You Make My Heart Race • l.s

Four

Shooting up out of bed, Harry grabbed his phone, whipped open the door and walked down the hallway to his laptop. "They've got to have one there, right?..."

He opened his MacBook as he talked to himself. In his search bar, he quickly typed in 'St. Paul Hospital Transplants'. As he clicked through their site to find the phone number, he ran his hand through his curly hair and picked up his phone.

The bored sounding receptionist answered, "Saint Paul's Hospital, how may I help you this evening?" he was pretty sure that they would have something. They needed to.

"Yes, hello, my name is Dr. Harry Styles. I work with Manchester Hospital, and I was wondering if I could speak with your chief of cardio?" there was a slight pause.

"Yes, sir. I'll transfer you over now, since he's not operating at the moment."

Harry was worried he might not have any luck, "Hello, this is Dr. Romanoff," he was praying that the universe would be on his side.

"This is Dr. Styles, I'm a cardio surgeon at Manchester Hospital. Do you happen to have any heart donors at the moment than we can utilize?" he held back on saying that he was anything other than just a resident. This chief most likely wouldn't want to spend his shift talking to someone below him. He heard a sigh on the other end

"I'm sorry, Dr. Styles. We don't currently have any available," as he spoke Harry's expression faded. He was highly disappointed. He sighed.

"It's fine. Thank you anyways. Have a nice night now," hung up with more force than necessary. He still had a few ideas in mind. Next he called Titanium Falls Hospital for Special Care.

"Hello, This is Dr. Styles. I need to speak with your chief of cardio immediately!" he was transferred right over.
"Hello Dr. Styles," Harry was getting slightly frustrated.

"Do you have a heart available for transplant? It's urgent."

Harry heard the surgeon on the other line flip some pages then exhale sharply. "I'm sorry sir, we don't."

Why did it have to be now? Normally he couldn't give away hearts, but now that he actually needed one desperately there was nothing. Absolutely nothing.

"It's fine," he hung up his phone frustrated and slammed it down onto the floor in frustration. 'I only have one last option. If this doesn't work...'

"Hello, this is Saint Peter's General," Harry was getting mad at this point but tried to keep his cool.

"Hello, this is Dr. Styles from Manchester Hospital. I am in desperate need of a transplantable heart. Do you have one?!" the receptionist seemed surprised at his urgency.

"I'll transfer you over sir..." he was getting annoyed, bordering on angry.

"Hello Dr. Styles. How can I help you?"

He exhaled, "Yes, hello. I need a heart ready for transplant. Please tell me you have one?" he was gritting his teeth as he spoke into the phone. He heard a shaky nervous breath from the other surgeon.

"I am sorry Dr. Styles...we just donated our last transplantable heart to a cancer patient," his eyebrows furrowed, and his hand curled into a fist.