Together (Larry Stylinson) ✅

Hospital

Louis POV

I had majorly fucked up last night. That much was clear when I woke up to the four white walls of the hospital and a worried nurse puttering next to my bed. I looked at the IV I was attached to and thought about pulling it out like they did in the movies, but if I'm being honest, I didn't have the energy.

I felt like I had been hit by a boulder. My head was pounding and my stomach stung. I knew I was on meds because of the fuzzy feeling dancing around my body, but they weren't strong enough. I still felt the pain.

I sighed to myself as I thought about how much debt I would be in after that hospital ride. I didn't have health insurance anymore since I was fired, and even if my insurance still worked, they may not cover all of it.

I wanted to punch Harry in the guts for doing this to me, but deep down I knew it wasn't worth it. I was the one who had caused all this, and he just came and picked up the pieces.

He shouldn't have intervened. I would have preferred he didn't. And I'd like to think that I would have been okay at home if he hadn't shown up, but I honestly wasn't too sure. I'll never admit it to him, but a small part of me was relieved when he showed up at my doorstep last night. Because it meant I wouldn't have to go through this alone.

But like I said, only a small part of me felt that way. The rest of me desperately wanted him to leave, wanted him to get the Fuck out so I could be alone in my misery. And that was the part of me that hated Harry, that despised Harry. Because even though he didn't know it initially, he ended up leaving me when I needed him the most.

Readjusting in my hospital bed, I felt my hand run briefly across my torso. A bony rib poked my fingers and I grimaced, realizing that they could very well keep me here longer for being underweight. Things just seemed to be snowballing.

As if reading my mind, the nurse walked over with a tray of food. "You really should eat something," she said, giving me a stern look. I looked at the plastic tray. It had saltine crackers, Jello and a cup of chicken broth. All I could stomach right now after all that vomiting.

I grabbed a plastic spoon and brought the chicken broth to my lips. The salt tasted good. It kind of reminded me of the extra salty potato chips Harry and I used to share on occasion. But that had been years ago. And I didn't eat potato chips anymore. I hardly ate anything.

"You have a visitor," the nurse said in an annoyed tone. I hadn't realized she was still in here. She pointed to the door and I could see Harry through the glass window, fidgeting with his hands as he stared at the floor.

"He's been here all night pestering," she said with an eye roll, opening the door for him. When I saw his face, Guilt swam through my stomach, and I put down my spoon as the nausea spread.

"Hey, Lou. How ya feeling?" He asked with a big smile. It suddenly felt like we had never been apart — like it was just one of those nights when I was sick and he was showering me with smiles and cuddles as I sipped on chicken soup and drank green tea.

But it wasn't one of those nights. Harry didn't love me. He pitied me. And more importantly, he felt guilty for abandoning me. This was all just a ploy to make him feel better about himself, to fix his fucked up karma. But I would not be a part of it.

"Fine, thanks," I replied in a monotone. Not that I really could speak with much emotion. My throat felt like it had just been in a knife fight with a prominent inner city gang.

"Hey... no need to talk, Lou," Harry said coming next to my hospital bed. His hair was tied back into a messy pony tail and he had dark circles under his light eyes. He was squinting a bit. He always squinted when he smiled.

"I wanted to apologize for coming over. And for calling the ambulance. I just really wanted to make sure you were okay. And I'm glad you are now," Harry began, his face becoming more and more serious with each syllable. "I called your insurance company and they are gonna cover everything since you're still on the plan for the next 30 days. This goes under emergency medicine."

I nodded, feeling relieved that I wouldn't be in financial jeopardy — at least not from this.

"So yeah. I know you probably want me out of your hair. But if you ever do need to talk just text me. I know you made it really clear that you don't want to though, so I'm gonna leave you be," Harry said. He looked at the floor as he spoke, and his shoulders were raised and tense, like they always got when he was upset.

And as I watched his green eyes well with tears and his sullen face grow dark, I could tell he was hurting. That maybe all my thoughts about him were wrong. That maybe he did miss me, maybe he did love me.

Or maybe not.

"Thanks," I whispered in response, mustering up a half smile. At this point my throat was hurting way too much so I motioned to my neck and then pointed to Harry's phone, which was sticking out of his pocket. Understanding what I wanted, he handed it to me and I opened a note and began to type.

"Thank you for showing up when you did. I know I put up a fight, but I really did appreciate your help. You probably saved my life."

I stared at the screen and thought about sending more. It was a risky move. But what more did I have to lose at this point? I had already lost my job, my friends, my dignity.

"I don't want to get you out of my hair. I'm sorry I've been hostile. I just don't know how to act around you after everything that's happened. I'm different now."

Nodding, I handed the phone back to him. He accepted with a smile, and stood awkwardly next to my bed as he read it, his long legs towering over my tiny, seated body.

Harry read for a few seconds, furrowing his brows together, and then nodded. "You're welcome, Lou. And it's okay. I'm different too. I understand why you're upset with me," Harry replied, slowly.

We locked eyes and I wished I could tell him that I' wasn't not upset, that I just wanted things to go back to the way they were. That I wanted it to be just me and him in our little flat with our movies and our TV dinners and our cuddle sessions. That I wanted things to be alright between us.

A look can say a million words and perhaps mine did that day. Or perhaps it was the drugs. But I distinctly remember Harry kneeling down next to my bed, wrapping his hands around the metal safety bar, and whispering: "Me too."