Misadventure

60

Harry's POV

The lights in the Windsor Hospital parking garage hurt my exhausted eyes. I trudged towards Zayn's car that had just pulled in. My shoes were soaked from rain. My feet ached. I was absolutely drained.

I had cried so much tonight already, I felt as though I couldn't produce another tear even if my life depended on it.

That proved to be untrue.

"How is he?" Zayn asked as I climbed into the passenger seat of his car.

I broke down. Again.

The weight on my shoulders was crushing me. I leaned forward, folding myself in half and sobbing into my lap.

"Fuck. Harry, I'm so sorry."

"I want to go home," I cried.

Zayn started rubbing my back in careful, hesitant circles. "You don't want to see Louis?"

I cried harder, choking on snot and tears caught in my throat. "That wasn't what I meant."

"I'm confused. You do want to visit Louis?"

This frustrated me. It wasn't Zayn's fault, of course. He'd been nothing but lovely and a saint. I definitely owed him big time for the way he dropped everything to help me tonight.

But my mental battery was operating at about 1% right now. I was having a hard time articulating what I was feeling, and I just needed Zayn to understand me.

"I don't want to visit Louis in the hospital, because I don't want him to be in the hospital at all," I tried to explain, struggling to catch my breath. My voice sounded muffled against my lap. "But since he is in the hospital, and there's nothing I can do about it, I want to visit him."

Zayn suddenly yawned, removing his hand from my back. As I sat up and glanced over at him, he was rubbing his own tired eyes.

"H, I'm not going to pretend that made any sense, but however you're feeling right now is valid. Tell me where you want to go, and I'll drive you, okay?"

"The hospital," I told him.

"You're sure?" he sounded a bit skeptical. "If you're too tired we could always go in the morning."

I felt awful for him. I'd been so caught up feeling sorry for myself, it didn't even occur to me that Zayn was probably just as tired as me, if not more. He'd been driving me around all over England, and it was so late that it was nearly morning.

"I really do want to see him tonight," I said meekly, hanging my head. "I don't think I'm going to be able to sleep until I've confirmed with my own eyes that he's okay."

Zayn yawned again. He turned the key in the ignition, starting the car's engine. "Harry, I should warn you..."

I glanced at him sideways. "What?"

"He doesn't know," Zayn said. "Louis doesn't know about your Dad."

I felt the blood drain from my face. "Oh god. He's going to be heartbroken. He's going to feel so guilty."

I knew it was Will driving, not Louis. Zayn had told me this on the way over here.

But I knew Louis well enough to know, he was likely going to find a way to blame himself; It was sort of his signature move.