Losers |H.S|

Chapter 43

"Here", Logan's voice breaks the rhythmic, slow thudding of the wall-clock that was torturing my mind, and my tired eyes blink open. With his right hand offering me a cup of warm coffee, he shoots me a weak smile, while taking a seat on my left.

We've been in this obnoxiously beige waiting room for a while now, arriving not long after Logan. Harry was in the ER still, and I had no idea if that was a good or a bad thing. No nurse or passing doctor seemed to know anything about his case, leaving all of our little group in agonizing darkness.

I couldn't put into words what it meant to me that all of our close friends were here, despite the new day dawning outside. Rita was immersed in a deep but quiet conversation, sitting with her dad and Layla on the left wall of the room, her hands stroking her belly continuously. Marcus had Nancy hugged on his left side right across from me, both with closed eyelids, as she leaned on his shoulder lovingly and he fiddled with her dark hair in a way that looked like it brought him peace.

All of their faces looked so drained, with the sadness and the worry plastered on them never fading away, while a little, cheap, white cup was resting in all of their hands. I couldn't help but wonder what my face looked like, because it felt like the painful frown was permanently tattooed on my features now.

"Thanks", I mumble, accepting the styrofoam cup from Logan, that instantly warms my trembling fingers.

"Eh... It's garbage, but it'll get the job done, I guess", he shrugs his shoulders, taking a big gulp of his own coffee.

Bringing the cheap cup to my lips I realize that Logan wasn't joking at all. It really tastes awful, but it'll have to do for now. It's not like I'm leaving this hospital to find the nearest Starbucks and get myself a good cup of caramel macchiato. Besides, I wouldn't even give a damn if the hospital coffee tasted like actual shit right now. All I can think of is Harry, and every painful second that's passing feels like someone threw a harsh punch in my gut.

Instead of an answer though, this time Logan gets a really loud growl from my stomach. Well, not eating for nearly a day will do that to you.

"Damn. Didn't know you were hiding a werewolf in there, babe", he comments as he places his cup on the side table, tying his arms under his chest right after, still looking at me on his side with his big, tired eyes. He still has smudges of Harry's blood on his body and clothes, though he obviously cleaned most of it in the hospital restrooms. I couldn't bear to stay with his crimson livelihood on me all night, my heart just couldn't process the pain, so I had to drop by my place and change quickly before Chris drived us all here on his truck. "Wanna go to the cafeteria downstairs and grab a bite? Although it'll probably taste like shit, too."

"No, I'm fine", I say, closing my eyelids again to subdue their intense burning.

"Babe", he sighs with a sad tone in his voice, "starving yourself isn't the answer. You should eat. You need to stay strong. For him", he scolds me caringly.

No. All I need is him.

"I can't do food right now", I shake my head. " As much as you made it sound so tempting... I just can't. This will have to do", I raise my cup a little to him, after my ironic remark, before I take one more sip and cringe at the taste, denying his offer. Honestly, even the thought of eating right now makes me sick.

"I swear it's like you're twins with the little devil over there. Fuckin' stubborn little things both of you", he huffs, and I open my eyes to catch him staring at his pregnant with his child girlfriend. "And don't even get me started on the attitude".

"What can I say. It's our best trait. Why people love us to be honest. And don't act like you don't secretly love it yourself", I look at him with my head resting on the wall behind me, and a faint smirk tugging on my lips.