Capable

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I hope this isn't too bad, I've been really sick so my writing I feel like has suffered. Thank you for reading, though, and I hope you all have a marvelous day! All my love XXXX

LOUIS

"Okay, kiddo, there's nothin' to be afraid of," I said calmly, my hands held up in surrender as I circled Niall's bed,"Your Uncle Louis' come to take care of you, no worries, love."

The "kid" in question, was sat up ramrod-straoght on Niall's duvet, his chest heaving and his eyes frantic and wide, his hands had gone straight to the roots of his chocolate curls and he was yanking with all his might on them as he trembled with fear.

I hadn't meant to scare him when I walked in, truly, I hadn't.

I had expected to find a younger child, I don't know, maybe five years old?

It was quite a shock to my system when I'd found a boy no less than, at least, fifteen, practically nude and cuddling into Niall's pillow with his knees drawn to his chest.

His middle two fingers had been stuck between his lips and his eyes closed peacefully, the pullup that was strapped around his hips appeared to have been reaching it's limits. It was soggy and swollen, falling down beneath the boy's bum and exposing his crack, a strawberry-hued rash spackling his pale, wet skin.

The stench of urine had settled in the air and when I'd opened the door, I'd found myself assaulted by the pungent odor.

"What the fuck?" I'd shouted, a bit louder than, perhaps necessary.

I'm only human, after all.

The cry had woken the lad and sent him shooting up from his fetal position to where he was now, backed up against Niall's headboard, looking panicked and yanking his curls brutally.

It'd taken me all of about five seconds to guess that he wasn't a normal teenage boy.

I mean, duh, he had a pullup on.

He turned his head up to face the ceiling and I heard another whimper escape his parted lips before he looked back at me, tears beginning to trickle down his round cheeks.

"Where's my friend?" he asked quietly, his voice crackly and deep with sleep.

His big green eyes searched the room around me nervously, as if he were searching for answers on the walls or in a photo of the dresser, rather than waiting for me to answer.

"Who's your friend?" I asked, in a gentle tone I didn't know I possessed until now.

I moved a bit closer to the side of the bed I was approaching, my arms still up in front of me.

A sob tore free of his throat,"Niall," he cried, as if it were the most obvious answer in the world, thoughhis voice was shaky and full of tears.

"He's my friend, he said so. Where did he go?" he sobbed, begging for answers as he pulled his knees up to his shoulders and rested his face on them, rocking his body back and forth in some sad attempt to console himself.

"He said he wouldn't go, he said he wouldn't go," he chanted, his voice muffled by his bare kneecaps," I don't want anyone else to go, no one else can go."

My big brother instincts kicked in immediately, I felt the pang in my heart as I heard his voice crack with another weak sob, and crawled on top of Niall's bed with him. I knew I had to go slow with him, I didn't know why yet, but I knew he wouldn't cooperate if I acted as I did with my sisters and pulled him onto my lap.

Not to mention, umm.....the pullup?

I'm sorry, but, no.

I was not about to have that thing's contents juiced out onto my pajama pants.