Subterranean | H.S.

S43

Harry's pov

I shut the bathroom door and let a breath out. I was waiting for her to wake up for such a long time it feels like it's been days since yesterday. But the wound is still very much fresh and sore, and as much as I want to talk to her about what happened and get to know her opinion on the topic, I decide to let it go for now. She needs time to rest, to get through all of that in her own time, and for that, she needs space, which I will happily give her. 

I have no idea what's gotten into me, or why I'm suddenly acting like that, but I think that I've been keeping it in me for a while now. I hate to admit that Niall was right, but he really was. I don't know what to think about her actions. It's all so complicated, because I did, in fact, lie to her, saying that she didn't cheat on that scumbag, just for her to let it go and move on and feel better. I don't think she's the cheater type tho. I guess we will figure it out in our own time.

Why am I even thinking about it now? It's not like we're together or something.

I grab my keys with my bag and leave the cozy apartment, making sure I closed the door properly. I asked Zayn to keep an eye on the apartment from the outside, in case if Jack ever decides to step in once again. You can never be too sure. 

I wish I could be by her side to make sure she's safe and okay, but there're things to do and places to be, just like she asked. 

And just like that I make my way to my car, which draws attention to itself, because I'm almost hundred percent sure, is the most expensive car on the street at the moment. I drive to the hospital to check on the little dude. On my way there I drive past Zayn, sitting in an old ass car and smoking, trying not to draw attention to himself. We nod meaningly to each other and I leave him behind me. He knows what he's supposed to do, he's trained well, I trust him with my life, so I trust him with hers.

The drive to the hospital doesn't take me long. I park right at the entrance to not waste any time. I step out of my seat and take a look around, staring at the spot I once saw her, in her car. Back to the time when she was wearing a red dress and it was raining. 

In the back of my head I hear my mother's words ''Did you visit your father maybe?''. 

She opens her car and gets inside. That's when it hits her and me at the same time. It hits us both. Because I watch as she closes the door behind herself and she starts to cry. She slowly gives into the emotions. A cry that I'd never be able to erase from my memory. A sight so sore, broken, and bitter that I wish I could just walk up to her and sit with her to make her feel better. I watch as painful tears escape not only her eyes but her heart. It hurts her deep down and crying is the only way of getting it out of her. Crying is the only way for her to clear her tired mind.

Now I understand.

The angels are crying because one of them is hurt.

This is one of the brightest, most alive memory I have of her and yet it's probably the saddest one. It's time to make some memories, happier memories. 

I shake my head and head right to the hospital, passing the nurse in the reception, saying her a quiet 'good afternoon'. The nurse catches me with 'excuse me' and I stop in my tracks.

''Yes?'' I bring my brows together, confused as if why she's stopping me.

''Sir Styles? Right?''

I nod my head. ''Yes, that's right, why?'' 

She smiles and grabs something from the desk. She hands me a badge that says 'staff'. She instructs me how to pin it to my shirt, I thank her.

''Persephone called.'' I smack my lips, not knowing what I'm supposed to say. I point my thumb to the stairs and she speaks again. ''Can I help you with-''

I cut her off, shaking my head. ''I know the way, thanks.'' I leave the nurse behind me and instead of going up the stairs, like I intended to, I take the elevator. 

I guess Percy really took the 'safety first' phrase to herself. I smirk at the thought. 

I click the buttons and go up to the right floor. 

Before I open the door I try to smile. I don't want the little guy to worry.

The moment I press the handle I hear his voice yelling ''Phee!'' He turns around on the floor and the smile fades off his face as he realizes I'm not her. The moment his facial expression changes, mine changes as well. The reality hits me. This isn't work, this isn't a place where I have to be someone I'm not. I also realize that through the whole ride here I didn't think of what I'm supposed to say to him. Immediately I feel tensed. 

''Hey'' I close the door behind me and don't take a step closer to him. Why do I act like this? It's not the first time I see him. ''No, I'm not your Phee.'' I look around the room and wonder what she'd do in this situation. I don't want to get too close, but I don't want to act like a total stranger either. 

''Where's Phee?'' He walks to me and grabs my hand, leading me to sit on his bed. This kid is nicer than I've ever been and I'm four times older than him. 

He stands in front of me, awaiting an answer, which I haven't thought of yet.

''She's uh-'' I sit on the bed and look at him. ''She's not feeling well.'' 

His face drops and I see that he's worried, so I shake my head. Fuck.

''No, no, no. She's fine, but she asked me to come here instead of her.'' He nods his head, understanding. ''She's gonna be alright, promise.''

''Are you taking care of her?'' His question catches me off guard and I furrow my brows. 

''Y-yes, I am.'' He smiles at me and says 'good' to himself. 

Why do I feel like I'm talking to her father, asking him for permission to marry his daughter?

I've never been this stressed around a fucking kid.

''Do you want to read with me?'' He comes back with the book that I got him and obviously, I agree.

''Come here.'' I pat the space on the bed right next to me and he gives me the book. Instead of sitting next to me he decides to sit between my legs and leans his head over my chest. I'm shocked that he's comfortable enough to sit this close to me, but I don't question his doings. She asked me to take care of him, so I'm going to do that, no matter what that means. 

''This one.'' He points to the picture and I begin to read, resting my chin on his little head. 

He has much less hair than I remember from the last time.

//