SONG(s) FOR CHAPTER:

♬ Drag Me Down by One Direction ♬

♬ The One by Kodaline ♬

♬ Breathe by Pink Floyd ♬

♬ Trade Mistakes by Panic! at the Disco ♬

CHAPTER 30

❀ GRACE WALKER ❀

SEEING A CLOSE friend in horrible shape was not how I intended to spend my week off. However, being proposed to also hadn't made it onto my list of intentions, but life is stuffed with surprises. Beautiful ones, horrific ones, happy ones, sad ones--you can't control how the cards will land.

I attempted to find comfort in the ring around my finger whilst walking down the hospital corridor, but to no avail did serenity wash over me. Mentally preparing yourself for such a thing was implausible, utterly impossible. You could try to hype yourself up the entire day, assuring yourself all would be well and happy in the end, but your brain isn't capable of deciphering lies from truth when you haven't been informed which is which. 

Torn between wanting him awake so I'm certain he's still conscious and hoping he's getting rest, Harry snapped me out of my stupor by placing his hand gently on my arm. We were standing in front of the room the receptionist told us he was staying. The ICU area, room 430. The vicinity where people severely injured or ill go to get better or released from their struggles permanently. Hardly any of my thoughts were positive, though I tried my hardest to make them. 

Inhaling a sharp breath, I opened the door quietly, peeking my head inside. The blinds were drawn but the television was on. I warily stepped into the room, making it around the sliver of wall before seeing the fragile boy himself. Laid on the bed with a neck brace and his left leg in a cast hanging from a sling.

"Oh, Jacob..."

His eyes roamed in my direction, locking on my face. Tears filled them and that was all it took for me to rush over, finding his hand and holding onto it. He squeezed, letting me know it was okay to grip him tightly back.

"I don't know what happened," he whispered, a few tears rolling down his cheeks. I wiped them away with my free hand while he kept talking. "Gabriel and I got into an argument and then..."

"Shh, it's okay."

Jacob laughed a little before flinching, using his other hand to wave Harry over. "Stop acting like you don't know me, fool."

Harry smiled some, scratching the back of his neck. "Sorry, I just... not a big fan of hospitals."

"Who is?" He grabbed Harry's hand as well and all three of us just sat there for a while in a silence that was far from peaceful, but not even close to being uncomfortable. It was just silence.

"How bad are your injuries?" I finally asked in a soft tone, glancing over at the cast on his leg.

He pursed his lips. "Two cracked ribs, which is why I have these..." He took his hand out of mine long enough to pull the blanket down, showing the bandages wound tightly around his bare torso. "Broke my leg, as you can see, and the neck brace is just a precaution. The impact caused my head to jerk around, so the doctor wanted to be sure it was fine." He sucked in a breath, shaking his head.

"Thanks for coming," he said, mustering a smile. 

I nodded. "Of course we would come."

He squeezed my hand again before I felt him grab my finger, his eyebrows pulling together. He yanked my hand up, his eyes widening when they landed on the ring. "Hold up!" he practically yelled, looking to Harry and then back to me the best he could with the brace. "Is this what I think it is? I'm not dreaming, am I?"

Harry blushed just the slightest, brushing it off with a laugh. "No, lad, you aren't dreaming."

Jacob gaped at the two of us. "Why are we talking about my dumb ass when this happened?"

"Maybe because you're in a hospital bed lucky to be alive?" I offered, raising my eyebrows.

"No, I think this ring is a lot more significant, okay." Jacob narrowed his eyes. "Where was my phone call of this situation?"

"It just happened last night," Harry said.

It was hard to believe barely twenty-four hours ago I was proposed to, and now I'm sitting beside my best friend in a hospital room. The engagement seemed like an eternity ago, when really, time just flies by way too fast with plot twists laced in between.

A smile stretched on Jacob's lips and he gave each of our hands another squeeze. "Congratulations, guys. I mean that." Then he rolled his eyes a little and added, "Even though you hadn't told me point-two seconds after it happened, I forgive you."

"Your forgiveness was exactly what we hoped for," Harry joked.

Jacob's eyes watered again. I was mentally willing him not to cry, knowing I'm sensitive enough to cry along with him. Fortunately, there was a quiet knock on the door before the nurse peeked in, a clipboard clutched to her chest--and an all-too-familiar face.

"Well," Daisy said, "I thought you were out of town."

"I was. But when a loved one nearly dies, it's kind of normal to ditch plans."

She pursed her lips, glancing at Harry before striding over to Jacob. "Has the pain subsided at all since we tried the morphine?" 

"Sort of," he murmured. "Morphine is magical, but not magical enough to heal broken bones."

She then went through the regular procedure: checking his blood pressure, his temperature, his heart rate. I watched with cautious eyes, a sense of protectiveness engulfing me. I wanted to make sure she was doing it all right, calculating everything accurately. It was foolish, but it deemed itself necessary in my mind at the time.

"Everything is still fairly normal, which is good," she told him. "Of course your temperature is still a bit high, but nothing you should be worried about. The doctor should be in with you shortly, unless you have any questions or need anything."

"I think I'm okay. Thanks."

Daisy looked from me to Harry again, her nose scrunching just the slightest before she nodded at Jacob, exiting the room as quick as she came in. 

"You should've just flashed her your ring," Jacob suggested.

I rolled my eyes at him, changing the subject. "We brought cards. Game preference?"

★ ☆ ★ ☆

♕ HARRY STYLES ♕

The medication Doctor Miles prescribed wasn't helping.

It started on the plane ride to Grace's house, the whispering in the back of my mind. An odd sensation of dizziness trailing after it. I didn't tell Grace because she didn't need to know. She needed to be with her pregnant mother and her brother and even Michael, and she needed to be happy. My burden was not one I intended to pass onto her.

But it's getting worse.

It seemed no matter what I did, I couldn't escape it. Medication didn't work. Being holed up in a psychiatric center didn't work. Sometimes being near Grace helped, but that doesn't resolve anything permanently. I'm still drowning. I can't find anything to catch myself in the open water. I just kept falling. Down, down, down, until sooner or later, I'd hit the rock bottom ready to catch me.

I hesitated walking into Jacob's hospital room. He noticed. It was true I disliked hospitals but I hadn't been totally truthful. His room was awfully close to the psychiatric wing. A voice in the back of my head made sure I wouldn't forget that.

Sitting there playing cards helped me feel somewhat better. It took my mind off of everything, and seeing Grace's bright and beautiful face and Jacob's still alive one was enough comfort. I tried to relish in the moment, to remember every curve of Grace's face and each way the hairs swept on Jacob's head. It wasn't because I'd never see them again, not because I was dying. It was simply a distraction, one that was working if only for a little while.

I had to tell her. I didn't have to tell her. I wanted to tell her. I didn't want to tell her. I was stuck in the gray area in between decisions, and there were too many decisions that needed to be made. 

I tried to act as normal as possible--I needed to act as normal as possible. That would be my route for now. I just needed to try and make Grace believe I was fine. What if she got tired of always picking up my shattered pieces? What if she gave me back the ring because I simply wasn't worth all the stress?

No. I couldn't let that happen.

So when they both turned to me and said it was my turn, I smiled and asked if they had any eights.

★ ☆ ★ ☆

"Do you think he'll be alright?" asked Grace as we hailed a taxi.

"He's in the hospital," I told her, then stopped myself from saying, What's the worst that could happen? Neither of us wanted to think about that. "He's a tough guy."

She bit her bottom lip. "I just don't like the idea of him being there by himself."

Another admirable quality about Grace. When I was in the psychiatric center, I practically had to beg her to go home and rest. She was determined to stay with me, but a hospital is nowhere you should stay voluntarily. Unless of course you're dying. Then you sort of have no choice. So I guess it wouldn't be voluntarily. Why am I rambling to myself?

Sitting in the back of the taxi, Grace's phone dinged. She looked down at it, crinkling her nose before letting out a sigh. She typed a quick respond, then tucked her phone away.

"What's wrong?"

"Audrey has Dylan over," she said, making a face. "I told her I was back early but they already had plans. I don't want to witness those plans."

I chuckled. "You could stay with me. We could have our own plans."

She elbowed me when the driver looked in his mirror back at us. It took all of me not to burst into hysterics. The blush on Grace's cheeks didn't help.

She ended up coming over to mine and Jacob's apartment anyways. Probably resolving the fact that our plans would be better than witnessing someone else's. But even then, that's not the only reason I wanted Grace over. Plainly enough, I just don't want her to leave me. I'm scared if she does, I'll succumb in the black pit that keeps attempting to swallow me.

We brought our luggage in and she set hers by the door while I took mine to my room. Grace followed me, falling face first onto the bed. I smiled at her before unpacking, tucking jeans in drawers and hanging shirts in the closet. 

Grace rolled over, using her elbows to hold herself up. "Do you have any popcorn?"

I rose an eyebrow. "I live with Jacob. What do you think?"

She grinned before sliding off the bed, waltzing to the kitchen. She came back a moment later with two cups of popcorn. I gave her an odd look before she said, "I couldn't find any bowls. Do y'all eat cereal off plates?"

"For your information, Miss Judgmental, we have bowls. Would you like me to prove it?" I asked teasingly.

"I already wasted two cups, so maybe a rain check."

We didn't have much at this apartment because it was only temporary. To get us out of the hotel while I healed from the hospital incident months ago, when I first saw Grace again. Nonetheless, however, Grace managed to skim through the television channels and find Footloose, the original one. I had never seen it before--Grace said I hadn't lived life to the fullest. 

"This is one of my favorite '80s movies," she told me. "Except Ariel. She's the type of character you feel bad for, but you still don't like."

I laughed. "Thanks for the expert opinion."

"Don't mention it."

So we sat on my bed, our backs against the headboard and Grace curling into me. I felt fine for a long while, truly I did. I was thoroughly enjoying the movie and having cuddle time with Grace was a great bonus. I thought she was going to snap someone's neck during a few of the scenes, though, whenever the bullies popped in. 

The movie ended and Mary Poppins was scheduled next. I could at least say I've seen that one. I could count on one hand how many people I've met that haven't. Kids in school used to have contests to see who could say "supercalifragilisticexpialidocious" the fastest, and who could spell it most accurately. Needless to say I never participated in such group activities.

Grace fell asleep about halfway through, her head slowly sliding down my shoulder. I tried to shift further down, taking her with me before pulling the covers up to her chin. I grabbed the two empty cups that held popcorn and walked to the kitchen, lowering them into the sink. A pain shot up my neck to the back of my skull, lapping around to my temple, which I furiously began to rub.

I could feel it coming. There was no way to stop it, but I went to the bathroom anyways, hoping that if I splashed some water on my face, I'd be better off. It would be pointless, I knew that, but it was the only sense of control I could grasp in the vast pit devouring me.

I closed the door behind me, turning on the faucet and wincing when the dull pain transitioned into a notorious pounding. I knew the feeling too well. It was too familiar, too typical, and yet there was still nothing I could do except let it happen. No medication helped. I tried to tell Doctor Miles that. He was convinced I was paranoid. How come no one ever believed the troubled patient when that was who they were supposed to be helping?

Two handfuls of water and the pain steadily increased. I rubbed my face in frustration, wishing it were simply that easy. To wipe the pain away, as if it never existed. What a glorious yet far-fetched power I wish I possessed. 

Pressing my palms into the counter, I peeked up into the mirror.

A big mistake.

It was me, but it wasn't me. It was him, but it wasn't him. It was a combination of us both--his face shape, my hair, his nose, my mouth, the same eyes. I wanted him to go away. Why didn't he ever understand that I was sick of seeing him? Why didn't anyone ever listen? 

Then there was the hushed whisper, the rasp of his voice taunting me. It was in my mind, it was everywhere. I dragged my hands through my hair, certain I left nail marks. Maybe even drew blood. Why did this keep happening? Why couldn't I just be happy?

Why why why? The question never disappeared, yet followed me around like a lost child, clinging to my brain to make certain of my misery. When it wasn't directly terrorizing me, it was hanging over my head like a storm cloud, ready to rain more unanswered questions.

I splashed more water on my face. He was still my reflection. I told myself it was all in my head. The mirror told me otherwise. I pinched my eyes shut, counted to ten, snapped them open. Still, he had not left his spot on the other side of the glass.

I was sick of it. Sick sick sick.

I felt like screaming.

Instead I punched the glass, the mirror shattering into thousands of tiny pieces and probably a million practically invisible shards. My hand was bleeding. I didn't care. He was gone. I got rid of him. It was just a wall in front of me now. I liked the wall. It didn't trick me.

But my mind wasn't finished. I turned around and there he was, appearing to be in the flesh. It looked like I could reach out and grab him. I wanted to wrap my hands around his throat, shout at him to leave. Just leave! 

He tilted his head at me, his lips quirking upwards. I amused him. My pain and stress and anguish amused him. The pain in my head increased, making me stumble backwards. I was positive he was doing it to me, forcing me to suffer for his own entertainment. What had I ever done to make him hate me? Was it merely my birth that put him on the train of pissed off parents and he never reached his destination? 

"You can't get rid of me that easy," he said in a low tone, nodding towards the broken glass scattered across the floor. 

I had enough. I pushed him into the wall, pinning his wrists on either side of his head. His smirk stretched, my anger grew. The time we stared at each other seemed to trail off into eternity. I had him cornered. I could finally get rid of him.

Right when I was about to let go of one of his wrists to punch him right in the jaw, I stopped. Suddenly, it wasn't his voice anymore.

"Harry, you're hurting me."

Instantly, I shoved myself off, pushing the heels of my hands into my eyes. I opened them. It wasn't my father backed into the wall anymore. It was Grace. 

"No," I breathed out, shaking my head. My eyes darted to her wrists where nail marks indented her skin, bruises already beginning to form. "Oh God, no. No, no, no."

Her eyes were wide, her mouth was parted. She didn't know what to say. 

She didn't get the chance to say anything.

I ran out of the apartment.

(I'M BACK, WHOOOOOO! oh my God, I'm so sorry I was gone for so long you guys. I had a lot of crap going on, but it's all resolved and it's all good. except for school, but hey, I can manage. thank you all for sticking with this story! I'm so sorry I made you wait. love you xx

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one more thing: I've been thinking of a short story dedicated to Jacob and Gabriel. would y'all be interested in reading that? let me know in the comments and be honest <3)