𝙵𝚘𝚛𝚐𝚎𝚝 𝙼𝚎 (𝙽𝚘𝚝) - 𝚉𝚊𝚛𝚛𝚢

chapter i.

"I'm going to take care of you."

It's a strange voice. Like as if a child was speaking. Is Harry dreaming? He can't seem to open his eyes. Perhaps this is a lucid dream? He read an article about it the other day, that must've influenced his brain in some way.

"I know you will, honey, but we need to let daddy rest, yeah? Go to granny and she'll give you a snack."

This voice is definitely adult. But what the fuck is that supposed to mean? The tone of the voice is vaguely familiar but Harry can't place it. If only he could wake up. He feels fuzzy, like his entire body was made out of TV static. He tries to open his eyes. It's not hard, he's done it a billion times before.

"Okay, dad. But what if daddy wakes up when I'm gone?"

The child again. Harry slowly feels more awake. God, he hopes he's not actually talking in his sleep. That'd be embarrassing.

"Don't worry about that, babe. I'll come and get you if he does, yeah? Now be a good girl and go say hi to your gran."

This was the somewhat familiar voice once more. Who does it remind him of?

Okay, fuck lucid dreaming. Harry's not a fan at all. Why do people want these? It's so strange. He needs to wake up, seriously.

But it's so hard. Somehow, Harry's eyelids feel like they're made out of burn-out stars and weigh more than half of the explored universe. He tries and tries and tries to no avail. His body almost feels detached from him. He thinks he moved a few fingers. Hopefully.

"Haz?"

Lucid dreams, go to hell. Will there be a demon at the foot of his bed when he opens his eyes?

Harry feels superhuman when his eyelids finally cooperate and begin to rise up, letting light onto his sensitive eyes. Everything's too fucking bright. He must've forgotten to draw the curtains at night. When his eyes adjust, Harry finally looks out again and holy fucking shit.

This is not his bedroom. This is a hospital.

"Am I-" Harry coughs, his throat dry as a bloody desert. "Am I sleeping?"

"Haz?" there's the familiar voice again. Harry tries to move his head to where the voice is coming from but the second he does, his entire body breaks out in pain. He whimpers, closing his eyes and the voice speaks again, "Babe, what's wrong? What hurts? I'm gonna call the doctor, okay? You're alright, babe, just open your eyes. Talk to me, please."

Harry moves through the pain and opens his eyes again, this time the motion much easier. And when he looks out into the room again, he sees a dark-haired man sitting in a chair by Harry's bed. He's holding his hand and wait, Harry knows him. He's pretty sure he does.

"Where's my mum?" Harry asks, his voice weak. His head is starting to throb with the mother of all headaches.

"She's on her way," the man replies. His name still eludes Harry. "She was in Greece with her girlfriends and she couldn't get a flight back yesterday. But she should be here in a couple of hours."

Harry groans softly as a particularly nasty bound of pain hits him. "Wait," he breathes out. "You're Zayn, right? Niall's mate?"

Zayn's entire face drops. "Technically. Wait, what day do you think it is today?"

"Um," Harry thinks, rubbing his temple mindlessly. "Friday?"

"I mean year," Zayn clarifies, the grave expression still on his face.

"Fucking hell," Harry sighs. "May 2015? The... 29th? I submitted my thesis on Monday and that was the 25th."

"God," Zayn sighs and leans back in the flimsy plastic chair. He covers his face with his hands. Harry frowns at him, "What's going on? Have I been in a coma for a while? Because that would've bloody sucked. Have I missed graduation?"