✯ Zianourry ⏯ OneShots ✯

Can't... Stop. ⏯ L.T.

The studio lights beat down on the five members of One Direction as they sat clustered together on plush couches, ready for yet another interview. Cameras whirred, and the air buzzed with anticipation. Harry's curls fell gently over his forehead, Liam flashed his trademark grin, Niall fidgeted with his fingers, Zayn exuded his usual cool demeanour, and Louis... Louis sat on the edge, his energy barely contained.

The interviewer, a polished woman with a stern expression, took her seat opposite the boys. She glanced over her notes, her gaze lingering on Louis for a moment before she began.

"Welcome, boys. It's great to have you here," she said, her voice clipped and professional. "Let's dive right in, shall we?"

The questions flowed smoothly at first, but as the interview progressed, Louis began to squirm. His leg bounced up and down, and he started to fidget with the cuff of his shirt. Every now and then, a small noise escaped his lips—a cough, a sniff, a soft grunt.

The interviewer's eyes narrowed, irritation creeping into her tone. "Louis, could you please try to keep it down? Your noises are quite distracting."

Louis froze, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment. "Sorry, sorry," he mumbled, forcing himself to sit still. But it was no use. The tics that came with his Tourette's syndrome were as uncontrollable as ever.

The interviewer sighed audibly, her patience wearing thin. "Can you just try to be quiet for the remainder of the interview? It's rather unprofessional."

The words hit Louis like a punch to the gut. He felt the familiar sting of tears behind his eyes, but he blinked them back, refusing to let them fall. He was used to people's reactions by now—the stares, the whispers, the judgment—but that didn't make it any easier to bear.

Before Louis could respond, though, Harry jumped in, his voice firm but gentle. "Hey, it's not his fault, you know. He can't help it."

"Yeah," Liam chimed in, nodding in agreement. "Louis has Tourette's. It's a neurological condition. He's not doing it on purpose."

The interviewer's expression softened slightly, but there was still a hint of impatience in her eyes. "I understand that, but we're trying to conduct a professional interview here. It's just... distracting."

Niall leaned forward, his blue eyes flashing with intensity. "But he's part of our band. We support each other no matter what. That's what makes us a team."

Zayn, who had been quiet until now, spoke up, his voice low but steady. "Louis is a crucial part of One Direction. His talent, his energy—it's what makes us who we are. We wouldn't be here without him."

Louis felt a surge of warmth wash over him as he looked at his bandmates, his friends. Despite the challenges he faced every day, they stood by him unwaveringly, lifting him up when he felt like he was falling.

The interviewer sighed again, but this time it seemed softer, more resigned. "Alright, let's move on," she said, flipping through her notes. But as the interview continued, Louis couldn't shake the feeling of discomfort that lingered in the air.

After the cameras stopped rolling and the lights dimmed, the boys gathered around Louis, offering words of comfort and support. They wrapped him in a tight group hug, reminding him that he was loved, that he belonged.

And as they walked out of the studio together, laughter ringing in their ears, Louis couldn't help but feel grateful for the brothers he had found in One Direction—brothers who understood him in a way that no one else ever could.

PART 2

The long day of interviews and rehearsals had taken its toll on Louis. As night fell and the lights of the city outside their hotel room window dimmed, his body tensed with the familiar sensation of a tic attack looming.

At first, it started with a subtle twitch of his fingers, a barely audible grunt slipping past his lips. But soon, it escalated into a full-blown storm of tics. Louis clenched his fists, his chest tightening with each involuntary movement.

"Louis, mate, you alright?" Harry's voice cut through the haze of Louis' mind, filled with concern.

Louis gritted his teeth, trying to force the tics back, but it was no use. His body seemed to have a mind of its own. He hit his chest, his head, his thighs, each blow sending waves of pain radiating through him.

"Can't... stop," Louis gasped out between tics, his breathing hitching with the effort.

Liam sprang into action, kneeling beside Louis and placing a hand on his shoulder. "Hey, it's okay. We're here with you. Just breathe, mate."

But the tics showed no signs of relenting. Louis shouted curses, his voice strained with the effort, as he struggled to regain control. Niall and Zayn joined Liam, offering words of encouragement and support, their faces etched with worry.

"Come on, Lou, you can do this," Niall said, his voice steady and reassuring.

Zayn nodded in agreement, his dark eyes filled with empathy. "We're not going anywhere. We'll ride this out together."

For hours, they stayed by Louis' side, their presence a steady anchor in the midst of the storm. They rubbed his back, whispered soothing words, and offered a comforting touch whenever he needed it most.

As the night wore on and the tics gradually began to subside, Louis let out a shaky sigh of relief. His body felt exhausted, drained of all its energy, but there was a sense of peace settling over him, knowing that he wasn't alone.

"Thank you," Louis murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

Harry squeezed his hand, a soft smile playing on his lips. "Anytime, mate. We're always here for you."

The others echoed their agreement, their voices filled with warmth and sincerity. And as Louis closed his eyes, surrounded by the love and support of his bandmates, he knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, they would face them together—stronger, braver, and more united than ever before.