Look After You- Niam Horayne

Didn't See That One Coming-Chapter 4

Liam's POV

This was the most horrific thing I had ever seen in my lifetime.

Niall was bawling his eyes out on the floor, a sharp razor glued to his fingertips and his arms streaming with blood, oozing out of long thick cuts. I knew Niall was depressed; there was no avoiding the situation. But... this depressed? For a second my feet were stuck to the tile floor of the bathroom but when the blonde boy gazed up at me in ashame, I bent down.

I whispered soft, persuading things to him and eventually grabbed the dangerous razor from out of his grasp. But that just made him cry harder. I mean, the sight almost made me start crying because Niall meant to much to me and it pained me to see him suffer in silence. But even so, my hands snaked under his arms and yanked him up before tiptoeing down the corridor into his bedroom.

Thankfully we didn't get caught, so I perched him down on his bed and lay him down. He had finally stopped sobbing, but this was worse. He just glared blankly at the cieling, his ocean blue orbs shining from the tears and his cheeks flushed. He wore his baby blue polo shirt and tight jeans which I had to peel off because it looked uncomfortable.

"Do you want to talk about this, Niall?" I asked calmly, but my voice was shaking. I didn't want him to feel suffocated, like I was his father or anything. I didn't want to be his father, of course, and I really hope he didn't think of me like that.

Niall shook his head.

"Nialler, maybe you should see a therapist," I suggested.

Niall's eyes widened. "I don't need a therapist. I have you. And I'm fine."

I raised my eyebrows at him. Fine? Someone who was fine would never be so depressed they felt the need to self harm. Someone who was fine would have friends and want to socialize. Someone who was fine wouldn't spend most of their time thinking about death.

His arms were still covered with blood, so I trudged into my room and snatched one of my old T-Shirts and wrapped it around the cuts. It wouldn't work for long, and I was sure he would want to hide this from everyone in the home, so he would have to wear long sleeve shirts from now on, until the scars healed. 

But would he stop cutting? I would make him. He was too perfect for this crap.

"Niall, you're clearly not okay," I whispered, lying down with him on his bed. Both of us gazed up at the cieling, and I started playing with his soft golden hair while he eventually closed his eyes and enjoyed me massaging his scalp.

He sighed, his voice croaky from the crying. "I hate myself, Liam. I hate myself, and I need help, but I can't get it because I'm not worth it."

My eyes widened as I growled at him. "Not worth it? Ni, you're young, you're precious and you're absolutely beautiful. You are worth everything in my power. And I will do everything I can to make you smile again- No, not fake smile, but actually smile with that twang of happiness and joy in your sparkling blue eyes while you laugh and..."

I cut off because he snorted without humour. "It won't work, Liam. And what will happen when you start getting dates? You'll leave me, and I'll have no one." Then he narrowed his eyes. "Which, I suppose, is what I deserve, but... I won't be able to handle it."

I pursed my lips. This didn't surprise me, as I knew Niall blamed himself for his father's abusive manner though it clearly wasn't. His father was an awful man because of the drinking and the drugs; not because of the disappointment he has over his son. But I knew Niall despised it when I told him otherwise, so I just changed the subject.

"How about I call a therapist?" I offered. He began to speak but I cut him off. "No, Niall. This is important. You need help. And I'll go with you on your first try... if you want, that is. I'll be with you every step of the way, I promise."

Niall didn't answer for a moment, and I was thankful that he was at least thinking about my suggestion. He needed the help, and I wasn't qualified enough for the job, and I wanted him to get better and finally accept himself. I would do anything to make him happy again.

Niall took a deep breath through his nose. "Alright, alright. I'll go. But if I don't like it, I swear- I'll never go again. Do we have a deal, Liam?"

I bit the inside of my lip and thought it through. Finally, I decided this was probably the best offer I was going to recieve so I nodded. "Okay, Ni. But you have to promise me one thing."

"What?"

"Stop hurting yourself," I spoke through gritted teeth. The thought of Niall doing anything to harm himself made me cringe and flinch as if long nails were scraping down a blackboard or a window. 

Niall ground his own teeth together and shot a glance at his destroyed arm. The T-Shirt was still around it, but some of the scars were showing through so he traced his finger softly against them. He winced in pain but glanced up at me. His gentle blue orbs shone like the stars, and my heart melted as the cage around it caught fire.

He closed his eyes as if he was in mental pain. "I'll try."

That was all I could ask from him.

***

I was lying in bed at night but I couldn't fall asleep.

All I could think about was that blood seeping out of Niall's flesh and I couldn't get the image out of my head. I wasn't scared; like I was never cringey of blood or anything, but nobody knew how much I wanted to help Niall in that second. If I could die to take away Niall's pain, I'd do it. I would do it in one click of a finger. For him.

And did that mean I liked him? Of course, Niall was beautiful. It was his wheaty blonde hair and scorching ocean blue eyes that first lured me in. And that wasn't judgemental, because it was just that which caught my eye. But then I got to know the troubled boy, and I just...

Yeah. Just.

So what do I do? Were Harry, Zayn and Louis right? Was I falling in love with Niall James Horan? No. No, I couldn't be. He was my care child! I was sure it was illegal, anyhow. So even if I did, it could not happen. I would help him because he was my responsibility.

And that's all he can be. I couldn't be greedy and want him, because he was a sick boy. He was in my care, and loving him wasn't the answer. He deserved someone better; some girl who could love him, because he wasn't gay. 

Eventually, I drifted off to sleep; dreaming about blue eyes.

***

I haven't updated in a while because I was too busy on my Neeroy fanfic... Sorry xo