Two days. Two long days, and it felt like forever. Y/n had barely slept, barely eaten, just sat there in that damn chair in the corner of the hospital room, watching him. She couldn't seem to leave, no matter how hard she tried.
Her mind kept racing back to the moment when she thought she might lose him. That panic, that gut-wrenching fear—it was still fresh, still gnawing at her insides.
Louis had been unconscious for what felt like an eternity. His body still so still, his face so pale, the machines beeped like they were counting down the seconds.
But now?
Now, he was awake.
It was slow at first. His eyelids flickered. Then, slowly, his eyes opened. At first, they were unfocused, glazed over. He blinked a couple times, looking like he had no idea where he was.
"Louis?" Y/n's voice cracked, but she kept her distance. She didn't want to get too close. Not yet. "You're in the hospital. You... you overdosed. You—" She stopped, swallowing hard. "You... you were pretty bad. But you're here now."
Louis blinked, his eyes moving slowly, but still not quite catching up with reality. He looked around, disoriented. "What... what happened?" His voice sounded rough, like he hadn't used it in days.
"I told you, you overdosed," Y/n said quickly, trying to hide the shake in her voice. "You passed out, Louis. We thought... we thought you were gone."
Louis's expression flickered with confusion, like he was trying to process the words but couldn't quite connect the dots. He winced as if even trying to sit up was too much effort. His hands tried to push himself up, but he was too weak. His body wasn't ready for that.
"Damn," he muttered, letting himself fall back against the pillow. "That bad, huh?"
Y/n nodded, her throat tight. "Yeah. Pretty damn bad."
He turned his head to look at her, finally meeting her eyes. She couldn't hold the gaze for long, though, her face already flushed, her heart pounding too loud. His eyes were glassy, distant. It made everything worse. He didn't look like the confident Louis anymore. He looked small, broken, like he didn't even recognize who he was.
"I'm so sorry..." His voice trailed off, like he didn't know what else to say.
Y/n ran a hand through her hair, trying to get her head together. She wasn't good at this. She wasn't good at being comforting, wasn't good at holding someone's hand and telling them it was going to be okay. That wasn't her. That wasn't who she was. So, instead, she just said the first thing that came to her head.
"Don't apologize to me. I'm not the one who had to lie there with tubes shoved down my throat," she said, a little more harshly than she meant.
Louis blinked at her, like her words hit him harder than he expected. "I... I just didn't want you to see me like this."
"Well," Y/n crossed her arms and leaned back in the chair, trying to act unaffected, "you didn't really give me a choice, did you?"
He let out a weak laugh, but it didn't sound like it had anything to do with humor. He closed his eyes again, like he was trying to focus.
"I'm not... I'm not good at... talking about this stuff, Y/n. I don't know what to say. I just... I didn't think it would get this bad."
Y/n watched him, trying not to let her emotions get tangled up. She had to stay sharp, had to stay in control. "Well, you got yourself into a damn mess, didn't you?" she said, trying to brush it off, but her voice shook. "I thought you were just being an idiot partying too hard. I didn't think it was... this."
YOU ARE READING
Habit
FanficY/N is One Direction's hairstylist on the Take Me Home Tour, but her job comes with far more than just styling hair. Between sneaking around with Harry Styles in secret and desperately trying to keep Louis from spiraling out of control, Y/N is const...