Falling

Chapter Three

TW////suicide, self harm, depression

Louis' pov
I need to get Harry out of his room...

I've organized a lot of the hospitals events for the patients. I like them to feel comfortable here and maybe meet people who are in the same boat as they are.

A lot of the patients are at least willing to try to come out of their rooms and mingle with their fellow patients, or sit in the common area, or even go outside to our recreation area to get some fresh air.

However Harry has yet to.

He'll go to his therapies, or come out to eat his meals, except other than that he hasn't been too keen on socializing.

It hurts my heart to think about what he's going through. He barely even talks to me, despite my efforts to converse.

I walked into his room to do his check in, having to do this daily to relay it to his therapists so they can work on treatment that works best for him.

He was sat at the table in his room, it was one of his favorite spots. His journal was opened to an otherwise blank page, however it had an honestly amazing drawing of a cat on it.

This must be the one he kept in his apartment...from his drawing it appeared to be a gray tabby that I would've thought to be feral because of a chunk missing from its right ear.

This drawing was really good...so he can draw stupidly well, noted.

He didn't even look up at me when I joined him at the table. His glazed over eyes were staring down at his left arm as he traced his stitches with the eraser of the pencil he'd been given for journaling.

"This your cat?" I asked, not knowing what type of answer I would get. Normally his responses weren't ones of much substance.

As I'd predicted, he merely nodded and couldn't seem to focus on anything but the eraser slowly running over the stitches.

"What's its name?" I pried while trying to get him to at least make eye contact with me.

That was a difficult thing most days...

"Her name...is Beatrice." He mumbled, glancing over at the picture he'd drawn and sighing a little bit.

"She looks like a Beatrice, very sophisticated. That's a lovely drawing by the way. You like drawing?" I questioned, trying to get more than four words out of him at a time. I have yet to have a full conversation that wasn't mostly one sided.

Good thing I'm persistent.

"I guess..." he shrugged and set his pencil down then looked out the window. I knew for a fact that he couldn't see much out of them, seeing as they weren't real glass.

I wondered what he thought about as it was obvious there was always something on his mind.

"What would you think about maybe having an art class for you and other patients? You could paint, draw, do whatever you'd like. Then maybe the artworks could be displayed throughout the facility?" I asked him, knowing I'd have to run that by the head nurse but I just hoped something peaked his interest.

He shrugged, still not looking me in the eyes.

This was going to be harder than I thought...

"Okay, well...I'll run it by my bosses and see what I can do. Now, for the boring stuff." I started, knowing I had to do my job at some point. "I'm just gonna ask a few questions that will help your therapists and doctors with treatment options."

"First, how have you been sleeping?" I read from my clipboard before looking back up at his face. He was pretty pale and his eyes looked sunken, he had the deepest darkest circles under them which gave me a clue that he hadn't been sleeping well.