Chapter 22

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So the fanfiction is going to start wrapping up guys. Just a few more chapters then the epilogue left. Unfortunately, that means the updates are going to be less frequent and more like a month between each rather than just a couple of weeks because I can guarantee each chapter will have parts that are written a number of times before I approve of my works and move on to the next part. I want these chapters to be the best they can be because you have all been so patient and you deserve the best fanfiction I can provide. So please, just keep waiting and hanging in because the end is coming.

Enjoy(:

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Chapter 22

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Sometimes, with certain medications, one loses their grip on reality. They don't know what's real and what's a dream. I remember back when we were kids, Harry had a terrible, terrible fever and was practically drowning in medication. He had called me on his fourth day of bed rest and kept telling me to congratulate Fizz on becoming a Vogue model. I had to tell him half a dozen times that Fizz was only four; it was all just a dream. A week later, Harry was out of the fog and back at school and explained that for the eight days he was out, he couldn't separate dreams from reality; that his dreams were so real, they felt more like life than when he was actually awake.

That's what happened to me last night. After taking so many medications for so long, it's finally starting to affect my mind. There's no way I kissed my childhood best friend. None of last night makes sense; it couldn't be real. Doesn't matter that I can still feel the press of Harry's lips on my skin even after being awake for three hours. It means nothing that my split lip is throbbing worse than before. It's all in my head. The drugs are just finally taking a toll. It was only a matter of time.

I was incredibly relieved when I woke up to see Niall trying to build a house of cards rather than Harry bobbing his head to a song in his head while highlighting passages in his textbook. After the crazy dream I had, I don't think I would have been able to face Harry without turning as red as the blood cells he's studying. Thankfully, his shift to babysit isn't for another five hours so I've got plenty of time to get myself together.

Liam's watching me right now. He's applying excruciatingly cold salve to the bruise on my ribs, his brow low over his brown eyes in concentration, a face I've come to know very well over the past couple of weeks. I've also noticed that his brow lifts and his face lightens whenever Zayn walks into the room and shoots him one of his shy smiles, an expression I've become accustomed to over the years. It's while Liam's so focused on the task at hand that I feel compelled to ask him, "Liam, what are your intentions with Zayn?"

Liam's so caught off guard that he drops the container of salve. He swears with me when it slams onto my ribs and rolls off the side of my bed, though my profanity is a bit more colorful. Liam stammers as he leans over to pick up the salve, "Shit, sorry, I. I just. Erm." His face is the color of my mother's lipstick when he sits back up, his eyes not meeting mine. "Sorry, Lou, erm, I'm not quite sure I know what you mean?"

My fingers rub gently on my now burning bruise, trying to soothe the pain. Through clenched teeth, I say, "Oh, just, you and him spend a lot of time together - shit, that hurt - and he's my best mate, so. Kind of my job to watch out for his best interests." I exhale through my teeth, trying to breathe through the sudden pain.

Liam puckers his lips in thought then shakes his head and resumes applying the insanely cold solution to my bruises, making me such my breath right back in. "Erm, we're friends, he's a good-"

"Oh, cut the shit, Liam." I take the salve from him and put it on the bedside table then cross my arms over my chest. "I'm crippled, not stupid. I see the way you look at him." When Liam doesn't say anything, just stares at the salve now sitting on the night table with a slight frown, I lift a shoulder in a half shrug. "And maybe Zayn looks at you the same way."

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