Distract and Sedate H.S

Chapter Nine

A/N

That gif damages my soul. Thanks for reading so far and please remember to comment and vote xx :).

"Hazel..."

The voice on the other end of the line was deprived of any shred of happiness. It was drooping in heavy sadness, so grievous.

"Who is speaking?" I murmured. A sickly feeling poisoned my stomach as I speculated.

"It's Harry."

I felt the knot in my stomach loosen, only a different shyness occurred. I hadn't seen him since last night. I in fact had myself convinced I wouldn't see him ever again.

I tried to stop my voice from sounded anguished, instead it came out in a sigh. "What do you want?"

"It's my dad." I heard a sniff crackle the speaker. "He... he's had a heart attack."

"Harry," I started as I scrambled myself up and stumbled toward the bedroom, "where are you?"

My hair was a wild mess in my eyes. I shoved it out of my face, searching drastically through the people of the hospital for a reception desk. I scurried toward it and the man withheld a frown directed at my disoriented outfit.

"George Styles. Where is he?"

A monotonous voice. "Are you family?"

"I should be on the list. Hazel Rodgers."

He found it and pointed at a door just down the passage. I shot off toward it, barely avoiding a woman pacing the opposite direction.

I barged in and immediately noticed Harry hunched over at his sleeping father's side, his face corrupted by the shadow. Behind him the early morning light flowed into the room softly, shedding a halo around his entire figure. It was almost as if he couldn't be the same person from Friday night. Not with his expression. I soon realised he was praying.

I drifted to the bedside and my eyes absorbed George asleep on the bed. The heart monitor indicted his heartbeat, but his body was dead-like. His expression was too peaceful.

"I didn't mean to call you." Another sniff. "I- I don't know why I did that."

"Where's Darcy?" I rounded the bed to his side and I saw him tense at my movement.

"She was at a sleepover with a friend. She doesn't need this," he muttered, wiping his bloodshot eyes. His lips were flushed pink and his cheeks heated like at the bar. His drunken arrogance had undermined him, although seeing him now brought out a different side of me.

I tenderly took his hand and he half obliged, half ignored me. It was warm, large enough to encase mine completely.

"Why is he in here, Harry?" I asked in a soft-spoken voice.

"Because of me."

I leaned against his side and shook my head. "That can't be right. You're just trying to find an excuse-"

"No," he erupted. Although he still didn't push me away, he managed to distance himself from me. "We got into a fight. He had a heart attack."

I didn't reply. I only held his hand in mine as my shoulders braced against his bicep. He didn't look at me, didn't carry through conversation. Just stared at his father.

I wanted to say that his dad loved him, that George was going to be alright. I couldn't bring myself to do it.

"W-where is your usual pencil skirt and high heels?" he murmured.

"I left as I hung up."

"Why would you do that after last night?"

I sighed and squeezed his hand gently in mine. It was a warm feeling from such a cold man. "You sounded like you needed someone with you."

He went quiet as his eyes remained on George. I did the same, wondering what was going through the old man's mind. He would probably be flabbergasted to see Harry almost losing a tear and holding my hand next to his bed. I certainly was.

I thought about how evoking hospitals were. Here we were, beside George after he had suffered a heart attack. Next to us could've been a car accident, down the hall a new little baby was born to an overwhelmed mother and father. Where does all the emotion go? Could the energy seep into the walls and gather with each life or death scene? I stood in our particular room, and I almost thought I could feel it. A hospital is one place that holds only truth; raw emotion carved into any given soul.

His voice shocked me being so hoarse. "I came home in the morning and he was sitting on the couch. He said he waited all night for me."

"What did you fight about?" I murmured.

"He..." I felt his fingers twitch between mine. "Doesn't matter."

"Now isn't a good time to be secretive with your psychologist."

"Now isn't a good time for another argument either," he retorted, dropping my hand to my side.

I let out a weary sigh and held onto the cold bars of the hospital bed. "You're right." My hand stung at the alter of heat, although it was probably more than that.

"Do you think he'll be okay?" Harry whispered. I turned to look up at his tensed jaw and wondered if he was locking in tears.

"Yes. I do." I glanced down at George sleeping peacefully under the thick blankets. "It's you I worry about, Harry."

"I'm not in a hospital bed," he muttered. "He could've died."

"Death is not always the end, nor is it the worst state of being."

"But he even said—"

We both froze at the sound of the monitor. It had been beeping in the background since I had joined him. It began to speed its rhythm. "What's happening?" Harry yelled frantically. He dived at his father's side as the old man's body shook uncontrollable. The rate of the heart monitor plummeted and I watched the scene play out in terror.

Harry was tightly clutching George's hand as his body went into seizer and he gasped for breath. The man's eyes were wide at the ceiling as if someone was above him. His back arched and a final wheeze for breath forced from his lungs before he collapsed onto the bed sheets. Harry was shouting but I couldn't hear his words, just the heart monitor. It beat like a drum in my ears, dazing me, until it stopped. It ceased to exist without warning, without regret.

The monitor flat lined.