Meet Me In The Hallway // H.S. ✓

Chapter 16

~It's something we don't do~

Harry rubbed his legs, noticing how tired his muscles felt today. And the rest of his body, recently. But there was something about today. He made it through work, and then went to see Gemma.

The nurses knew him - he often brought them leftover treats from the bakery he worked out. They were always nicer to him, smiling as they brought him back to Gemma's room.

Her condition had stabilized for the most part. She wasn't getting better - only a new kidney would help her get 100% better - but everytime she let the hospital, she got worse. So she stayed and Harry visited.

"What were your first symptoms?" He asked her, sitting in the chair that a mold of him in it.

"You think you have lupus because you're what, tired?" She asked, looking scornfully at him and the Christmas decorations in the hallway.

"It's just a question, Gems." But she was right. Ever since Gemma got sick, Harry was a bit of a hypochondriac.

"I'm not answering you, you pizza." She said, crossing her arms.

Later that day, Harry talked to Gemma's doctor. He asked about the first symptoms she had had, and he talked about her flares. Harry then remembered how once a month, Gemma would be in bed, in pain, and unable to move.

He wondered how he could forget, when he was the one who was taking care of her during that time. Maybe all of the street racing had gone to his head. He was making good money, after all, and greed is an amazing drug.

---

Harry began to experience the flares soon after that. He held out hope that he was just really susceptible to illness and tried to avoid going to the doctor as much. But he eventually got so dehydrated that he ended up in the E.R. and he couldn't hide it any longer.

So Gemma's doctor became Harry's doctor too, as they went through the motions of testing until it was finally decided that yes, Harry had SLE too. It wasn't common in males or in siblings, but it happened to them.

Harry did not take the news well, but he didn't cry at least. He just got in the car and drove. Driving always helped to clear his mind and calm him down. But this time it took far too much driving. Then, all of a sudden, it seemed, Harry was in Maine.

"Gem?" He said, holding back tears. A rest stop bench was where he sat, waiting for his headache to go away so he could get back to New York.

"What's wrong, Harry?" Gemma asked, instead of berating him.

"I'm sick. Like you." And then the both of them cried together. Gemma called mum and told her; Harry denied all of her calls after that.

---

Once Harry was back in New York, he sat on a space of empty ground in Times Square. He held a birthday candle in his hand, leftover from several days earlier when Harry's work friends baked him a cake. It wasn't much of a stretch for them to do so, since, afterall, they all worked in a bakery.

He wondered what body system his disease would attack as the years went by. It was as if he knew that he could never keep himself healthy enough to stop that. After all, Gemma couldn't. Why would he be able to?

There were missed calls and texts up the wazoo, but Harry didn want their sympathy. For a while, he just watched the ads play. He looked at the Adidas ad, not recognizing the blue-eyed Doncaster model. "Do you see him?" A group giggled.

"He's pretty hot. No homo." One of the teen boys said. Harry thought they were talking about him, until he noticed their glances to the Adidas board. He just rolled his eyes and continued his internal struggle.

"I need to go home," Harry finally realized. Not back to his apartment and the bakery and the hospital. But to Holmes Chapel. To Lux, Lou, and Tom. To Will and Brad.

He was on a flight within the next several hours.

---

"How's the all-wonderful Harry Styles doing?" Will flashed him his signature grin as they met up outside a club in London.

"Not the best, I'll admit," Harry flashed a weak smile. He had started himself on a strict diet and was exercising more than he should have been, which resulted in sore...everything.

"Life gone downhill since the band broke up?" Brad teased.

"Kind of." Harry recounted his tales - his time in London as a bounty hunter, and his adventures in New York. "And now I'm sick. I've got the same disease my sister has."

"Well, sucks for you that your immune system sucks. What are you going to do about it? Have a cry?" Will was as brash as always. The bartender yelled at him for lighting a cigarette, and that resulted in several rude gestures, hand signals, and phrases.

"I've already had many, it seems." Harry had no rumor for humor in his body. "Just, please. Tell me about your lives. What are you guys up to?"

"Serial murdering." Brad suggested, and then deflated. "Alright. Nothing much. Just your typical 9 to 5 stint. Got a girl."

"I'm a fisherman," Will said, flicking the cigarette. Harry watched the ash settle on the counter and refused a drink that someone tried to give him. No doubt from some girl trying to chat him up. He was beautiful after all.

"That's sounds fun." The sarcasm levels were high.

"I think Nick's dead." That comment from Will elicited the most emotional response from Harry for the duration of their conversation.

"What?" His heart stopped. Turns out your feelings for someone just don't go away, even if they are mean to you.

"Just kidding mate." Brad glared at Nick. "No one's heard from him in years. No one in Holmes Chapel at least. He practically disappeared. But apparently you still like him."

"Is it so bad of me to want a relationship? Not with Nick obviously. But with anyone."

"Literally anyone in the world would go out with a total hottie like you." Will told Harry in response to his whining. "You are just very picky."

Harry took offense, and then just wallowed in self pity as he thought of Robin and his mum, Tom and Lou, Gemma and her computer. All amazing relationships. "I'm just so lonely."

"Get a cat," Brad offered.

"Foster a kid or something." Harry brushed them off.

The dark conversation of the night and the fact that they had not hung out in a very long time did not stop the group from having a fun night out on the town in London. After all that was said and done, Harry, homesick, drove done to Holmes Chapel in his rental car.

He had spent the day with Lux and Lou, the night with his buddies, and now he just missed his old home. Harry was definitely going through a lot.

A two hour drive melted away when Harry didn't consider the speed limits valid. He had to sneak into the house through the backdoor, and he crawled into his little teenage bed. It had been many many years since he had slept there. And he was definitely much taller now.

But that didn't matter, because he was home. Even if it was for a short time. Because he could never leave Gemma alone in New York.