Zephaniah // z.m

Fifty three

Hannah

Flipping through the pages of a random magazine, I looked up when a nurse knocked on the door and entered silently. She glanced at Zephaniah, then at Zayn, who were both asleep, Zayn in the visitors bed, Zephaniah in his own.

"Good morning, I wanted to ask for breakfast, but I figure they're still asleep?" She questioned, a small smile appearing on her face.

I nodded, glancing at Zayn. "Yeah, they are." Stretching myself out on the uncomfortable chair that stood beside Zephaniah's bed, I ran a few fingers through my hair to make it look less messy- or well, attempting to make it look less messy.

"Do you think he needs much more sleep?" She pointed at Zayn, "The doctor has the results and would like to share them with the both of you."

"Uhm," I turned around to face Zayn again, who was still sleeping in the position he fell asleep on last night, after his small breakdown. "I don't know, he was pretty tired. Probably," I hesitated.

"Well, if one of them wakes up, you can press onto the help button," She gave me one last smile before turning around and leaving the room, closing the door behind her.

I sighed a little and stared at Zayn, who was asleep on his belly, just like Zephaniah. One of his knees was pulled up, his arms underneath his pillow, lips slightly pouted.

He had fallen asleep like that and I had covered him with the covers, not wanting him to feel cold. Zephaniah hadn't moved in his sleep either, he was so knocked out from the exhaustion after the seizure, that I didn't think he'd wake up soon.

I was wrong.

He started moving, whimpers leaving his mouth as he tried to open his eyes. "Good morning, Zeph." I said softly, not wanting to startle him.

Zephaniah looked at me, tears already collecting into his eyes. "M-mmorning," He whispered, fisting his eyes.

I stroked his cheek sadly, wondering how awful he must feel at the moment and I could understand why he was crying almost all the time, though, I knew some people wouldn't as they underestimated epilepsy.

He stretched his arms out to me, clearly wanting the comfort. I lifted him out of bed and placed him on my lap, smiling by myself as he wrapped his arms around my neck, his head resting on my chest.

Zephaniah hummed as he cried, the tears soaking my sweater, but I didn't mind. "What are you feeling, Zephaniah?" I asked him.

"Feel n-nnot good, Ms. Hannah," He whispered, trying to hold back his sobs. "Feel so t-tired and w-wweird,"

I kissed his hair and softly patted his back, "Your little brain worked very hard," I mumbled, explaining it in the way he did in his presentation.

Zephaniah sighed deeply, his hand reaching for my hair, like he always did. He sniffled quietly, the tears rolling down his cheeks.

"Do you want to eat something, sweetheart?" I asked, reaching for the red help button as Zephaniah nodded, shaky breaths leaving his mouth.

A minute or so later, the same nurse came inside our room and smiled at Zephaniah, stroking his hair. "Good morning. How'd you sleep?"

Zephaniah blushed deeply, his hand gripping on my sweatshirt. "Good," He whispered so quietly, that we had to try our best to hear it.

"Great, love. Do you want breakfast?" She asked, Zephaniah nodding shyly. "So, you can either have croissants, cornflakes or toast. What'd you want? And what do you want to drink?"

His bottom lip started trembling and he pouted, trying to keep his tears and sobs in, "Ms. Hannah," He whispered, looking up at me with his big sad eyes.