Losers |H.S|

Chapter 44

Oh hi!  Yeah yeah I'm alive. SO in case you missed it, Losers is turning into a 90s story from now on so don't get weirded out by the sudden change on a few things. I'll edit the previous chapters once I'm done with the story, but keep in mind we're somewhere around 1995-ish. I've wanted Losers to be a 90s story since I've thought of the plot, but I was afraid  that I wouldn't deliver. Thankfully ,I've changed my mind, cause it seems more fitted to the story, especially to Harry's character. Back to the story now:

A fallen angel.

Watching him lying motionless on the hospital bed, with an oxygen mask covering half of his beautiful features, with his mesmerizing eyes peacefully closed, while IVs were ending in his veins, was the only thing my mind could compare him with. A wounded creature that fell from the skies. Even in this state he was so fucking handsome. Sleeping serenely like the events of the other night never happened, like a single bullet never nearly cost his life.

Oh how I miss your emerald gleaming eyes, chipmunk.

His wounded torso was uncovered from the light blue hospital blanket that was resting on his hips now, wrapped in white bandage that was stained red right where the bullet hit him. The repetitive beeping of the heart monitor showed that his condition was steady and his vitals were functioning adequately for now.

My heart squeezed painfully on its own at his sight, but my eyes couldn't rip away from him, always examining him in anticipation for any fraction of movement, any sign of consciousness. Sadly, with no luck at all. Harry stayed calmly still, except for the barely there light puffing of his chest, hinting that he's alive. To me, that was enough. For now.

He was alive.

I spent the night following his surgery with him, right after the doctors completed the blood transfusion and released him from the ER. Urging all the others to go and get some much needed rest, I sat on an uncomfortably small chair by his side all night, praying to whatever gods there are out there with everything I had in me. All of our friends were exhausted after all, being in this hospital for more than 24 hours, especially Rita, now that she carried a second whole human inside her.

I stayed though, despite the nurses insisting for me to go home. I felt like I didn't have anywhere else to go, my place was here by his side. He was my home. I couldn't help the silent tears falling from my eyes every now and then as the flashing images violated my mind, and it really did surprise me how it was even possible that I still had tears left in me.

However, Dr. William's optimistic and hopeful words kept me from completely losing it, giving me strength at the same time to keep going and not give up. To be fair though, I'd never give up on him. The moment the doctor walked out of the ER again, after the transfusion, he held the most glorious smile on his face that creased his eyes, and I instantly felt the urge to hug him to the point of suffocation, despite not hearing the good news leaving his mouth just yet. Of course I ended up controlling myself, but from that moment I started warming up to him, this time actually listening to his words and advice without rudely interrupting him.

He told me that everything went smoothly and Harry's system seemed to respond well after the surgery. He didn't miss to remind me though that nothing was over. Harry still needed to wake up on his own, and if that didn't happen within a week then it was bad news. Also, even after he'd wake up, Mr. Williams would need to run some tests on him and keep him in the hospital for a few extra days for precautions. So, all we could do was wait for Harry to open his eyes and signal the operation was successful.

During that time, the police came to see me expectantly, asking me a million questions either I didn't want to, or didn't know how to answer. About the bar, the band, the shooting, Mark, my role in everything... One of the officers even suggested that it was Harry's fault that Mark shot him, having the audacity to ask if Harry said anything to anger him, or provoked him in any way. Naturally, I got mad, calling him out, basically forcing him to swallow back every word and apologize, which was extremely odd for a cop nowadays.