17 Black

13•

You guys are the best and I'm not even just saying that. Reading your comments makes me cry (legit) and you're so loyal to this fanfic and I just love it😭❤️. I'm so excited -- as I always say, I know -- for this piece and if I'm being honest I'm making up the plot as I go so bear with me as the writing becomes a little shaky, but I promise it's getting back on track! Sorry for not updating regularly, my life is like woooo crazy rn so it's hard but I'm trying so I haven't forgotten about "17 Black" at all! KEEP READING, VOTING, COMMENTING, BEING AMAZING. LOVE YOU ALL!

(PS. IM ONE VOTE AWAY FROM 1000 THIS IS SO EXCITING)

-Bell❤️
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Louis wakes up. The first thing he sees is white. At first, he gets a little scared, and naturally comes to the conclusion that he might be one of those sad movie cliches where they all they see is like, all white right before they die. But then he realizes that it's just the room he's in. It's obviously a hospital judging by the bland -- but white, still -- wall color and the distinct smell of antiseptic that barely masks that sickening, signature hospital scent. And if that didn't give his whereabouts away, the pain definitely would.

It has lessened a small bit, probably thanks to the numerous tubes and needles snaking out of his arms and whatever drugs they're feeding him through them. There's a distinct, horrible pressure on his sides, like there's something heavy weighing on his midsection, viciously trying to crush him like a spider under a shoe. When he breathes, it feels like there's sharp sticks poking into his lungs, so for the time being, he tries not to breathe too excessively. His brain throbs painfully against his skull, and his whole face just stings. And not to mention, he's noticed that half of his arm is currently trapped in a cast of some sort. So that's great, really.

Louis closes his eyes and inhales slowly through his nose, trying unsuccessfully to ignore the gross hospital smell and the sharp pain in his chest. He doesn't remember much about the gritty details of how and why he is there, but he does recall that the shit got kicked out of his loudmouth ass, and Harry was there and now he's in the hospital. Oh. Harry was there. God, that's just awful. But Louis is tired and everything hurts and can't -- and doesn't want to --even think about that right now. If he attempted to, he's most certain that his brain would burst out of his ears.

It's dark outside the window, and also inside the room, except for the dull, colorful glows that the various medical machines surrounding him give off, so he knows it must be late. But for now, all he can think about is how heavy his eyelids feel, and how bad he just wants to sleep again. Or faint -- he isn't really sure which is more likely. His eyes are so close to dropping shut finally, and he's just then beginning to sink back into his pitiful sleep of pain and self hatred, when there's the scuff of a chair leg against tile right beside him.

Louis' breath hitches in his throat and he swears his heart beats a million times faster than it had been a second ago. As much as his body allows him to, he jerks his head to the direction of the noise in full panic.

"Woah woah woah, calm down, sorry, sorry," someone says in an audibly alarmed tone, and Louis freezes.

Harry's perched in a lone chair a few feet away from the hospital bed, his wide, doe eyes expressing evident worry and his hands outstretched in front of him as if to calm Louis down, even though Harry looks a bit startled, himself. Louis has to do a retake to make sure that he's not just hallucinating. Why is Harry even there? Hadn't he left after he dropped Louis off at the hospital? And why did he even bother with that, either? He could've just as easily not walked into that room, he could've left Louis to be someone else's problem, but he hadn't. And maybe that's supposed to mean something, but Louis' head is brutally pounding now and he cannot concentrate enough to figure it out. He squeezes his eyes shut for a moment to lessen the pain, and in a vain attempt to escape the humiliation of the situation. Harry just keeps talking, which doesn't really help his patience at all.