.Perfect Fantasy. |H.S.|

Chapter 4. Flood Rising.

There were muffled hurried footsteps and some voices.

People were being stopped by the security bodyguards outside. I glanced back at us in the room, then at Harry, wondering if they were coming in here, when I heard a huge heart wrenching sob cutting through the room's silence.
I turned to see a woman clutching her hand to her mouth, tears spilling quickly down her cheeks. He looked a lot like her, but her hair was darker, thicker and longer, eyes shinning with tears, face crumpled with pain. I could bet some money that she was probably his mother.

There was a man standing beside her, half-hugging her body and wiping his eyes into his hands, and they're both moving towards him, touching his arm gently. I could only imagine what she was feeling at the moment, and I tried to be detached about this, but I could feel the familiar prickly feeling behind my nose and eyes. We were all standing patiently behind them, probably waiting for the woman to stop crying.

Keep it cool, calm down, this isn't helping.

I'm reciting things to myself to try and be professional, but I want to cry with them too. The sting of my eyes and nose making an unfortunate appearance.
Maybe it's the exhaustion speaking for me.
She leaned over and kissed him on the forehead, her tears streaming down her face.

Oh, God. I don't want to be in here.

Dr. Martin stays standing like a damn statue, nothing moves her and perhaps I should be learning from her attitude, because I was feeling now like a complete mess.

"My name is Isabel Martin, I'm the attending doctor in the case of your son," She quickly explains how he was admitted through the ER facility, mentioning the bullet stuck inside the collapsed lung, the blood transfusion and the surgery after that.

They don't ask questions, they just keep themselves open to the new information, nodding along and waiting for what she was telling them there was to come. Luckily for Harry, everything looked promising. She'd made that perfectly clear, calming their anxious faces as she introduced to us, the ones doing the guards for him.

"So do you have any questions?"

"Yes, doctor," The woman holds Harry's hand in between hers, I can hear her foreign accent clearly. "If everything's quite alright with the surgery and his general state, then why is he not awake yet?"

"Just give him some time, he did lost a significant amount of blood back there, but I don't see why there should be any inconvenience."

Maybe she wanted to sound positive, but the answer was really clipped and forced, and I could see the doubts on their faces, besides the obvious wariness and distress. I mumbled a faint excuse and handed Brett the clipped chart, making my not so subtle way outside of the room, already craving the few hours of sleep before returning to the night guard.

I dropped down on the bench, destroying my small ponytail and pulling the stuff out of my bag with one hand while I closed my locker with the other, looking at my street clothing as I dreaded changing my scrubs into them. I was exhausted, so I only tugged my sweatshirt on top of them, and placed my oversized bag on my shoulder. My fingers were fluffing my knotty hair, and I rubbed my eyes with my sleeve before looking around to see that the staff door was being guarded by security too. What the hell.

"Have a good day, miss." The voice of one of them takes me aback, and I just smiled subtly at him.
I made my way outside of the building through the thick glass door, my eyes popping wide open at the sight of what seemed to be like a hundred girls of all ages standing there.

They're fucking everywhere.
Sitting down on groups, holding handmade signs, or scrolling through their phones, talking to each other, the sadness etched on their features and I just stopped for a second there, glancing at them and then reassuming my walk to the nearest bus stop.

Fans.
I recognized the crowd immediately.
They're Harry's fans.

A very young teen was staring at me intently, before she decided to approach me, mimicking the strides of my legs and keeping up with my pace, her eyes solemn and full of wonder.

"Hello, uhm... hi, you work here?"

I didn't really stop, but the girl was matching my quick walk, not taking her eyes off me, as I moved my head in affirmation. I was insane.

"Do you happen to know anything about Harry Styles?"

I'm not surprised at the inquiry. I was expecting a question like this, which was why I didn't really stopped. Obviously I was going to be in deep shit if I disclosed anything I wasn't really authorized, so sadly I lied to her.

"No, sorry, I work in pediatrics, I know nothing about him."

"Oh," She looked even sadder, and I felt terrible.

"I don't think it's safe for you all to be in here, just go home."

"We can't go, we need to stay here and show him how much we love him."

Well, damn.
I was completely speechless.

"Seriously, go home." She looked way younger than me, which made me think that this wasn't the best idea, and surrounding a place so delicate like a hospital, was not the best scenery for them.

"Would you ask for us? If he's fine, I mean."

"I'm pretty sure he is fine." I declared and practically ran to catch my bus, not even bothering to look behind me, until I was safely sitting down in the lonely blue seat.

I quickly searched for the phone in my bag, there were only like fifty calls from Lily, but that was it. I scrolled through the internet, typing the name into the search bar and waiting for it to load as the driver was making a turn in the very known street. I selected the first option in there, redirecting me to twitter, my heart pumping fast for information. There were posts after posts of pictures of him, wishes, drama, anger, and a lot of support. I tried to look for an article or something, to find out what happened, and I quickly clicked into one.

... was shot by an unknown gunman at 23:00 hours, inside of his Los Angeles home.

My eyes were moving quickly through the formal news description, along with several public and very recent pictures of him.

Police have a suspect in custody, who was described as a local 35-year old man, the shooter remains still as an anonymous identity.

What the hell.

Was it a robbery?

Was he like a crazy stalker?

What if he was a fan?

No further information is being disclosed at the moment.

No wonder the girl approached me, there was no release statement or anything more that the same information being repeated all over the internet. I stared at the last picture of him, so handsome and smiling, it seemed like a joke that he was now in this terrible situation.

I closed my eyes and thought about his pale face under the OR lights, a cold shiver covering my skin. I could feel tears sting my eyes, and I fought them back, as I blinked and breathed to fix myself. I wasn't going to cry until this was all over, when I could do it alone, hiding under my covers with my face stuffed into a pillow, like I always did.

***

A.N. I know that anything can happen in fan fiction, but no, this isn't Grey's Anatomy meets 1D, sorry. The first part of the story of course is the hospital P.O.V., but I have a lot more planned for this. I'm writing like crazy, and enjoying every single piece of it, so thank you if you're reading it. I love you. 💚