Reason To Be (A Zouis Family AU)

Part Three, Chapter Eight

He feels like all the eyes are on him when he goes to school after the weekend. Maybe it's because he hasn't used all weekend purely because he hasn't wanted to be sick again, or maybe it's because they actually are staring.

His stomach twists and he shoves his hands into his pockets. He used to love the attention. When he was little, he'd beam and constantly aim for the spotlight. He isn't sure when that ended.

Luke approaches him in the hallway when he's trying to shove a stupid book into his stupid locker. The other boy eyes him with furrowed brows for a moment before he gently nudges him out of the way, closing the locker for him with ease before he turns to Niall again.

And he feels bad, because he's been ignoring the person who's meant to be his best friend a lot lately. He's a bad friend. A bad brother. Probably a bad son too.

After all, he has spent the entire weekend lying to convince his parents that he's back to his usual self again. It seems to take more effort to pretend lately.

Luke doesn't look angry. He looks concerned and somehow that's worse.

"What?" Niall snaps, because there are so many people watching him and he just wants to disappear so his heart can slow the hell down.

His friend raises an eyebrow. "You just...don't look great, man," he says slowly.

Niall scowls at that. He knows he looks as though he's just rolled out of bed for the first time in weeks. He feels like it as well.

But his parents haven't mentioned it. They still allowed him to come to school today.

Stop it, he hisses at his mind. Now isn't the time to be angry at Dad and Papa.

He seems to be angry at Luke instead. He glares and huffs. "And? Leave me alone, Luke," he mutters, barely even feeling the guilt amongst everything else and god, he wants the thoughts to stop again.

This is all it ever is.
A cycle of thinking never again and then doing it again.

He watches everyone passing by closely, suspiciously. Waiting for one of them to pounce, to look at him the wrong way or point and laugh. His heart beats a little harder. The coke in his pocket is all that fills his mind.

Luke interrupts. "No. You've been off lately, don't think I haven't noticed. You aren't pushing me away," he says firmly.

Niall questions how Luke has noticed when his parents clearly haven't. They send him off to some doctor who gives an ADHD diagnosis and pump him full of meds that he never even takes and expect him to be okay.

Maybe they've tried to talk to him.
He doesn't remember.

They clearly haven't tried very hard.

He turns back to Luke with his brows tugged together. "I'm not trying to push you away," he mutters.

His friend looks worried.
He remembers how Danny looked. Brown eyes and brown hair.

Soaked in blood.

He sucks in a sharp breath and looks away, chest tightening. "Just leave me alone, Luke," he says again, quietly, before he's shoving his way through the morning crowds of students.

He finds himself in the bathroom, chest heaving as he gives the door of every stall a shove. The moment he knows he's alone, his hands scramble to grip tightly at the sides of a basin, shoulders rising and falling quickly.

He glares at his reflection. His greasy hair, the pale skin, the chapped lips, the grey smudges painted beneath his eyes.

He doesn't remember the last time he painted.
Papa used to sit him down and paint with him every evening. Back when he cared.