Little Moments Make Us Perfect {Larry Stylinson}

Chapter 8

Third person POV

There's a moment, when your dead, or proceeding to be dead, when it's just... nothing. Like everything is gone. It's pitch black, and you can't see anything. But faintly, in the back of your head, you are aware of everything that's happening. All your senses are there, except sight. Then you're just. Gone.

Harry and Louis sat outside in the waiting room, impatiently waiting for news on Evelyn. Harry had found her about twenty minutes after she took the pills. He was to late, Louis thought. But neither of them knew. News reporters and paparazzi had been waiting outside the hospital since the ambulance left their house.

Harry's face was red, he had been crying for at least an hour.

Louis's face was... just his face. But today it was like a combination of angry, hopeless, bored, and upset.

Liam and Niall came over as soon as they could. Evelyn had been in surgery for about two hours and forty five minutes now. But it felt like a million years. It had been a million years.

Louis and Harry's worst fear, right then, was that she would live, and forget everything all over again, or that she would just be gone, lost, forever and for good this time. The idea of that happening was eating away at them inside.

Louis grabbed Harry's hand, squeezing it gently. Harry looked over to him, Lou nodded, and Harry's lips slightly curved upwards, it was a weak smile, but a smile.

A nurse, dressing in all blue, arrived into the waiting room. She looked at the clipboard, "Tomlinson?" Louis and Harry rose immediately. "Well we do have some news for you. She's going to be alright. Bruised up a bit, but alright." Harry sighed in relief. "Although we do suggest she goes away... for a short bit... for suicide watch."

Louis scoffed, "are you joking?"

"I'm afraid not, Mr. Tomlinson. Are you aware she tried to kill herself by taking thirty two pills. Thirty two. Most people take about twenty, at the least ten."

"She needs to go home, and she'll be alright, okay? I'm not letting you take her to a place for mentally sick people, crazy people, she's fine!" Louis argued.

Harry touched Lou's shoulders, "Louis, Louis, listen to me baby. This is what is best for her, she needs to get better, and we can't help her."

"We could! We could spend more time together, and go out more, maybe that's what she needs. We just didn't try last time."

"Louis... we... tried. And you know it. That wasn't enough, if we make the same mistakes, she might not come back this time and be alright." Harry said with tearful eyes. "This is what's best for her."

"No... it's not. Give her a week, a week Harry, at home. That's all, I'll show you, she can get better at home, with her family, in her house, instead of in a place where nobody really gives a fuck." Louis begged.

"We can't risk it."

"My ass we can't. I'll have her released to my custody and take her home."

Harry exhaled sharply, "you can't do that."

"My name is on her birth certificate, not yours. I can do whatever I want with her." Louis snapped.

Harry took a step back, hurt, and walked away.

Louis didn't chase after him, he just stared at nothing for several minutes, before he even really acknowledged what he said.

The next day

Louis sat in Evelyn's hospital room, Harry had gone home to shower, and eat properly, he'd been gone about two hours by now.

But Louis hadn't left, not for more than ten minutes at a time. Nothing much had happened, she heart rate increased to quickly once, but she was fine after a few minutes.