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It’s now Friday the 23rd, and we leave for Disney World on the 25th, aka Sunday. To say I was excited was an understatement.
We’re driving back to Holmes Chapel today after staying for a few days, because we both needed to pack for our trip, plus we need to go to the hospital to see how that guy is doing.
I can tell Harry’s nervous by the way he’s biting his lip raw, and he keeps tapping his fingers against the steering wheel.
I grabbed his right hand, stopping his finger mid tap, and intertwined our fingers instead.
“I know you’re nervous, but I really don’t want you to ruin those lips of yours, so could you please stop biting it?” I asked, trying to lighten up the mood a little. It didn’t work, as although he quit biting his lip, he didn’t respond nor smile.
I sighed, looking out the window, and I felt him rubbing my hand with his thumb. I knew that was his way of apologizing, because he didn’t feel like speaking. I didn’t blame him, though. He’s responsible for whatever the outcome of this guy’s life is. And that is terrifying.
What happens if that guy didn’t or doesn’t make it? Would Harry get in trouble and have to serve jail time? Because he was driving on the wrong side of the road, and although it was an accident, that’s illegal.
I didn’t want to bring that up though, in fear of making him even more nervous. I felt terrible that he was feeling this way. Someone like him shouldn’t have to deal with any stress at all during their lifetime, he’s too good of a person.
The hour car ride was completely silent, and I was losing my mind, but I didn’t want to do anything to affect Harry’s mood even more, so I didn’t talk or turn the radio up. I just stayed silent for his sake, staring out the window at the passing buildings.
Before I knew it, we were at the hospital, and Harry was putting the car into park. He wordlessly got out and my eyes followed him, not knowing if he wanted me to go in with him or wait in the car. My questions were answered as he opened the door for me, helping me out of the car and instantly grabbing my hand again. I loved how he loved PDA, because I loved it and I wouldn’t know how to deal with having a boyfriend who didn’t.
But I don’t even think this would be considered PDA right now, because although it is a public display of affection, I know the reason he’s doing it at this particular moment is for comfort. He needs it and I’m more than willing to give it to him.
I squeezed his hand as we walked through the automatic doors, greeting the woman at the reception desk. She gave us each a visitor’s pass along with the room number of the guy. Thankfully, he’s allowed visitors, which means 1, he’s not dead, and 2, he must be in stable condition.
We went to the elevator and pressed the proper button for the floor that we needed, and then walked together to the room. It took a little bit to find it, since we turned the wrong way when exiting the elevator, but once we reached it, we noticed the door wide open and a guy sitting up in his bed, speaking to a little girl.
Harry didn’t do anything but stand there, staring, and I didn’t know whether or not he even wanted to speak to the guy. He wanted to make sure he was okay, and he was, but did he want to have a conversation with him?
A knock brought me out of my thoughts, and I realized it was Harry’s hand. The guy’s head instantly snapped to us, furrowing his eyebrows at the fact that we’re complete strangers.