SONG(s) FOR CHAPTER: 

♬ 18 by One Direction ♬

♬ All I Want by Kodaline ♬ 

CHAPTER 7

❀ GRACE WALKER ❀

          IT WAS THE day Harry was being discharged when Evan came up to me during lunch, an odd twist of excitement and anxiousness in his gaze. I rose an eyebrow at him, bite into my apple, and watched him sit across from me, looking on the verge of exploding.

        I heaved a sigh, though a smile tugged at my lips. "All right, spill the beans. Why do you look like an excited yet constipated child?"

        Evan grinned, his right hand reaching into his back pocket while his left placed his lunch bag on the table. I tried to lean forward some, noticing he held them under the surface as if to add suspense. Little did he know that suspenseful situations were utterly frustrating to me, not amusing.

        "Today...," I said, giving him an odd look.

        But he was having too much fun, for some reason. He leaned his left elbow on the table, chin resting in his hand while his other still hid his surprise. "First, I need to know. Is your adoration for me worthy of an incredible friendship?"

        My eyebrows pulled together. "What are you even talking about? I thought we were already friends."

        "Well, we are. But assuming we aren't, I'm saying could you look at me and think, 'Yeah, I could be friends with that dude one day.'"

        "You're incredibly annoying, you know. But that's basically how we did become friends, brilliance."

        He waved his hand dismissively at me. "Again, besides the point." His smile was almost devious now. "What would you say if I had certain concert tickets?"

        My mouth froze against my apple mid-bite, eyebrows darting upwards and heart daring to sink. If he was taking this where I thought he was, I don't think he'd be prepared for my reaction. A heart attack, maybe fainting, who really knows. Guess it's a good thing we were in a hospital.

        "Evan Walter Llyod, I do not appreciate this suspense." I sat up in my chair, eyeing him seriously. "Please, for my sake, get to the point."

        He was smirking now, too cocky for his own good. "How much do you love me?"

        "If it's the concert I think it is that was supposedly sold out, then infinitely."        

        He frowned. "Only then? What about if it was just a tour of the sewer plants?"

        I gave him a look. "We'd still be great friends, but my adoration for you would indeed decrease just the slightest."

        Evan shook his head, only for his smile to appear once more, and then yes. He was holding up tickets to the sold out concert this weekend to see We The Kings. I knew he knew I loved them and had never been to a single concert, but how he managed to get tickets was beyond me.

        It almost blurred then out of my excitement. I remember standing up so fast my chair flipped over, and a squeal so high-pitched I had no idea I could make fleeing my lips. But Evan had laughed, let me gaze at the tickets in awe while I devoured an extreme fangirl moment.

        He scratched the back of his neck while I still held the tickets. "I know you probably would've rather seen The 1975 last weekend, but I couldn't find anyone selling their tickets at all and-"

        "No, no, this is fine. Yeah, I love them too but even this is incredible." I grinned, throwing my arms around his neck. "Thank you so much, really." When I pulled back, I ran a hand through my hair. "How did you even get these?"

        "Believe it or not," he said, "my brother was supposed to take his girlfriend because he thought she liked them. But it turned out, she had been telling him about the song We Three Kings, and he was too stupid to realize it was a Christmas carol written in the 1800s, not a band."

        I laughed. "Well, your brother's stupidity resulted in my happiness, so I can't really feel sorry for him right now."

        Evan chuckled. "Anyways, the concert is Friday night, so I was thinking I could get you around five or so, so we could have dinner before hand... if that's okay with you."

        I smiled. "Yeah, it sounds great. Thank you again."

        He had time to give me almost a nervous smile before lunch break was over. Evan muttered profanities, asking me if I could cover for him while he ate his lunch quickly. It would be no problem, I had told him, and then I left the room.

        Doctor Miles happened to be walking in my direction, his hand flying up to stop me. "Oh, Grace, there you are. Harry Styles is being discharged and now he's just waiting to be wheeled out. You wouldn't mind, would you?"

        I couldn't argue with the policy. You could come in with a broken bone and still, there was the demand that said all patients were to be wheeled out after admittance. It was due to the fact that they would all still be slightly hazed with medication.

        However, I really did not feel motivated to go through another conversation with Harry. It already made me feel bad enough, but had he not remembered what he said? He's said he doesn't remember much that night, but how can you not remember such harsh words?

        I shook them from my head before I had time to relive them, realizing I still hadn't answered Doctor Miles yet. "Oh, of course," I said with a smile, because an internship was all about impressing people above you. I needed at least one person to vouch me for an official job here, as a real nurse.

        "Thanks," he said, patting my shoulder. "Daisy has to assist me in surgery or she'd do it. But thank you."

        And then he was gone again before I could reply.

        I sighed, ruffling my hair a little before remembering the tickets and refusing to let anything foul my mood. Yes, it was difficult to be near him knowing we won't ever be the same. I missed him, more than anything, but it was hard to believe he was ready still being on the road and all.

        Pursing my lips, I strode towards his room while thinking about his mental health and how he still had not mentioned it. Even when confronted, it was almost as if his pride were more important than me understanding what was wrong. He helped me. Why would he not give me a chance to help him?

        I knocked lightly on the door, straightening my posture and taking in a breath. His muffled voice gave me entry and he was already sitting on the edge of the bed, struggling to bend over and tie his shoe.

        "Do you need help?" I asked quietly, though still somehow startled him.

        He swallowed visibly, pinching his eyes shut before giving a sigh of defeat. He motioned towards his head. "Just a... headache is all."

        Without asking, I sat on the chair by his bed and patted my knee for him to prop his foot up. He hesitated at first, but then rubbed his temples with a small groan and allowed me to tie his shoe. What was with men and their desperation to keep a tough facade?

        "You're not gonna like this," I told him, "but I've been asked to wheel you out."

        Harry threw his head back. "It's like I'm five years old and drank too much apple juice."

        I rose an eyebrow. "Apple juice makes five year olds tipsy?"

        He glanced over at me, but averted direct eye contact. "Just trying to make a metaphor of how they're tearing my independence from me."

        I couldn't help but laugh a little, shaking my head.

        He frowned, eyebrows creasing just as I finished his shoe and he removed his foot from my knee. "What? Why are you laughing?"

        "It's just funny to me how you basically starved yourself, overexerted yourself, blacked out, and still refuse to admit that..." I bit my tongue before my big mouth said anything else.

        Harry, just like old times, noticed I still had something to say. "Admit what?" he asked, his voice almost frightened as it lowered.        

        I stood, waving my hands dismissively before heading for the wheelchair sitting by the door. I opened it up; he watched me. I pushed it over to him; he rubbed his temples again.

        "Do you need something for that headache?" I asked.

        "No, I'm fine."

        I sighed before hesitantly walking over to him, offering my hand to help him up. For some reason, he seemed really uncomfortable around me today. Not so desperate to talk anymore rather than desperate the keep his eyes away from mine. It hurt more than I'd like to admit.

        "Harry," I said quietly, his head daring to turn my way just the slightest. I bit my bottom lip, wishing I had the guts to say more but knew I couldn't. I didn't want to hurt him by bringing anything personal up, either. 

        Seeing as how he was still struggling with his headache, I went with, "At least let me get you something for your headache," and he had obliged with little resistance this time. 

        So I went out to the receptionist desk where Evan was sitting, and asked him for some Ibuprofen. "Patient with a headache," I told him, and he nodded before reaching into his backpack for some. 

        Maybe it wasn't particularly allowed to give him other medication, but the poor thing could barely move. So I thanked Evan, went back to Harry after getting a small cup of water and he took it gratefully.

        I offered him my help again in getting in the chair, and I wished I hadn't. His hand still fit in mine just the way it used to, larger and almost hiding it completely. But his fingers were more calloused, no doubt from the sport his taken up the past two years. Yet even then, there's still that odd feeling in the pit of my stomach, like the butterflies all over again.

        Feeling ridiculously foolish, I found myself blinking back tears unintentionally. 

        How come this was so hard to just get over?

        As soon as he sat down, I had let out a breath I hadn't realized I was holding, moving to steer him out the door. He already had his head in his hands, fingers furiously rubbing his temples and I prayed that medicine would kick in soon. 

        "It's probably easier to keep your eyes closed," I told him. "The light in the hallways can be pretty blinding."

        He nodded just barely enough for me to see he had acknowledged me. I wheeled him out his room, past Evan's gawking eyes to which I humorously rolled mine. I tried to make a mental note to get him an autograph or something, which was weird enough to me as it was. 

        Another thing, I still could not picture him famous. Not even after seeing him on televisions screens and magazine covers. To me, he was still that insecure boy who somehow opened up to a girl with a big crush on him. And yet, I had no idea he still had more secrets until recently.

        Once we were in the parking garage, I told him it was safe to open his eyes because it was near evening outside, not to mention the parking garage itself was pretty dark.

        "Is someone coming to get you?"

        He nodded. "Jacob," he grumbled, sounding more furious. "Why won't it go away?"

        And it hit me like a ton of bricks. Back when we were in class and learning of disorders and such. Some depression and anxiety victims could experience intense migraines with their anxiety and depression were spiked. Or was I overreacting and it was simply just a migraine?

        I hadn't noticed I was biting my nails until I bit my skin, realizing it was now bleeding. Muttering under my breath, I shoved my hand in my jacket pocket, making a note to grab a band-aid once I got back inside.

        Jacob pulled up then, saving Harry and I from the weird silence we were thrown into. I had been overly thinking about his disorders and migraine and if they related, and I wanted to know what was running through his mind, but I knew he would never tell me. Not now when we've grown so far apart.

        "Hola amigos," blurted Jacob as he stepped out. He looked at me, as if trying to tell me something, but I didn't understand and looked away. Then he turned to Harry. "Is the sick duckling ready to take responsibility for his body's health?"

        Harry rubbed his forehead, though still sounded as if he were teasing. "Don't make me buy a new apartment far away from you."

        Jacob held his hands up. "Fine, fine. Come on. Let's get you in the car."

        So I watched with my bottom lip between my teeth as Jacob helped Harry into the passenger seat. I wanted to say goodbye or something, but I didn't really think I should. Harry was too busy focused on his headache to pay attention to much else.

        Jacob, however, did not like my excuse. I knew he was only trying to help, but shoving too people together who were practically strangers hardly ever worked out. True, neither of us have changed much, but there's a part of me too afraid to look back.

        He pointed his finger at me as soon as he made sure Harry was comfortable. "You, miss ma'am, were supposed to have a happily ever after."

        I folded my arms across my chest, glancing around him at Harry who was curled up in the passenger seat, one arm draped over his face. I turned back to Jacob. "What did you want me to do? He's miserable right now."

        "Uh, duh. Because of you."

        I gaped at him. "Wh--me?"

        "Well not you alone but with the crap and everything. I'm telling you, Grace. It might have been two years, but it's still only been two months for him. I can only be the glue for so long."

        I frowned, feeling almost like he was blaming me. I told Jacob the whole story. He knew the words that had pierced my heart and punched me in the gut. They shouldn't have stung like they did, but I couldn't help that. Jacob couldn't force anything if it wasn't supposed to happen.

        Suddenly, I felt very uncomfortable and defensive, hugging myself a little tighter. "He made it clear what he wanted," I muttered.

        Jacob gave me a look. "I'm disappointed," he said. "Honestly. I thought you could read through the lines a little better."

        Then, I'm angry, throwing my arms up in a fit. "What do you want me to do, Jacob? I can hardly even keep a decent conversation with him anymore. How do you expect something like that to work?"

        He held his hands up, sympathy glinting in his eyes. "Grace, I know what he said, and I know it was stupid, and I know he would regret it if you two only talked. I'm not saying small talk, I'm saying a sit-down where the two of you get emotional as hell and spill all your secrets."        

        Rubbing my forehead, I grabbed the handles to the wheelchair. "I have to get back. Take care of him, okay?"

        And then I forced myself to fight tears, to turn and walk away, even with Jacob yelling after me.

(omg, guys. I want to apologize sincerely right now for not having updated for almost three weeks. for those of you who didn't know, some stupid way I got gallstones and had to have surgery to get my gallbladder removed. the surgery was last week, but the week before I was really ill. I'm better now and updates will be mostly regular again, but I'm so sorry! I never intended to leave you all hanging that long. oh, and also thank you for letting me came back to see 16.3k followers! I was blown away. you guys are incredible. x)