golden | A HARRY STYLES NOVEL

"There's Nothing We Can Do About It"

Chapter 34.

Harry's Perspective. Present.

Just For Today by Clairo

     "What do you need, H." Sarah held out her one free hand and placed it on my back. "Great question. I can't answer."

     "Only like 2 more hours, then you can get all of your emotions out." She tried to comfort me.

     "I don't think the people want a show like that." I chuckled, knowing a ball of tears and dissociation wasn't what they paid for.  I thought maybe I'd be okay by now? Being in Florence again and all. I drove past the florist the other day and... well, it was bad.

     "I'll take him if you want, Sarah." Mitch came from around the corner and she passed the baby over to him.

     "You know you're more exhausting to take care of than him." Mitch grunted in my direction as he took their baby in his arms.

Darby's Perspective. Present.

     I simply can't stand hospitals. Something about the crumbly and badly-chosen paint colors rip me apart. And I hate waiting rooms. They're too cramped and I don't like watching people cry. It's always too cold, you never think to bring a jacket with you to the emergency room.

     I must be evil for thinking it was annoying when other people cried. For a person that cares very much for artistic vulnerability, other people have been very much on my nerves lately. It's insensitive, I know, I'm very aware. I'm not very okay so I'll excuse it. My head hurts.
    "A stroke, ma'am." I snapped out of my head to find a doctor standing directly in front of me. He was looking down on me like I was a cool insect to look at. "I'm sorry, what did you... say?" I asked.

     "Your grandmother had a stroke. It'll take a bit of recovery time, though she'll never be fully recovered from such a thing. We're very sorry to inform you so." He was speaking in Italian, and I understood perfectly what he meant.

    "She's okay, yes? Yes-" I replied. "She's alive." She's alive... but not much more.

     I should be the one crying. The lack of tears manifested itself in pretty dark numbness. My head was crashing loud, the pressure that built up making me feel like someone was squeezing it hard from both sides of my temples. I'm not sure why I kept taking deeper and deeper breaths, it felt like I was telling myself to start panicking for attention or something. Why I would do such a thing for attention, I could never answer.

     I didn't know when I was allowed to leave. I might as well stay forever to spare myself the embarrassment. Another case of my toxic selfishness in a serious situation. I'm too out of it... I'm completely detached from everything. It makes me angry. I feel like I can only speak in simple sentences. Anna is... she's... she's in pain and I am still thinking about myself. To be quite honest I'm not sure I'm thinking anything at all right now. This hospital room looks like it's taken the sickness of every soul in this place upon its shoulders.

      People like to tell you that things get better, and I agree. Oddly enough, they do. It's a wonder people ever reach a point in life where they are stagnant in happiness. Or satisfaction. I can't imagine, or think of, a time where I felt happiness in my fingers and didn't break them all whilst gripping too tight. I think it's Nathaniel Hawthorne, the one quote about butterflies. "Happiness is as a butterfly, which, when pursued, is always just beyond your grasp, but which, if you will sit down quietly, may alight upon you."

     Time makes you more unstable, and keeping yourself alive with more breaths only makes you hyperventilate. I love and hate coming to conclusions but living consists only of walking on lines. I'm hyperventilating just trying to remember what it feels like to not have a headache, and it's leaving me empty. I called my mom twice already. She's going to try to come to Florence as soon as possible. Anna is in her room and I'm not allowed in to be with her. I don't have anyone else, which sounds pretty sad, and I know I'm only saying it to make myself more sad. Sad is addicting. And I said I hate conclusions.