Sirens || d.h.

Two

The first thing that hit her was the sharp smell of sterile medicine and latex gloves.

She blinked a few times, though too blurry and violently shaking was her vision that she could not register anything, any stimulus presented to her. She only laid there on the stretcher as paramedics shouted at doctors and medical assistants passing by, as slowly, a crowd of professionals gathered around the perimeter of her stretcher, running alongside her, their coats flying behind them in a mass of white material and their foreheads saturated with dots of sweat from possibly the shock or the exercise.

"Get her into the surgical room immediately! We need to find out her blood type - nurse, prepare the procedures. After that please proceed to the blood pantry and get all the blood packs you can." He huffed, wiping a stray bead of sweat off his eyebrow, a determined frown stretching across his lips. He put on the gloves, placed his headwear securely, and pushed up the glasses perched on the bridge of his nose higher. They wheeled the nearly lifeless form of a girl in, and the doctor said quietly to himself, "It's going to be a long night."

♠

As much as he did not want it, Dan was forced to attend the Brit Awards and host it all the same. The only thing he was worried about was the girl he had hit into and whether or not she was safe. When he had informed Louise of his confirmed absence in the entire event, the organiser took over the phone and demanded he be there, and, unfortunately for him, he had to obey. He did say he was going to be there, after all. And after all that promotion and previews and hints that Dan Howell was hosting the Brits, how could he not attend?

And so, recollecting his shattered resolve and coherent thinking, he hailed another cab, this time careful not to let impatience dominate over his rationality.

The entire event passed by in a blur of an abundance of flashing lights from cameras bugging up their noses, overly long sappy speeches of winners from fellow nominees, and interviews done thereafter. Dan did not even know what he had said to every celebrity he interacted with, let alone remember which hot shot he met. Louise could sense the detached aura Dan had and the apparent indifference in his stance as he allowed Jennifer Lawrence to walk past him without even saying a word or at least gawk in her direction with awe in his chocolate brown eyes. If she knew Dan well, which she did, he would pull her over and together, invited her to admire the beauty of Jennifer Lawrence from afar with open-mouthed adoration. She was like a glass-encased ancient artifact - seen through glass walls, unable to touch.

Just as the Brits came to an end, Louise pulled Dan aside and whispered fiercely into his ear, "You have to tell me what happened."

The brunette shrugged his shoulders, uninterested in the conversation as he was the center of attention and discussion. He attempted to turn away from Louise's burning gaze and pursed lips of anger, but she held his arm tightly, her iron grip unfaltering.

"Daniel James Howell!" She yelled, "I am your friend and I deserve to know!"

"I'm sorry. I may tell you, but not now. I'm not ready - and I'm still very much in shock."

The despondency in Dan's voice was haunting. "Just because you're my friend," He whispered quietly, hoping the blonde-haired woman could not hear him as he successfully tugged her fingers off his suit sleeves, "I can't let you know."

He took another cab to the hospital, all the while his nerves jumping like crazy as he watched the scenery flow by - building after building, crowd after crowd, lights after lights - the common London city life, bustling with late-night activity as civilians, especially curious youths wandering the streets at midnight, some sporting a bottle in hand, some with a cigarette pinched between their teeth, some congregating on street corners, jeering at any passerby who was willing to listen.