Finding The Courage (a Ziam Mayne AU)

Chapter Twenty-Eight "We Never Were Family"

Liam's POV

"This way, Mr Payne." A middle-aged woman with kind, soft blue eyes and hints of grey in her pinned back blonde hair lead us through a series of bright, bare corridors with disgustingly beige walls.

I hated hospitals. They were so sterile and so impersonal. And scary. I knew people who felt safe and calm in hospitals. I never understood that. How could you feel safe in a place like this? I always felt like I could sense the cries of dying people all around me in my bones.

But there were no cries. The hallways were dead silent and the echoing of our footsteps got me on edge. Teeth clenched, heart pounding, blood rushing, I followed the nurse that had introduced herself as Beth to the room my father was lying in.

Zayn had not said a word since we were here and I was so incredibly grateful for that. I wanted to know he was there but I couldn't talk to him right now. To be honest, right now, I felt like I would never be able to speak again.

We stopped in front of a door the same yucky beige as the walls and Beth gave me an encouraging smile, lightly squeezing my hand. "Take your time, love. I'm over there if you need me.", that being said, she walked a few steps to a desk at the end of the corridor.

Take your time. Take your time! I've taken almost five years! I grabbed the door handle, ready to slam the door in if necessary. But then I froze. I stared at my hand wrapped around the silver handle, not able to move anymore.

Zayn gently put his hand over mine and used the other to turn my head to face him. "It's alright if you don't want to go in there now."

I sighed, pulled his face to mine and kissed him slowly. "No. We're doing this now.", I whispered against his skin. I took a deep breath and opened the door.

Stan was lying in a bed next to the window where he stared into the cloudy night sky, there was no one else in the room. He was hooked up to a bunch machines, some of them beeping, some buzzing. He had several cables and tubes coming in and out of various parts of his body.

Almost instinctively, I reached for Zayn's hand and clutched it tightly to my side, as if my life depended on it. And right now, I felt like it did. Even though Stan looked miserable in his blank hospital gown, pale, rings under his eyes, his skin all saggy and dry, I was still terrified.

When we got closer, I noticed the scratch on his cheekbone from when we had our last fight was still visible. Encouraged by that I decided to speak, since he still hadn't noticed us. "Good evening, Sir.", I said, as if he was nothing to me.

He slowly turned his head towards us. He probably already knew it was me by the sound of my voice but he didn't show a hint of emotion when he looked at us. "Evening.", he responded quietly.

It ran a shiver down my spine. He obviously couldn't attack me with all the things attached to him but I would have expected at least some kind of reaction.

"I didn't really expect you to even come, son."

"Don't call me that!", I hissed, pressing Zayn's hand tighter.

His empty expression was replaced by an angry glare in his eyes, frustration visible in his features because he couldn't move. "I see. We're not playing happy family then.", he spat.

"We never were family.", I growled, the only thing still stopping me from strangling him right on that bed being Zayn who was still holding my hand tightly.

"Then what are you doing here if you don't care about me?"

"I wanted to see you suffer.", I spat the words out like poison. I hadn't wanted it to be like this. I didn't want Zayn to witness me like this.

His eyes wandered down my arm to Zayn's and my hands. "And what's that? How dare you bring your little faggot of a friend to my deathbed?!"

I pushed myself in front of Zayn as if to shield him from his words. "I won't let you insult him." He wasn't saying that because he was homophobic or anything. My sexuality had never had anything to do with the way he had treated me.

"Oh, suddenly he's the hero.", he said, raising his hands like he was trying to defend himself. "I remember very vividly how you were always the one hiding behind someone's back. You know? That Styles-kid. Or your mother!"

"Leave her out of this!", I snapped. He knew too well how to push my buttons. At this point I thought every bone in Zayn's tender hand must have been broken because I was squeezing it so hard but he didn't say a word.

Stan rolled his eyes at me. "Oh boo-hoo. Little baby lost his mother. Go cry if you want to, like always."

I wasn't going to cry. I didn't feel like crying. I felt like screaming, I felt like punching something, preferably a wall. I wasn't going to let Stan get to me again. "I came to tell you that you didn't break me." It was a miracle I succeeded to keep my voice steady. "I came to show you that I managed to be happy in spite of you. Of all the crap I had to deal with because of you. I'm alive and I'm happy and you're not. You never were."

I wasn't sure the words had the effect I wanted them to have, so I had let go off Zayn's hand and started walking towards Stan. He narrowed his eyes at me but I could see something break in him and that was all I needed. "And now you're dying and you're gonna have to do it knowing that your disappointment of a son got somewhere in life."