SONG(s) FOR CHAPTER: 

♬ Snap Out Of It by Arctic Monkeys ♬

♬ When I Look At You by Miley Cyrus ♬ 

CHAPTER 4

♕ HARRY STYLES ♕

        MY EYES PEELED open to be invited with an excruciatingly annoying beeping sound coming from my right. Nausea twisted in my stomach as I groaned, attempting to sit up when I realized I was in a bed, and then I felt a pinch in my arm.

        I looked down, saw the IV, and everything rushed back. The fight, collapsing, momentarily opening my eyes in the ambulance before fading into a void once more... I couldn't help but to huff in annoyance at how weak I must have looked. My own body failing me after I won against a man twice my age. The press must've been proud to finally have a good story to write.

        I didn't like hospitals, which only increased the pain in my abdomen. They made me queasy with the immense disinfecting smell and beeping heart monitors and blood everywhere. Something about them were too sanitary to me, which was more than ironic when you thought about it.

        Wanting out of this room more than anything, I mustered the little strength I had in me and swung my legs over the side of the bed, bare feet touching the cool tile beneath me. I noticed the hospital gown and let out another irritated groan. How much more degrading could this situation possibly get? 

        I was not weak, but this predicament was saying otherwise. Which led me to scratch at the IV pumping unknown liquid into my until I finally got the tape loose. If a doctor caught me, I'd get my head bitten off, but I didn't really care at the moment. I felt trapped in this so-called magical place and needed to leave... desperately.

        I winced when I pulled the IV out, but left it at that as my eyes scanned the room for my clothes. Grumbling obscenities under my breath when they were no where to be found, I gave up and stood, stumbling a little but quickly regaining balance. My head was pounding, my stomach was churning, yet I pushed it all aside and headed for the door.

        At the very least, I needed something to wear other than this pathetic little gown. Even saying the word in my head made me cringe.

        Spots began to fill my vision again, causing me to groan before leaning against the wall for support. Why was this happening to me? I didn't like hospitals. I didn't want to be in one. I didn't want to be treated like I was weak, incapable of anything on my own. I didn't want to be in this situation. Not at all.

           I squeezed my eyes shut, sweat beading my forehead and I tried to focus on leaving. Surely, that would make the nausea go away, right? I wasn't thinking too clearly, but felt the cool metal knob under my fingers in a brief moment. However, when I gripped it, it swung open.

        Not sure if the suddenness of it or whatever was going on with me made me collapse, but I did. I gripped my head, screaming internally for it to stop pounding. To just stop making me feel like utter crap. But to no avail did it listen. 

        "Oh my God," a voice whispered, one nearly inaudible but I didn't care to open my eyes to see what nurse had stumbled upon such a tragic soul in a lousy situation.

        I felt an arm slip around my waist before my own was slung around the petite form's shoulder. I didn't want to stand, felt too fatigue to do so, but I thought if I could persuade them I felt fine, I could leave. I didn't feel fine, but if I could leave I would. Hopefully.

        "Are you insane?" A familiar voice. Maybe a nurse that had been in earlier when I was half awake.

        Nausea kicked in again, and it kicked in hard. I groaned, pulling my knees to my chest after the nurse set me back down on the bed. I was still rubbing my temples, trying to get the pain to subside but it only increased.

        I heard the nurse's shoes click quickly out of the room before two pairs of feet came running back just moment later. I was half conscious again, almost wanting to faint so I wouldn't have to feel so awful, so helpless, so pathetic.

        "Whoa," a male's voice breathed out. "It's really him."

        What sounded like a slap ran through my ears. "Stop fantasizing and help me put the IV back in."

        Something willed me to open my eyes, to find out why that voice was so familiar, but it was terribly hard to do with my head throbbing so much. The worst migraine I'd ever experienced, and it didn't seem like it wanted to stop any time soon.

        Not paying much mind to the two nurses tending to me, I kept pushing myself to go to sleep again, to go back to a blissful unconscious state, to fade into the void, and sooner or later, I did.

☆ ★ ☆ ★

        Awake again. The pain near gone. That ridiculous heart monitor still rattling on. That intense desire to leave still gnawing at me.

        But my mind was a bit clearer this time, so I kept my eyes closed. I didn't want to look at all the medical supplies around the room, knowing it would only put me on edge again. I took in a deep breath, trying to ignore the antiseptic smell and focus on the exhaustion still very much trying to control me.

        Except that's when I felt something odd. 

        Another hand was placed over mine.

        Itching to know who had paid me a visit, I willed my eyes to open. I moaned a little at the bright lights, bringing my hand that the person wasn't holding up to my eyes to rub the sleep out of them. I heard a chair squeak, as if the person in it had sat up.

        And then I looked. Eyes widened. Looked away. Looked again.

        No way.

        "Grace," I breathed out, my voice hoarse and throat scratchy.

        She gave me a soft smile - and God how I missed that smile - before whispering a simple, "Hey."

        I closed my eyes again, let my head fall back against the pillow. "This isn't real, is it?"

        "What?" She sounded genuinely confused.

        "If it were, pretty sure Grace would have some nasty things to say to me. I definitely wouldn't be greeted with a smile."

        What sounded like a scoff before she said, "Is that how you want to be greeted after almost two years?"

        I opened my eyes again, looked into hers. She wasn't angry, more so confused. I felt myself staring too long and forced myself to pry my eyes away, though my stomach twisted with a feeling other than nausea. Guilt or excitement or relief, I couldn't tell.

        "No," I said quietly. 

        "Good," she told me, "because believe it or not, I do still care about you. And that stupid stunt you tried to pull by attempting to leave... you could have killed yourself." I looked over to see she was shaking her head. 

        "Sorry" was all I could think of to say.

        I just couldn't fathom the new reality that Grace was there. In the flesh and blood and not in my unconscious, dreaming mind. She was there. Holding my hand in fact, as if I hadn't ripped everything we had to shreds. Why had I done such a stupid thing? I couldn't say.

        Taking in her features, she looked the same. Though her hair was a bit longer, expectantly, and pulled into a bun. She was wearing a nurse's uniform, but had INTERN on her little ID card thing clipped to her shirt. Her eyes were still bright, her lips were still full, and she was still the same. At least in appearance wise.

        Beautiful.

        There was a knock on the door that broke the silence, and broke Grace's hand from mine as she pulled it into her lap. I frowned, leaning forward a bit to see a male wearing a similar uniform as Grace's, "intern" pressed onto his ID as well.

        "Your shift just ended," he said to Grace, smiling at her in a sympathetic way. 

        My frown turned to a scorn and my jaw locked. The way he looked at her was how I looked at her. How I should be the only one to look at her that way. But had I really been so foolish to think that she wouldn't move on after almost two years apart? 

        I guess I didn't want to face the reality of that possibility.

        "Can you sign out for me? I'll be there soon," she replied.

        He nodded, flashing another smile before glancing at me. "Sure," he said and then quietly closed the door behind him.

        I wanted to reach for Grace's hand again, but she stood before I could do so. I feared she had read my mind and simply wanted to dodge the action. By the look on her face, it was evident she had no idea what to say. This wasn't like us. Not at all.

        "Grace-"

        "I should probably head home," she said without looking at me. "Now that I know you're alive and all... I could get in trouble for staying late."

        That didn't make sense, but I didn't question her. It was obvious she just wanted to flee from the situation she was put in. My frown was back, the hopeless romantic nurse that just walked in long forgotten. I didn't want her to go. Not when we seemed to be in rough water.

        "Okay," I said quietly, not sure what else to do. Never had the two of us been in such an awkward predicament.

        Her hand was on the doorknob. She didn't face me when she said, "I'm really glad you're okay, Harry," and then she was gone as if she had never been there in the first place.

        And I was left with my heart crumbling all over again.

        That didn't stop the night from continuing on, however. They cut the televisions off at midnight, so there I was at nearly three in the morning staring at the ceiling with boredom and hurt and remorse covering every inch of me, inside and out. I wanted to do something to fix it all, but nothing seemed fixable at the moment.

        Grace...

        Were her and that other guy really a thing? Had it been so easy for her to forget about me or had it been so hard for me to forget about her? I knew where I stood with my feelings for her, but she clearly had no idea where she was with her own.

        Had I caused her as much pain as I felt like I had?

        I drew in a breath, letting it out slow before looking to the curtain-covered window and back to the ceiling again. Oh, what a screwed up mess everything had become, as if it hadn't been twisted before. It was doubled the confusion now, and I had no idea what to do.

        She appeared to have forgotten me, unless I was - out of paranoia - jumping to conclusions. But I couldn't do the same. I missed her. More than anything in the entire world, really. Every time that gaping hole in my chest would fill, it seemed to be torn down yet again.

        It happened when I watched my own father kill my mother before killing himself. It happened when I was in the foster care system and my sister abandoned me. And now it was happening with Grace who had also left me, leaving me to believe that I simply wasn't good enough for anyone. All I ever really seemed to do was drag people down anyways.

        So the main question was...

        ...why try anymore?