One Last Time - I'll Make It Feel Like Home

Chapter 27 - Louis

My head throbs worse than ever when I pry my eyes open, only to be met with the consistent beeping of what I'm guessing is a heart monitor and a white wall on the opposite side of the small hospital room.

I know for sure that I'm in a hospital. The numb feeling that's taken over my body from some pretty heavy pain medication and the smell.

That god awful smell making my insides twist. I hate it.

Wait, how the fuck am I still breathing? The last thing I remember is being blinded by bright headlights before everything went dark.

Wait, is this heaven? Or hell?

Speaking of breathing, with every inhale, painful stings spread over my right side. That for sure makes not breathing sound pretty good just about now.

I let my eyes fall shut again, the fluorescent lights making them hurt, before falling unconscious again.

-

"Lou. Babe. Please.", someone sniffles. "I'm so sorry. I didn't know. I didn't mean to."

The person crying next to me is holding my hand in a death grip, the skin wet with tears.

I make sure to keep my eyes closed and try to calm my heart that's trying to beat its way out of my fucking chest.

Harry chokes on a sob, I can feel the jolt that went through his body through our connected hands.

"Please just wake up. I am begging you.", he pleads, voice strained from the toll the crying has taken on his throat. "I can't do this without you."

My chest tightens even more with the guilt from not letting him know that I'm awake. In pain, yes. But he shouldn't worry about me. I'm gonna be okay. I think.

Harry doesn't speak for what feels like hours. Just whimpering quietly into my limp hand.

After a while, I just can't take it anymore. I squeeze my fingers around his before slowly opening my eyes, seeing Harry's head shot up in shock. His irritated, glossy eyes are wide and alert.

"Would you quiet down, luv? I'm tryna sleep here.", I rasp out, humour evident in my tone. Although my throat feels like sandpaper from the dehydration, my voice raspier than a 70-year-old chain smoker.

Harry's expression morphs from one of hope to relief and then to one I can only describe as love.

The warmth erupting from those emerald eyes filling me with a rush no drug could ever provide. The teasing smile spreading on his heart-shaped lips.

"You're an idiot. You know that?"

I nod in response, my own lips turning upwards. "You look like shit."

Harry opens his mouth to speak, eyes shining with amusement, "I would shove you right now, you know. But since you're hurt, I won't. Fuck people with kindness and all that.", he says with a shrug.

I chuckle at his statement, particularly the last part. "I thought your line was treat people with kindness."

He pretends to be contemplating an answer for a few moments before he replies in a serious tone, "Oh, it is. I would love to fuck you though."

To be quite frank, it looks pretty weird. Harry's face is puffy and his skin blotchy from the tears that are still falling, making his cheeks wet. His mop of curls an absolute bird's nest on his head along with a stained, white shirt-

Hold on a sec. "What's that on your tee?"

I frantically scan his face for any bruises or signs that someone lay a hand on him, feeling the anger simmering at the thought of someone hurting him. The fact that I can barely move and won't be able to go after the person responsible has a low grumble forming in my throat.