Coalesce

EIGHT

When Niall wakes in the middle of the night, it's to the muffled sounds of somebody in the kitchen. Had he been in the apartment, the sounds would have been far clearer, but in Zayn's modern, wealthy house, the walls are mostly soundproofed, so he doesn't jump up immediately to see what's going on.

Instead, he stretches and yawns, checks the time on his phone with bleary eyes to find that it's just after one in the morning, then rolls over to stare out of the floor to ceiling window. He misses the apartment a lot sometimes, not that he'd admit that to anyone for fear of seeming ungrateful, but if he and his Dad had ended up going back there, he knows that he would have definitely missed this view.

It's calming to simply watch the stars twinkle in the sky above the trees at the end of the field, the lights of the city in the close distance glimmering in the liveliness that still exists there in the early hours. The moon is halved tonight, high and bright in the sky, unclouded by the usual night time fog that seemed to have permanently settled over their old apartment building.

The tranquility eases some of the heaviness in his chest and he lets out a breath. He never really knows why the darkness inside of him makes an appearance. It tends to come and go at random, though sometimes there is a reason. Like when Mum died, that was when it got to the worst it'd ever been before, but it existed before that too, just at a more manageable level, one he could ignore most of the time. Sometimes it pops up when he's stressed about school or when he and Luke have bickered over something that day, or sometimes it shows up over something stupid, like that time he'd accidentally dropped a plate last winter in the apartment and then cried for an hour afterwards.

But this time, he's not entirely sure why it's here. He guesses it could be because everything has changed quite suddenly and it's only just catching up to him. Or maybe it's the lack of sleep, because this isn't the first time he's woken up and watched the stars this past week. He supposes the most likely cause is the guilt he feels about not being able to help Liam more with the whole situation with his Dad. He's not upset that the older boy yelled at him, he understands that for some people, being upset makes them react in anger. He's more upset that all he could do was listen rather than actively doing something.

The heaviness feels like it's doubling in weight the more that he thinks, and he decides that he needs to get up and maybe grab a glass of water or something. So, he kicks his covers off of himself and pads barefooted across the room, sleeves tugged over the palms of his hands, Star Wars pyjama bottoms still twisted from rolling around in bed.

When he steps out into the hallway, he freezes. The sounds that were muffled before are crystal clear now, and they're the sounds of somebody crying. Or at least, someone trying to stop crying; long breaths and stuttered sniffs.

He chews his lip and hesitates for a moment, before making a split second decision and tiptoeing across to the entrance of the open space where the living room and kitchen are. In the kitchen, standing in the dark by the counter, hand wrapped around an empty mug, is Zayn. The sight takes Niall by surprise but he tries not to let it show.

"Zayn?" He whispers, chewing his lip and watching as the man startles before quickly swiping at his face, putting the mug beneath the coffee machine and pressing the buttons that make it whir to life on top.

He drags his fingers over his lips, pinching slightly as he turns to face Niall, smile forced and eyes glinting in the dim moonlight that filters through the glass wall of the living room into the open space.

"Hey, Ni. What's up? Did I wake you?" He asks quickly, voice shaking and a little off-key, strained almost.

Niall gives a small shake of his head. "No. I was already up," he murmurs, taking a step into the room and stopping on the other side of the centre island, sleeves still pinned to his palms by his finger tips as he rests his hands on the countertop, shoulders hunched up a little as he peers at the usually strong and happy man. "Are you okay?"