Zayn

The next day I felt very sick. I had caught another fever and I was in so much pain that I couldn't even move my fingers or toes. My strength was almost gone completely and I could barely keep my eyes open.

Which was great, note to sarcasm, because today I would see my family again, meaning that my second chance of spending some nice time with them was ruined. I didn't think I was even able to come downstairs.

I tried to rub the sleep from my eyes but I could only squeeze my eyes closed in pain. I was once again stuck on laying on my back as I couldn't move.

It was only moments later when my mother entered my room and walked over to the curtains, slightly shoving them away, allowing the weak sun to shine into my room.

She looked surprised when she glanced at me, "You're awake. How long have you been awake for, sweetheart?"

"A while," I spoke. My voice sounded hoarse and it took my some energy to speak those words.

"Well, good morning to you then. Though, it's already afternoon. I just wanted to check on you. Let's get some food into you." She grabbed the plate full of food she had placed on my desk unnoticeable.

I closed my eyes as I felt too tired to keep them open but I opened them again when I heard my mother grabbing the small black stool I had and sat it down next to me.

She softly stroked my cheek and I noticed that she looked concerned. "You don't look well, Zayn. How are you feeling?"

"Bad." I almost whispered as it didn't come out any louder.

My mum sighed sadly, "Thought so. Here, eat something. You haven't eaten anything yet." She picked up a piece of fruit and wanted to hand it to me.

She probably noticed my painful expression as I lifted up my arm to grab it because she stopped me, "Do your bones and muscles hurt again?"

"Yes, mum." I slowly laid my arm back down and closed my eyes, feeling them become slightly watery.

My mum brought the fruit up to my lips and I took it, slowly chewing on it. The fruit tasted good, I wanted more, which was strange. I usually didn't feel hungry at all, but maybe it wasn't as weird as I hadn't eaten in almost a day.

After my mum had fed me a little less than half of the plate I claimed to be full and she placed the plate on my desk again.

She stayed quiet for a while, until she spoke up with tears into her eyes. "Caroline called me this morning. Why didn't you tell me?" She whispered the last sentence while a few tears slipped down her cheeks.

It hurt me so much to see my mother cry, even more because I knew it was partly my own fault. I thought about her words. The answer was simple. I couldn't do it.

"I didn't want to upset you." I said quietly, closing my eyes as my mother started kissing me all over my face.

My mother didn't reply to that, she just continued to kiss and hug me for a long time. I let her do it, because it was her way of processing things. I knew my mother. She was chatty, but when it came to her feelings she didn't really talk about it. She would usually just show it.

It was quiet for a long time, until my mother sat up straight again and stared at me with a small smile, "I cried so much Zayn, and I still do. Rose cried as well this morning. But we're going to stay positive, for you. Live with the moment, that's what you told her and I think that's what we need to do."

She took a deep breath and her smile became bigger, "You're here, with me, breathing and a beating heart. No need for tears." She told herself more than she told me but it made me smile slightly. She was trying so hard to stay positive and I knew she was closed about her real thoughts right now, but it didn't matter.

I felt my eyes closing again and I didn't know if it was seconds later, or an hour later, but when I opened my eyes again my mother sat down on the stool with two buckets of warm water, with one of the two filled with soap.

Before I could process what she was doing, my pants were off already. I wanted to ask what she was doing, but I was too tired and in too much pain to do that.

She started to take off my sleep blouse and a moment later my underwear was off as well. My mother rolled me over to the wall, laid a towel underneath me and rolled me back on my back so the bed wouldn't get wet from the water she would wash me with.

"Mum," I finally managed to bring out.

My mum looked up at me and gave me a sympathetic smile, "You know, when you were seven and really sick it was no problem to carry you all the way towards the bathtub, but now you're just a little bit too heavy."

I stared up at the ceiling and without wanting it, tears formed into my eyes, already being so close to slip out of them and roll down my cheeks.

"Oh sweetheart, I'll do it differently. I'm sorry." My mum said, covering my lower body with a towel so only my bare upper body was exposed.

But that wasn't the case. She didn't understand. Nobody understood. I hated it so much to be independent. And no matter how much I loved my mother, I still wished it was Caroline who was washing me right now. I knew my mother didn't care, because she was my mother but I had to give so much of my privacy away all the time. In the hospital, to the nurses and doctors.. I wanted to keep the last bit of privacy, but I couldn't.

My mother started with my face and bald head, then moved down to my chest and arms. The warm water on my skin felt refreshing but it still didn't make me feel any better.

"I can't believe it's the last day of the year today." My mum smiled as she continued to wash me.

I didn't reply. I couldn't reply. More tears started to fill my eyes and a few managed to escape and roll down my cheeks. I didn't exactly know why I was crying, but it was probably because my head was full of a thousand thoughts and emotions, I wasn't feeling well at all and I could only express that into tears.

"Oh baby, what's wrong? Why are you crying?" My mother frowned sadly and I noticed tears started to fill her eyes as well.

Mine continued to slip out of my eyes and roll down my cheeks, so much, that they were soaked after only a few seconds.

"You're okay, calm down, I'm here." My mother dropped the cloth into one of the buckets and kissed my cheeks softly, wiping my tears away with her hands. "What's wrong Zayn? Don't you want me to wash you? You don't have to be ashamed, I promise."

A weak sob left my mouth and every time my body would shock from crying, the pain hit me even harder, causing me to close my eyes and whimper.

My mum tried to hold back her tears but I knew this was hurting her a lot. But I couldn't help it, I couldn't smile, I couldn't pretend that it was okay because it simply wasn't.

I was in too much pain and sadness to pretend to be okay or to smile. I slightly parted my lips, ready to rant only to be interrupted by another sob.

"Calm down, sweetheart. Breathe." My mother comforted me, wrapping her arms protectively around my bare shoulders. She wiped my tears away and kissed my cheeks multiple times. "Tell me, what's going on in that mind of yours?"

"I don't like this," I cried quietly, only allowing the tears to fall now.

She stroked my bald head and pressed kisses on it, "You don't like me washing you? Do you want me to get Rose so she can wash you?" She suggested.

I shook my head and closed my eyes for a while, trying to stop crying but nothing seemed to work. The tears kept flowing and the sobs kept coming, no matter how hard I tried to hold them back.

"Talk to me, Zayn. Tell me what you're feeling right now." My mother pressed a kiss to my lips and stared at me for as long as it took me to speak up.

"I-I wish I was in class, teaching all those little students how to play an instrument," My voice cracked throughout the sentence but I didn't care. "I wish I was w-working in the cafe, making latte.. latte art for Daphne,"

My mum stared at me with more tears into her eyes, making me feel even worse. "I wish I had enough strength, I wish I wasn't s-sick so I could ha-have a normal relationship with Rose."

"I wish I wasn't sick so I could wash myself." I bit my lip hard, trying to stop myself from crying but my mother carefully removed my lip from my teeth and grabbed my chin, staring right into my eyes.

"Zayn, you're allowed to cry. Don't hide it now. Let it all out. It's what you need sometimes." My mother assured me while she was quietly crying herself. What could I expect? I was her child, I was in pain, I was crying. What would I feel like if I saw my own son like that?

It stayed quiet for a while, thoughts running through my mind. Thoughts about my first job as a music teacher, then the job at the cafe, meeting all sorts of people, then meeting Rose at the hospital.

Thoughts such as.. why did I survive when I was seven if I was going to die now anyway because of the same sickness? What was the point of that? The message behind it?

I cried more and my head started to hurt because of it. My lip kept trembling and my breathing was messed up because of the sobs and shocks and the pain. I was a big mess.

"Why are you so sad?" My mother asked, slowly stroking my wet cheek then cleaning and freshening it up with the wet cloth.

"I don't want to die yet, mum."

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Zayn 😔

Can you understand Zayn's feelings?