"And in this room we have a young lad, just turned twenty one a few weeks ago," the nurse explains, gesturing towards the steel door with the smallest window through the top.
Harry glances through the window and a small smile falls over his lips before he remembers why the boy was here to begin with and he falters.
"How did he—?" Harry begins, his eyes watching the boy who’s blankly gazing at the white wall and not even noticing anyone near the door.
"He tried to do it a few times, the last time did him in," she explains, gesturing towards her wrists.
Harry nods and presses his palm to the glass, his hand nearly blocking the whole tiny panel.
"So, Mr.Styles, would you like to continue the tour of the clinic?" the nurse beams, her eyes starstruck and somewhat desperate for his attention.
"Actually, can I go in there?" he looks into the room at the sad looking boy with the bright blue eyes.
She raises an eyebrow with surprise but digs a key card from her scrubs’ pocket.
"Er…if you’d like to, Mr.Styles," she says uncertainly, sliding her key into the door. “Wait here for a moment."
He nods and steps away from the door, his eyes watching through the window as she talks to the boy (presumably about the impending visitor) and he watches as the boy shrugs and doesn’t even move his gaze from the wall.
She walks out moments later and holds the door open for Harry, her smile slightly worried.
"He said it’s fine," she nods, stepping outside. “I’ll be back at the front desk if you need me…just…press the buzzer if you need anything…"
Harry nods and thanks her for her help before stepping inside and lightly shutting the door behind him.
"If you’re here to pretend to be a good samaritan or do some charity work, I’d like to let you know that I am not a charity case and I don’t find you the least bit amusing," the boy snaps quickly, averting his gaze from the wall so he can look Harry up and down with an accusing grimace.
"Okay," Harry shrugs, tucking his hands in his pockets.
The boy looks surprised and he focuses his attention to pulling at a thread on his uniform.
"Why are you here? To show off or something?" Louis continues, eying the younger boy’s sparkling gold watch and shoes that probably coast thousands.
"No," Harry continues, stepping closer.
"Well? You just going to stand there, princess?" Louis sniffs, scooting over on his bed as if giving a simple invitation.
"Thanks," Harry says softly, sitting down a comfortable distance from Louis.
YOU ARE READING
One Direction Sad Preferences
Fanfiction*A LOT OF THESE AREN'T MINE!* I will try to write the author if I can :) If you have any short sad stories you want me to add please inbox me:) Thanks!
