Summary: Always tell your partner you love them before they leave the house, it may be the last time you have the chance to. Louis learned that the hard way.
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The air is hot, even for the evening. Leaving the windows open during the day is pleasant when a nice breeze freshens the house, but not after 12 hours when it is muggy outside.
"Babe, can you please–"
"Louis, no. I already said no." For the past hour, Louis has been nagging Harry to go to the store to get popsicles. Harry has politely declined each time, offering reasonable excuses as well.
"They're just stupid popsicles, Harry. It's not that difficult. It'll take you ten minutes," Louis counters with a sharp edge to his voice, now sitting next to Harry on the sand colored couch.
"If they're just stupid popsicles then why don't you go and get them yourself? It'll take you ten minutes," Harry sarcastically replies, then returns to his book.
"You're the one who kept the windows open all day, and now it's bloody hot in here. The least you can do is help me cool off." Harry raises an eyebrow and pauses for a minute, then shuts his book. There is no way Louis is blaming him for leaving the windows open when Louis is perfectly capable of closing them himself.
"You're so lazy sometimes, I'm shocked anything gets done around here." Harry leaves his book on the coffee table and heads to the front door, leaving a breeze of frustration in his path.
"Are you actually getting them?" Louis looks over the back of the couch and watches Harry tie his shoes. He looks curious and refreshed, like he just spent an hour begging for popsicles without expecting to actually get them.
"Yes. Because you're the only person in the world who can manage to piss me off over popsicles. Because you're the laziest fucking person I know. But unfortunately for me, I love you," he sighs, pushing off his knees with his hands to stand from the small bench by the stairs.
"You didn't have to insult me," Louis grumbles, "twat."
"Whatever," Harry rolls his eyes. He looks at Louis for a moment, his shirtless boy peering over the back of the couch and resting his tattooed arms on the top cushions while he looks at Harry.
Harry then grabs his keys and leaves the house without saying goodbye to Louis or giving him a kiss and exchanging I love you's as they have habitually and intrinsically done for as long as they have been dating. Neither of them think anything of it and instead let their contempt for the other fester. They'll have plenty of other times to kiss and say "I love you", right?
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"Popsicles, popsicles. What kind of popsicles does Louis want?" Harry sings to himself under his breath. He saunters down the frozen food section and sees a random array of ice cream, popsicles, and mini frozen meals. There are four different popsicle box themes to choose from: tropical, berry, classic, and Spiderman. Harry is completely lost as to what "classic" popsicles are, so he chooses the Spiderman ones, since Louis is a child and would probably like them the most.
He takes his time going to the cash register. The aisles of miscellaneous snacks range from somewhat healthy to greasy and extensively sweet. Harry grabs a granola bar for himself, as well as a small sleeve of cookies. When he reaches the end of the aisle, he sees a man in a worn-out, oversized, zip-up hoodie and all black. He seems to be eyeing the gas station, and his hands are shoved into his pockets, a detail Harry only notices because when he pulls them out, he is holding a gun.
"Put your hands up," he says in a demanding voice to the cashier. The cashier, who looks as pale as a ghost, complies immediately. Harry's eyes go wide and he swears he can hear his heart beating. He slowly steps backwards, trying to take cover around the corner of the snack aisle. "Oi! I fucking see you over there! Get back over here." It takes everything in Harry not to hyperventilate. With trembling legs, he turns the corner once again and makes himself visible to the robber and the cashier. "Get on your knees and put your fucking hands up," he growls at Harry, the gun still pointed at the man behind the counter. Harry sets his items on the floor before kneeling behind them and raising his hands over his head, exchanging helpless looks with the cashier.
The robber turns back to the cashier and demands for him to empty the cash register into a bag. The cashier looks like he doesn't have any ideas to keep the money; he just wants to keep his life. He slowly grabs a plastic bag and slowly opens the cash register, his hands shaking as he starts putting money in the bag.
"Faster, I don't have all day." The robber glances outside before looking back at the cashier, then at Harry.
Harry feels almost morally obligated to help. Surely he has more money than a gas station cash register. However, he doesn't want to vex the robber by talking. He suddenly feels his phone buzz in his back pocket, reminding him that he has his phone on him. He should call the cops. With the robber distracted, Harry anxiously waits for the perfect time to reach for his phone. When the cashier drops a few banknotes on the ground, Harry pounces on the perfect opportunity to lower his right hand and grab his phone. He looks up every second to make sure the robber is not looking at him. He unlocks his phone, looks up, clicks on the phone app, looks up, presses 9, looks up, presses 9 again, looks up. Right before he can press the third nine and dial the number, he meets the robber's eyes.
"Fucking hell," he curses, now pointing the gun at Harry. Harry's blood turns cold, and he feels like he is going to pass out due to the uncharted levels of fear coursing through him.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he begins profusely apologizing while trying to keep an ounce of calm.
"Yeah? Okay–" The sound of the gun firing cuts off the robber's last word. Harry drops his phone on the ground at the shock and sheer volume of the gun going off. He immediately raises his right arm above his head once again. "How fucking stupid are you, huh?" The robber screams. He stares at Harry for another few seconds before turning back to the cashier and finishing the job. Harry wants to look behind him to see where the bullet landed, since it missed him. Instead, he keeps his eyes glued to the robber, blinking back tears as they blur his vision.
After what feels like hours, then man looks around the store once more before running out with his bag of money. Harry's shoulder is beginning to burn from keeping his arm raised for so long, or so he thinks. When he lowers his arms and reaches for his phone to call the police, he sees something dark in his peripheral vision. When he looks at his right shoulder, he sees a dark red wet patch. Immediately, he begins to feel dizzy and cold and the burning in his shoulder multiplies.
"He shot me," Harry gasps out. He blinks hard and breathes heavily in an attempt to stay awake. The cashier runs over to Harry and tries talking to him, but he can't see or hear anything anymore. He tries to sit down, tries not to cry, tries to focus on breathing, but all of that becomes impossible once he loses consciousness.
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Harry is jolted awake, now lying in a vehicle instead of on the dirty gas station floor. The bright lights sting his eyes, and the tight space fitting him and other people makes him feel nauseous. He doesn't know what is going on, but there is something cold on the back of his head and he feels people touching him. He groans as he turns his aching head to look at his shoulder, which someone is holding a thick white cloth to. It hurts so badly, as the person is pressing down very hard, but he can't find it in him to scream or complain. He fights to keep his eyes open and look for anything familiar, but he eventually gives in to the pain and shuts his eyes.
"Louis," he whispers.
"He's awake," a quiet voice says. "I'm emergency medical technician Solomon Banks. We're taking you to the hospital." The man's voice is certain and reassuring, and Harry closes his eyes and exhales. He just wants to see Louis.
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The steady beep of Harry's heart monitor is the only sound in the still room. Outside the hospital room is the occasional nurse in the hallway and janitors passing by with cleaning carts. Other than that, there is nothing but eerie silence.
Louis has been sitting on Harry's left side for almost two hours now. He has watched nurses periodically come in and check on Harry, adjust his IV, check on his bandages, and pop in to see if he has woken up yet.
Harry is shirtless, and the thin hospital blanket is pulled up to his chest. His shoulder is wrapped up in such a way that covers his entire deltoid and wraps a few times around his chest.
When Louis first arrived at the hospital in a frantic state, a nurse had just finished treating Harry's shoulder and was putting a white bandage on him. When he was allowed to sit beside Harry's hospital bed and hold his hand, the younger boy was cold and unconscious, and it sent shivers down Louis' spine and made him think of the worst possible outcome. Now that hours have passed, Harry has warmed up and he has color back in his skin.
"How's he doing?" A nurse pokes her head in and asks Louis.
"Still sleeping," Louis answers. His now cold cup of coffee next to him is almost empty, but he doesn't want to leave Harry to get a refill. The nurse enters the room and looks Harry over, stopping her searching eyes and pursing her lips when she sees his shoulder.
"I should change his bandage," she says. Louis looks at Harry's shoulder and sees a patch of blood on the bandage. He is still in shock that something so horrible has happened to Harry. He could have died, and Louis' last words to him would have been, "You didn't have to insult me, twat." "What's your name?" The nurse asks.
"Louis."
"I'm Madeline. I'll be in charge of Harry's care for the night. Stephanie was Harry's nurse when he got admitted, but her shift ended," she explains. "Are you family?"
"Um, boyfriend," Louis says. Madeline nods in understanding, then puts gloves on and carefully starts unravelling the bandage.
"Can you lift him up a bit, please?" She asks.
"Won't I hurt him?" Louis wonders. Madeline has to unwrap the bandage from Harry's chest, but Louis doesn't want to do anything to cause Harry any more pain.
"He's fast asleep, he'll be okay. Just be mindful of his shoulder," she tells him. Louis warily stands up, then slowly slides his hands just under Harry's armpits. The bed is already elevating Harry's torso a bit, so all Louis has to do is essentially hug Harry and lift his torso from the bed while Madeline takes off the bandage. All of a sudden, Harry whimpers and begins to squirm. "Guess he's not asleep anymore," Madeline lightheartedly says. In Louis' mind, that means the bandage changing process will be hell for Harry, considering her previous statement about Harry being okay as long as he is asleep. "Harry, my name is Madeline. I'm just changing your bandages, alright? Try and relax," she says. "You can set him down now, thank you," Madeline says to Louis.
"No. Stay here," Harry pleads; he sounds tired and out of it. Louis plants a kiss to Harry's forehead before sitting on the side of the bed and holding the younger boy's hand.
"I'm not going anywhere," Louis reassures him. He tries talking to Harry and giving his hand little squeezes to distract him from the pain of Madeline beginning to clean around the wound.
"It hurts." Harry weakly squeezes Louis' hand as he tries to hold in his tears.
"Just a little bit longer, Harry. I can get you some more medication if you would like," Madeline chimes in.
"Okay." Louis sits quietly and lets Madeline finish bandaging Harry. He wants to cry when he sees Harry hyperventilating and shaking at the immense pain, but he knows Madeline is just doing her job and that there is nothing he can do to help his boyfriend. Louis then lifts him back up, just like before, so Madeline can secure the bandage. When she leaves to get Harry medicine, Harry lets go and starts crying.
Louis doesn't know what to say. He can't make it better and he can't take Harry home, and he also can't cuddle him. So, he says what is on his heart.
"I'm so, so sorry. This is all my fault," he earnestly says. "I shouldn't have been a dick about making you go out and buy me popsicles."
"It's not your fault someone decided to shoot me," Harry quietly says, then closes his eyes for a few seconds. The frankness of the sentence breaks Louis' heart, because it didn't set in until now that somebody shot Harry. Harry got shot by a gun in a gas station robbery. "I was so scared, Lou," he whispers, blinking away tears. "It was so scary. I tried calling 999, but then he shot me and made me put my hands over my head. I didn't realize he shot me until he left." The details spill out of Harry's mouth as if he is reliving the experience behind his eyes and narrating it for Louis.
"My poor baby," Louis says, then wipes a tear from his cheek. They talk about it for a little longer, until Harry wants to change the subject. Louis then asks Harry simple questions and talks about simple things, like reminding him of the funny episode of Gogglebox they watched last night and asking him who his favorite character from Friends is.
"Can you put my hair up, please?" Harry asks after a few minutes of talking.
"Of course." Louis leans over and softly kisses Harry on the lips, then gingerly gathers his shoulder-length hair into a bun on the top of his head. He secures it with the hair tie Harry always keeps on his wrist, then sits back down just as Madeline returns.
"Sorry for taking so long, I was needed in another room," she apologizes. She then washes her hands and does something with Harry's IV bag. Harry doesn't know or care what Madeline is giving him, he just wants the pain to stop. "How are you feeling, Harry?" She asks.
"My head hurts, I feel dizzy, and my shoulder stings and burns, I don't know how to describe it," he responds.
"Can you describe a little bit of what happened before you came here? You were in and out of consciousness and I want to fill some gaps you may have in your memory." Harry takes in a slow breath, collecting all of his traumatic thoughts before telling Madeline what he remembers.
"I was at the gas station...a man showed up wanting money...he made me get on the ground and put my hands above my head. Then he shot me but I thought he missed. I didn't see the blood until he left. I don't remember anything after that. The last thing I remember is waking up here, and I saw Louis." Harry looks to Madeline as if she was quizzing his memory, but all she does is thoughtfully nod.
"That's excellent. We were informed that after the man left, the cashier came to you and called the police. He put pressure on your shoulder until an ambulance arrived."
"Is he okay?" Harry wonders.
"Yes, he's okay. You sustained a mild concussion from your fall at the store, though. And the bullet that the man fired missed your subclavian artery by three centimeters. It also missed the bracial plexus, which is a bundle of nerves that controls arm function. The bullet went straight in and out, so nothing major got messed up. I don't mean to scare you, but you're pretty lucky to be here, Harry." Harry squeezes Louis' hand, and Louis squeezes back. "I have to go check on other patients now, but just press the button by the bed if you need anything," she warmly smiles.
"Thank you," Harry says.
"Thank you for taking care of him," Louis appreciatively says.
"You're very welcome," Madeline smiles, then leaves the room to tend to other patients.
"Try and get some sleep, love. I'm sure your body needs it," Louis says.
"I don't wanna sleep," Harry mumbles.
"Why not?" Louis wonders.
"What if he comes back?" He whispers; the likely long-lasting effects of experiencing a robbery are beginning to show now.
"He won't come back, darling. I'll stay awake for as long as I can once you fall asleep, plus there's nurses and security cameras. No one's gonna hurt you," Louis reassures him.
"Will you sleep here with me?" Harry asks, sounding unsure.
"I can't sleep on the bed, you need space. Here," Louis gets up and pushes a cushioned chair next to the bed. "Is that good? We can hold hands if you'd like," Louis offers. After being with Harry for five years, Louis knows that when he is anxious he likes to be held. However, the hospital bed is clearly only meant to fit one person, and Louis doesn't want to risk hurting Harry's head or shoulder.
"That's okay," Harry nods, then winces.
"Careful," Louis gently says, then stands next to Harry to give him a hug. The hug turns into several minutes of Louis holding Harry and Harry hugging back with his left arm; Louis occasionally pulls away to kiss Harry as well. "Bedtime baby," Louis whispers. He tries to make himself comfortable on the chair beside the bed, which ends up not being very comfortable at all. Regardless, he extends his arm and holds his hand open on the bed.
Harry places his hand on top of Louis', and Louis slowly runs his thumb across Harry's knuckles until he is sure the boy is asleep. He watches Harry for a long time after that, studying the way his chest rises and falls rhythmically, how he twitches in his sleep every so often, and even the way the fresh bandage is intricately wrapped around his shoulder and chest. As Louis eventually gives in to his exhaustion, he memorizes the way Harry's hand feels in his, feeling guilty and helpless yet fortunate and loved all at the same time.
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The hospital stuff may not be 100% accurate but I tried my best
Also Red (Taylor's Version) out November 19 HOW ARE WE FEELING???
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