I’ll be gone for a week! :(
i mean i don’t know if it was actually a thing. but it definitely was a thing they joked about a lot.
Interviewer: Getting… love kisses…?
Louis: Love bites.
Interviewer: Ok… from within the band?
Liam: I usually get them from Louis. Americans call them hickeys, I think. ‘Cause I’ve got a girlfriend, and she’s like, “who’s that?”
Interviewer: And she’ll never believe that.
Louis: Has Liam told you that I give him love bites to make his girlfriend paranoid?
Liam: He does it at the most inappropriate moments. Like just before we go on stage.
One sequel coming right up!
*dings the bell*
DING DING. sorry haha. yes, I’m working on a sequal. ;D
Sorry for overloading the feels, then. :D
A sequal… hmm.. I’ll think about it. JUST KIDDING.
Yes, there will be a sequal, but it won’t be until after next week because I’m going away to a place with no phone service. ugh.
ILY tho! ♥ ;)
Ha! ILY. You’re awesome. A sequal… hmm… I’ll try my best to work on it soon. ;D
Prompt: Zayn is stuck inside after a tree lands on top of their home during a storm.
creamwithcookies was my lovely beta. Thank you so much, love. :D
I actually came up with this prompt in the middle of the night when I couldn’t sleep because of a severe storm outside, so I guess, thank the clouds and my insomnia. I might be a bit incorrect on things because I am 1: not a doctor and 2: not a Brit. Otherwise, enjoy! ;)
Zayn remembers Liam babbling about some rain before their concert in London, but he never really comprehended the severity until his phone blew up with alerts and warnings.
All four other boys were currently at the stadium, preparing for their concert tonight in Wembley Stadium at seven o’clock. They told Zayn to stay at their shared London home and get rest because of his cold he was recovering from. Despite all his protests against staying home, they all commanded that he’d lie in his warm bed with reruns of Teen Wolf playing on his laptop and a fresh bowl of soup cooked, specially by Harry, in his hands. Zayn really couldn’t say no.
He was content and happy until a loud crack of thunder shook and rumbled the house. He groaned, stepping out of his bed and wrapping Liam’s heavy comforter around his aching shoulders to go make a coffee and check the weather.
The boys always gave their personal belongings to Zayn when they were gone, because he was the one to miss them all the most. He’d lay in Liam’s bed; wear Harry’s shirts and Niall’s joggers; and drink from Louis’ personalized mugs and cups. That’d cover up his loneliness just enough until his boys could come home and give him cuddles and kisses.
He now sat at the dining table with a steaming cup of coffee in his hands as he stared out of the window. Wind tossed a few trees in their fenced backyard back and forth, and the rain steadily fell. Nothing major.
His phone started vibrating. Louis was calling.
“Hey, babe. You awake? Did I wake you up?” Louis asks.
“No, you didn’t,” Zayn pauses, smiling at his boyfriend’s concern, “I love you.”
“I love you more. If the weather gets too bad, call one of us, alright? And go to the closest shelter. The closet, basement, bathroom–anywhere away from a window, yeah?”
“Yeah,” he whispers, taking a sip from his coffee. Zayn decides the constant worry and concern for his safety isn’t annoying anymore. He loves it when his boys always check on him and keep him as safe as possible.
“We’ll be home in about an hour. Be careful, baby. Love ya,” Louis adds once more before the rough voice of another man interrupts.
“Love you,” Zayn says and ends the call.
He stands, pulling the sleeves of Harry’s jumper further over his chilled knuckles and walks into the living room.
The news is already on the telly when he curls up into the cosy comforter and starts to doze off to the lulling thud of rain.
He’s pulled from his sleep by a rumbling sound and flashing lights in the window of his living room. Zayn was usually one to sleep heavily through loud noises and storms, but the crack of the thunder this time was close and jolting. It leaves him wide awake and huffing from being pulled from sleep so unexpectedly.
He wants to laugh at himself for being so antsy over such a silly thing, even though this storm is more than a ‘silly thing’. Despite the danger of it, he doesn’t call any of his boys like Louis instructed. Instead, he decides to take a shower and calm his erratic nerves, and simply turns the alerts on his phone off.
Sometime through the middle of his shower, things got worse. Like a lot worse. The lights flickered a few times. Hail crashes onto the roof; it sounds like the middle of World War II and a train collision on the ceiling. And the wind. The fucking wind decides to throw tree limbs at his window.
Zayn turns the water off, ignoring the sting in his eyes from the soap still in his soaked hair. He outstretches his hand blindly, searching for the towel he thought he’d just placed on the ground, but when he comes up empty handed, he suddenly remembers–Oh. He didn’t even grab one.
Power lines just beside their house suddenly snap, and he hears what sounds to be a crash from the pole falling. The power is out.
Now, not only does he have to walk around in his house naked, but he also has to walk around his house naked in the dark. He knows it will be a miracle if he finds somewhat decent clothes. But that’s the least of his concerns at the moment really. He figures such a bad storm like this might have a tornado. At this point, it’s really on if the tornado will hit his neighbourhood or not; he’s positive there’s at least one brewing in the sky from a funnel cloud right at this moment.
There’s a blur of deafening noises suddenly in the midst of the storm, and Zayn realizes he doesn’t have time to search for his own clothes. There’s likely a F3 tornado right next to his house. He scrambles through the dirty hamper and slides on Niall’s boxers and Harry’s t-shirt. His eyes don’t close for a second. The noises get louder and louder, so he rushes to leave and take cover.
Just as he’s about to leave his bathroom, he hears a deafening crack from outside, and suddenly the room crashes and caves in. All he sees is black and white.
“Liam… Liam! Listen.”
“He’s not answering. Zayn isn’t answering his phone.”
“He’s probably taking a nap. You know how he sleeps through st-”
“Christ, Liam. There are reports of a touchdown. A tornado. They said it landed about five miles away from our house! What if it hit our house? What if it hit Zayn?”
“Call Paul. And get Louis and Niall. We’ll check on him, alright?”
“O-Okay. What if-if he’s hurt, Li? I d-don’t want-”
“Harry. Harry, no. Don’t cry, babe. It’ll be fine. He’s fine. Zayn will be alright. Just don’t worry, yeah?”
Amidst the black and white, Zayn begins to see red and blue. He is awake, and as much as he wants to leave and call for help, he can’t because his leg has zero feeling and the door is blocked by debris and a giant tree. He’s stuck. There’s so much he can’t do, but one thing he can do is pray that he lives to apologize to the boys and never leave their sides again.
The ambulance had arrived quicker than usual at the mention of Zayn’s name in their frantic call. You could see the nervousness in each boy’s eyes as the paramedics searched through the mostly destroyed home. A tornado hadn’t struck their house. High winds from the tornado that had zoomed past their neighbourhood pulled a beech tree right out of the backyard and onto the house.
Paul, deciding the home was already ruined enough, told the emergency search and rescue team that they could cut out a hole in the side of the wall where they believed Zayn was trapped.
Niall and Louis cried harder as they heard the men call out “He’s here! We’ve got him!” And Liam and Harry hugged in relief.
But when the paramedics asked for state of condition, none could hold their tears back as they yelled, “Critical! He needs immediate care!”
The deaf and tense silence in the waiting room doesn’t help calm anyone’s nerves. The only information they had was that Zayn was currently in the ICU, and he was in the middle of “an important procedure” as the doctor had said. Before the paramedics whizzed off with Zayn in the ambulance, they did hear one say he wasn’t hurt by the tree, but he was injured by debris and glass.
His critical condition was mostly from blood loss, meaning he had been hurt long before any paramedics or they themselves arrived at their home.
After two hours of waiting restlessly, a woman in white sterile gloves came in and called Zayn’s name to which the boys all perked up and followed her like lost puppies. They all wanted to ask the most concerning question, “Is he okay?” but they understood the woman likely had no authority to give out that information.
They stop outside of a patient’s room, presumably Zayn’s. A doctor comes out of the door with a clipboard.
“Friends?” he asks gesturing to all four of them.
They nod, rather not explaining the real situation.
“Yes, I see. I’m Doctor Ross. Your friend, Mr. Malik, had quite an accident with that tree. We’ve already given a blood transfusion, a few stitches to stop major bleeding–as listed below on this paper–and prepared for a cast on his right leg. I understand the parents of Mr. Malik aren’t available for more medical permissions, yes? Who would be the nearest family member to give consent for us to continue the rest of the medical procedures?” The old man rambled on, lifting his glasses to glance at them questioningly.
“Um, what would those other medical procedures be?” Liam asked.
“The poor lad might need the tips of his index, middle, and ring fingers to be cut off on his left hand; they were too battered and wrecked to be stitched back on properly. We also might preform an MRI scan on his head to detect any major head trauma. Would one of you be able to sign for his consent?” Dr. Ross hopefully asked. Louis nodded and signed the paper on the clipboard.
Dr. Ross allowed them to see Zayn before they whisked him away for the rest of the stitching. All their breaths hitched as soon as they took sight of him on the bed, hooked up to IVs and stitch lines all over his body. They could tell he was drugged from the way he lied stiffly instead of being curled up into a comfortable ball like he usually would.
A stitch on his cheek is what first catches their eye. It’s long and curves around his bruised lips, a deep red curse upon his stunning beauty. Zayn will be devastated when he wakes.
They decide there is no benefit in staring at their injured lover any longer, so they call the doctor back in and sit in silence with each other once again outside of the ICU.
Stitching didn’t last long, but nurses were hinting that they should leave soon. They all refuse, instead bribing each and every one with an autograph and a smile. It works, and a different nurse informs them that Zayn could be coming home tonight if they were lucky.
The whole ordeal is surreal. Realizing they don’t have a home anymore, Paul calls for a cheap low key hotel to stay in for now. Paul even invites them to stay at his house, but they don’t accept his offer and assure that the hotel is good enough for a possibly long term living situation.
They check Zayn out of the hospital twenty minutes after closing time and apologize for keeping many staff members overtime.
Niall wheels a still drowsy, drugged Zayn into the lot. Doctors recommended that he stayed off his broken leg and rested for a long time. They know keeping the wheelchair will be useless; they’ll just use his immobility as an excuse to carry him around more.
Liam carries Zayn into their hotel room as the others slump onto the beds and groan in anguish.
Tour has been momentarily put on hold, and fans are going crazy on social media. They all silence their phones, close the blinds, and snuggle on one bed. They all hold him, kiss him, and rub his bandages and the newly forming scars on his body and try to forget the worries ahead.
Worrying shouldn’t matter anymore because they know Zayn is safe–probably highly displeased with his injuries–but he’s safe, and they’re never letting him out of their sight again.
Even if it means they are stuck with his occasional whines, moods, and sick days for the rest of their lives.
Sequal? haha. It kind of ended on a sad note, so I might write more to this later… :) Feedback would be amazing! ILY
creamwithcookies is my beta. but tysm to everyone who wanted to. ily. ♥
Would anyone want to beta my one-shot? I’m an awful writer, so I’d always appreciate the help. :) x