Sweet Tooth [HS]

EIGHTY FIVE

Later.

Max was woken up by her phone ringing. It pulled her out of sleep, and she peeked her eyes open and groaned when she saw the time. 3:29 a.m.

She ignored her phone and shut her eyes, sighing with relief when it stopped ringing. But it started again.

"Fuck's sake," she mumbled, her voice all hoarse from sleep. Slowly, she extended her arm out from the cover, squinting at the glaring phone screen that was burning her eyes in the darkness. It was Lexie. Max rolled her eyes and pressed ignore. Whatever it was could fucking wait.

As soon as the put the phone back on the nightstand, though, it started ringing again.

"Jesus Christ," she muttered to herself, before sitting up and reluctantly accepting the call.

"What the hell Lexie? Do you know what time it is? I'm-"

"Harry overdosed."

And

then

time

stopped.

It felt like being punched in the stomach, like being plunged into ice.

"What?"

"Harry's in hospital. He's overdosed."

Suddenly there was no air. Suddenly there was a ringing in her ears, a deafening white noise. Suddenly her heart gave up beating.

No, she thought. This wasn't real. This was a dream.

"Max? Are you there?"

Lexie's voice was urgent, Max could feel the panic.

"What-" her voice caught. "What happened?"

"We're not sure. Rory got a call, we're on our way to see him now."

"Where?"

"St Thomas' hospital."

"He's in London?"

"Yeah. He just announced he's going on tour."

Max nodded and realised no one could see.

"I'll be there. I'm coming."

And then it was like Max went into auto-pilot. She wasn't processing, wasn't thinking - was hardly aware she was moving as she jolted up from bed. She pulled on a pair of boots and raced out the flat at full speed, trying to yank a hoodie on as she stumbled down the stairs.

She knew there was nothing rational about what she was doing. But in that moment everything, everything melted away, none of it mattered. Her worries and her woes and her broken fucking heart were completely forgotten- suddenly and painfully buried under this crippling feeling wrenching through Max's body.

It was like her mind went white. She couldn't think about the red lights on the road, couldn't think about her broken heart, her history, her future - it turned to ash.

All she was thinking was Harry.

Her mind was racing with questions, her body was sort of palpitating with worry - but most of all, Max was utterly terrified.

It was this terror that she might never see him again.

A terror that the last thing she said to him was I hate you.

A terror that he might fucking die.

"Oh God," she said to herself, "I can't lose him I can't lose him I can't lose him."

So many fears. So many feelings.

It usually took twenty minutes to get to the hospital, but Max made it in under fifteen. By the time she was running inside her lip was bleeding from how hard she'd been gnawing at it. She realised how violently her hands were shaking when she slammed them down on the reception desk.