Chapter Text
As soon as Niall and the rest of the One Direction boys' step off the stage after another sold-out concert in London, Niall can feel it. With the strain on his throat like never before, he wanted to tell Liam or someone while they were walking back to their dressing rooms to get ready to get back on the bus to their hotel room, but he didn't think he could barely croak out a word.
"You're quiet, Nialler," Louis comments, looking back, having noticed that the fake blonde Irish boy wasn't catching up to them. "Everything alright?"
"My throat hurts," Niall croaks. His pride and joy voice came out hoarse, surprising both him and the other lads. Hearing it made him want to cry.
"Aww, Ni, you've been working your voice too much lately." Harry comes, throwing an arm around his shoulder as they walk, pulling Niall against his side in an awkward side hug.
"I'll talk to Paul, but we might have to get you to a doctor tomorrow just in case," Liam adds, the Daddy Direction tone immediately apparent.
They made it to the bus despite the crowds of fans and paparazzi swarming them. What else is new? Niall stuck to Louis's side, who helped him shove through the crowd until they made it on the bus. He rests on the couch with a blanket and a cup of warm lemon and honey tea against Zayn's side. Paul is soon informed of Niall's situation, calls management, and books him in to see a doctor at a local but private clinic the next morning.
The boys are left to their own devices for the rest of the night and decide to have a chill night and watch a movie. Niall quickly drifts off on Zayn's shoulder before they are barely 10 minutes into the movie, the adrenaline from the show wearing off, and he has to be carried to bed by Zayn after the movie is finished.
By morning, Niall's throat was worse, so all the boys headed to the doctor, who confirmed it was laryngitis.
"You need to rest your voice, Niall," the doctor advised Niall and Liam, who had gone into the exam room with him since he's better at remembering important information like that. "No talking. Lots of fluids. And definitely no singing for at least a week."
The words stung more than Niall'd let on; for someone who loved chatting as much as Niall, being silent felt like a punishment.
"So?" Harry asked as Liam and Niall exited the exam room of the private doctor's clinic.
"He's got laryngitis," Liam informs them, his hands resting on Niall's shoulders before he turns to Paul, who also accompanied them. "He can't sing for at least a week."
"I'll talk to Management and sort something out for the next few concerts," Paul assures him before leading the boys back to the bus. Lucky for them, it was a travel day.
"I'm telling you," Louis quipped, trying to lighten the mood; Niall hadn't been very happy about the no talking. "This is your chance to finally use that whiteboard I got you for Christmas. You can write all your insults down instead of shouting them."
"You're still the biggest idiot here." Niall writes on a piece of paper and gives it to Louis.
"That's the spirit," Louis laughed, ruffling Niall's hair. "Let me see if I can find the whiteboard for you."
While Louis hunted down the whiteboard, Harry prepared more tea for Niall, and Zayn retrieved a couple of blankets; Niall couldn't help but drift his gaze to Liam. Liam hadn't said anything since they got back on the bus, and somehow, it was his calm presence that Niall wanted most.
The rest of the day consisted of Harry, Louis, and Zayn hovering over Niall, who was getting fed up with it. That was why Niall was glad when the others decided to retreat to their bunks later that night, leaving him and Liam on the couch.
"Stay with me tonight?" Niall scribbled a note for Liam and slid it across the couch.
"Are you sure?" Liam asked after reading the note. "I don't want to crowd you if you need space."
"You're the best at making me feel better." Niall had scribbled on another note, handing it to Liam and patting the spot on the couch beside him.
"Alright, mate. I'm here." Liam assured him, sitting beside Niall and draping an arm around his shoulders to pull him close to his side. "Do you want to stay here or go to your bunk?"
"Here." Niall scribbled lazily, curling into Liam's warm side. Niall dozed off and on against Liam's side, his throat still aching and at one point; he woke up coughing, his face scrunched in discomfort. Liam was already on it, helping him to sit up better, handing him a glass of water, and rubbing gentle circles on his back.
"Try to relax," Liam murmured, his voice low and soothing. "It'll pass soon."
"You're better than tea." Niall scribbled on his notepad after the coughing had died down, showing Liam, who chuckled quietly.
"That's the nicest thing you've ever said to me, you know," Liam says, his hand still rubbing steady circles on Niall's back. Liam adjusted himself to lie back comfortably against the couch's armrest and adjusted Niall to use his chest as a pillow. He can tell that his impromptu back rub quickly makes Niall sleepy by the way his eyelashes flutter. "Sleep, Ni."
That's all it takes for Niall to give in, letting his head rest on Liam's chest, hearing the soft rhythm of his heartbeat under his ear, and feeling his warm hand continue to make circles on his back lull him to sleep.