Just a Roommate (H.S)

Chapter 55

Harry Styles

Beep.

Blackness.

For a moment, I think I must have went blind. But I can feel the weight of my eyelids closed, blocking my vision. I want to open them, but they feel as if they weigh as much as a brick.

Beep.

Despite the heaviness, I force myself to peek my eyes open. The light from the bright room is instantly overwhelming. I quickly close my eyes again, accepting the darkness it provided.

Where the fuck am I?

I keep my eyes closed for a moment longer, not wanting to be stunned from the brightness of the room. As I lay down, my fingers trace against the rough fabric beneath me. A thin sheet. I was on a bed. The noise of hushed voices begin to fill my ears, along with other miscellaneous sounds. I try to lift my arm, but I feel stiff. My body aches worse than the time I jumped from the rooftop of a fraternity house onto a beer pong table my freshman year.

Beep.

Jesus, what the fuck is that annoying noise?

I take a deep breath of air before cracking my eyelids open again. The white of the room is horrid, but I am able to get used to the brightness after a few moments. I blink a few times as I peer around the room, trying to soak in my location. The walls are a pale blue and white, the curtain over the doorway is white, a blank tv hands on the wall in front of me. I peer to my right, where I see a large monitor presenting my heart rate and other vitals.

A fucking hospital? Am I dreaming? The fuck could I have done to end up here? When did I get here?

Oh, shit— I hope I'm not tripping balls right now.

Did someone give me acid? Did I fall and hit my head? Jesus fuck.

When I try to lean up, I am yet again reminded of the aching pain throughout my body.

"Fuck me," I murmur to myself. I squint at the IV connected to my right arm. I watch as the clear solution drips down the tube and into my arm.

Before I have anymore time to think about the predicament I have gotten myself into, the curtain opens and an older man wearing a white lab coat walks in with his head full of greying hair held down. He holds a tablet in his hand, scrolling on the screen with his middle finger. His squinty eyes peer up at me and they widen.

"Oh, great! You're awake," he says in a deep, friendly voice. "Great, great.."

I blink, not sure what to say. I have never been so confused in my life.

He walks over to the bed side, his eyes back on the tablet. "Alright. I am sure you might be a little confused, Harold-"

"Harry," I immediately correct him. My voice sounds much lower than usual.

"Harry," he smiles kindly. "My apologies."

"Okay," I speak slowly. "What happened?"

"You had a seizure," he informs me.

"A seizure?" I pause, my eyebrows knitting together. "I've never had a seizure. How did I..." I trail off, not sure what to even say.

"It's common with drug overdose," he tells me with a shrug. "You had a nice amount of cocaine in your system, Mr. Styles."

Shit.

I have done a lot of drugs in my twenty-one years of life. But I have always been careful. Never done too much, never mixed the wrong batches together... How did I let a little bit of blow do this to me?