Fall (One Direction) [Sequel To Run]

Chapter Four

 Niall

“Wake up. Wake up!”

“Damn it, Niall.”

“Robin needs you, lad. Please wale up now.”

I open my eyes.

Liam and Zayn are standing over me, looking worried.

My body's stiff; I stretch my arms above my head. It doesn't quite sink in, what Zayn and Liam were saying. I roll my neck around a few times; I would not suggest sleeping in a hospital chair. Not comfortable.

“What's going on?” I mumble.

Outside Robin's hospital room. That's where I slept in a chair. I suppose I could've gone home, but everyone I care about in London is in this hospital.

Robin.

They were saying something about Robin.

“Robin” Liam says.

“My girlfriend” I reply.

“Dying” Zayn says.

I jump out of the chair, stiffness forgotten. They both jump at the sudden motion.

“Now?” I ask softly.

“Not yet, mate” Zayn says. “But soon.”

“She's bad, mate” Liam adds.

I don't even say goodbye to them; I just bolt into her room.

-

Robin

“I feel sucky. I guess that's the best way to describe it. Sucky. Also, kinda in pain. And really tired.”

The doctor nods.

Somebody bursts into the room, then.

Niall.

“Are you okay?” he asks, getting to my bedside in record time.

“She's suffering from-” the doctor starts to say; I cut him off.

“I tried to stand and I got really dizzy and passed out and it turns out I'm really really sick” I say. “Go figure.”

Niall blinks.

“If you're optimistic, two weeks” the doctor says.

I know what he means.

My expiration date.

“I'm a generally optimistic person” I say. “But if I wasn't?”

“A week” the doctor replies.

Niall falls heavily into the chair by my bed.

“Thanks, doc” I say. “You can go now.”

The doctor rolls his eyes, but he does leave.

“No” Niall whispers, once the door has closed behind the doctor.

I find my boyfriend's hand, and thread my fingers through his.

“I'm going to take this moment to draw your attention to three things” I tell him softly. “One: I've already made it through three different expiration dates.”

“Don't call it that” he whispers, his voice a bit shaky.

“I'll call it whatever I want” I say. “D'you really think you can stop me?” He laughs weakly.

“I don't think anyone could stop you” he replies.

“Two: I still have my hair, meaning that, yet again, I'm a fighter” I say. “Third: you aren't gonna get rid of me that easily. If I die, I'm gonna haunt your sorry Irish butt. Though, it is a rather nice butt.”