Remind Me To Forget (L.S.) ✔️

Chapter 46

8:41
harry_styles: good morning, hope you'll have a great day:)

14:56
harry_styles: will you have 5 mins to talk before you go to sleep?

harry_styles: it would be nice to hear your voice again

20:14
harry_styles: it's okay, sleep well love

7:55
harry_styles: is everything okay?

harry_styles: I'm starting to get a bit worried

15:29
harry_styles: just text me pls

harry_styles: one word is enough

Harry checked his phone for the 70th time in the past ten minutes; ever since he's sent the message he's been acting like a rocket that got stuck in the starter barrel, struggling to free itself from suffering. He knew Louis didn't have much time, but he always replied eventually by the end of the day.

This silence was eating him up alive.

The birthday call awhile ago gave him such an energy rush, like no amount of sugar or caffeine could of ever done. It only had one big disadvantage: missing his other half became five times worse, sending him into an endless spiral of thoughts about his voice, face and handwriting. It was a mess, he was a mess.
...And now Louis disappeared like he's never been real, and only a photo on the nightstand and a crinkled letter proved his existence.

Okay, maybe that was a stretch.
He's been ignoring the messages for like 24 hours now, it wasn't like nobody remembered him as they did with The Beatles in that popular movie.

However, the young artist couldn't calm down his highly pounding heart - he felt like he had to do something. Anything to know his man was actually alright and his phone just died. Or got stolen. Along with him being kidnapped. And sold to an egyptian prince. For camels and gold.

Harry slowly climbed the stairs up to the main hall from the workshop, before limping to the sport and medical section of the university. He was getting better and better at walking with the plastic foot cast on, which made him feel a bit more powerful. If he was able to fight down the problems that came with a broken bone all alone, he might beat anything.
He knocked on the blurry glass door, then turned the knob and stepped in quite nervous.

"Hello, 'm sorry to bother you," he cleared his throat. "Can I talk to you for a second?"

"Of course, come i- what the heck" Dr Page blinked twice as she glimpsed at the cast on his leg. "How can someone get so badly injured while being a painter...?"

The curly headed one suppressed a smile, shaking his head. " 'm not just a painter, I like to think I'm an artist."

"Still, did you drop a freaking easel on your leg? A statue? Made of marble?"

"I fell down the stairs... I think," he clarified it finally while nervously sinking his hands in the pockets of his skinny jeans. "But 'm not here for that. I want to ask you about Louis."

"So you're telling me you have a broken feet, but you searched for a doctor not to check up on it, but to ask them about another patient who they certainly can not talk about?"

"No, I was searching for you," he highlighted the words, his features crinkling to a quite desperate expression. "I haven't heard from him since yesterday morning and I know you're obligated to visit them every week, so I thought you might know about something I don't..."

Her poker face was unshakeable. "He might just not get signal right now."

"Please Dr Page, I... I just need to know." Harry seemed extremely sad when he pronounced the begging words. He was well aware that a doctor couldn't mention these things, but he was hoping their story is different and means something for her as she already saved them once, going against all the rules back in october.