Bird Shit

7th of July - 11:24 AM

'Doctor, are you sure it is okay for her to go home?' Mother asks the doctor holding her discharge papers.

She has been holding in her food for a total of 24 hours now and her headache is bearable if she stays quiet. The doctor thinks it is time to go home, where ever that may be for Poppie, but Mother has other plans for her.

'I think that Poppie has learned her lesson when it comes to drinking and surely will watch out in parks from now on. There's not much less for us to do here madam.'

'But she was so sick? It was coming out of her from all sides,' her Mother says her eyes popping out at the image.

If Poppie had known that all it takes for her Mother to show her love is to get very, very sick then she would have hit her head on the concrete voluntarily. The difference is almost scary although it's still her Mother of course.

'We know, trust me,' the doctor smiles to Poppie before he continues, 'but like I said, there's nothing we can do.'

'Just know that if I find her death in bed the next morning I will sue you 'till your own deathbed!' Mother turns around to face the window, not taking the defeat very well.

'We understand with such a lovely daughter. Here are your papers Poppie. I hope not to see you very soon.' With that, the doctor leaves Poppie and Mother (who's mocking the doctor by saying 'lovely daughter' in a tone that suggest otherwise). Poppie knows better now though. Poppie knows Mother loves her even though she doesn't want to come home or collect her stuff at Henry's. There's only one place she wants to go that she has to make sure is real.

'I'll try not to die Mother,' Poppie says as she tiptoes out of bed to shuffle to her Mother. There's an emotion on her face she isn't used to seeing.

'You better not,' she says and she softly squeezes her shoulder before she turns around again to start packing.

Poppie sighs looking around the room full with flowers and paintings from her cousins. There's no trace from Harry, Louis, Niall or Liam and it is starting to worry her. Mother hasn't said a word about what happened after she fell in the park. Although it all feels very real she knows that with the right amount of alcohol your memory can be pretty fucked up. It just feels as if she finally has all the puzzle pieces together, yet there's no trace from them. No card, no flowers and she's scared they turned on her.

'Excuse me, is this Poppie's room?'

A handsome man with a bouquet of red tulips stands in her doorway looking for her. He looks familiar yet she can't quiet place him and for a second she's scared that he's another person telling her that they slept together and she just can't remember it but then he introduces himself to her and Poppie's mouth falls open.

'I'm Zayn,' he says shaking her fragile hand. 'I'm here to see how you're doing.'

'But why?' Poppie mumbles. Surely if Zayn is real (and god, he seems very, very real) then Harry is real as well, so why isn't he here himself?

'Well, they aren't allowed to come here and the hospital won't lend information that is privacy-sensitive. So, here I am!'

He doesn't look very happy about the situation as he hands the flowers and looks over his shoulder to Poppie's Mother.

'Did you ban Harry?' Poppie asks her Mother turning around much quicker than her head can handle.

'I didn't, they just were making a scene about you and I couldn't have them here with Henry on the way. Surely you can understand,' she says batting her eyelashes.

'Sure,' she replies rolling her eyes.

'Well, they also had this,' Zayn continues handing her another item that is her phone.

'Thank god!' She shrieks happy to have it back in her hands.

There are still a million of missed phone calls and texts but she ignores them as she slides it in to her jeans her Mother brought her.

'So, what do you do?' Mother suddenly asks Zayn who balances from one foot to another. She can be quiet intimidating when she becomes like this.

'I'm an artist, well trying,' he says shyly but it catches Mother's attention.

She likes peroxide, Botox and art.

'What kind of art?'

'Contemporary mostly, but just basically what someone wants to order.'

'Did you paint the paintings in the bird shit club flat?' Poppie asks him and he nods eagerly.

'Yes, those are mine.'

'They are great,' Poppie says more to her Mother who keeps an interesting eye on Zayn.

'Thanks,' Zayn mutters and he breathes deeply. 'I should get back to them then, to report on your health and stuff.'

'Wait!' She screams a bit too loudly as if Zayn already left to room. He's still standing in front of her though. With raised eyebrows.

'Can you bring me there?' She's embarrassed to say that she remembers everything but the address.

'To Harry's?'

'Yes,' she answers him and he smiles.

'Sure! They'll be so happy to see you. You don't want to know how many phone calls and texts I have been getting about you since Saturday. It's ridiculous.'

'Great, let me just pack further then I'll come with you.'

They smile for a brief moment before Poppie starts to pack with her Mother who stays awfully quiet. When her bag is packed with jeans and shirts that her Mother took out of her old home with Henry, she turns to look at her.

'Thanks Mother, for staying with me the past days,' she says and her Mother can't help it. One small tear leaves her eye but she collects it with her hand quick.

'Of course.'

'You're not mad that I am going to Harry's?' She asks her and she shakes her head.

'He seemed... rather fond of you,' Mother tells her. 'He was absolutely worried for you when the ambulance brought you in. Although he's not what I hope you end up with, he has his heart in the right place.'

'Thanks Mother,' Poppie says as she does her best to not cry as well as she leaves her Mother alone in her hospital room to follow Zayn outside.

Together in his shabby car they leave for the bird shit club and what she hopes is her new home. With butterflies from nerves she walks the stairs she remembers and ends up in front of the door that Zayn opens with a key.

Inside are Niall and Liam playing the X-Box on the couch that is worn out but is very comfortable. Louis is standing behind them cheering them on with a beer in hand while Harry is standing in front of the window holding Ralph.

Four pair of eyes look up to her as she stands next to Zayn with her large weekend bag in hand.

'I heard you were looking for a new roommate?' Poppie says and instead of an answer she gets bombarded by three boys who fight for a turn to hug her and look to her large head wound. There's only one that stays behind, a little hesitant.

'You remember me?' He asks, his green eyes piercing through her and there's no way she will ever forget about those eyes.

Even after champagne, beer and vodka she still remembered those eyes. Even after a blow to the head she still dreamed of his eyes. Even now, while scared as shit that he'll turn her down for being the bitch she was (well, still is a bit) she knows she'll remember them always.

'Of course I do,' she returns and he pulls her in for a hug.

'What's my name then?' He asks as he pushes her away to look her in the eyes, their noses almost touching.

For a brief moment she wants to say Harold to piss him off but how can she when his name is tattooed on her back. It will stay there forever and she hopes he will as well.

'Harry,' she breathes just in time before their lips meet again for what she hopes is a kiss of many, many more to come.

- T H E  E N D -