"You fucking moron!" Mitch exploded. "What were you thinking?"
Harry growled at him. "It's not that big of a deal."
"Not that big of-" Mitch threw his hands up in the air. "Not that big of a deal! Harry! You're an international super star! People are going to notice when you have a cast on."
Harry narrowed his eyes. "We don't even know if it is broken yet."
They both looked at his hand. It was cracked and bleeding, bruises appearing rapidly. It was bent a little but you couldn't see a lot under all the blood and bruises.
"Well, does it feel broken?" Mitch asked scathingly.
Harry flexed his hand trying to move his fingers. They moved with a little pain. It felt funny. Like something had disconnected a little.
"I don't know." He moved it again. "Feels a little funny."
Mitch took a deep breath, trying to control his anger. "Come on, I know someone who works in the hospital."
"No!" Harry growled at Mitch. "I don't need to go the hospital."
"Well what do you want me to do? Wrap it myself. Be your little bitch for a week, listening to you moan and complain aboout how much it hurts." Mitch's sarcasm was at an all time high.
"No." Harry sighed feeling defeated. He hated hospitals. And he hated people he didn't know touching him and talking to him.
"Let's go." Mitch said, his voice much softer than before.
Harry followed him to his car, trying not to stay calm. The anger that had caused him to punch the wall repeatedly was still coursing through his veins, and the pain radiating through his nerves was not making him feel any better.
The ride was silent, almost suffocating. They were both trying to contain their anger. Harry's at the world. Mitch's at his friend and his self deprecation. Normally he was pretty good at hiding his self loathing. Even so, he had not been happy in a long time. Not since Covid had hit. Everyone had bad days.Everyone had lost someone or something to the virus. But Harry too caught up in grieving to participate in the world around him. It was a good thing he had a pretty face and good voice.
"Why'd you punch the wall?" Mitch finally asked. His voice was hard but Harry knew he was concerned.
"Wanted to get rid of the pain." Harry answered, eyes closed, head back.
"By causing more?" Mitch questioned, trying to keep his voice even.
"No." Harry's voice was tired. "By transferring it somewhere else."
"Harry." Mitch's voice was terribly soft. "You've got to stop doing this."
Harry did not answer, did not even look like he heard what Mitch said, or he didn't care. Mitch sighed, pulling into the parking lot of the hospital. He pulled out his phone calling someone .
"Hello." She sounded tired and Mitch felt bad disturbing her.
"Hey." Mitch smiled slightly despite himself, he missed her. Their schedules often prevented them from seeing each other more than a couple times a year.
"I'm about to walk into a patient's room." Her voice sounded regretful. "I have to go."
"I'm sorry." Mitch started, sighing. "Harry punched a wall."
"Harry as in Styles? Are you coming to the hospital?"
"We're already here."
"I can be down in fifteenish minutes."
