One Direction One Shots (REQUESTS ON HOLD)

The Virus

They underestimated how sick he was. They thought it was just a cold. That he would get better. So how did they end up here, sitting next to his lifeless form, the steady puffs of a machine as it breathed for him filling the air, the only noise in the silent room. Four silent forms, watching as the heart monitor flickers, the brain monitor showing no activity. The heart monitor slows, an alarm piercing the room. A boy puts his head in his hands, letting out a sob. Another one wraps his arms around him, holding in tears as the monitor flat lines. He is dead.

Day One (Unknown POV)

The emptiness is overwhelming. I can't understand how someone recovers from this. This vast hole where he used to be. My best friend. One of the few people who truly knew me. 

We sit in a circle outside his room, listening as they move around in there. Then a trolley appears, covered in a sheet, being wheeled to an elevator and I let out a choking noise.

"We need to call his family" Someone says quietly after a little while, "Allow them to... make arrangements"

And someone stands up to go call.

And then everything goes silent again.

Day Two (Unknown POV)

The body was sent to his family home. Where he grew up. It feels strange knowing that I'm never going to see him smile again. Not ever.

We were made to go to an interview yesterday, to officially announce it. I said nothing, I just couldn't. 

It could have been any of us. We all got the virus. We'd all spent the last week as patients in this hospital. Shoot, I was still technically a patient in this hospital.

It could have been me.

It should have been me.

He gave me his kidney. When it looked like I wasn't going to make it and he was fine. He gave me his kidney. And then the virus came back. And his one remaining kidney wasn't enough.

It's my fault

Day Three (Unknown POV)

We were finally all released from hospital today, after Zayn finished recovering from his kidney transplant. It was a stressful few hours waiting for the surgeries to be over. 

They both came out fine. For a few hours it looked like we'd be making it to our first tour date on time. But then he fell ill again, worse then before. 

The nurses explained to us that the virus hit those who seemed least affected the hardest if they caught it again. And since we were all in the isolation ward together... Well....

It's too late now. He's gone. And he's never coming back. He was declared brain dead three day's ago. With no change, the conditions he signed meant they let him go this morning. We had to let him go.

I'm not ready to let him go.

Day Four (Unknown POV)

We took the train down early this morning, to be there for his funeral tomorrow. We're each sayig something. We've spent the last three years in each others company. There's so much to say and only three minuutes to say it in. 

How do you sum up such an awesome guy in three minutes? I can't even begin to figure out how. 

Is it even possible to describe him in three minutes?

I let out a small sigh as we passed the connection that would take us to Dublin. From there it was only a short trip to my home in Millingar. I miss Ireland, a lot. But I miss him more right now.

So much more.

Day Five (Unknown POV)

I ran my hadn through my messy curls, managing to tame them slightly, before letting out a scream, punching the mirror. I let out a sob, clinging to the basin heavily, before banging open the cabinet. 

By the time Zayn bursts through the door, my head is half shaved, brown curls scattered across the floor, patches covering my head.

"H-harry?" He asks quietly, stepping closer as I let out another sob, hacking another piece of hair off with the clippers.

He quickly steps in, taking the clippers off me and finishes shaving me bald. It feels freeing. They shaved his head for the brain surgery. To reduce the swelling the virus caused. He was already in kidney failure at this point and it didn't work.

I promised I would shave my head as well, so it looekd like it was purposeful. 

I was sobbing freely by the time my hair was all gone, falling into Zayn's arms.

"Ready to go guy?" A soft voice asked, walking over and tightening my tie slightly, looking at me reassuringly, wrapping an arm around my shoulders, "Let's make him proud okay? Give him the send of he deserves"

I nodded weakly, slipping something into my pocket.

The funeral was long. We each spoke, his family spoke. Simon and Paul both spoke. Then everyone was asked to put a flower on top of the coffin if they wanted to. 

I tried to hold in my tears as I stood up, ready to complete the last request me ever made of me. I walked up to the front, waiting until everyone was gone before slipping the item onto the coffin, laying my hand on the top, "I'm going to miss you so much" I said softly, before trning and walking back to my seat.

Behind me I left a carrot, orange standing ou in the field of white roses, a picture of him next to it.

Next to the picture was a simple quote, one that still made me chuckle.

"I like girls who... eat carrots!" ~Louis Tomlinson