Larry fics

this thing was a master piece (until you tore it all up)

Zayn swayed back and forth on his feet while he waited at the bus stop, holding onto the straps of his rucksack and stared at the floor, not wanting to make unnecessary eye 

contact

 with the surrounding people. Especially seeing as some of them were 

older women

 and would probably question why he wasn’t in school, even though he had a completely relevant reason. Screw that, he even had permission from the school to miss a few days given his current circumstance.

Zayn dragged the pads of his thumbs up and down the material of the straps, humming quietly, only looking up when the bus arrived. He stuffed a hand in the pocket to his jeans, retrieving out a pound and five pence to purchase a ticket, staying quiet as he dropped the money into the paying area and waited patiently for his ticket, staying close to the front of the bus for two reasons. One, there were no free seats and he didn’t feel like sitting by a stranger; and secondly, his stop was only a few away and he didn’t want to risk missing it.

A few minutes after the bus took off, he felt a vibration in his pocket, followed by three more, and he rolled his eyes before taking out his phone and read the messages without replying.

Good luck today… Love you bro –Li x

gud luck. thnkin of u and ni –lou x

Give him all our love… H .xx

Zayn frowned a little at the messages, and swallowed thickly, keeping back all the emotions he wanted to let out. Receiving messages like that just gave him a reminder of what he was 

dealing

 with and how difficult the situation was. It was a horrible thing to deal with, and he hated having to take the journey every morning to the hospital, getting the same three messages at exactly the same time. They always made him sick to his stomach, and he had to bite back the bile and shut his eyes for a moment to recompose himself.

“Excuse me, dear,” Zayn looked up, realising 

the driver

 was referring to him. “You usually get off here, you zoned out.” She smiled, and he graciously nodded, walking on shaky knees to the exit.

“Thanks…” Zayn mumbled, sending a small smile to the woman.

“My pleasure. Don’t know why you’re here, but you come every day. Must mean something.” She shrugged, and Zayn nodded a little after he stepped onto the ground, grateful that he was on non-moving and a flat surface. The bus just made him sicker than usual, all the shaking and the shuffling about to let people on and off, made everything feel ten times worse than it already was.

He started walking, following the typical paved route around the outskirts of the hospital, staring down at his boots as he walked. Zayn had the route memorised, he’d been here so much in the last two months that it wasn’t difficult to walk anymore. He could tell you where everything was at every step. Step six you would have the local Tesco next to you. Step twenty you would have to turn to the left down the front of the hospital towards the door. Step fifty-five you would be at the entrance. And that’s where he was now. Zayn glanced up, his smile faltering a little when the usual space was filled with the white car, looking like it hadn’t moved in ages. Just another reminder that it was real, that the family were always here by their son’s side. Ultimately the sight made Zayn feel guilty, guilty for not being there every day like they were.

Zayn walked even more, his footsteps echoing down the empty hallways, only the occasional rumble of a trolley being pushed down that was either a gurney with a body on, or a carriage with medicines on top. Nobody bothered to talk to him, everybody knew his name by now. Or knew what he did. Zayn, the kid who came here every day at exactly seven thirty-five in the morning and stayed until at least midnight, by the side of the blond kid. It was his typical routine.