HARRY
"Where were you last night?"
Louis glances at me, amusement apparent. He puts on his seatbelt as I turn on our siren. We're headed towards a car-crash involving several cars at high speed, and we're never entirely sure what that entails.
"Why?"
I shrug. "We went out. I thought you were coming."
"Maybe I went out with someone."
I stay quiet a moment as I contemplate whether or not I want to know. "Did you?"
"Why? Are you jealous?"
I roll my eyes. "I'm just curious."
"Well... I went to see my mum."
I conceal my relief. "That's nice."
"I missed her," he says. "I wasn't planning on going, but... something convinced me I needed to."
"I'm sure she was happy to see you."
He smiles, though something in it seems off, as if perhaps he wants to tell me something more. He gets a bit uneasy, unexpectedly.
"This is bad," he says instead, staring at what soon comes into view. "They're gonna need more ambulances."
The scene is surrounded by fire-trucks and rescue teams and perhaps—as Louis insinuated—not enough ambulances. We get out to get our equipment and are waved over as we put on our gloves, only Louis stops in his steps as we get nearer. He's gone very still, paling in a way that makes me react nearly instantly. I step forward to grasp his arms so I can steady him.
"Louis?"
"The red car," he says, seeming far away. "That's my mum's car."
I look back at the tiny, crumpled car, horrified. The license plate isn't covered. I catch Zayn's gaze when he steps towards us, uniform already bloody.
"Zayn," I say, maintaining my hold on Louis. "The red car... it belongs to Louis' mum."
His expression turns into one of worry. "You two stay here."
"Harry..."
I meet Louis' eyes. I'm not sure what to say, or how to ease his mind. Nothing is going to ease it. There aren't any words or actions that'll change what we already know—whoever was in that tiny red car did not survive. I'd never wish it on anyone, death as a result of a car crash, but a part of me is hoping it isn't as it seems—perhaps someone borrowed her car. Perhaps Louis misread the license plate. Perhaps it isn't her.
"Louis," Zayn says. The look in his eyes gives everything away. "I'm so sorry. She's..."
Louis nods. He knows. He knew as soon as he recognised the car. And Zayn isn't wrong. They grew up together. He, too, is tearing up, expression shattering.
More ambulances are arriving, more paramedics running around, so I encourage it when Louis collapses into my arms and counts on me to keep him upright.
"Louis," I say. "Let's go back. We're out of service."
"I want to see her."
"No. That's not... no. It isn't gonna do you any good. We're going straight back. Then I'm bringing you home."
He nods in response. He's not crying, not yet, but I imagine he's in shock. I reach into his sleeves, one by one, to peel off his gloves before I get him into our ambulance. He puts on his own seatbelt and stares at the passing landscape as I turn on our siren to increase our pace.
