as it is || harry styles au

forty-five

newwwwwww POVs....

j e n n a

     "She's awake? Ivy's awake?" Harry asked.

"Yes, she's awake," the nurse replied.

     I took in a deep breath and clutched onto Mick's arm. He had his eyes glued to Harry, thinking the same thing I was.

As much as Ivy had been at the forefront of our minds for over twenty-four hours, Harry was our next concern. Since Christmas, we'd gotten to know him well enough to see that this was his own personal hell. He'd lost Ivy once to Boston for a reason not so entirely separate from this one, and he knew fully well that he almost lost her again, only in a much more permanent way. Beyond that, her son saw Harry as his second parent, and he was at home wondering without a clue where the both of them were.

     Em's brows furrowed together, their eyes bouncing between Harry and the nurse. "What about Harry? Does she know Harry's here?"

     A dozen possibilities as to why Ivy asked for Emerson instead of her boyfriend came to mind. Realistically, she couldn't be certain of how much time has passed nor could she be sure if Harry had made it here yet or not. The next best person would be her best friend.

     It seemed Harry saw the situation in the same way. He moved to Em's side, clasping a hand to the back of their neck.

     Em continued, "Ask her if she wants to see H—"

     "Mate, mate," Harry cut them off, squeezing their shoulder.

     "She'd want to see you."

     Harry shook his head. "Go see her. Just give her our love, okay?"

     Time suspended for several more seconds, until Em shifted to look at Mick and I. The both of us nodded our affirmation, and once Em left with the nurse, Mick curled me into his chest. The way our hearts pounded in succession was a testament to how much we both cared for Ivy. She was family.

     Mick pressed a kiss to my neck and whispered softly, "Need to go check on him, babe."

     Everyday, my guy reaffirmed my love for him. His morals, his loyalty, his fierce protection of those he cared about.

     He walked over to the man frozen in time. Harry hadn't moved an inch from his spot where he stood with his back to us when we received the news. Mick reached him and placed a hand on his shoulder. My teary eyes almost spilled over when Harry flinched at the contact.

     He was lost in his thoughts. I didn't know much about his past at all, but when we were at his place Christmas evening, I had seen the pill bottles. I'd been looking for floss in his bathroom and came across his Wellbutrin and Xanax prescriptions.

     I wasn't normally nosy—I'm never nosy—but my brain took in the information on those bottles before I could think to look away.

     The Wellbutrin, a common antidepressant used long-term, was a recent refill, but the Xanax had been filled a year ago.

     Ivy never mentioned anything about Harry struggling with depression or having had a history of it—not that she'd just spill his personal business to me—but after yesterday and today, I saw it. The look of someone who was fighting the invisible fight. The look of familiar emptiness.