Your strength just makes me feel less strong
Fandom: One Direction
Pairing: Zayn/Liam, Harry/Louis
Warning: Slash? Slight sexual stuff.
Declaimer: I do not get paid.
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Based on this prompt from the 1dkinkmeme ( http://1dkinkmeme.livejournal.com/2628.html?thread=2651460#t2651460)
---
English isn't my native language, so I'm sorry for any mistakes you might find.
---
Your strenght just makes me feel less strong
Realization
Louis is the first one to feel it (or not feel it, for that matter). He is still half-asleep so he discards the way he doesn’t feel tangled sheets beneath his feet or the lack of warm irradiating from the mattress. Louis frowns at the way he doesn’t feel his arm reaching out for Harry, and he doesn’t open his eyes until he’s palmed every inch of bed, sure that the younger boy isn’t there.
The thing is, when he opens his eyes, Harry is there.
Louis whines softly and looks at his hands. They are just the same. But there’s something different and he doesn’t try to coat the little scream that crawls from his chest when he touches his face and feels nothing.
Harry twirls a bit next to him. For a moment Louis contemplates on waking him up but there’s something in the peaceful smile and the soft, messy curls framing his face that stops him. He doesn’t want to wake Harry up for something that might be a stupid dream, so he keeps tracing his fingers along his arm while containing the tears that threaten to spill from his eyes, hoping that it is just a dream and he’ll feel something at some point.
He tries to fall asleep, but the way the whole room spins as he doesn’t know which part of his body is pressed against the bed, makes it impossible.
So, he waits. He waits until he’s so tired he has to fall sleep and is sure that when he wakes up he’ll be able to trace patterns along Harry’s skin and they’ll both feel it. He needs to believe it.
*****
Harry wakes up next.
(He doesn’t realize what’s wrong.)
So he opens his eyes, face tinted with a small smile when he realizes Louis’ blue eyes are staring at the ceiling. He presses little kisses along the tanned arm closer to him, but the older boy doesn’t turn, doesn’t even flinch or lace their hands the way he usually does. He even looks scared when Harry presses their lips together, just like every morning.
“I can’t feel” Louis says to him after a heartbeat or two, eyes nailed to the ceiling.
“What do you mean?” Harry asks smiling and drawing invisible lines with his tongue in the space between Louis’ arm and neck. He doesn’t take what Louis says seriously, because Louis is never serious. They are never serious.
A trembling hand pushes him away and just then Harry notices the tears bathing the blue eyes and making them shine when small beams of light that manage to escape the curtains dance over his face.
“I can’t feel” the older boy repeats and his voice breaks mid-sentence.
Harry doesn’t know what to do.
*****
Niall doesn’t get why Liam isn’t already downstairs, devouring fruit and checking twitter on his phone.
He shrugs and goes on to order the nicest-looking breakfast on the menu. The one with sausages and eggs and bacon. His stomach growls in anticipation while he keeps stealing glances at the cafeteria’s door of the hotel they are in that week. Liam must be sick, he thinks, because there’s no way he hasn’t come down by now and normally he just sticks around until Niall appears and swallows what must be five tons of food.
“He must be sick” he whispers and the security guard sitting across from him raises an eyebrow.
The waitress comes and goes without Niall even looking at her.
The first bite makes him want to vomit. First he thinks that it’s just the lack of spices or salt, but there’s something more. There’s just no flavour, like he’s eating a piece of paper or crushed ice. The guard has to stop his trembling hand that keeps shaking salt into the mix of scrambled eggs and ham. “Is everything okay?” the muscular man asks with a piece of sausage still hanging from his mouth, he doesn’t seem to have a problem with his food.
“How the fuck am I supposed to eat this?” he asks trying to keep his voice steady and taking a sip from his orange juice that tastes like water. The guard doesn’t know if he’s supposed to follow him when Niall stands up and leaves the cafeteria without a word.
*****
The chips hit the floor, next to over five different chocolates and three other candies. Niall doesn’t understand what has happened to his taste. He looks at his tongue on the mirror, tries poking it and brushing his teeth. He feels everything, even the strange, yet familiar, sensation of burning when he uses the mouthwash.
The Irishman finally gives up and sits in his bed looking at all the sweets tenting him from their place scattered around his backpack and it isn’t until then than he starts worrying about his bandmates. Has something similar happened to them? Was it something they ate?
Will it go away?
*****
Zayn wakes up when he feels Liam burying his nails into the skin of his arm. “What?” he manages to say but Liam doesn’t say a thing, he only keeps hitting, scratching, and shaking him until Zayn is sitting up and opening his eyes.
“God, Liam, what time is it?” he says rubbing the back of his hand over his eyes and trying to see something, but everything is pitch-black. “At least turn on the light so I can see what’s wrong” he adds and Liam’s hand is pulling away slowly. It’s a reflect; the way Zayn grabs it and entwines their fingers together. “Liam, please talk to me” he pleads, worried, and the younger boy is crying. He can tell from the way his hand turns into a fist and how the bed rocks softly with the sobs coming out from the boy. Still no sound.
He traces his way up to Liam’s tear-stained face and cups his cheekbone, thumb wiping the salted water away, and places a chaste kiss in the space between Liam’s nose and cheek. “Did something bad happen?” he asks, calmer. Liam doesn’t respond even if Zayn can feel his mouth opening and closing.
“Liam,” the older boys sighs, “I can’t help you if you are not talking to me, and not seeing you is making it worse. Please turn up the light and tell me what’s wrong.”
Then Liam breaks down, doubling over and holding desperately onto Zayn’s t-shirt like he was afraid of loosing balance and life if he even thought of letting go of the worn fabric. Tears stain his clothes and mark little wet spots on his skin, the cold air noticeable there. He doesn’t know how long they stay there, with the tangled sheets nesting tanned legs and Liam in the middle, holding into a confused Zayn.
He has almost forgotten about their entwined hand until he feels a tug and they are both standing up. Somewhere in his mind he wants to know how can Liam avoid pointy furniture and dodge the clothes that were painting the floor with colourful patches of fabric. But that’s not important. The important thing is to know what is wrong with Liam.
*****
Liam feels impotent and stupid.
He’s been avoiding Zayn’s questions why is the hallway so dark? What happened, Liam? Was there an accident? (partly because he can’t answer but mostly because he’s terrified at the answer). And now he’s knocking on Louis and Harry’s door like a madman. He tries calling them, but, like for the past half hour, no sound comes out when he opens his mouth. He’s scared and feels like a little boy going to his mom and dad after a bad dream, wanting them to tell him it’s okay and it was just a nightmare and come here, Liam, you can sleep with us tonight.
Harry opens his door after a few minutes and they both know. They know something’s wrong from the way the emerald eyes are swimming around unshared tears. They know from Liam’s own red ones.
He grabs Zayn’s arms and realizes the older boy has fallen silent, eyes fixed on a spot on the greyish wall. Niall enters the room moments after.
*****
They know, just like that. Just by watching each other and hearing each other and the fact that they are all together, staring at random objects on the room or the floor.
Harry doesn’t have to open a cologne bottle to know the deal.
Strenght
They cancel interviews and concerts, and then move back to London. Niall has been more time at the hospital for the last few days than he has been in his entire life. They all stay at Harry’s and Louis’ apartment because it has the most spare rooms and they wait.
They wait for the day they will wake up and see or touch or sing, for the day they are all complete again.
That day doesn’t come.
*****
Harry feels awful. Yes, he lost a sense too, but it’s not the same as not being able to see or feel.
So what if he can’t tell when dinner’s ready or if he put on too much cologne? It doesn’t matter, he thinks. And it hurts. It aches to know his best friends are suffering, each battling to live day by day. Louis even had to learn how to walk again for fucks sake!
And then there’s him, with his stupid little inability.
But what really kills him, though, is how grateful he is. On the inside he’s thankful he can still sing and see how Louis looks when he wakes up in the mornings. He doesn’t want to be thankful, but at night, when his thoughts are clear and his defences are down, the words slip from his mouth. That kills him because he hates himself for thinking that.
*****
Louis hates his new shell (because he had stopped thinking of it as a body). He hates it doesn’t move the way he wants it to move, with it being either too quick or too slow and always clumsy. He keeps dropping things and stumbling over on the steps that lead to his apartment.
He had burned his tongue several times because he doesn’t feel the heat, or the cold, or the warm, or a breeze. He cries when he drops his toothbrush for the seventh time and kicks the wall as hard as he can because he doesn’t feel the pain.
He’s not sure if that’s a good thing or a bad.
*****
Liam doesn’t know what to do or where to go.
His whole life has revolved around singing and dreaming of the day he would become a successful singer and being able to transmit an important message to people through his voice.
Now he has nothing.
He sometimes tries to shout while showering and then breaks down crying when there’s no sound coming out of him. He tries to hum along with the boys when they sing an old tune, but there’s nothing. Liam even avoids Louis, because when he laughs and there’s no vibration on his chest and no sound on his mouth, he sinks a bit more into an abysm that tries to pull him downwards.
His one and only dream is to thank everyone he knows for being who they are. He wants to make her mother smile with his ridiculous adventures, wants to give his sisters advice and growl at the suitors that try to woo them away. He just wants to tell Zayn he loves him. So he prays, he asks for just ten minutes of his voice in which he can do all that, give me that and you can take it forever, he thinks.
*****
Niall sometimes sits in bed, surrounded by Cadbury chocolates, fried chips, and twizzlers.
Sometimes he stares at his slices of pizza and smells them, because it has come to a point when he barely remembers the taste of pepperoni.
He stays there, either admiring or smelling, trying to remember the feeling in his mouth when he mixed candy with coke or when he stole the first bite of a hamburger after hours of not eating.
It’s stupid, Niall thinks. It’s stupid he is thinking his life is hell when his best friends can’t see or feel, but food is important. With every bite he takes, he feels emptier and emptier. Even with a full stomach he feels like something’s missing.
*****
Zayn is lost and terrified.
He has to learn how to read and move through the house all over again. His hands trace every little surface that goes in front of him, every wall and texture and face.
His everything aches when he goes out of the apartment because he remembers the sun and the park nearby. He remembers the green and the blue and the yellow and he misses colours and shades and everything. Because everything has turned to darkness, like when he was little and afraid of the monsters lurking inside his closet. He’s desperate to see again and the only moments when his heart rests a bit is when they sit down and sing, but then he remembers there’s a voice missing and it all becomes too much.
Coping
It starts as a way of saying sorry.
Sorry I’m thankful it didn’t happen to me.
Every time Zayn has one of his little panic attacks, when the reality hits him and screams to his face you are blind, Harry is there in ways Liam can’t. He hums and sings and soothes Zayn’s wounds with his rocky voice. He knows his is not the voice Zayn needs to hear but it’s enough to make the older boy smile.
Zayn is grateful for Harry, for the way the low pitch runs through his veins like a balm, covering wounds and leaving a protecting coat behind. But this coat only lasts for so long and then the pain is there again and the only thing he wants and needs desperately is the one voice he can’t hear.
He returns the favour by telling Harry when he smells bad after the gym or when he forgot to put deodorant. It’s a small thing but Harry’s grateful, and, sometimes, the gratefulness will be bigger and brighter than the shame and regret.
*****
Niall would accompany Liam to the sign language classes and they would take notes.
They would talk for hours with their hands, making each other laugh and it feels almost like before everything happened.
Niall would also grab the guitar and teach Liam some chords and the older boy would cry because he’s making a sound. He’s expressing himself through music and, even if it’s not exactly Liam’s dream, it’s close. They have their own alphabet, with both hands and music. Niall doesn’t need Liam talking to get him, looking into brown eyes would say everything pink lips couldn’t.
Liam tries to express flavours though his hands, making explosions when something was good and wriggling his fingers when something was too bitter. They would laugh at the table when Harry was done with dinner and Liam would express it was too dry or over-cooked and they would both laugh at their personal joke and Harry was not amused, thank you.
*****
They don’t know how to act around each other anymore because Harry can’t remember the last conversation between the two of them that didn’t involve touching and kissing and making each other feel good.
It’s hard to realize he can’t tickle Louis when the conversation dies and they would both smile sadly. They’ve come to realize their relationship was based on tightening stomachs and warm touches and it bothers them, so they sit and talk, not touching, for hours and it finally feels like they are connected, not just together.
They would kiss sometimes and make love on lazy Sunday mornings and even if Louis couldn’t feel something on the outside, he would moan because just knowing Harry was filling him and loving him was enough to make him feel warm on the inside.
*****
Zayn would sometimes kiss Niall right after finishing off his cigarette because Niall would feel the taste of the smoke inside his mouth. He knows it means nothing (in a sexual/loving-more-than-brothers way) because then Zayn would smile sadly and his eyes would turn a bit paler.
Liam knows about the kisses, Niall recons, and he doesn’t care either. The Irishman doesn’t get it but he doesn’t question it because those kisses are the only moments when he doesn’t feel completely empty.
*****
Louis always makes Niall smile by frowning whenever he eats something. And it doesn’t matter if it is Louis’ favourite ice cream, the older boy would make an exaggerated disgusted face and then smile at Niall and the younger boy is glad, because even if today’s dessert looks absolutely magnificent, the look on Louis’ face never ceases to distract him.
Niall, on the other hand, tells Louis when his tea is too hot or his shower is too cold.
*****
Harry would barge into Liam’s and Zayn’s room when the older wasn’t there and just lay or cuddle next to the voiceless brunette. They would stay like that for hours, Harry always staring at Liam and Liam always playing with his hair. Then, all of the sudden, Harry would say you look beautiful and Liam would smile and tear up a bit because the only person to ever told him that was now incapable of seeing him. They would hug and Harry kept repeating the same sentence (you are beautiful, Liam beautiful you are beautiful so, so beautiful Liam) until Liam believed it. They sometimes kissed, Liam sometimes cried.
“Today, Louis smelled like strawberries and coconut” the older would say with his hands.
*****
The moments when Zayn would really break apart where when he talked to Louis, because the older boy hugged him close and understood him.
“I just want to hear him laugh, Lou” Zayn says and Louis wipes away the tears.
They stay like that until Louis says something along the lines of “Liam looks pretty today” and then goes on describing every little detail about the younger brunette until Zayn’s head is overflowed with images he can’t see, but he somehow can.
*****
Then, Louis would go to Liam and make him laugh. Liam would write something down and Louis would say it, shout it or sing it. Sometimes in their apartment, sometimes in a public place and Liam would smile and laugh silently. They would pretend Liam was talking by mouthing words Louis said, sometimes messing up so Liam would turn to him and laugh.
Those days Louis would tell Zayn than Liam laughed and the Bradford boy would smile and whisper thank you, Lou.
*****
It all gets both better and worst when they are together (and it doesn’t matter anymore if they are alone or not, because they live in their tiny little world where nothing else exists).
Zayn would always look at him with empty eyes filled with love and Liam would trace patterns in every inch of visible skin. The older boy would touch the other’s face while whispering I love you I love you I love you so much.
Curled up in the couch (or in a bed, or a chair because it really doesn’t matter when they are together) Zayn would talk for hours, tell Liam how scared he was and how everything was too dark and too scary and too much. He would tell him how much he missed his voice and how there was an incessant burning in his chest because it’s not fucking fair.
Every one’s lost something, one thing. But he lost both his eyesight and the ability to hear the thing he needs the most: Liam’s voice.
“It’s not fair that I only get to touch you, and smell you” Liam would smile sadly and Zayn could tell because of his hands still roaming through Liam’s face. “It’s not fair I can’t have a proper conversation with you” then Zayn was the one smiling, but not really. It was more like the shadow of a smile, a crack that painted his face with obscure tones.
The worst was when he laughed though, because those where the days where Zayn would get angry and smashed plates or lamps.
Liam always calmed his down by kissing him, hard.
Those where the moments where they didn’t feel like they needed something else to communicate, because between thrusts and touches and kisses everything they wanted to express was out there and they didn’t need all their senses to catch the unsaid words and emotions.
There were afternoons where they just sat there in front of a computer, listening to their own voices sing or to the old video diaries, basically everything with Liam’s voice in it. It was a bit silly but they ended up in Google Translator, and Liam would write things and then let the computer recite the words for him in a robotic voice. Those where the nights when Zayn didn’t have nightmares.
Acceptance
They still sing, and dance, and do silly things.
They’ve come to accept it. It still feels a bit empty sometimes, of course, but it’s so much better because even if they don’t have one of their senses, they have each other, and, in some way, they complete one another.
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BTW, I highly recommend listening to Lover's eyes by mumford and sons because, jesus, that song was basically written for this prompt (i think) also, I got the title from there.
Hope you liked it (or kinda, anyways)!
Pairing: Zayn/Liam, Harry/Louis
Warning: Slash? Slight sexual stuff.
Declaimer: I do not get paid.
---
Based on this prompt from the 1dkinkmeme ( http://1dkinkmeme.livejournal.com/2628.html?thread=2651460#t2651460)
---
English isn't my native language, so I'm sorry for any mistakes you might find.
---
Your strenght just makes me feel less strong
Realization
Louis is the first one to feel it (or not feel it, for that matter). He is still half-asleep so he discards the way he doesn’t feel tangled sheets beneath his feet or the lack of warm irradiating from the mattress. Louis frowns at the way he doesn’t feel his arm reaching out for Harry, and he doesn’t open his eyes until he’s palmed every inch of bed, sure that the younger boy isn’t there.
The thing is, when he opens his eyes, Harry is there.
Louis whines softly and looks at his hands. They are just the same. But there’s something different and he doesn’t try to coat the little scream that crawls from his chest when he touches his face and feels nothing.
Harry twirls a bit next to him. For a moment Louis contemplates on waking him up but there’s something in the peaceful smile and the soft, messy curls framing his face that stops him. He doesn’t want to wake Harry up for something that might be a stupid dream, so he keeps tracing his fingers along his arm while containing the tears that threaten to spill from his eyes, hoping that it is just a dream and he’ll feel something at some point.
He tries to fall asleep, but the way the whole room spins as he doesn’t know which part of his body is pressed against the bed, makes it impossible.
So, he waits. He waits until he’s so tired he has to fall sleep and is sure that when he wakes up he’ll be able to trace patterns along Harry’s skin and they’ll both feel it. He needs to believe it.
*****
Harry wakes up next.
(He doesn’t realize what’s wrong.)
So he opens his eyes, face tinted with a small smile when he realizes Louis’ blue eyes are staring at the ceiling. He presses little kisses along the tanned arm closer to him, but the older boy doesn’t turn, doesn’t even flinch or lace their hands the way he usually does. He even looks scared when Harry presses their lips together, just like every morning.
“I can’t feel” Louis says to him after a heartbeat or two, eyes nailed to the ceiling.
“What do you mean?” Harry asks smiling and drawing invisible lines with his tongue in the space between Louis’ arm and neck. He doesn’t take what Louis says seriously, because Louis is never serious. They are never serious.
A trembling hand pushes him away and just then Harry notices the tears bathing the blue eyes and making them shine when small beams of light that manage to escape the curtains dance over his face.
“I can’t feel” the older boy repeats and his voice breaks mid-sentence.
Harry doesn’t know what to do.
*****
Niall doesn’t get why Liam isn’t already downstairs, devouring fruit and checking twitter on his phone.
He shrugs and goes on to order the nicest-looking breakfast on the menu. The one with sausages and eggs and bacon. His stomach growls in anticipation while he keeps stealing glances at the cafeteria’s door of the hotel they are in that week. Liam must be sick, he thinks, because there’s no way he hasn’t come down by now and normally he just sticks around until Niall appears and swallows what must be five tons of food.
“He must be sick” he whispers and the security guard sitting across from him raises an eyebrow.
The waitress comes and goes without Niall even looking at her.
The first bite makes him want to vomit. First he thinks that it’s just the lack of spices or salt, but there’s something more. There’s just no flavour, like he’s eating a piece of paper or crushed ice. The guard has to stop his trembling hand that keeps shaking salt into the mix of scrambled eggs and ham. “Is everything okay?” the muscular man asks with a piece of sausage still hanging from his mouth, he doesn’t seem to have a problem with his food.
“How the fuck am I supposed to eat this?” he asks trying to keep his voice steady and taking a sip from his orange juice that tastes like water. The guard doesn’t know if he’s supposed to follow him when Niall stands up and leaves the cafeteria without a word.
*****
The chips hit the floor, next to over five different chocolates and three other candies. Niall doesn’t understand what has happened to his taste. He looks at his tongue on the mirror, tries poking it and brushing his teeth. He feels everything, even the strange, yet familiar, sensation of burning when he uses the mouthwash.
The Irishman finally gives up and sits in his bed looking at all the sweets tenting him from their place scattered around his backpack and it isn’t until then than he starts worrying about his bandmates. Has something similar happened to them? Was it something they ate?
Will it go away?
*****
Zayn wakes up when he feels Liam burying his nails into the skin of his arm. “What?” he manages to say but Liam doesn’t say a thing, he only keeps hitting, scratching, and shaking him until Zayn is sitting up and opening his eyes.
“God, Liam, what time is it?” he says rubbing the back of his hand over his eyes and trying to see something, but everything is pitch-black. “At least turn on the light so I can see what’s wrong” he adds and Liam’s hand is pulling away slowly. It’s a reflect; the way Zayn grabs it and entwines their fingers together. “Liam, please talk to me” he pleads, worried, and the younger boy is crying. He can tell from the way his hand turns into a fist and how the bed rocks softly with the sobs coming out from the boy. Still no sound.
He traces his way up to Liam’s tear-stained face and cups his cheekbone, thumb wiping the salted water away, and places a chaste kiss in the space between Liam’s nose and cheek. “Did something bad happen?” he asks, calmer. Liam doesn’t respond even if Zayn can feel his mouth opening and closing.
“Liam,” the older boys sighs, “I can’t help you if you are not talking to me, and not seeing you is making it worse. Please turn up the light and tell me what’s wrong.”
Then Liam breaks down, doubling over and holding desperately onto Zayn’s t-shirt like he was afraid of loosing balance and life if he even thought of letting go of the worn fabric. Tears stain his clothes and mark little wet spots on his skin, the cold air noticeable there. He doesn’t know how long they stay there, with the tangled sheets nesting tanned legs and Liam in the middle, holding into a confused Zayn.
He has almost forgotten about their entwined hand until he feels a tug and they are both standing up. Somewhere in his mind he wants to know how can Liam avoid pointy furniture and dodge the clothes that were painting the floor with colourful patches of fabric. But that’s not important. The important thing is to know what is wrong with Liam.
*****
Liam feels impotent and stupid.
He’s been avoiding Zayn’s questions why is the hallway so dark? What happened, Liam? Was there an accident? (partly because he can’t answer but mostly because he’s terrified at the answer). And now he’s knocking on Louis and Harry’s door like a madman. He tries calling them, but, like for the past half hour, no sound comes out when he opens his mouth. He’s scared and feels like a little boy going to his mom and dad after a bad dream, wanting them to tell him it’s okay and it was just a nightmare and come here, Liam, you can sleep with us tonight.
Harry opens his door after a few minutes and they both know. They know something’s wrong from the way the emerald eyes are swimming around unshared tears. They know from Liam’s own red ones.
He grabs Zayn’s arms and realizes the older boy has fallen silent, eyes fixed on a spot on the greyish wall. Niall enters the room moments after.
*****
They know, just like that. Just by watching each other and hearing each other and the fact that they are all together, staring at random objects on the room or the floor.
Harry doesn’t have to open a cologne bottle to know the deal.
Strenght
They cancel interviews and concerts, and then move back to London. Niall has been more time at the hospital for the last few days than he has been in his entire life. They all stay at Harry’s and Louis’ apartment because it has the most spare rooms and they wait.
They wait for the day they will wake up and see or touch or sing, for the day they are all complete again.
That day doesn’t come.
*****
Harry feels awful. Yes, he lost a sense too, but it’s not the same as not being able to see or feel.
So what if he can’t tell when dinner’s ready or if he put on too much cologne? It doesn’t matter, he thinks. And it hurts. It aches to know his best friends are suffering, each battling to live day by day. Louis even had to learn how to walk again for fucks sake!
And then there’s him, with his stupid little inability.
But what really kills him, though, is how grateful he is. On the inside he’s thankful he can still sing and see how Louis looks when he wakes up in the mornings. He doesn’t want to be thankful, but at night, when his thoughts are clear and his defences are down, the words slip from his mouth. That kills him because he hates himself for thinking that.
*****
Louis hates his new shell (because he had stopped thinking of it as a body). He hates it doesn’t move the way he wants it to move, with it being either too quick or too slow and always clumsy. He keeps dropping things and stumbling over on the steps that lead to his apartment.
He had burned his tongue several times because he doesn’t feel the heat, or the cold, or the warm, or a breeze. He cries when he drops his toothbrush for the seventh time and kicks the wall as hard as he can because he doesn’t feel the pain.
He’s not sure if that’s a good thing or a bad.
*****
Liam doesn’t know what to do or where to go.
His whole life has revolved around singing and dreaming of the day he would become a successful singer and being able to transmit an important message to people through his voice.
Now he has nothing.
He sometimes tries to shout while showering and then breaks down crying when there’s no sound coming out of him. He tries to hum along with the boys when they sing an old tune, but there’s nothing. Liam even avoids Louis, because when he laughs and there’s no vibration on his chest and no sound on his mouth, he sinks a bit more into an abysm that tries to pull him downwards.
His one and only dream is to thank everyone he knows for being who they are. He wants to make her mother smile with his ridiculous adventures, wants to give his sisters advice and growl at the suitors that try to woo them away. He just wants to tell Zayn he loves him. So he prays, he asks for just ten minutes of his voice in which he can do all that, give me that and you can take it forever, he thinks.
*****
Niall sometimes sits in bed, surrounded by Cadbury chocolates, fried chips, and twizzlers.
Sometimes he stares at his slices of pizza and smells them, because it has come to a point when he barely remembers the taste of pepperoni.
He stays there, either admiring or smelling, trying to remember the feeling in his mouth when he mixed candy with coke or when he stole the first bite of a hamburger after hours of not eating.
It’s stupid, Niall thinks. It’s stupid he is thinking his life is hell when his best friends can’t see or feel, but food is important. With every bite he takes, he feels emptier and emptier. Even with a full stomach he feels like something’s missing.
*****
Zayn is lost and terrified.
He has to learn how to read and move through the house all over again. His hands trace every little surface that goes in front of him, every wall and texture and face.
His everything aches when he goes out of the apartment because he remembers the sun and the park nearby. He remembers the green and the blue and the yellow and he misses colours and shades and everything. Because everything has turned to darkness, like when he was little and afraid of the monsters lurking inside his closet. He’s desperate to see again and the only moments when his heart rests a bit is when they sit down and sing, but then he remembers there’s a voice missing and it all becomes too much.
Coping
It starts as a way of saying sorry.
Sorry I’m thankful it didn’t happen to me.
Every time Zayn has one of his little panic attacks, when the reality hits him and screams to his face you are blind, Harry is there in ways Liam can’t. He hums and sings and soothes Zayn’s wounds with his rocky voice. He knows his is not the voice Zayn needs to hear but it’s enough to make the older boy smile.
Zayn is grateful for Harry, for the way the low pitch runs through his veins like a balm, covering wounds and leaving a protecting coat behind. But this coat only lasts for so long and then the pain is there again and the only thing he wants and needs desperately is the one voice he can’t hear.
He returns the favour by telling Harry when he smells bad after the gym or when he forgot to put deodorant. It’s a small thing but Harry’s grateful, and, sometimes, the gratefulness will be bigger and brighter than the shame and regret.
*****
Niall would accompany Liam to the sign language classes and they would take notes.
They would talk for hours with their hands, making each other laugh and it feels almost like before everything happened.
Niall would also grab the guitar and teach Liam some chords and the older boy would cry because he’s making a sound. He’s expressing himself through music and, even if it’s not exactly Liam’s dream, it’s close. They have their own alphabet, with both hands and music. Niall doesn’t need Liam talking to get him, looking into brown eyes would say everything pink lips couldn’t.
Liam tries to express flavours though his hands, making explosions when something was good and wriggling his fingers when something was too bitter. They would laugh at the table when Harry was done with dinner and Liam would express it was too dry or over-cooked and they would both laugh at their personal joke and Harry was not amused, thank you.
*****
They don’t know how to act around each other anymore because Harry can’t remember the last conversation between the two of them that didn’t involve touching and kissing and making each other feel good.
It’s hard to realize he can’t tickle Louis when the conversation dies and they would both smile sadly. They’ve come to realize their relationship was based on tightening stomachs and warm touches and it bothers them, so they sit and talk, not touching, for hours and it finally feels like they are connected, not just together.
They would kiss sometimes and make love on lazy Sunday mornings and even if Louis couldn’t feel something on the outside, he would moan because just knowing Harry was filling him and loving him was enough to make him feel warm on the inside.
*****
Zayn would sometimes kiss Niall right after finishing off his cigarette because Niall would feel the taste of the smoke inside his mouth. He knows it means nothing (in a sexual/loving-more-than-brothers way) because then Zayn would smile sadly and his eyes would turn a bit paler.
Liam knows about the kisses, Niall recons, and he doesn’t care either. The Irishman doesn’t get it but he doesn’t question it because those kisses are the only moments when he doesn’t feel completely empty.
*****
Louis always makes Niall smile by frowning whenever he eats something. And it doesn’t matter if it is Louis’ favourite ice cream, the older boy would make an exaggerated disgusted face and then smile at Niall and the younger boy is glad, because even if today’s dessert looks absolutely magnificent, the look on Louis’ face never ceases to distract him.
Niall, on the other hand, tells Louis when his tea is too hot or his shower is too cold.
*****
Harry would barge into Liam’s and Zayn’s room when the older wasn’t there and just lay or cuddle next to the voiceless brunette. They would stay like that for hours, Harry always staring at Liam and Liam always playing with his hair. Then, all of the sudden, Harry would say you look beautiful and Liam would smile and tear up a bit because the only person to ever told him that was now incapable of seeing him. They would hug and Harry kept repeating the same sentence (you are beautiful, Liam beautiful you are beautiful so, so beautiful Liam) until Liam believed it. They sometimes kissed, Liam sometimes cried.
“Today, Louis smelled like strawberries and coconut” the older would say with his hands.
*****
The moments when Zayn would really break apart where when he talked to Louis, because the older boy hugged him close and understood him.
“I just want to hear him laugh, Lou” Zayn says and Louis wipes away the tears.
They stay like that until Louis says something along the lines of “Liam looks pretty today” and then goes on describing every little detail about the younger brunette until Zayn’s head is overflowed with images he can’t see, but he somehow can.
*****
Then, Louis would go to Liam and make him laugh. Liam would write something down and Louis would say it, shout it or sing it. Sometimes in their apartment, sometimes in a public place and Liam would smile and laugh silently. They would pretend Liam was talking by mouthing words Louis said, sometimes messing up so Liam would turn to him and laugh.
Those days Louis would tell Zayn than Liam laughed and the Bradford boy would smile and whisper thank you, Lou.
*****
It all gets both better and worst when they are together (and it doesn’t matter anymore if they are alone or not, because they live in their tiny little world where nothing else exists).
Zayn would always look at him with empty eyes filled with love and Liam would trace patterns in every inch of visible skin. The older boy would touch the other’s face while whispering I love you I love you I love you so much.
Curled up in the couch (or in a bed, or a chair because it really doesn’t matter when they are together) Zayn would talk for hours, tell Liam how scared he was and how everything was too dark and too scary and too much. He would tell him how much he missed his voice and how there was an incessant burning in his chest because it’s not fucking fair.
Every one’s lost something, one thing. But he lost both his eyesight and the ability to hear the thing he needs the most: Liam’s voice.
“It’s not fair that I only get to touch you, and smell you” Liam would smile sadly and Zayn could tell because of his hands still roaming through Liam’s face. “It’s not fair I can’t have a proper conversation with you” then Zayn was the one smiling, but not really. It was more like the shadow of a smile, a crack that painted his face with obscure tones.
The worst was when he laughed though, because those where the days where Zayn would get angry and smashed plates or lamps.
Liam always calmed his down by kissing him, hard.
Those where the moments where they didn’t feel like they needed something else to communicate, because between thrusts and touches and kisses everything they wanted to express was out there and they didn’t need all their senses to catch the unsaid words and emotions.
There were afternoons where they just sat there in front of a computer, listening to their own voices sing or to the old video diaries, basically everything with Liam’s voice in it. It was a bit silly but they ended up in Google Translator, and Liam would write things and then let the computer recite the words for him in a robotic voice. Those where the nights when Zayn didn’t have nightmares.
Acceptance
They still sing, and dance, and do silly things.
They’ve come to accept it. It still feels a bit empty sometimes, of course, but it’s so much better because even if they don’t have one of their senses, they have each other, and, in some way, they complete one another.
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BTW, I highly recommend listening to Lover's eyes by mumford and sons because, jesus, that song was basically written for this prompt (i think) also, I got the title from there.
Hope you liked it (or kinda, anyways)!