his eyes.

"Yeah." Liam swallowed hard and nodded, but it wasn't very convincing. "Just... stupid dream."

"Wanna talk about it?" Niall asked, touching Liam's arm gently. Liam shook his head. He didn't even know what to say. It had been one of those dreams that made everything feel wrong. Loneliness, fear, a deep sense of something missing. He didn't remember the details anymore, only the ache it left behind. His muscles were still tight, his breathing too fast, and he hated how childish he felt. But Niall didn't push. He never did. He just tugged gently at Liam's wrist. "C'mere."

Liam hesitated momentarily before letting himself be pulled back down, letting Niall guide him like he always did. Safe, calm hands and a quiet voice that always made things feel less messy.

"Head here," Niall murmured, patting his chest and opening his arms. Liam hesitated, cheeks warming slightly even in the dark. But Niall just gave him that look--the soft, insistent one that made it impossible to argue--so he finally settled in, resting his head on Niall's chest. The steady beat of Niall's heart was right beneath his ear, grounding him in a way nothing else could.

"There you go," Niall whispered, already slipping back into that half-dreamy state but still somehow completely aware. His fingers moved without thinking, and he found the hem of

Liam's t-shirt and slipped it underneath. He began stroking slow, gentle circles across Liam's stomach with the pads of his fingers.

Liam let out a breath he hadn't realised he was holding. His whole body sagged against Niall like something inside had finally unclenched. Niall's skin was warm, the soft strokes across his stomach lulling him into calmness like waves against a shore.

Neither of them said anything for a while. Niall just kept tracing those slow, soothing patterns. Liam's breathing evened out, his limbs relaxing, no longer curled in tension. Niall's hand never stopped moving light and comforting, like a lullaby made of touch.

"Don't know what I'd do without you," Liam whispered.

"You'll never have to find out," Niall reassures, pressing a soft kiss to the top of Liam's head, his other arm wrapping tighter around his waist. Liam closed his eyes again, the fear from the dream finally melting into nothing. Safe. He felt safe.

And as the fan hummed and the moonlight shifted on the walls, Liam drifted back into sleep--his head on Niall's chest, Niall's hand gently stroking his stomach--and the nightmares didn't come back.

Chapter Text

The tour bus was anything but peaceful. It rattled gently throughout the highway, the hum of the engine mixing with bursts of laughter, the slap of buttons, and the over-exaggerated commentary from Louis and Liam as they battled it out in yet another match of FIFA. Even Harry had been drawn in, cheering them on with mock seriousness and dramatic gasps. The television screen lit up their faces in the dimness of the main lounge, flickering in blues and greens as the players dashed across the virtual pitch.

But Niall couldn't enjoy it. Not today.

He sat curled in a corner of the couch; hands pressed tightly against the sides of his head. His eyes were squinted nearly shut, and every noise was like a sharp spike driven through his skull. The lights, the shouting, the laughter, even the dull vibration of the road beneath them--it all pulsed through his head in waves of nausea and pain.

It wasn't just a headache. It was one of those migraines. He hadn't said much, not wanting to kill the others' fun, but Zayn noticed. Of course, Zayn noticed.

"Hey," Zayn murmured, kneeling beside Niall and gently touching his knee.

"Hmm?" Niall cracked one eye open.

"You're not okay." Zayn stated.

"Migraine," Niall croaked, wincing at a particularly loud cheer from Liam.

"Come on," Zayn stood. There was no argument, no insistence that Niall 'tough it out' or stay and hang with the others. Zayn just offered a hand. And Niall, grateful beyond words, took it. He led him past the chaos, past the kitchen area and to the back of the bus--where the noise dulled, where the lights were dimmer and where a bench seat tucked beneath a window created a quiet cocoon. "Sit," Zayn said softly, and Niall did, sliding down into the cushions with a shaky sigh.

Zayn settled in next to him. The silence wasn't perfect--there was still the low rumbled of the engine and the occasional burst of sound from the front--but it was enough. Zayn pulled out his phone, turned the brightness down, and began scrolling. Aimlessly and distracted.

Niall leaned into his side without thinking, his head finding the curve of Zayn's shoulder like it belonged there. Zayn stilled for a second, and then--so gently it was almost nothing--his hand reached up and rubbed slow, lazy circles into Niall's back.

There were no words exchanged. There didn't need to be. The only sounds were the soft rustle of clothes, the quiet breathing of two people wrapped in silence, and the distant war cry of Louis yelling about a penalty.

But here, at the back of the bus, it was calm. Zayn's thumb traced soothing arcs along the line of Niall's spine, his hand moving in a pattern that made no sense, yet it was perfect.

No pressure. Just warmth. Familiarity and care. Niall sighed--deep and ragged--and closed his eyes.

The pain still throbbed behind his temples, but it felt softer now like it had been cradled. Like it was okay to rest. He melted into Zayn's side, every breath syncing with the gentle movements of Zayn's hand. Zayn barely looked down when he felt the weight shift, the way Niall's full weight sagged against him. His hand paused for a moment--then continued, a little slower now, a little more deliberate.

Niall was asleep. Deep, quiet and peaceful. Zayn stayed still, not daring to wake him. Instead, he tilted his head until it rested lightly atop Niall's blonde mop of hair and closed his eyes, letting the quiet settle around them like a blanket.

-Time Skip-

It wasn't long before FIFA lost its charm.

"Alright, that's three in a row for me." Louis groaned, throwing down the controller dramatically. "You two are officially banned from the pitch."

"I let you win." Liam rolled his eyes, chuckling.

"I'm bored." Harry grinned, sprawled upside down on the couch.

There was a beat of silence.

"Where's Zayn?" Liam asked suddenly, glancing around.

"Wasn't he just here?" Louis asked, frowning.

"And where's Niall?" Harry added, sitting up properly. "I haven't heard him complain in ages. That's suspicious."

They shared a look and then padded down the bus, peeking into the kitchenette, the bunks, even the tiny bathroom--nothing--until they reached the back. Harry opened the door first, pushing it just enough to peer inside. The scene stopped all three of them in their tracks.

On the bench seat by the window, Niall was curled up like a cat, still fast asleep. His head rested on Zayn's shoulder, one arm lazily draped across Zayn's middle,

the kind of clingy that only comes from feeling truly safe. Zayn was slouched just enough to cradle him properly, his hand still moving in slow, comforting circles across Niall's back without thinking about it. He looked up at the sound of the door but didn't stop the motion.

"Shh," he whispered. "He's got a migraine."

The boys' faces softened instantly.

"Shit," Liam murmured, keeping his voice low. "We didn't know."

"We were being so loud," Louis added, guilt flashing across his features.

"Is he okay?" Harry asked, biting his lip.

"He will be," Zayn said quietly. "Just needed somewhere quiet. He couldn't handle the noise anymore."

"We're so sorry, mate," Louis said, stepping into the room as gently as he could. "Didn't mean to make it worse."

"You didn't know." Zayn shrugged. A sleepy mumble broke through the hush. Niall stirred, blinking blearily at the cluster of figures near the door. His head shifted, cheek still pressed against Zayn's shoulder, and his voice came out scratchy and barely there.

"S'okay."

They all turned towards him instantly.

"Niall--" Liam started.

"I'm not mad," Niall interrupted, smiling faintly despite how out of it he looked. "You were just... having fun."

"We really are sorry, though," Harry said, crouching beside the bench. "We wouldn't have if we'd known."

"Not your fault," Niall said, giving the smallest shake of his head, still half-asleep.

"Go back to sleep, yeah? I've got you." Zayn said softly and reassuringly as he brushed a few strands of hair off Niall's forehead. Niall's eyes fluttered shut almost immediately, content to disappear back into sleep now that he'd ensured no one was upset.

"What do you need?" Liam asked, breaking the silence. "For him."

"What?" Zayn asked, confused.

"We'll grab stuff," Harry offered. "Water, painkillers, a cold pack?"

"You stay." Louis nodded in agreement. "He's clingy as hell right now."

"Yeah." Zayn gave the tiniest smile. "Doesn't want to let go."

"Didn't think so," Liam said with a soft laugh, already backing out the door. " We'll sort it. You two just... stay like that."

Zayn didn't move or say much--just shifted slightly so Niall could get even more comfortable. The blond sighed softly, curling further into Zayn's side like a human blanket. And as the others quietly gathered supplies from the front of the bus, Zayn stayed exactly where he was. Holding Niall, keeping the silence and keeping the peace.

Chapter Text

Zayn was curled up so tightly that it looked like he was trying to disappear into the mattress. The heavy blackout curtains Liam had drawn earlier barely did anything to block out the intrusive flashes of neon signs from the street below, and each flicker made Zayn whimper softly, his forearm thrown over his eyes in a feeble attempt to shut the world out.

Liam stood awkwardly by the door, guilt tugging at his chest like a stubborn child. He hated seeing Zayn like this.

The migraine had come on suddenly. One minute, Zayn laughed at something Niall said during soundcheck; the next, he was ghost-pale and swaying on his feet. They'd rushed him back to the hotel, and he'd barely made it to the bed before collapsing into a tight ball of misery. Now, it had been hours. No medicine stayed down. No light could be tolerated. No words helped.

"Zayn," Liam tried gently, moving closer. "I've got some more water for you. Just try a sip, yeah?"

A groan came from the pile of blankets. Liam knelt beside the bed, placing the glass on the bedside table. He reached out to rest a hand on Zayn's shoulder, but the second his fingers touched him, Zayn flinched.

"Don't," Zayn rasped. His voice was brittle, like shattered glass. 

"Okay," Liam whispered, retreating slightly, helplessness thick in his chest. "Is there anything I can do?"

There was a long pause. Then, muffled by the pillow, Zayn whimpered one word.

"...Harry."

Liam blinked. He'd half expected Zayn to ask for silence, ice, or maybe even nothing. But instead, he wanted Harry.

"Alright," Liam said softly, standing up. "I'll go get him."

Zayn didn't respond.

-Time Skip That Is Also Not A Time Skip-

Harry came quietly, as he always did, as he knew instinctively how to be soft when people needed it. He had a cold, damp washcloth in his hand and worry in his eyes.

"Is he sleeping?" he asked in a whisper the second Liam cracked the door open.

"Not really," Liam murmured. "Just... hurting."

Harry nodded, slipping past into the dim room like a shadow. Zayn didn't move at first when the mattress dipped beside him. He might've thought it was Liam again and been ready to protest--but then a hand touched his shoulder, feather-light, and the touch didn't burn this time. It soothed. He knew that hand.

"Hey, Z," Harry said, voice hushed and warm. "I'm here."

Zayn whimpered again, this time with a tremble of relief. He cracked his eyes open just barely, enough to catch the blurred outline of curls and soft green eyes in the darkness. Harry pressed the washcloth gently to Zayn's forehead, then down to his temples. Zayn let out a soft sigh that seemed a deflate some of the tension in his curled frame.

Liam watched from the doorway, still and quiet. This--this was what Zayn had needed. Not water or noise or even his presence. Harry is just calm, careful, and patient. Harry moved slowly, inching behind Zayn until he could ease him back against his chest, guiding him like he'd done this a hundred times before. Zayn didn't resist. He pressed into the warmth of Harry's body like he was trying to merge with it, one shaky hand clutching Harry's shirt weakly at the chest.

"S'bad this time," Zayn mumbled. "Feels like it's eating my brain."

"I know, love," Harry whispered, rubbing small, slow circles into Zayn's back with the palm of his hand. "You're doing so well. just rest, yeah? I've got you."

The washcloth slipped slightly, and Harry caught it with a smooth hand, repositioning it across Zayn's forehead. The coolness helped. The dark helped. But mostly, Harry's voice--low, quiet, and steady--soothed the pounding in Zayn's head. He hadn't realised how desperately he needed this. Not words, not fixes--just Harry.

Zayn's breathing evened out little by little. His body, once tight with pain and tension, softened. His fingers loosened on Harry's shirt, still clinging but not as desperately.

Liam took that as his cue to slip out, pulling the door shut behind him without a sound. He'd check in later and bring food if Zayn could keep anything down. But for now, Zayn was in the right hands.

-Time Skip That Is Also Not A Time Skip-

The room had settled into stillness, thick and warm like a blanket. The world outside had gone quiet, or maybe it felt that way now that the storm behind Zayn's eyes had finally started to ebb. He wasn't sure how long he'd been asleep--maybe minutes, maybe hours. His head still throbbed faintly, a dull echo of earlier pain, but it was manageable now. Bearable.

And warm.

Zayn blinked slowly, eyes gritty and heavy, cheek still pressed to the soft fabric of Harry's shirt. He could feel Harry's chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm beneath him. One of Harry's arms was still wrapped securely around his waist, the other hand cradling the back of Zayn's head, fingers threaded loosely in his hair, stroking now and then with lazy affection.

Zayn let out a small, contented sigh, the kind that only came after surviving something unbearable. He nuzzled closer without thinking, his voice a rasp barely above a breath.

"Thank you," he murmured, lips brushing against Harry's collarbone. "For coming."

Harry didn't say anything at first, just exhaling slowly like he'd been holding his breath this time. His fingers resumed their gentle path through Zayn's hair, slow and rhythmic.

"You don't have to thank me," he said softly, voice low and sincere. "Always gonna be here when you need me."

"Thank you... thank you... love you..." Zayn mumbled repeatedly; he couldn't stop himself. Harry smiled against Zayn's hair, pressing a kiss to the top of his head so light it was almost imaginary.

"Love you too," he whispered back. "Now get some rest. I've got you."

Zayn hummed something unintelligible in response, already halfway back to sleep, but his hand curled gently into the fabric of Harry's shirt again as if to say don't go. Harry didn't move. He stayed exactly where he was, one hand soothing slow circles over Zayn's back, the other carding gently through his dark hair.

Chapter Text

The hotel suite was quiet, save for the soft hum of the air conditioning and the occasional clink of a teacup against its saucer. The long-haul flight from LA to London had drained them all--physically, emotionally, and, in Harry's case, gastrointestinal.

Harry shuffled into the shared lounge area of their suite, blanket draped over his shoulders like a cape, curls tousled from the neck pillow he'd wrestled with for most of the flight. His eyes were heavy, but his stomach... not so much.

"Ughhh," he groaned, dramatically flopping onto the couch beside Louis, who had been scrolling aimlessly through his phone.

"That sounded serious." Louis teased, looking up, amused.

"My stomach feels like it's doing the cha-cha slide." Harry groaned, letting his head fall back over the armrest dramatically. Zayn snorted from his spot in the armchair, barely glancing up from the book he was pretending to read. Liam offered a sympathetic smile from across the room, where he was organising their bags like the unofficial tour Dad he was. Louis, though, set his phone down immediately.

"C'mere, drama queen," he said, tugging at Harry's blanket gently. Harry grunted in protest but didn't resist when Louis guided him closer. With a few strategic shifts, Harry was stretched out across the sofa, head in Louis' lap, legs dangling off the edge like a ragdoll. Louis adjusted the blanket to cover him properly and rubbed soft circles on Harry's belly through his oversized hoodie.

"That's nice..." Harry sighed.

"Tummy's still off?" Louis asked, voice softer now, fingers working in lazy patterns over Harry's shirt.

"Mmhmm," Harry hummed, eyelids fluttering closed. "Feels all floaty and gross. Like I swallowed a cloud that hates me."

"You always get like this after long flights," Louis murmured. "It's the altitude, babe. Messes you up."

"Stick that under his legs," Niall said, tossing him a pillow from the other sofa. "Helps with blood flow."

"Look at you, Nurse Horan," Zayn teased, still not looking up.

"I did not survive seven seasons of Grey's Anatomy for this kind of disrespect," Niall said, deadpan. Harry chuckled weakly, then immediately regretted it. He whimpered, shifting slightly. Louis quieted him with a gentle shush, rubbing just a little slower, more soothing now.

"You don't have to talk," Louis whispered. "Just let your tummy settle."

The room fell into a peaceful lull. Liam had dimmed the lights a bit, and now the whole space had this low, cozy glow--just enough light to see each other, not enough to strain tired eyes. The TV played a quiet nature documentary in the background. Somewhere in the distance, David Attenborough was narrating the mating rituals of tree frogs.

Harry's breathing had evened out, the tension in his limbs slowly easing as Louis continued his rhythmic belly rubs. Occasionally, he'd trace his fingers lightly over Harry's side or card them gently through his curls.

"Think he's asleep?" Liam asked, whispering.

"Yeah," Louis said quietly, smiling down at Harry, whose mouth was parted slightly in rest, one hand clutching the edge of Louis' jumper like an anchor. "He's out."

"Poor lad looked green getting off the plane," Niall muttered, munching on a crisp.

"He's lucky to have you," Zayn said, his gaze soft.

"We're lucky to have each other," Louis responded, glancing down again, his thumb brushing lightly across Harry's cheek. They sat in comfortable silence, the weight of travel exhaustion grounding them all. Everything felt calm despite the fatigue, jet lag, and faint queasiness still lingering in Harry's belly. Louis shifted slightly, wrapping both arms gently around Harry now, careful not to disturb him. He wasn't going anywhere--not tonight.

"Sleep it off, Haz," he murmured, kissing Harry's temple. "I've got you."

-Time Skip-

Harry blinked his eyes open slowly, lashes fluttering against his cheeks. For a moment, everything was blurry--the soft lighting, the quiet hum of the room, the comforting weight around his waist. And then the nausea hit him again, low and stubborn like a dull ache just under his ribs. He shifted slightly and felt his arms tighten around him.

"Hey," Louis murmured sleepily, voice scratchy from dozing off. "Easy."

"Don't feel good." Harry groaned, pressing his face into Louis' jumper, burying his nose into the warm cotton.

"I know, love," Louis said, one hand automatically smoothing over Harry's side while the other rubbed lazy patterns between his shoulder blades. "You were out for almost an hour. Felt you twitching a bit, though. Dreaming?"

"Dunno," Harry mumbled, voice hoarse and muffled. "Just feel floaty. And... blah."

"Scientific diagnosis." Louis chuckled softly, adjusting their position so Harry was more curled into him. "'Bleh.' Should've been a doctor."

"I'd let you do surgery on me," Harry mumbled, too tired to filter anything.

"You're not getting surgery; you've just got post-flight belly blues," Louis said fondly, kissing the top of his curls. "You want some water? Maybe tea?"

"Nooo." Harry whimpered when Louis tried to move. "Stay."

"You're clingy when you're sick." Louis chuckled, amused.

"I'm always clingy."

"True," Louis laughed, brushing a curl from Harry's eyes. "Alright. I'm staying. Liam can be our butler."

"I can hear you." Liam piped up from across the room.

"I'm sure you can, sweetie. That's why I said it."

Harry snorted weakly against Louis' chest, the tiniest smile tugging at his lips. The nausea hadn't gone away, but the ache was duller with Louis' warmth wrapped around him, soothing hands never still, never rushed. He liked this--he liked being looked after. Louis always knew how to do it without making him feel helpless.

"Mint tea," Niall said, offering a mug to Harry. "For the drama queen."

"Bless you," Harry said, peeking his head out from the blanket cave, accepting Niall's warm tea mug.

"Don't mention it. Ever. Or I'll deny everything."

Zayn passed over a cold compress without saying a word in his usual style. Louis took it with a nod of thanks and gently rested it against Harry's forehead.

"There we go," he whispered. "Cooling you down, keeping you warm. You're being thoroughly pampered."

"Love you." Harry sighed contentedly.

"I know," Louis whispered back, brushing his thumb across Harry's cheek. "Love you more."

Chapter Text

Touring over the holidays wasn't ideal, but the lads had agreed it was better to be together than scattered across cities alone. So, they booked a cozy Airbnb in the countryside between gigs one far from fans, far from paparazzi, and hopefully close enough to peace and quiet. The plan was simple: spend Christmas Eve and Day together, binge holiday movies, exchange3 gifts, and eat until they pass out from turkey and trimmings. 

"We'll just do a roast!" Liam had said optimistically, when cooking had initially been on the agenda.

"Have you seen what happens when Zayn tries to use the oven?" Niall countered.

"I'm not being blamed for burning down a cottage," Harry added dramatically. Ultimately, they settled on takeaway from a fancy local place that offered a "luxury Christmas dinner" option. The restaurant had glowing reviews, and no one had the energy to argue.

The food arrived piping hot, neatly packaged, and admittedly smelling divine. There was turkey, stuffing, pigs in blankets, and even some weird posh things Harry insisted were essential. "These are truffle sprouts. You haven't lived until you've had them."

They ate, laughed, bickered over whether Die Hard was a Christmas film (Niall was firmly in the "yes" camp), and eventually curled up in front of the fire in matching Christmas pyjamas.

-Time Skip-

By 3 AM, the cozy holiday magic had turned into something less charming. Louis was the first to stir. He sat up abruptly, a cold sweat coating his forehead. His stomach twisted violently. He barely made it to the bathroom before the vomiting began.

"Lou? You alright in there?" Harry asked, knocking on the door gently. The retching woke up Harry, whose room was closest to the loo. A low groan was the only reply, followed by another round of sickness. Harry didn't wait. He pushed the door open and found Louis collapsed by the toilet, pale and shaking. "Shit. Okay. It's okay." Harry knelt down and started rubbing his back gently. "I'm here, alright? You've got food poisoning, probably. Classic."

Within minutes, the others were up; Liam, always the fixer, rushed in with a glass of water and a flannel. Niall grabbed blankets. Despite grumbling about being woken up, Zayn brought painkillers and offered to look up the symptoms online.

"Reckon it was the stuffing," Niall said, frowning. "Tasted a bit weird."

"You had thirds, Niall," Liam pointed out.
"Yeah, and I'm fine. Louis clearly got the dodgy batch."
"Remind me never to let you pick the food again." Louis groaned, curled in a shivering ball on the couch now.

The rest of the night was a blur of cold compresses, dry heaving, and Louis stubbornly insisting he was fine despite clearly being the opposite of fine. Around 4 AM, the living room lights were dimmed, and the fire flickered low. Harry was making tea in the kitchen, and Liam had passed out in an armchair with a crossword puzzle half-filled on his lap. Louis looked wrecked sunk into the couch, pale as the snow falling outside, eyes glassy and exhausted. But his body wouldn't let him rest. Whenever his eyes fluttered shut, he'd jolt back awake, clutching at his stomach.

"You're not gonna sleep like that," Niall said softly, crouching before him.

"Don't think I can sleep," Louis whined. "Feel like my stomach's trying to escape."

"Alright, come here," Niall said.

"What?" Louis questioned, blinking blankly at Niall.

"You're gonna lie down on me. That's the only way you're getting some rest, mate."

"I'm literally radioactive right now, Niall."

"Don't care. You're shivering and miserable and look like you've been run over by Santa's sleigh. C'mon." With some maneuvering, Niall laid back on the couch and tugged Louis down with him, cradling him like he'd done it a hundred times. Louis protested weakly but didn't put up much of a fight. His head ended up on Niall's chest, an arm loosely slung over his middle. Niall's hand started carding slowly through Louis' hair. "There," Niall murmured, voice warm and low. "Human hot water bottle mode activated."

"Don't think I've got the strength to argue." Louis let out a small, tired laugh.

"Good. You rest, even if it's just a bit."

And finally, Louis began to doze, breathing evening out slightly despite the occasional twitch from his aching stomach. Niall didn't move an inch. He stayed there, heartbeat steady under Louis' cheek, watching the snow fall outside the window.

Chapter Text

Zayn had barely moved from the corner of the couch all day, wrapped up in his oldest hoodie. Louis' actually and curled beneath a blanket he hadn't so much as adjusted in hours. He looked... wilted, for a lack of a better word. Tired, pale, heavy-lidded, like he was trying his best to disappear into the cushions, chest rising shallowly under the thick cotton and face half-shadowed by the hood tugged down low.

Louis didn't ask him why at first. He knew better than to crowd Zayn. Knew the signs well enough, the curled-up posture, the pinched expression, the way Zayn's fingers were constantly twisting the blanket's edge. This was something anxiety-shaped, not flu-shaped, or maybe both, but the anxiety always came first.

"Gonna order dinner," Louis said casually a few hours in like it wasn't just an excuse to get Zayn to eat something. "Something cozy. Soup? Or curry?"

Zayn had barely nodded. No opinion, no request, just a faint hum of agreement that sounded like it cost him effort. So, Louis ordered anyway. Tomato soup, grilled cheese, some rice, and veggie curry, just in case the soup didn't sound good. Covering all the bases, he even added some mango juice because Zayn always liked mango when his stomach was picky.

Now it was 7PM, and Zayn still hadn't eaten. The food had gone from steaming hot to lukewarm to cold, and Louis hadn't touched his own plate either, quietly sitting nearby like a house cat, present, calm, watchful.

"You haven't eaten all day," Louis said softly, not accusatory. Just a gentle reminder, voice warm like the soup. "Not even a nibble."

"Not hungry," Zayn murmured, his voice barely there and his eyes red-rimmed and tired.

"I know," Louis said, scooting closer to the couch and nudging the untouched plate a little toward Zayn. "But your body still needs something. Just a few bites, yeah?" Zayn blinked slowly. He didn't move, so Louis reached out, slow and deliberate, and placed a hand over the blanket just above Zayn's belly. He rubbed in slow circles, gentle and steady. "Might help. Sometimes, your stomach just needs a nudge."

Zayn gave the tiniest, almost invisible huff of a laugh at that, just a breath, really but Louis felt it and saw how his chest shifted. It was enough, so he picked up the spoon and dipped it into the soup, holding it out. "One bit, just one. If it doesn't sit right, we'll stop, alright?"

Zayn hesitated, his eyes flicked between the spoon and Louis' hand, resting warmly against his middle. Then, with effort, he shifted upright just enough to lean forward and take the bite, It was small, barely anything but he swallowed it.

"There we go." Louis smiled. He kept rubbing slow circles against Zayn's belly through the blanket, not pressing too hard, just a comforting glide of palm and fingers. Zayn melted a little under the touch, enough to slump slightly sideways against Louis' shoulder.

"That's enough," Zayn mumbled after about six spoonfuls.

"Good," Louis said. "That's perfect."

He put the bowl aside and shifted so he could cradle Zayn a bit better, his hand never leaving his stomach. Zayn was already curling back into him, eyelids drooping.

"M'sorry," Zayn mumbled, muffled against Louis' sleeve. "Just feel... off."

"You don't have to say sorry," Louis said, pressing a light kiss to Zayn's hair without thinking. "You're allowed to feel off. I've got you."

-Time Skip-

Zayn had drifted somewhere between dozing and staring at nothing, half-melted against Louis' side on the couch. He hadn't spoken in a while, save for the occasional sigh, like the weight in his chest had finally given up resisting Louis' quiet comfort. His eyelids fluttered, heavy and lazy, but he didn't quite give in to sleep.

Louis glanced down and smiled faintly at the way Zayn's hand had loosely grabbed at the fabric of his sleeve as if to anchor himself there. The bowl of soup sat forgotten on the table now, and the room was dim, lit only by the warm glow of a nearby lamp.

"Hey, love," Louis murmured, brushing a thumb along Zayn's temple. "Think it's time for bed, yeah? You're barely holding your eyes open."

"Only if... if you come with me," Zayn said, voice small and thick with sleep.

"I was already planning to," Louis replied with a quiet chuckle, easing them both up. "Cuddles and belly rub still part of the deal?"

"Yeah."  Zayn nodded again, leaning into him like a sleepy cat. "Under my shirt this time. I like... how it feels."

"Then under your shirt, it is." Louis smiled, soft and full of affection. Helping Zayn up was like maneuvering a sleepy toddler, he was pliant, slow-moving, letting Louis guide him every step with hands at his back and hip. Once in the bedroom, Louis pulled out a soft, worn t-shirt

 from Zayn's drawer. Something light, loose and nothing clingy. "Arms up," he murmured.

Zayn obeyed, letting Louis peel him out of his hoodie and guide him gently out of his jeans. Louis could see how bloated his tummy looked from even the few bites earlier not in a painful way, but just tender, sensitive. He helped Zayn step into a pair of soft joggers, the waistband low and loose. "There," Louis said, smoothing the shirt over Zayn's head and giving his sides a soft pat. "Comfiest lad in London."

Zayn yawned, swaying until Louis caught him by the waist and steered him towards the bed. They sank into it together, the mattress sighing under them. Zayn curled towards Louis immediately, face nuzzling against his chest.

True to his word, Louis slipped his hand beneath the hem of Zayn's shirt and splayed his fingers across the warm skin of his stomach. Zayn gave a contented hum, his breath tickling Louis' collarbone. "Like that?" Louis whispered, fingers resuming their soft, slow circles.

"Mmhmm," Zayn breathed, his voice already drifting. "Warm... feels good."

Louis pressed his lips to Zayn's forehead, then settled back against the pillows, wrapping his other arm around Zayn's shoulders to guide his head firmly to rest on his chest. He kept his fingers threating gently through Zayn's hair, his palm protective at the back of his head, and his thumb brushing softly at the nape of his neck.

"Stay like this," Zayn mumbled, so quiet almost missed it.

"Wasn't going anywhere," Louis said, voice just as soft. The room was still and Calm, Zayn's breathing evened out slowly as Louis rubbed his tummy in steady, grounding motions, his other hand cradling him close. The occasional twitch of Zayn's fingers against Louis' shirt faded until finally, completely, he was asleep mouth parted slightly, brow unknotted for the first time all day.

Louis kept his hands moving gently, even as his own eyes started to close. They were protective and tender, anchoring Zayn to safety with every stroke.

There'd be more hard days. But for tonight, Zayn was safe, warm, and loved.

Chapter Text

The room was buzzing, voices overlapping, champagne flutes clinking, camera flashes and bursting ever few seconds like fireworks. It was a whirlwind of fashion and fame, the type of event they were both used to by now, yet Niall couldn't shake the way the walls felt like they were inching closer. He'd woken up that morning with a sore throat and a vague heaviness behind his eyes, brushing it off with the usual, 'I'll be fine.'

He wasn't

As the night wore on, the lights seemed brighter, the music louder, and his limbs heavier. Every time someone laughed, it felt like it echoed inside his skull. He tried smiling and chatting like nothing was wrong, but Harry saw it. Of course, he did. Niall had started to sway slightly where he stood, hand curling tighter around his glass of water that had gone untouched for the last half hour. His face had drained of all colour, sweat beading at his temples despite the chilly air conditioning.

That's when Harry noticed, he didn't say anything at first, he subtly stepped before him, placing himself between Niall and a group of over-enthusiastic photographers. His eyes flicked sideways, catching the way Niall's jaw clenched, his breath shallow and uneven.

"Let's get some air, yeah?" Harry murmured, his voice low and calm, like a bomb.

"M'fine," Niall mumbled, blinking slowly, clearly struggling to focus. His knees wobbled a bit too much to make it convincing.

"I know you are," Harry assured, gently placing a hand on his back and steering him through the crowd. "But humour me." They slipped through a side door onto a quiet balcony, the night air crisp against their skin. The contrast made Niall shiver, but he also breathed a little easier. The world wasn't spinning quite as fast out here. Harry led him to a bench tucked in the corner, but Niall barely made it before his legs gave a small buck. Harry caught him, steadying him carefully. "Okay, head between your knees, Ni," Harry said, crouching beside him. He gently guided Niall's head down, one hand on the back of his neck, thumb stroking just under his hairline.

"Jesus," Niall croaked. "Think m'dying."

"You're not dying." Harry huffed a laugh, keeping his voice light. "You're overheated, probably dehydrated... and have a fever. When's the last time you ate something?" Niall didn't answer, which was answer enough. Harry reached into his coat pocket and pulled out

a crumpled protein bar. He unwrapped it one-handed and broke off a piece, holding it out. "Small bites," he said gently. "C'mon, I've seen toddlers do it."

Niall gave him a weak glare but took the piece, anyway, chewing slowly. His hands were trembling. They sat like that for a few minutes, and the party noise was a muffled hum through the walls. Harry kept close, one hand still grounding Niall as the other scrolled through his phone, looking for the fastest route back to the hotel.

"I should've stayed home," Niall finally muttered.

"Yeah, you should have." Harry agreed, smiling faintly. "But now you get to be fussed over, which I know you secretly love." Niall cracked a tired smile, then leaned sideways, resting his head on Harry's shoulder. He felt heavy, burning hot even through the fabric of Harry's jacket. Harry didn't move, only adjusted slightly so Niall could rest more easily. "You've got about ten minutes before I'm carrying you out of here," he murmured. "You think your pride can survive that?"

"Mmm. Barely," Niall whispered.

-Time Skip-

Niall looked better for about fifteen minutes with a bit of water, a few bites of the protein bar and the cool night air, he'd perked up just enough to insist he could go back in for "a little while longer." But Harry wasn't convinced, especially not now, watching from across the room as Niall's shoulders slumped again, his body language slowly folding in on itself like a deflating balloon.

His smile didn't quite reach his eyes, and he'd stopped talking altogether, just nodding vaguely to whatever Liam was saying. His face was pale and pink at once, a sure sign his fever was creeping back up. Harry knew that look, he knew it all too well  so he stepped back surveying the room and spotted Louis and Zayn chatting near the bar. He caught their eyes, gave a subtle nod, and they came over instantly. A quick, quiet huddle formed; Harry's voice low but firm.

"He's wiped," Harry said, flicking his chin toward Niall. "Feverish, exhausted. I tried getting him out earlier, but he wanted to stay."

"He looks like he's about to faceplant into that canape tower," Louis commented, eyebrows furrowing as he looked over.

"I'll distract the press," Zayn offered with a small smirk. "Pretend I'm dating Liam again or something."

"We'll c over you." Liam nodded, rolling his eyes at Zayn. "Just get him home."

They broke apart like professionals, casually moving to encircle Niall without making a scene. Louis clapped him on the back with too much cheer, Zayn created a subtle wall between Niall and a nosy photographer, and Harry slipped back in by Niall's side, gently taking his elbow.

"Hey," Harry murmured. "Look at me."

"What're you doing back?" Niall asked, blinking up at Harry slowly. "Thought you were outside."

"I was. But you're crashing, Ni. You're swaying like a tree in a hurricane."

"M'fine," Niall muttered, but his voice was hoarse now, and his body betrayed him, swaying again just like Harry said.

"I'll make you a deal," Harry said, leaning closer, voice low. "Come home now, and we'll cuddle on the couch. You can be the little spoon."

Niall's expression softened, his stubborn pride folding in the face of something more tempting than fame or fancy snacks.

"You promise?"

"Promise," Harry said, sealing it with a squeeze of his hand. Within minutes, the whole band was on the move, a practiced exit strategy that looked casual to any outsider. They slipped into the waiting SUV, Niall sandwiched between Harry and the window, too tired to protest further.

The car ride was hushed, a blanket of comfortable silence broken only by the occasional murmured conversation. Louis and Liam quietly bickered over which late night takeaway place was open near Harry's flat. Zayn chimed in about needing to steal one of Harry's hoodies before he left. None of them addressed Niall directly, but all kept casting little glances his way, as a protective circle had formed without anyone needing to say a word.

Niall, for his part, leaned into Harry's side without resistance now, cheek pressed to the soft fabric of his jacket. Harry looped an arm around and held him there, thumb tracing slowly, grounding patterns on his upper arm.

"Still okay?" Harry whispered.

"Mhm." Niall hummed sleepily. "Warm."

"We're home," Harry whispered. By the time they pulled up in front of Harry's place, Niall's eyes were barely open, breath slowing against Harry's shoulder.

"M'not asleep," Niall mumbled.

"Sure you're not," Harry chuckled, guiding him out of the car with both hands. Their fingers twined without thinking about it, Niall following like a sleepy shadow as Harry led him inside.

"Make sure he drinks," Zayn said, tossing Harry a water bottle. The others filtered in behind them, kicking off their shoes and raiding the kitchen for snacks. "And you owe me a hoodie."

"Take two." Harry grinned, he steered Niall towards the couch, settling down and pulling him close like it was instinct. Niall tucked himself into Harry's side, legs curled, body heavy and warm against him. He sighed when Harry reached up to pin his fingers through his hair. "There we go," Harry whispered. "Told you I'd take care of you."

Niall didn't answer this time, he was already gone, breathing evening out and lashes fluttering closed. Harry smiled, adjusting slightly so Niall could stretch out across his lap, one hand slipping under the hem of Niall's shirt to rub soothing circles along his back. Niall let out a content noise, barely audible, and burrowed closer.

The others had drifted into the kitchen, their quiet chatter just a soft background hum. But on the couch, it was still warm and safe, just Harry and Niall and the calm after the storm. Harry leaned down and kissed the crown of Niall's head. 

"Sleep, love. I've got you."

-Time Skip-

The flat had finally gone quiet.

The others had stayed for a late, casual dinner takeout boxes scattered across the coffee table, low laughter echoing in the kitchen while Harry kept Niall nestled against his chest. Zayn had made good on his hoodie promise, leaving with two in hand and a wink. Louis and Liam exchanged a few fond smiles when they checked in on the living room, watching Niall's breathing's gentle rise and fall.

Now, it was just the two of them. The apartment was dim, and the only light was a soft glow from a lamp in the corner. Harry's limbs began to numb, his neck tilted awkwardly from hours spent cradling Niall's weight. As much as he didn't want to move and risk waking him, he knew the couch wouldn't cut it all night, not for Niall or him. He looked down, brushing a thumb along Niall's cheekbone.

"Hey," Harry whispered. "Niall, love..." Niall made a small sound somewhere between a groan and a hum. His face scrunched slightly, nose wrinkling as he burrowed further into Harry's chest like a sleepy cat avoiding the morning sun. "C'mon," Harry said again, voice softer this time, coaxing. "I know. But let's get you into bed, yeah? Proper pillows and everything. Your neck's gonna hate you if we stay here."

"Only if we still cuddle." Niall's small voice mumbled.

"Of course, we're still cuddling," Harry reassured. "I'd never risk breaking our contract." That got a tiny huff of amusement, barely there but enough to call it a win. Slowly, Harry shifted, adjusting Niall until he could slide out from under him. Niall blinked sleepily up at him, looking about five seconds from passing out again. "Up you get," Harry said gently, offering both hands.

It took some effort, Niall's body moved like it was full of lead but eventually, Harry managed to guide him to his feet and steer him down the hallway towards the bedroom. Niall leaned on him heavily, walking mostly by muscle memory. Inside the bedroom, Harry flicked

on a low bedside light. The blankets were already turned down, soft and inviting. He turned back to Niall and tugged gently at the hem of his shirt.

"Arms up." Niall obeyed without a word, swaying slightly as Harry helped him out of his clothes and into one of his softest oversized sleep shirts. It practically swallowed him whole one of Harry's, of course and smelled like comfort and warmth. Harry guided him to sit on the bed, then crouched to help him with his socks. "You good?" he asked.

"Mhm," Niall murmured. "Still want cuddles."

"You'll get them," Harry promised again. He quickly changed into sleep clothes, then climbed into bed, lifting the covers for Niall to join. Niall slid in without hesitation, curling into Harry's side the moment he was under the blankets. Their limbs tangled easily like it was second nature. Niall's head returned to Harry's chest, his breath slowing.

Harry wrapped an arm around him, fingers weaving into his hair, stroking gently. The other hand settled against Niall's forehead, tracing the faintest patterns, circles and lines, a soothing rhythm across his skin and scalp. Niall let out a soft, contented sigh.

"I've got you," Harry whispered. "All night."

Another sleepy hum. His fingers never stopped moving, featherlight and tender. And within minutes, Niall was asleep again, fully, warm and safe, breathing even this time. Harry watched him for a while, the rise and fall of his chest, the way his eyelashes fluttered slightly in sleep. Then he kissed the top of Niall's head, pulled the blankets tighter around them both, and let himself relax too surrounded by warmth, soft hair under his fingers, and the sound of Niall breathing beside him.

Chapter Text

The venue buzzed with energy, crew shouting over headsets, the tech team adjusting lights and audio, and fans flooding into the arena outside. Backstage, things ran like a well-oiled machine, so it glared when something went off track.

Zayn didn't show up for the final soundcheck.

At first, the boys thought he was just running late. n It wasn't unusual for Zayn to be the last to roll in, tousled hair and sleepy eyes, mumbling something about losing track of time. But after ten minutes, then twenty, a weird tension crept in.

Liam was the first to go looking, he found Zayn curled up on the dressing room floor, pale as the white shirt he'd halfway changed into, an arm slung over his face to block the lights.

"Zayn?" Liam crouched down quickly, hand hovering, just above Zayn's shoulder. "Mate, what's going on? Are you... oh god, are you shaking?"

"Don't feel good." Zayn groaned; his voice hoarse. "Stomach's... flipping. Got the worst chills."

Liam didn't wait for another second. He called for the others. Niall and Harry appeared first, with Louis trailing close behind, still chewing on a granola bar. Louis stood chewing immediately when he saw Zayn's state.

"Bloody hell, Zayno," Louis muttered, setting the snack aside and kneeling beside him. "You look like death warmed up."

"Thanks for the pep talk." Zayn managed a weak eyeroll.

"We need Paul or Lou." Harry said, already dialling someone. "Someone who knows what to do."

By the time Paul barrelled in, Zayn had managed to get off the floor and onto the couch with the help of Niall, though he looked worse for it, clammy and ghostly pale, his hands trembling in his lap.

"Food poisoning," Paul confirmed grimly after checking the boy over quickly. "He's burning up, and he can't keep anything down. He's not going anywhere near that stage tonight."

"No. I'm fine. I can do it." Zayn protested.

"Zayn." Liam leaned forward, shaking his head. "You can barely sit upright, let alone perform in front of fifteen thousand screaming fans."

Management was the next storm to roll in.

"We can get him rehydrated backstage," a stern manager argued. "Even if he just does a couple of songs, it will be better than nothing."

"No," Louis said, stepping up with a rate note of seriousness in his voice. "He needs to rest."

The room froze, Louis never played the serious card unless it mattered. And this definitely mattered.

"We'll cover," Harry added, firm but calm. "We've done it before, we'll tweak the setlist."

"I'll take his parts," Niall offered. "Or we'll split them."

"We're not letting him push through this," Liam said. "And that's final."

It took another ten minutes of arguing, negotiating, and threats of boycotting their own concert before management reluctantly agreed to let Zayn sit the show out.

Lou arrived with a med kit and a bag of comfort supplies, ginger tea, cold compresses, crackers that Zayn couldn't even look at without gagging. She brushed his hair back gently, applied a damp cloth to his forehead, and swatted Paul when he tried to make Zayn drink too much water too fast.

"You'll be alright, love,"  she murmured. "Just a bug. You just rest."

Meanwhile, the boys huddled backstage, going over lyrics and harmonies. Paul promised to keep watch over Zayn during the show. Lou stayed, too, ensuring he was comfortable as possible in a makeshift bed from the dressing room couch and spare blankets. As the house lights dimmed and the roar of the crowd grew deafening, Zayn cracked an eye open from where he was half-dozing.

"You guys gonna be alright out there?" he mumbled, voice raw.

"We got you, mate," Liam said, crouching beside him for a second before running out.

"Just try not to die before we get back, yeah?" Louis teased and gently flicked his forehead.

"No promises," Zayn smirked weakly.

The concert went off with only minor hitches. But the boys rallied, pulling extra weight, splitting harmonies, and even bantering more than usual to cover Zayn's absence. Fans were told he was under the weather, and they lit up the stadium with glowing signs and shouted his name anyway.

Backstage, Zayn dozed through most of it, but when he woke up near the end, Paul held up the screen of his phone where a live feed of the concert showed Harry belting out Zayn's solo in "Little Things" like he'd been doing it all his life.

"You've got good mates," Paul said simply.

"Yeah. I really do." Zayn nodded, groggily and emotional.

-Time Skip-

The crowd was still roaring as the last notes of the encore faded, the boys waving and shouting thank-yous, cheeks flushed from adrenaline and effort. 

But the moment they stepped off stage, a switch flipped.

"Alright, let's move," Liam said, clapping a hand on Harry's back. "We've got someone waiting."

Backstage, the energy was quieter, the crew winding down, techs unplugging cables, and Zayn still curled up on the makeshift couch bed, a blanket pulled up to his chin. His eyes fluttered open as the boys returned, dazed and exhausted.

"Hey," he croaked, voice barely above a whisper.

"Hey, sleepyhead," Harry said, being the first to kneel beside him. "We smashed it but we missed you." Zayn blinked up at him, too sick to reply, but the grateful look in his eyes said enough. "Let's get you changed, yeah?" Harry offered gently. "Then we'll get you to the hotel."

Zayn groaned at the idea of moving but nodded. With Paul and Lou giving them space, Harry helped him sit up slowly, carefully peeling the damp stage shirt from Zayn's skin.

"Sorry," Zayn muttered, shivering.

"Don't apologise, mate," Harry said, finding him a clean hoodie from his bag. "You've got nothing to be sorry for. Just let us take care of you."

The others moved quietly, packing bags, unplugging chargers, and collecting scattered belongings. Louis zipped up Zayn's backpack while Niall triple-checked that they hadn't left anything behind.

"Come on, sick boy," Louis said, appearing at his side once Zayn was dressed, bundled up, and offered a hand. "I'll lead you to the car before someone mistakes you for a lost ghost." Zayn leaned on him heavily, the path through the venue feeling like a labyrinth of hallways and stairwells. Louis kept a steady arm around his shoulders, guiding him past roadies and staff, ignoring the occasional curious stare. "Almost there," he murmured. "You're doing great."

Outside, their driver had the van doors open and waiting. Niall was already inside, stretching across the seat with his arms open.

"Come on then," he said with a tired smile. "You can use me as a pillow."

Zayn didn't hesitate he slumped down next to Niall, curling into his side like he belonged there. Niall instinctively wrapped an arm around him, letting Zayn's head rest on his shoulder.

The drive was short, but Zayn dozed the whole way, only waking when the van pulled into the hotel. It was cold outside as Zayn stepped out, arms tucked around himself only to start shivering hard again. Liam noticed immediately and stepped in without a word, pulling Zayn into a warm, solid hug in the hotel lobby.

"I got you," he whispered against Zayn's hair. "We'll get you into bed soon." Zayn clung to him, and Liam didn't move until their tour manager handed them their keys. 

But as soon as they stepped into the lift, the motion hit Zayn again. He went pale, swaying slightly, hand gripping the railing. "Zayn?" Liam moved to his side, steadying him. "You okay?"

Zayn just shook his head, breathing slowly through his nose like he was trying to hold it together. Liam wrapped both arms around him, gently rubbing a hand over his back. "It's okay. You're almost there. Just breathe. I'm right here."

Zayn buried his face into Liam's shoulder, trying to ground himself. "Just a few more seconds," Liam murmured. "You're doing so good."

The doors opened, and Zayn still hadn't let go.

"Alright," Liam said softly, shifting to support more of his weight. "You're with me tonight." Zayn nodded weakly, still clinging to Liam who guided Zayn to the bed and sat him down gently inside the room. "You want to brush your teeth first?"

Zayn nodded again, and Liam helped him into the bathroom, steadying him while he leaned over the sink. He handed him the toothbrush, kept a hand at the small of his back, and murmured gentle encouragement until Zayn finished.

Afterward, he guided him back to bed and sat behind him on the mattress's edge, gently pulling a brush through Zayn's tangled hair. Zayn's eyes fluttered closed almost instantly at the sensation. 

"You're gonna sleep like a rock tonight," Liam said softy, smiling as he brushed. When Zayn began to slump, Liam set the brush down and pulled back the blankets. Zayn slid beneath them and curled instinctively towards Liam as he climbed beside him.

"C'mere," Liam whispered, wrapping his arms around him.  Zayn rested his head right over Liam's chest, the steady thump of his heart a quiet, rhythmic lullaby.  Liam slipped a hand under his shirt and began to scratch softly at his back, slow and calming. When Zayn let out a quiet sigh, Liam shifted and started to rub gentle circles over his sides and stomach, the kind of touch meant purely to soothe.

"You're safe now," he whispered. "You're home."

Zayn's breathing slowed, his body finally relaxing fully into Liam's. His fingers curled lightly into the fabric of Liam's shirt as he drifted off, lulled by the warmth, the motion, the heartbeat beneath his ear. 

And Liam didn't stop until he was sure Zayn was sound asleep.

Chapter Text

It was a miracle that they had a night off. A real one, one with no interviews, studio sessions, press, or sneaking into back doors of restaurants in oversized hoodies and hats. Just the five of them, a cold London evening and no obligations. Naturally, they celebrated the only way a group of overworked young men knew how: takeout.

"Mate, this Thai place has five stars and delivers until midnight," Louis declared, holding up his phone. "I'm getting the green curry. Anyone else?"

Everyone threw out their orders: Pad Thai for Zayn, Tom Yum for Liam, spring rolls and massaman for Niall, and Harry, ever adventurous, opted for the som tam and what the menu simply described as "Chef's Spicy Special."

-Time Skip-

The food arrived warm and fragrant in little containers that steamed when opened. They spread everything out on the coffee table, kicked their socks off, and put a movie on the TV.

It was perfect.

Until it wasn't.

Two hours later, the others were halfway through a comedy they'd seen too many times, But Harry was curled up on the far end of the couch, his face pressed against a pillow, groaning softly.

"I told you not to trust a dish with three fire emojis next to it," Zayn said, frowning at Harry as he hovered with a water bottle.

"I thought they were being dramatic," Harry moaned, face pale and clammy.

"He always thinks everyone's being dramatic until he's the one dying," Louis muttered, though he dropped an extra blanket over Harry's feet anyway.

"My stomach's doing... things." Harry whimpered.

"Like what kind of things?" Liam asked, concerned.

"Like... betrayal."

They all winced. Niall, who had just returned from the kitchen with a cool cloth and ginger ale, took one look at Harry and crouched beside him.

"Alright, that's it." Niall said with a sigh, grabbing a cushion and flopping down next to Harry. "Couch Duty initiated."

"I'm fine," Harry mumbled weakly.

"You look like you're about to star in the next episode of Medical Mysteries," Niall replied, placing the cool cloth on Harry's forehead. "You've been groaning like a haunted house for the past hour."

Harry shifted and, without a word, flopped half onto Niall, his head pressing into Niall's chest with a pitiful sigh.

"Well. Guess I'm a pillow now."

"You've been promoted," Louis smirked. Niall adjusted his position, pulling the blanket over both of them. Harry was warm, feverish warm and even though he wasn't sweating, Niall could feel the heat radiating off him.

"You sure you're okay being squished like that?" Liam asked.

"He's not that heavy when he's sick." Niall shrugged, gently running a hand through Harry's curls. "He just kind of... melts."

Harry made a tiny noise of agreement, burying his face deeper into Niall's shirt.

"You need anything?" Zayn asked, pausing the movie.

Harry mumbled something unintelligible.

"Pretty sure he just said, 'noodles are a lie,'" Niall translated.

"Fair enough," Zayn chuckled. They dimmed the lights, lowered the volume, and let the movie continue while Niall held Harry, gently carding fingers through his hair whenever he whimpered or shifted.

For all his usual energy and dramatic flair, sick Harry was a different creature entirely. Quiet, vulnerable and weirdly clingy but Niall didn't mind. In fact, he secretly liked being the one Harry turned to when things went sideways. There was something kind of comforting about being needed like that.

"You're really warm," Harry mumbled, stirring again.

"That's because I'm not dying inside like you are," Niall said softly.

"Your heartbeat's nice."

"Thanks?" Niall said, which sounded more like a question.

"Don't let me die." Harry pleaded; his voice muffled.

"You're not dying. You've got food poisoning. At worst, your dignity will die when we tell the press you got taken out by dodgy papaya salad."

Harry groaned, but it was almost a laugh. Niall felt him settle again, tension slowly unwinding from his limbs. His breathing evened out, shallow but steady, Harry was asleep by the time the credits rolled, drooling slightly on Niall's shirt.

"He out?" Louis whispered.

"Yeah," Niall murmured.

"You're a good pillow, Horan," Zayn said, handing him another bottle of water and a fresh cloth.

"I contain multitudes," Niall replied. They turned off the TV and left the two curled up on the couch, Harry cocooned in blankets and Niall's arms, safe and soothed for the rest of the night.

-Time Skip-

The living room had gone quiet; the kind of quiet only night and soft breathing could bring. Harry had been asleep on Niall's lap for nearly two hours, limbs sprawled, but his torso curled in like he was trying to make himself as small as possible, head resting over Niall's heart. Niall had barely moved, except for the occasional shift to keep his foot from completely numb.

"You two look sweet, but you'll regret sleeping like that come morning." Liam pointed out, appearing at the side of the couch, holding a glass of water and a warm look. "Your back's gonna be wrecked and his neck's gonna be worse."

"I don't wanna wake him, he's finally relaxed. "Niall argued with a guilty hum.

"Exactly. Let's get him into bed now while he's out cold before you turn into pretzels." Liam knelt and gently nudged Harry's arm. "Haz? You awake?"

Harry gave a small, miserable grunt but didn't lift his head. Instead, he curled in tighter against Niall's chest, fingers bunching in his shirt like a sleepy toddler refusing to leave a nap.

"Okay, that's a no," Niall said with a soft laugh.

"I'll carry him," Liam offered. "And get him changed into something soft, you get into your PJs, so you're not sleeping in jeans. We know he won't settle without you once you're in bed."

"You sure?" Niall asked.

"Mate, I've carried heavier gym bags."

Carefully, Liam leaned down and eased Harry's arms from around Niall's middle. Harry stirred again, blinking blearily at the change in position.

"M not walkin'," he slurred into Liam's shoulder as Liam scooped him up bridal-style.

"You don't have to. I've got you," Liam murmured and Harry didn't protest. His arms looped lazily around Liam's neck and let out a low sigh and tucked his head into the crook of Liam's neck, breath warm and damp against skin. Liam carried him up the stairs like one would a very tired child, murmuring soft reassurances the whole way. "Just getting you sorted, mate then Niall'll be up soon."

Harry didn't say anything, but his fingers flexed gently against the back of Liam's neck like he was clinging on more emotionally than physically now.

Once in the bedroom, Liam set Harry on the edge of the bed and grabbed the pair of sweatpants and oversized hoodie they knew to be Harry's go to comfort clothes. There was minimal fuss. Harry swayed a little, clearly dazed, and let Liam guide his arms and legs through the clothes like a sleepwalker.

"Alright, superstar," Liam said softly, helping him lay back against the pillows. "You're decent and horizontal. I'm staying put until Niall gets here."

"Thanks." Harry hummed, eyes half-lidded and pink with exhaustion.

"No worries." He stretched out beside Harry, letting the younger boy drape across him without hesitation. Harry nuzzled in with the trust of someone who knew he was safe head tucked under Liam's chin, a thigh thrown over his leg, one arm wrapped around Liam's middle. Liam absentmindedly stroked Harry's hair and rubbed slow circles on his back. "You're burning up, mate, is your stomach still hurting?"

"Less stabby now," Harry said, making a tired noise.

"Good. That spicy dish didn't stand a chance against you."

A soft, raspy chuckle left Harry. His breathing evened out again, slower now, heavier. He was on the verge of sleep when the door creaked open.

"Everything alright?" Niall asked, stepping in, freshly changed into joggers and a t-shirt, hair mussed from running damp fingers through it.

Harry didn't open his eyes but perked up like a sensor going off. His hand wiggled up from where it rested on Liam's chest, opening and closing in little grabby motions towards Niall.

"Oh my God," Liam muttered with a smile. "He's actually summoning you."

"Guess I've been claimed," Niall said, amused as he walked over. Liam carefully slid out from under Harry, who let out a grumble of protest but quickly latched onto Niall as soon as he took Liam's place. 

Niall laid down on his side, and Harry immediately cuddled in, throwing an arm around his waist and resting his head against his chest. "'M here now," Niall whispered, kissing Harry's head. "You good?"

"Better now," Harry mumbled, nearly unintelligible. Niall resumed the soothing hair strokes Liam had started, fingers gliding through messy curls before trailing down to rub slow, gentle circles on Harry's back. After a minute, his hand slipped under the hoodie, palm warm and steady against the bare skin of Harry's lower back.

Harry made a content, sleepy noise that Niall felt in his ribs. Within moments, Harry was out again peaceful this time, body limp with trust and safety. Niall looked at Liam, standing at the door watching with a fond, knowing look.

"You're the only one who can knock him out like that," Liam whispered.

"Magic hands," Niall joked, then added softly, "he just needs to feel safe."

"You're good at that." Liam nodded. The room fell into silence again, only the occasional sound of the wind outside and Harry's slow breathing.

And Niall stayed like that for the rest of the night, hand tucked under the soft fabric, heart steady under Harry's cheek, anchoring him through the storm of whatever Chef's Spicy Special had done.

Chapter Text

The day had been long, endless interviews, flashing cameras, screaming fans pressing against barriers and the boys were exhausted when they were finally piling into the van heading back to the hotel. Conversation, usually lively even after the craziest days, was replaced by comfortable silence, broken only by the occasional yawn or half-hearted joke.

Niall was the quietest of all.

At first, the others didn't think much of it. It had been a brutal schedule, after all. At one point, Liam gave him a small nudge, trying to pull him into a conversation about what movie they should watch later. Still, Niall just smiled faintly and leaned against the window, letting the gentle rumble of the van under him lull him into a daze.

When they finally reached the hotel, everyone trudged inside, shoulders slumped with fatigue. Niall lingered close to Harry, his steps a little slower and heavier. Harry noticed it out of the corner of his eye but didn't say anything just yet, not until he felt a small tug on his sleeve. He looked down to find Niall standing there, blue eyes big and glassy, a silent request written all over his face.

Harry opened his arms without hesitating, and Niall stepped into them immediately, burying his face in Harry's chest. Harry wrapped him tightly, one hand rubbing slow, reassuring circles across his back.

"Hey, love," Harry murmured into his hair. "You've been so quiet today. What's going on?" Niall mumbled something against his shirt, muffled and half-hearted. Harry pulled back just enough to tilt Niall's chin up with a gentle finger. "What was that, Ni?"

"Just tired," Niall whispered with a sniffle. His cheeks were pink, whether from embarrassment or something else; Harry wasn't sure. "And feel a little sick."

"Aw, love." Harry cooed, brushing Niall's fringe back from his forehead. "Come on, let's get you to bed, yeah?"

Niall nodded sleepily, letting Harry steer him gently towards the large bed in Harry's room. Harry sat down first, settling himself against the headboard, legs stretched out. Niall hesitated only a second before climbing up, maneuvering himself carefully until he was lying between Harry's legs, arms wrapping snugly around his waist and head resting heavily on Harry's stomach.

Harry smiled softly, running a hand through Niall's messy blond hair. He could feel the warmth of Niall's breath against his shirt, slow and steady, and the occasional soft gurgle from his stomach must have been humming right in Niall's ear.

"D'you want me to grab you some medicine, babes?" Harry asked quietly, voice low and soothing, as his fingers threaded rhythmically through Niall's hair.

"Just..." Niall shook his head weakly, pressing his face closer against Harry's shirt, "...just wanna stay like this," he mumbled, words thick with drowsiness. "You stroking my hair's nice..."

"Okay, baby." Harry chuckled softly, his heart squeezing tight with affection. "I've got you. Always."

He kept stroking, fingers light and tender, working through Niall's soft strands with infinite patience. Niall melted under the touch, and every tense muscle was loosening. His breathing evened out, growing slower, deeper, and Harry smiled down at him, feeling the weight of Niall's trust settle warm and heavy against him. Outside the hotel window, the city buzzed and flickered with life, but it all seemed miles away in their little cocoon of warmth and quiet.

"Sweet dreams, love," Harry whispered, pressing a soft kiss to the crown of Niall's head. Niall's arms tightened around Harry's waist just slightly, and then he was asleep, safe and sound, cradled in Harry's gentle hold.

Chapter Text

Liam had been off all day, but true to form, he refused to admit it. He waved off the boys' concerned looks with bright, forced smiles and jokes that fell flat. His voice was hoarse in interviews, his laughter more of a croak, and he looked pale under the bright lights and heavy makeup.

When they finally stumbled into the hotel dining room for a late dinner, Liam was clearly running on fumes. The others were tired, too, but Liam looked like he was on the verge of toppling over. Still, he stubbornly pulled out a chair, dropped into it, and picked up a fork with trembling fingers.

The boys dug into their food hungrily, conversation easy and full of tired laughter. At first, no one noticed that Liam wasn't eating. He just joked at his food, swirling his fork aimlessly through his pasta without lifting a bite to his mouth.

"Li..." Zayn said, voice low but firm, studying Liam from across the table. "You okay?"

"I just--" Liam rasped, sniffling miserably, then shook his head and shrugged simultaneously, an awful little whimper escaping before he could catch it. "I don't feel so good."

The table went silent. Harry's fork clattered against his plate. Niall frowned so hard it looked like it hurt. Louis, sitting closest, immediately shifted closer and started rubbing slow, comforting circles into the small of Liam's back with one hand.

"Oh, babe," Louis murmured, squeezing gently. "Why didn't you say something earlier?"

"Didn't wanna slow everyone down..." Liam mumbled thickly and gave a helpless shrug, cheeks flushing dark with fever and embarrassment. His eyes shimmered with exhaustion and unshed tears.

"You're not slowing anyone down, Li," Zayn assured, his heart twisted in his chest. "You're sick; you need looking after, yeah?" 

Liam sniffled again and nodded, his head wobbling slightly like it was too heavy for his neck. He lowered his head to his folded arms on the table, breathing raggedly through his mouth.

"Can you hang on a bit, babes?" Zayn asked gently. "Let me finish eating really quick, and then I'll take you to bed, yeah? Cuddle you, rub your back, whatever you want."

Liam gave a miserable little nod without lifting his head.

"C'mon, Li, try a couple bites, yeah?" Louis said, his voice low and coaxing as he rubbed his back in slow, calming motions. "Just a little. So you can take some medicine after."

It took some effort, but eventually, Liam managed a few sluggish bites of pasta, his movements clumsy and lethargic. Zayn ate as fast as he could without choking, glancing up every few seconds to check on Liam.

"Alright, come here, love," Zayn said when he finally wiped his mouth with a napkin and stood, pushing his chair back. Without hesitation, Liam raised his arms like a little kid, wanting to be picked up and the sight broke Zayn's heart a little. "Got you, sweetheart."

Liam buried his face in Zayn's chest, his whole body boneless with exhaustion. The others watched with fond smiles, Harry mumbling about ensuring medicine was ready upstairs. Zayn carried Liam carefully through the hotel corridors, murmuring soothing things into his hair the whole way. When they reached Liam's room, Zayn settled him gently onto the bed, then grabbed a bottle of cold medicine and a glass of water from the bedside table.

"Hey, need you to sit up just for a second, babe," Zayn said softly, helping prop Liam up against his chest. 

Liam took the medicine obediently, grimacing at the taste, and sipped at the water without complaint. When they were done, Zayn helped him lie down again, fussing with the blankets until Liam was cocooned snugly.

"Alright, Li," Zayn whispered, smoothing a hand over his hair. "Need you to lie on your side, yeah? Face away from me."

Liam whined softly but did as he was told, curling up weakly. Zayn slipped in behind him, lifting Liam's shirt just a little so he could press his palm against the warm skin of Liam's lower back. He started rubbing slow, lazy circles, immediately feeling the tension melt from Liam's body. Every time Zayn's hand even twitched as he if he might stop, Liam let out a pitiful little whimper, a broken sound that made Zayn freeze and start rubbing again without hesitation.

"It's okay, babe," Zayn whispered, pressing a kiss to the back of Liam's overheated neck. "I'm not going anywhere. I'll stay right here."

Chapter Text

Niall stirred awake that morning with a heaviness in his limbs and a twist low in his belly. It wasn’t pain exactly—more like something coiling in his gut, restless and queasy. He blinked groggily at the hotel ceiling, his stomach giving a low, bubbly gurgle that made him frown.

Normally, he’d be bounding out of bed, half-dressed and humming as he searched for food or pestered one of the boys. But today, just the thought of breakfast made his throat tighten.

He tugged the covers higher, hoping the feeling would pass.

- Time Skip-

By the time they were piling into the car to head to the radio station, Niall still hadn’t spoken more than a sleepy “hi” and a mumbled “nah” when offered a coffee. Instead, he clung quietly to Zayn’s side in the backseat, his cheek squished against Zayn’s hoodie, arms wound loosely around his waist.

"You alright, Ni?" Zayn asked, glancing down with concern.

"Just feel... weird." Niall gave a slow shrug, not lifting his head. It wasn’t the first time one of the boys had felt off on tour—long days, little sleep, and constantly being on the go took a toll. But Zayn couldn’t remember a single time Niall had been this clingy or quiet. Their little spark plug was usually bouncing off the walls by now.

When they got to the station, the glam team was already waiting. Lou, with her usual bright energy, approached them with a makeup kit in hand.

“Alright, who’s up first? Come on, Nialler, let’s tame that bedhead—” Niall let out a quiet whimper and burrowed deeper into Zayn’s side, his face suddenly pale. “Hey, what’s wrong, baby?”

“He’s not feeling too good,” Zayn murmured, rubbing small circles into Niall’s back. “Think he’s a bit off.”

Niall gave a reluctant nod, eyes glassy and half-lidded.

“Come here, love,” Lou said softly, crouching to his level. “Just a quick touch-up. Won’t take long.”

“No,” Niall mumbled, voice barely above a whisper. “Only if I sit with Zayn.”

"C'mon, sunshine." Zayn didn't even hesitate, he slipped into the nearby chair and patted his lap.

Niall crawled up slowly, limbs heavy and a little shaky. He curled up on Zayn’s lap like a sleepy kitten, arms draped around his shoulders and head tucked beneath his chin.
Lou adjusted her angle, making room as she gently brushed Niall’s hair back. 

“Poor thing,” she whispered, voice full of warmth. “You’re burning up a bit.”

"You've been feeling like this since you woke up?" Zayn asked, shifting slightly, his hands resting on Niall's thighs.

"Dunno... woke up weird." Nial gave a sluggish shrug. "The stomach's funny. Not sore, just... icky."

"Like you're gonna be sick?" Zayn asked gently, leaning back slightly to get a better look at him, brushing a hand up his side under the hem of his hoodie.

“No,” Niall said quickly, but his breath hitched. “Just tired. And kind of floaty.”

Zayn frowned. His fingers moved lower, sliding carefully over the pale skin of Niall’s stomach. Beneath the soft curve of his belly, it felt a little bloated and firm but not alarmingly so, but enough to notice. As his hand rested there, Niall let out a soft exhale.
His stomach grumbled noisily under the warmth of Zayn’s hand.

“Jesus, mate,” Zayn said softly, pressing a little more firmly. “You’re all rumbly in there. Did you eat anything weird yesterday?”

"Didn't eat much." Niall shook his head, burying his face further into Zayn's chest.

"That's not like you at all." Lou paused, tilting her head as she ran her fingers through his hair.

"Think he's just feeling off--" Zayn looked up at her, brows drawn. "like, his stomach's upset, but he doesn't really know what it wants. You okay if I keep my hand here for a bit, Ni?"

"Helps a bit." Niall gave a tired hum, his fingers curling into Zayn's hoodie.

"There." Lou said, finishing the last few touches, smoothing down his hair before giving him a light kiss on the cheek. "You look like a sleepy angel."

Niall managed a tiny smile, his eyes fluttering shut again.

"Think we'll just stay here for a bit." Zayn says, adjusting his arms protectively around him. "Let him rest."

"You let me know if he gets worse, yeah?" Lou nodded. "Poor baby."

Zayn smoothed a hand down Niall’s back, listening to the way his stomach gurgled quietly against him.

“Yeah,” he murmured, watching the rest of the boy’s whisper amongst themselves nearby, glancing over with worried eyes. “I got him.”

-Time Skip-

The radio station’s studio was smaller than usual—a tight space with low ceilings and a couple of slightly fraying chairs around a table of microphones and wires. It smelled faintly of coffee and old carpet.

The boys filtered in, chatting quietly, Louis cracking a joke to Harry that earned a small snort. But the energy was subdued. Everyone kept glancing at Niall, who lagged behind near the door, his arms wrapped around himself like he was trying to hold everything in.

He hadn’t said a word on the short walk from the prep room, just stuck close behind Zayn like a shadow. He looked pale under the soft studio lighting, and the slow way he blinked and shuffled made him seem even smaller than usual.

Zayn, already settled into one of the chairs near the center mic, turned slightly to look at him.

“Niall,” he called gently, holding a handout.
Niall hesitated, chewing on the inside of his cheek. There was an empty seat waiting next to Zayn, but even the short walk across the room seemed like too much. “C’mere, baby."

Niall stepped forward, slower than usual, until Zayn could reach out and grab him by the hand. With a gentle tug, he guided the boy onto his lap again, settling him with practiced ease. Niall went without protest, curling into him as if his body had been waiting for the invitation. He let out a tiny sigh as Zayn’s arms came around him, one looping low around his waist, the other slipping up under his shirt again.

Zayn’s palms pressed against Niall’s belly—not pushing, just resting there, fingers warm and steady. His chin came to rest on Niall’s shoulder, breath brushing against his neck.

“You are still alright?” he murmured into Niall’s ear, low enough that only he could hear.

Niall gave a faint nod, but he leaned back more heavily into Zayn’s chest, his hands resting limply in his lap. His stomach gave a soft gurgle again, and Zayn rubbed his thumb in slow circles over the warm, bloated skin.

Just holding him helped. Zayn could feel Niall’s tension ease slightly, the way his body molded to his like a puzzle piece. Quiet, safe, sheltered.

The host, a cheery woman named Angie entered moments later and waved brightly at them all, though her smile faltered slightly when her eyes landed on Niall.

“Well, look at this cozy bunch,” she teased gently as she took her seat. “We’re not filming this one, don’t worry, boys just audio today.”

Niall didn’t react.

Zayn caught her eye and gave a soft smile, one hand rubbing at Niall’s side in a subtle, protective motion.

“Not feeling himself today,” Liam offered from the opposite chair, tone casual but kind. “Bit of an off morning.”

“Aw, poor thing,” Angie said, her voice warm with concern. “Alright, we’ll go easy. I’ll keep the questions mostly for the rest of you.”

Zayn’s arms tightened slightly in thanks, and he felt Niall exhale a shaky breath, almost like relief.

The interview began, voices mellow and cheerful around the table. Harry cracked jokes, Louis leaned into Liam’s stories, and the rhythm of the conversation flowed easily. Every now and then, Angie glanced over to check on Niall, who sat quietly in Zayn’s lap, occasionally blinking slowly, his head resting back against Zayn’s shoulder.

Zayn kept both hands steady on his stomach, one rubbing slow, soothing circles, the other resting flat to anchor him.

-Time Skip-

The interview wound down with quiet laughter and soft goodbyes, the kind that meant everyone was tired but still polite, still grateful. The host wrapped things up with a gentle thank-you, her voice kind and warm as she glanced again at the sleeping blonde tucked in Zayn’s lap.

Niall hadn’t said a single word the entire interview. By the end, he’d completely slumped against Zayn’s chest, the back of his head resting against his shoulder, his cheek flushed, and his eyes closed. His breathing had deepened into something slow and heavy, a little snuffly against Zayn’s collarbone. Every so often, his stomach gave a soft bubbling sound, but he didn’t even flinch anymore, just let Zayn’s hands cradle him, one resting protectively over his belly, the other slowly rubbing up and down his side under his hoodie.

Zayn didn’t mind the weight. Not for a second. As the last mic clicked off, the boys stood up from their seats with quiet murmurs and soft glances over at the pair. Harry gave a gentle smile, mouthing, He, okay? And Zayn nodded.

“Alright, sweetheart,” Zayn whispered into Niall’s hair. “Time to go now.”

Niall didn’t stir.

Zayn exhaled softly and moved the hand on his belly, fingers dragging slowly in light, rhythmic motions. He rubbed gentle circles over the curve of Niall’s stomach, pressing just enough to soothe but not wake him too fast.

“Ni,” Zayn said, voice low and kind. “C’mon, baby. Let’s get you back to the hotel, yeah?”

Niall stirred slightly, his brows twitching and his lips parting in a faint sigh. He blinked once, slowly, before turning his head lazily toward Zayn’s voice.

“Zee?” he mumbled, hoarse and bleary-eyed.

“There you are,” Zayn smiled, brushing a thumb across his belly. “You slept through the end of the interview. We’re leaving now.”

Niall blinked again, sluggish but awake enough to nod faintly.

“Arms up, angel.” Zayn instructed. Niall obeyed without complaint, sluggishly looping his arms around Zayn’s neck. Zayn gently nudged his legs into position, too, curling them around his waist. 

Once Niall was tucked in and holding on, Zayn carefully slid his arms under his thighs and lifted them both in one slow, steady motion. Niall gave a soft grunt but melted against Zayn’s shoulder, his head resting against the crook of his neck, warm breath brushing against his skin.

“Got you,” Zayn murmured, arms tightening just slightly. 

“He alright?" Louis asked, walking beside them, eyes full of concern but lips tugged into a soft smile.

"Just tired." Zayn nodded. "Still queasy but he's okay."

Behind them, Liam gathered up Niall’s forgotten hoodie, and Harry held the door open, quiet and watchful as Zayn carried Niall out into the hallway like he weighed nothing at all.

-Time Skip-

The hotel lobby was quiet, with dim lighting and soft music playing in the background. The boys shuffled in together, footsteps muffled by thick carpet. Zayn carried Niall close to his chest, every step slow and even, careful not to jostle him more than necessary.

The blonde in his arms had gone heavier with each minute, his limbs looser, head drooping lower against Zayn’s shoulder. By the time they reached the elevator, Niall was nearly deadweight, his fingers had gone slack around Zayn’s neck, and his soft breaths puffed warmly against Zayn’s collarbone.

Zayn readjusted him gently, supporting him better with a small grunt, arms curled firmly under his thighs and back. Niall didn’t stir.

“Almost there, sunshine,” Zayn whispered, lips brushing against his hair.

As the elevator doors slid closed and they began their slow ascent to their floor, Harry glanced over with a concerned frown. He stepped closer, watching Niall’s pale, flushed face.

“How’s your belly, Niall?” he asked softly, voice barely louder than a breath, trying to coax something out of him, anything to keep him from slipping too far under before they got to the room.

There was a pause; long enough, they thought he might not answer.

"Not good." Niall mumbled into Zayn's neck, his voice thick and barely coherent. Zayn rubbed a slow hand up and down his back, the other one shifting under his thighs to keep him steady. His cheek pressed to Niall’s temple.

“It won’t be long now,” Harry said gently, stepping closer and reaching out to run his fingers soothingly along Niall’s cheek. “You’ll be in bed soon. Zayn’s gonna take good care of you.”

The touch was light and soft, and Niall leaned into it faintly, even if he didn’t open his eyes. Zayn felt the subtle sigh leave his chest, and he pulled him in just a little tighter, letting Niall know without words that he had him, that he wouldn’t let go.

The elevator chimed softly.

They were almost there.

Back in the quiet hotel hallway, the three other boys lingered near the door of Zayn and Niall’s room, watching softly as Zayn cradled Niall in his arms. Niall’s voice was barely more than a breath as he mumbled goodnight to each of them.

"Get some rest, mate." Louis said, leaning down first and pressed a gentle kiss on Niall's sweaty forehead.

"We're just next door if you need anything." Harry added, also giving Niall's cheek a quick peck.

"Feel better soon, Ni." Liam whispered, ruffling Niall's hair lightly. Niall blinked sleepily at them, managing a tiny smile before Zayn shifted and gently closed the door behind them.

Inside the room, Zayn carried Niall over to the bed with care, settling down on the edge with Niall still in his arms. The boy was warm and heavy, eyelids fluttering as he tried to stay present.

“What do you want, Ni?” Zayn asked softly, brushing a stray lock of hair back from his damp forehead. “Warm bath? Pyjamas? Or just cuddle?”

"Change..." Niall said, voice cracking and tired. "skip the bath. Cuddles."

"Alright, baby." Zayn nodded, understandingly. He helped Niall sit up just enough to start peeling off his hoodie and shirt, doing most of the work to keep Niall’s movements to a minimum. He was slow, deliberate, and careful not to jostle that poor tummy more than necessary.

Once Niall was in soft, loose pyjamas, Zayn scooped him back into his lap, straddling his waist as he settled back against the headboard. With a gentle tug, he pulled Niall’s hoodie up to expose his belly, which flushed pink from the warmth of the room and Zayn’s touch.

“Think a belly rub would help?” Zayn asked quietly, fingertips hovering. Niall shrugged weakly but didn’t resist.

“Please be gentle,” Niall whimpered, voice small and shaky. “My belly feels really sensitive.”

“Aww, Niall,” Zayn cooed, pressing a soft kiss to the left side of his belly, careful not to press too hard. “Of course.” Another kiss landed on the right side. “I’ll be very gentle.”

One final kiss, this time right over Niall’s navel.

Zayn’s hands moved in slow, light circles over the whole of Niall’s belly, the pads of his fingers tracing smaller, soothing motions around the navel and the sides. The touch was feather-light, careful, and loving.

Niall’s eyes fluttered closed, his tense shoulders loosening as the gentle circles eased the discomfort little by little. After a few minutes, Zayn looked down, smiling softly at the peaceful face in his lap.

“How’s that? Helping?”

"Yeah..." Zayn smiled and repeated the pattern of kisses—left side, right side, then over the navel—before sliding off Niall’s waist to lie down beside him, still gently moving his hand in slow circles over the sensitive belly.
His other hand came up to cradle Niall’s head, guiding it gently to tuck beneath his chin.

"Sleep well, baby." Zayn murmured, kissing the soft strands of hair above Niall's ear. And in the quiet warmth of the room, Niall slipped into a peaceful sleep, safe in the arms that held him tenderly through it all.

Chapter Text

The green room buzzed with its usual pre-concert energy, shouts bouncing off the walls, stylists flitting around with hair tools, wardrobe assistants double-checking last-minute changes. Somewhere in chaos, a boy-shaped stillness went unnoticed at first.

Zayn sat quietly in one of the vanity chairs, his body curled into itself as though trying to disappear. His long lashes drooped low over hazy brown eyes, blinking slower than usual. Lou stood behind him, curling a piece of hair between her fingers as she worked on his style, but her eyes drifted to the mirror again and again, brown furrowed with worry.

“You alright, love?” she finally asked softly, one hand resting gently on his shoulder. “You’re quieter than usual.”

Zayn blinked, and it took a second for the question to land. His eyes met hers in the mirror, wide and slightly glazed. “Mmm… I don’t feel that great,” he mumbled, voice hoarse and thick around the edges. “Sorry.”

Lou’s hands froze. That wasn’t like Zayn, he was usually the last to admit he was feeling off. Even when he’d had a cold during their last tour, he’d barely said a word until he was practically coughing up a lung.

“Zayn?” Liam’s voice cut through the noise, worry laced in the gentle syllables as he walked over, catching Lou’s concerned glance. He crouched down in front of the chair, settling on his knees. “Hey, mate. What’s going on?”

Zayn looked at him, blinking blearily, and whispered, “Dunno. Just… cold. And my stomach’s all weird.”

Liam reached out instinctively, taking both of Zayn’s chilled hands into his warm ones and rubbing his thumbs over the backs soothingly. “Alright,” he said quietly, voice low and calm, “We’ll figure it out, okay? You’re not alone.”

Zayn swallowed thickly, his shoulders hunching a little as he breathed through his nose. Liam gave a little nod to Lou, who stepped away to give them some space. Then, with a gentle hand, Liam pushed up the hem of Zayn’s shirt and pressed his palm to his belly.

The skin was clammy and cool, but beneath it, Liam could feel the uncomfortable churn and gurgle of Zayn’s stomach. Zayn flinched just slightly, his eyes fluttering shut.

“Oh, Z,” Liam murmured, his hand beginning a slow, comforting rub. “You’ve got a whole circus going on in there, huh?”

Zayn let out a breath that was somewhere between a whimper and a sigh, leaning into the touch. Liam continued the gentle motion, trying to ease whatever was happening inside Zayn’s poor belly.

Caroline appeared then, brows drawn together. “Lou told me what’s going on,” she said, her voice hushed as she knelt beside Liam. “Here.”

She held out a thermometer, the kind they used for quick checks before the boys hit the stage. Liam took it with a quiet “Thanks,” then turned back to Zayn, giving his knee a reassuring squeeze.

“Hey, love,” Liam said softly, raising the thermometer to Zayn’s lips. “Can you do this for me? Just for a second.”

Zayn nodded faintly, not quite opening his eyes, and let Liam place the thermometer under his tongue. They waited in silence, Liam’s hand still cradling Zayn’s belly, Caroline gently rubbing his knee.

The beep sounded quietly, and Liam pulled it out, frowning. “38.1,” he read aloud.

“Low-grade,” Caroline confirmed. “No wonder he’s shivering.”

Paul stepped into the room then as if summoned by their concern. “What’s going on?” he asked, looking between them all.
Liam explained quickly but gently, and Paul’s expression softened.

“Alright,” he said firmly. “Zayn’s not going on tonight.”

Zayn weakly protested with a little shake in his head. “I can—”

“No,” Paul interrupted, already pulling out his phone. “You’ve done more shows sick than I’d like. The other boys will carry it tonight. You’re resting. End of.”

Zayn blinked, caught off guard by the decisiveness, but didn’t argue again.

Lou stepped back in; concern still etched on her face. “I’ll stay with him,” she offered immediately.

Caroline nodded, too. “Me too. You boys go; we’ll make sure he’s okay.”

The show call came over the loudspeaker: five minutes to showtime.

Liam looked at Zayn, who looked small and pale and not at all ready to be left alone. Gently, Liam stood and leaned over, hands sliding under Zayn’s arms. “Come on, love. Let’s get you somewhere comfy.”

Zayn didn’t fight him, allowing Liam to lift him with care, his head lolling gently against Liam’s shoulder. His breathing had grown shallow, sluggish. Liam carried him across the room and laid him down carefully on the plush green couch in the room.

“Here,” Lou whispered, kneeling behind the couch and guiding Zayn’s head into her lap, brushing his hair gently from his forehead.

Caroline knelt on the floor beside him, taking his hand into both of hers. “You’ll be okay,” she whispered, pressing her cheek lightly to his fingers. “We’ve got you, sweet boy.”

The dull thump of bass and screams from the arena below rattled faintly through the walls, but in the dressing room, all was still. A strange pocket of peace amidst the chaos of a sold-out show.

Zayn lay curled on the couch, nestled against Lou’s lap, the heat of her legs comforting against his cheek. His lashes fluttered now and then, a tired twitch here, a shallow breath there, but otherwise, he was still. Too still for Lou’s liking.

She stroked her fingers softly through his hair, undoing the carefully styled waves she’d worked on earlier that evening. One by one, the strands lost their hold, her hands gentle as silk. She took care not to tug, her fingertips feather light as they moved across his scalp.

“There we go,” she whispered as if speaking too loudly might disturb the quiet. “No point in keeping all this gel in if you’re not going to be dazzling the stage tonight, gorgeous.”

Zayn made a faint, sleepy hum in response but not quite awake, not quite asleep either. He barely moved, his body slack with exhaustion, fever warmth radiating in small waves from his skin.

Caroline, sitting nearby on the floor, leaned in a little. “Zayn, sweetheart?” she said softly, one hand already reaching to rest gently on his knee. “Would you like me to rub your tummy a bit? Help settle it?”

Zayn didn’t speak, but his lips parted slightly, and he gave a slow, barely-there nod.

“Okay, love,” she cooed, her voice melting into the soft space they’d made for him. She gently reached forward, her fingers brushing the hem of his shirt and easing it upward to expose his belly. The skin was warm and pale, a slight flush creeping across his sides, and as soon as the cool air touched him, his belly gave a low, wet gurgle.

Caroline smiled gently at the sound. “Oh, poor thing… that tummy’s really not happy, is it?”

Zayn’s lashes fluttered, his eyes opening just a fraction to watch. Normally, attention like this would have made him squirm, he wasn’t one to openly accept this kind of fuss. But now, with his head heavy in Lou’s lap and Caroline’s touch as soft as clouds, he didn’t shy away.

Caroline placed the top of her hand gently against the skin just above his belly button, rubbing slow, wide circles across his belly in a soothing rhythm. The motion was tender, almost motherly with big, sweeping arcs followed by smaller, more focused circles that glided over the warm, noisy center of his stomach.

“There we are,” she murmured, keeping her eyes on the path of her hand as she worked. “Poor Zee, tummy’s all rumbly tonight, hmm?”

Zayn blinked slowly, his lips parting with a soft breath, but he didn’t reply. His gaze tracked the movement of Caroline’s hand across his belly, sleepily lulled by the rhythm of care.

Caroline smiled when she caught the flicker of his eyes, still struggling to stay open. “Close your eyes, Zee,” she whispered, barely louder than a hum. “That’s it, honey. Just relax. Let yourself rest.”

Zayn exhaled again, heavier this time, and his eyelids sank fully closed.

Caroline kept rubbing, her movements smooth and unhurried. “Good boy,” she whispered to no one in particular, watching the way the tension seemed to slip out of him with each slow circle. “That’s what you needed, isn’t it?”

Lou, still cradling Zayn’s head, reached down with her free hand and lightly traced a finger along the bridge of his nose, over his forehead, and down along the soft slope of his neck. Her nails grazed his skin just enough to tickle gently.

“He’s out,” she whispered, glancing at Caroline with a quiet smile.

“Finally,” Caroline murmured with affection, still rubbing his belly with practiced care. “He fought it for so long.”

-Time Skip-

The door to the green room opened with a soft click, and the boys poured in, flushed and breathless from the adrenaline of their performance. Harry was the first to speak, his voice hushed but anxious as he took in the sight of the couch.

Zayn hadn’t moved.

Still curled in Lou’s lap, his face pressed gently to her thigh, his body rising and falling steadily with each breath. Lou’s hand rested delicately on his chest, palm moving with his breathing in a quiet rhythm. Caroline was still on the floor beside him; one hand lay gently across Zayn’s exposed belly. Occasionally, she gave it a light pat, almost absentmindedly now, more soothing than anything.

“Hey,” Niall murmured, stepping closer. “How’s he doing?”

Lou looked up with a soft smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “He’s resting. Barely stirred the whole time.”

Caroline glanced at Zayn’s stomach, her expression thoughtful. “His fever’s holding steady. It's not too high, but his belly’s been going non-stop. Poor thing’s still gurgling away… I think it might be best to get him checked out, just to be safe.”

Liam was already moving before she finished. He dropped to his knees beside her; eyes locked on Zayn’s peaceful but flushed face. “Yeah,” he agreed immediately. “I think that’s a good idea.”

He reached out and gently replaced Caroline’s hand with his own, laying his warm palm over Zayn’s soft, gurgly belly. He felt the restless movement beneath the skin constantly churn, like waves in a storm.

Zayn shifted faintly at the change, his brow furrowing slightly as his body registered the difference. His eyes fluttered open just a little, confused but calm, when they landed on Liam’s face.

“Hey, hey,” Liam cooed, his thumb tracing a slow line over Zayn’s skin. “It’s just me, Zee. You’re okay. We’re gonna take you to a clinic, alright? Just to make sure everything’s okay with your tummy."

Zayn didn’t protest, didn’t even blink twice. Just gave the tiniest, sleepy nod and let his eyes slide closed again.

Lou smiled down at him with relief. “Good lad.”

“Come on, baby boy,” she said softly, shifting her position carefully so she could help him sit up. She wrapped her arms around his back, guiding him gently upright.

Zayn made a soft noise in his throat, not quite a whimper, more like a sigh of effort. He blinked slowly as Lou helped guide his arms around Liam’s neck, his fingers weakly curling into the soft fabric of Liam’s hoodie. Caroline scooted back a little to make space as Lou nudged Zayn’s legs into place, gently encouraging them around Liam’s waist. Zayn let his head drop into the crook of Liam’s neck, finding the familiar warmth and safety there without hesitation.

“There we go,” Liam murmured, one arm sliding under Zayn’s legs, the other under his back. “I’ve got you.”

And then, in one smooth movement, he stood up holding Zayn against his chest, limp with exhaustion but secure.

Caroline stood as well, brushing her palms together before placing a hand on Zayn’s back and leaning in to press a kiss to his temple. “You did good, sweetheart. Get some rest now, yeah?”

Lou stepped in, too, her hand brushing Zayn’s fringe back as she bent down to kiss the top of his head. “We’ll check in later. You’re being looked after now, lovely boy.”

The rest of the boys had gathered their things and stood nearby, watching with quiet concern as Zayn shifted slightly in Liam’s arms, nuzzling closer to the warmth of his neck.

“Thanks,” Liam said softly to both women. “For everything.”

Caroline smiled and gave him a small nod. “Anytime. Just text us later and let us know how he’s doing.”

“We will,” Niall promised, already opening the door.

With Zayn securely in Liam’s arms and the others falling in step, the boys slipped out of the dressing room and into the quiet hallway, the noise of the stadium long behind them now.

-Time Skip-

The exam room was dim and quiet, a world away from the roaring chaos of the stage earlier that evening. Zayn, still flushed and bundled into one of Liam’s hoodies, sat nestled on Liam’s lap in the single cushioned chair tucked against the far wall.

He hadn’t wanted to let go. Not when they walked into the clinic. Not when the receptionist asked if the patient was “the sleepy one.” And certainly not now, in the sterile chill of an examination room, the paper on the nearby table rustling faintly in the air conditioning.

Liam hadn’t even tried to argue.

The others Harry, Louis, and Niall stood close by, quiet but watchful. Zayn lay slumped against Liam’s chest, his cheek pressed against the curve of his shoulder, arms looped weakly around Liam’s middle. He looked half-asleep, but his fingers twitched occasionally in Liam’s hoodie drawstrings comforted by the presence but still uncomfortable in his own skin.

When the doctor walked in, she smiled kindly at the group, quickly assessing the situation. “Alright,” she said, keeping her voice soft. “I see someone’s not feeling too great tonight.”

Zayn didn’t react, just gave a tired blink, his forehead still tucked against Liam’s collarbone.

“How long’s he been feeling like this?” she asked as she walked over to the sink to wash her hands.

“Couple of hours,” Harry answered. “We noticed it before our set.”

“He was cold, a little shaky,” added Louis. “Didn’t want to eat anything.”

“Had a low-grade fever,” Liam offered, adjusting his grip on Zayn slightly. “Stomach’s been acting up too.”

The doctor nodded, drying her hands. “Any vomiting?” she asked, eyes flicking toward the group.

There was a pause.

Then Zayn, without lifting his head, spoke in a low, raspy murmur: “Yeah… earlier.”

Liam looked down at him, surprised. “You didn’t tell us that.”

“Didn’t wanna bother anyone,” Zayn whispered, voice cracking.

The doctor gave a soft, understanding smile. “It’s okay. You’re not a bother at all, Zayn. Thanks for telling me.”

She walked over and crouched down beside the chair. “You can stay right there in Liam’s lap if you’d like,” she said, offering Zayn a reassuring pat on the leg. “I can see how rough you’re feeling.”

Zayn gave a slow, grateful blink but didn’t speak.

“Alright, let’s start with the basics,” she said gently, slipping on her gloves. “I’ll just check your temperature and have a quick look.”

She pulled out a small ear thermometer and gently pressed it into Zayn’s ear. After a beep, she read the number aloud. “Still a fever… 38.3. Not dangerous, just enough to make you feel rubbish.”

She then gently checked his throat and ears, using her penlight to make it quick and non-invasive.

“All looks good there,” she murmured before placing her stethoscope against his chest and back to listen to his lungs and heart. “Breathing’s a little shallow, but no congestion. Heart sounds steady.”

Then she sat back on her heels and looked up at Liam. “Okay, now for the stomach. Can you help me with his shirt?”

“Of course,” Liam said quietly, pushing the hem of Zayn’s hoodie and t-shirt up slowly, exposing the soft, warm skin of his stomach. The flush of the fever had given it a slight pink hue, and the faint bloat betrayed how uncomfortable it must feel inside.

Zayn shifted slightly, head still tucked into Liam’s shoulder, but his eyes now open, tracking the doctor’s hands carefully as she gently laid her palms on his abdomen.

“Your tummy’s a bit distended,” she noted softly, pressing down gently in different spots. “Let me know if anything hurts, alright?”

Zayn didn’t say anything, but his brow furrowed as she moved above his bellybutton, and then suddenly, he whimpered, his arms tightening slightly around Liam’s waist as his face hid deeper in the crook of Liam’s neck.

“Oh, sweetheart, I’m sorry,” the doctor cooed immediately, lifting her hand and gently rubbing over the tender spot. “That was a bit sore, wasn’t it?”

“You’re alright, Zee,” Liam whispered, pressing a soft kiss into Zayn’s hair. “Almost done now. You’re doing amazing.”

“We’re nearly there,” the doctor echoed soothingly. “Just going to have a listen now.”

She reached for her stethoscope, but before she could even lift the ear tips to her ears, Zayn’s stomach let out a loud, gurgling groan. The sound filled the room like a slow-draining sink.

All four boys froze, then winced sympathetically in unison.

“Aww, listen to that poor belly,” the doctor cooed gently, not unkindly, as she inserted the earpieces into her ears. She moved the bell of the stethoscope over Zayn’s upper stomach first, nodding at the noise she was hearing.

“Hyperactive,” she murmured aloud, dragging the stethoscope in smooth circles, across his sides and down toward his lower belly. “No signs of obstruction, but very active motility. It’s a bit like a symphony in there.”

Zayn peeked down at her hand with heavy-lidded eyes but didn’t move or protest.

After a few more seconds, she slipped the stethoscope out of her ears and offered him a warm smile as she gently tugged his shirt back down. “There we go. All done.”

She stood up, moving to her computer to type in a few notes.

“I think we’re looking at a mild-to-early case of viral gastroenteritis. Classic stomach bug,” she explained as she typed. “The good news is it doesn’t seem severe. Plenty of fluids, rest, and meds to help with the nausea and stomach cramps.”

She printed out a script and handed it to Harry, who took it with a nod of thanks.

“You’re free to go,” she added kindly. “And he’s in good hands with all of you.”

Zayn was nearly asleep in Liam’s lap by now, limbs heavy and face slack with exhaustion. His cheek still rested on Liam’s chest, eyes barely open.

Liam tightened his hold just slightly, adjusting his arms under Zayn. “C’mon, let’s get you home.”

They all murmured they’re thanks to the doctor, then quietly made their way out.

Paul was waiting by the car, the back door already open. Liam carefully ducked inside, Zayn still curled against him and settled them both onto the back seat. Zayn murmured something incomprehensible, nuzzling further into the warmth of Liam’s side.

“You’re okay,” Liam whispered, pressing another kiss to his temple as the car pulled away from the clinic. “You’re okay now, Zee.”

-Time Skip-

Paul pulled the car smoothly into the hotel’s underground parking garage, shifting into the park before turning in his seat to glance back at the boys, specifically at Zayn.

Still fast asleep, Zayn was nestled against Liam’s side, his body curled toward him like a vine seeking warmth. One of Liam’s arms remained wrapped firmly around him, hand spread protectively across Zayn’s stomach as if shielding it from the world.

Paul’s stern expression softened, his eyes scanning the sleeping boy with quiet concern. No matter how grown up they got, they were still his boys. Each one felt like family.

“You okay back there?” Paul asked, voice low.

Liam gave a small nod. “Yeah. He’s out cold.”

Louis opened the car door on Liam’s side and peered in. “Want me to carry him the rest of the way? Give your arms a bit of a break?”

Liam looked down at Zayn, then nodded with a grateful exhale. “Yeah, alright. Just be careful his stomach’s still really sensitive.”

Louis stepped closer, arms already out to take the handoff. Together, Liam and Louis carefully shifted Zayn from one set of arms to another, mindful not to jostle or press on his belly.

Zayn stirred faintly but only murmured something unintelligible before settling again, his cheek finding the crook of Louis’ neck like muscle memory.

Louis adjusted his hold instinctively, supporting Zayn under the knees and back, cradling him the exact same way Liam had. “Gotcha, mate,” he mumbled softly, already walking with steady, gentle steps toward the elevator.

The others fell into steps behind him, quiet in their worry and respect for Zayn’s slumber. Even Harry and Niall, normally bubbling with chatter, were subdued as they padded across the marble lobby and into the lift.

The elevator doors slid closed with a soft ding, and silence filled the space except for the faint hum of machinery and the rise and fall of Zayn’s slow, shallow breaths.

Then, as the elevator began its slow ascent, Zayn shifted.

His brows furrowed, his face twitching against Louis’ neck, and he let out a soft groan. “Mmm…”

Immediately, Liam stepped closer, hand reaching out in a fluid, familiar gesture to rub up and down Zayn’s back. “Hey, Zee,” he said gently. “It’s okay. You’re alright. We’re just in the lift heading up to the room.”

Zayn didn’t open his eyes, but his mouth moved against Louis’ shoulder. “Feel… bad,” he mumbled, the word thick with sleep and discomfort.

“I know, sweetheart,” Louis replied softly, adjusting his hold slightly. “You’re nearly there. As soon as we’re in the room, we’ll get you into bed, yeah? Nice and warm, curled up with Liam.”

Zayn let out another soft noise, his hand loosely fisting in the collar of Louis’ shirt.

“And I’ll rub your belly,” Liam promised quietly, leaning in so Zayn could hear his voice clearly. “Just the way you like. Nice and slow.”

Zayn gave a tiny, sleepy nod, nuzzling his face back into Louis’ neck with a breath that sounded just a little less tense.

The elevator dinged, and the doors opened slowly to the quiet hallway of their floor.

The hotel room was dim and still, the city lights outside casting soft shadows on the wall. Louis carried Zayn carefully across the room, cradling him with practiced ease. When he reached the bed, he slowly lowered the half-asleep boy down onto the mattress, easing him onto his side with all the gentleness in the world.

Zayn whimpered faintly, curling in on himself before a warm hand found his, Liam was already climbing in beside him just as he'd promised.

The moment Liam’s body hit the mattress, Zayn instinctively gravitated toward him, curling into his side like it was the only place he belonged. Liam opened his arm, welcoming him into space against his chest, his other hand gently brushing Zayn’s fringe away from his forehead.

The other boys hovered by the door for a moment longer, watching the scene with fond, quiet smiles.

“Night, you two,” Niall whispered, already backing into the hallway.

“Text if you need anything,” Harry added.

“Yeah. Anything,” Louis affirmed, giving Zayn’s leg a final soft pat before slipping out behind the others.

The door clicked shut with a soft snick, and the room fell completely silent, save for the gentle hum of the air conditioning and the soft gurgles still coming from Zayn’s belly.

Zayn shifted slightly, pressing his cheek against Liam’s chest, voice muffled and sleepy as he murmured, “Liam… my belly rub?”

Liam smiled and tilted his head, brushing a kiss into Zayn’s hair. “Of course, Zee. How do you want it, hmm? Little pressure? Or just gentle strokes? Circles or up and down?”

Zayn didn’t lift his head, just breathed out tiredly. “Light stroking… please be gentle. My tummy feels really queasy.”

Liam gave a sympathetic cook, rubbing his hand slowly over Zayn’s side. “Okay, love. I’ll be nice and soft, just like you like.”

He shifted slightly so he was lying on his side, facing Zayn fully. Then, with careful hands, he lifted the hem of Zayn’s shirt, exposing the still-warm skin of his belly, slightly flushed and faintly bloated from the discomfort of the day.

Liam’s fingers began to move slowly, lazy strokes that barely pressed into the skin. He made gentle circles around Zayn’s navel, his touch feather-light, drawing aimless patterns. Every now and then, he let his index finger trace soft, delicate loops around Zayn’s belly button or form figure eights that swept across the soft plane of his stomach.

Zayn watched, glassy eyes following the motion, completely relaxed in Liam’s hold. His belly gave another loud gurgle, and Liam couldn’t help but grin softly.

“Still making a bit of a fuss in there,” he whispered fondly, “Poor thing. Settle down, yeah?”

He leaned in to kiss the crown of Zayn’s head again, never once stopping the comforting rhythm of his hand.

Zayn’s eyes fluttered closed soon after, his body gradually going limp as exhaustion finally won. His head rolled until it found Liam’s chest again, breath evening out with each quiet second.

Liam continued stroking for a while longer, slower now, his fingers barely ghost over the skin. When he was certain Zayn was fully asleep, his breaths soft and steady, his belly finally giving fewer complaints. 

“There you go, Zee,” he murmured. “All done now.”

He tugged the shirt back down over Zayn’s belly, careful not to disturb him, and pulled the blanket up and over both of them, cocooning them into a little pocket of warmth.

Then he wrapped both arms around Zayn, holding him close to his chest like something precious and breakable, one hand coming to rest protectively over his belly. He pressed a soft kiss into Zayn’s hair and let his chin rest there, their bodies perfectly slotted together in the dark.