The Quarterback (narry)

eighteen

eighteen

Somehow, Luke and I ended up at the hospital in Wauwatosa, although I don't remember the two hour drive. I don't remember anything from between the call and arriving. Luke said that I yelled at him a lot to hurry up and drive faster, which I completely believe. The phone call had scared me, and I simply had no idea what to expect when I arrived at the rehab center.

Luke and I were sat in the waiting room, my leg bouncing up and down rapidly as I chewed on my nails. Luke just sat beside me, silently staring down at his lap. I guessed he didn't really know what to do, but even a pat on the back would have been nice.

After thirty agonizing minutes, Louis' doctor finally stepped out into the waiting room and over to us. We had met before when Zayn and I had dropped Louis off, so she recognized me. Her name was Dr. Cabello, but she told us she preferred to just be called Camila. She was pretty, naturally, with full lips and tan skin. Her eyeliner went past her eye just a bit then up into a point, her hair was down both times I had met her. She was short and sweet, and apparently one of the best doctors in Wisconsin.

"Hello, Mr. Horan." She spoke when Luke and I stood up, her hand shaking mine as I muttered a quick and nervous 'hello'. She turned to Luke and shook his hands, smiling softly. "I don't think we've met. I'm Dr. Cabello."

"Luke. Friend of Louis." He mumbled, his hands shoving into his pockets once they pulled apart.

"Ah, nice to meet you. Follow me to my office please. We have a few things that must be discussed in private." She said and waved her hand for us to follow as she walked back towards the door.

Luke and I followed, but I stopped at the door. I turned to glance in the waiting room one last time to see if Zayn or anyone else had shown up, but no one did. I figured the hospital would have called Zayn, but I guess I could be wrong.

"Hey." Luke said, pulling my attention away from the door.

I nodded and sighed, quickly following behind Dr. Cabello through all of the halls to her office. Once we reached the white door that read 'Camila Cabello' on the center, I felt a strange feeling in the pit of my stomach. The office was of a regular size, a desk on one side and a couch and a few chairs on the other for when patients would come in. It was decorated with soft colored posters and paintings on every wall, two large windows on one side. There was a bookshelf behind the desk filled with binders and different things to read, sloppily organized on the wood.

"Sit, please." She said as she pointed to the couch, which faced away from her desk with the back pressed against the front of it.

Luke sat first and I took another moment to collect myself before I sat down, my leg beginning to bounce again.

She sat down in one of the chairs across from us, folding her left leg over her right. An empty coffee table separated us from her.

"Did the nurse tell you anything?" She asked softly.

"Just that it would be better told in person." I muttered. "What's going on? Is Louis okay?"

"He's alive." She answered.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?! I didn't ask if he was dead! I asked if he was okay!" I snapped, Luke grabbing my forearm.

"Well, he's not okay. That's why he's here, Mr. Horan." She answered and sighed, looking down at the open binder on her lap. "I'm not going to sugarcoat it, Mr. Horan. I'm just going to come right out and say it. I feel it's better not play around with things as serious as this. It's simple; Louis tried to kill himself."

I stared at her in silence, my body tensing and becoming totally still. I felt like I was going to throw up and cry. Louis, my best friend, tried to kill himself? It didn't make sense to me. Louis was always so strong, even when he had his eating disorder. He was always stronger than any of us, emotionally. How could he do this to himself? How could I let him get this bad? I should have done something. I should've done something sooner. I should have caught on sooner. I shouldn't have waited until the worst possible moment to help him. I should have done something. It's all my fault. It's all my fault this happened. It's my fault.