Falling

Chapter Two

TW// MENTIONS OF SUICIDE

Louis' pov

If you had asked me when I was a kid what I wanted to be when I grew up, I had so many different answers. Pilot, firefighter, policeman... but never had I thought I'd be a nurse in a psychiatric ward.

Life has a way of changing you though, that's for sure.

When I was 16, I lost my best friend to suicide.

I remember being so shocked at first, how had I not seen the signs? He was my best friend, and I felt like I should've been able to see that something was wrong.

I felt like I had failed him, and it was that day that I decided I wanted to be there for anyone who found themselves him the position he was. I wanted to help people find a will to live.

While now as an adult, I know I shouldn't have blamed myself for what happened to him, I still have the desire to help each and every person who is struggling that I can.

And that's how I ended up here, working as a psychiatric nurse. I've been here for four years, and it's one of the hardest, yet rewarding choices I've ever made.

•

I knew him.

I'd seen him before.

I racked my brain, trying to remember just exactly how I knew this boy who was lying on the bed in front of me, asleep from an unsuccessful suicide attempt. Where had I seen him?

The grocery store. That was it. He was one of the baggers at my local grocery store, and while I certainly recognized him, I knew for a fact that he wouldn't recognize me.

He'd never looked up from the items he was bagging, not even once. Nor had he ever spoken a single word to me, or really anyone as far as I could tell.

He always wore this dark red jacket, and kept his head down, his unruly curls were like a curtain around his face, never letting his skin see daylight.

In fact, the only reason I recognized him was the rather large hole on the left elbow of the jacket, and his dark curls. I'd never actually seen his face.

Looking at him now, I could see he was gorgeous. He had a sharp jawline, and perfectly angled cheekbones. His lashes were long and dark, and his lips, though pale and chapped, were rounded and shaped beautifully.

I wondered what color his eyes were. Maybe blue?

The head nurse and I were taking off his now blood stained jacket, and replacing his clothing with a hospital gown. She was talking to me as we bandaged his arms, but I could hardly focus on what she was saying.

"His story just breaks my heart," she said which caught my attention again.

"Sorry, his story?" I asked.

"Yeah, I'm assuming they haven't told you any of the details yet?"

I shook my head.

"He doesn't really have anybody. I guess he went through foster homes as a kid, now he works at a grocery store." She said, "he lives alone in a studio apartment. His landlord found him after his boss called. He was barely alive," she said sadly.

I didn't know what to say, usually the people that ended up here had at least one or two people in their life that cared, if not more.

"Oh, and the worst part. He had a cat, he left a window open and plenty of food for her, but she was still there when the landlord arrived. I guess there's a no pet policy, and he'd been keeping her under the radar. She's getting taken to a shelter."

"Dear god... that's horrible. So he won't be able to have his cat when he returns home?"

"Unfortunately..." she sighed.

"Shit. That really sucks."

"I know... anyway. It'll be a few days before he wakes up, but I'm going to assign him to you. I think you'll be a good fit," she said, smiling warmly.

I nodded, looking down at him for a moment, then back at her as she was about to leave the room. "Wait!"

"What is it?" She asked, turning to look at me.

"I forgot to ask, what's his name?"

"Harry Styles," she replied. "I'll get you his chart to look at soon."

I nodded, "thanks."

•

Green.

His eyes are green.

I was startled at the sight of them when his eyes slowly peeled open on the fourth day he'd been here.

I'd pictured blue, maybe brown. But his eyes were the most stunning, earthy shade of green I'd ever seen.

It was clear from the moment he realized what was going on that he was not happy to be here. It wasn't surprising of course, but it was still sad.

I kept the conversation light as I changed his bandages and got him all taken care of. The deep conversations and questions were the doctor's and therapist's responsibilities. And unless a patient opened up to me voluntarily, as a nurse, I wasn't allowed to be talking about such things.

I was there mostly to assist with physical injuries and well being. We as nurses were also tasked with organizing activities, and opportunities for patients to socialize.

At the end of the day, I considered my job as a nurse, synonymous to the job of being a friend.

I did my best to help patients see it that way. I didn't want any weird boundaries, and I most certainly didn't want to seem like I thought I was above them. Some nurses I've come across over the years, have had an arrogance about them, and are patronizing to those who are vulnerable and need support more than anything during their hard times. It makes me sick.

We're all just humans in different stages of life. Doctor, nurse, or patient, it doesn't matter. What matters is the feelings we bring one another.

And I want to help Harry Styles feel joy.

Hey! Chapter 2 down:) hope you liked it, please comment and leave any feedback! Comments and votes are really motivating :)

Stella💛