Well, now I'm stuck in this visiting area with Harry and a bunch of other people I don't know. "He's two floors above us. Patients, you may go back to your rooms. Visitors, you may go with them. Your rooms will be locked and guarded off like normal, hopefully, the shooter will not be able to reach you. Now, hurry up, we don't have much time." A police officer tells us from the front of the room.
I follow Harry back to his jail-looking room and we are locked in. There's no windows or any sort of light from outside coming in. Harry turns on the lamp by the side of his bed and sits down on the edge of the bed. "He's on my floor, where my room is. He's probably looking for me." I sigh and continue to pace back and forth around the room, anxiously. Harry doesn't say anything, and I forget that he can probably see through the back of my robe since I'm not facing him. I turn around and he looks up at my face. "Were you staring at my underwear?" I ask him.
"No." He quickly responds and looks in front of him at the wall. "You're right, he's probably looking for you again. He's gonna try everything he can to get you again."
"Well, hopefully he's about to be put in jail once the cops get here." I sit next to Harry on the bed.
"Hopefully." He sighs and puts his hand on my back and rubs it comfortingly.
"It's so dark in here. There's not even a window." I say after a few minutes.
"I know, I wish there was. I miss the outside." He tells me.
"Well, Niall got arrested for a couple hours."
"What? Why?" Harry stops rubbing my back.
"Drugs from the hospital that Louis snuck in his jacket pocket." I look at Harry's hand and he rubs my back again.
"Why did they let him out?" He asks.
"They found Louis' fingerprints on the bag and none of Niall's." I tell him.
"Hmm. I guess they're already looking for him then." He reminds me that Louis is currently about to shoot up the hospital if he doesn't find me, which was his plan in the beginning by planting the drugs in Niall's pocket.
"Yeah." I look around the room and see a desk in the corner with a lamp, a pencil, and a small book that looked tattered. "What's that?" I ask him and begin to walk over to it.
"Oh, nothing." He follows me and grabs the book before I can touch it. He shoves it in the bottom drawer and stands next to it so I won't be able to open it.
"What is it?" I cross my arms.
"Just a journal." He shrugs. "They give us all one, but I haven't written in it."
"Yeah, sure." He's had it longer than that. "Then how come the pages are so tattered?"
"Oh, I don't know, I guess it's just like that." He's still lying.
"And why is this pencil so short and dull?" I hold it up in front of his face.
"Ugh, fine the journal is mine." He takes the pencil from me and throws it back on the desk, then sits on the bottom of the bed.
"I knew it!" I open the drawer that he was blocking and grab it, then sit next to him. "May I read it?"
"No." he says simply. I can tell he trusts me since he hasn't taken it from me, even though he's watching me very closely.
"Okay." I don't read it, but I flip through the pages and see lines and lines of writing and some blurred words by tear stains. I can tell this probably means a lot to him. I close it and hand it back to him. He rubs his hands around it and looks at it for a little while before putting it back on the desk.
"How long have you had that?" I ask him.
"A little after I came here to New York." He tells me.
"What made you start then?"
He sighs before he tells me, "My mom. Every day I would tell her about my day. Whether it be on the phone, over text, or in person. I would always tell her what went on that day. So, after she died, I started writing in this journal so I could still tell her about my day, every day." He's still looking over at the journal.
"Oh, wow. I'm sorry to hear about your mom." I say. That journal is probably the most important thing in his life.
"Thank you. It's gotten easier. Writing every day to her helps." He looks back at me.
"That's good." His eyes look glossy. I hope he doesn't cry. My thought's are broke as he slowly gets closer and closer to my face and kisses me with his hand on top of mine. It doesn't last long since I pull away after a few seconds. I look away from him and stare at my lap before he speaks.
"I'm sorry." He says quietly.
"It's okay." I look back up at him. "I'm sorry I just can't kiss you." I look back down.
"Why not?" He asks me.
"I just don't like you like that." I tell him.
"Oh." He sighs and lets go of my hand.
We sit in an awkward silence for a few more minutes before I speak up.
"When are you getting out of here?"
"I don't know. I think in a couple of days. At least that's when my pills run out. I think that's what they base it on. I have no idea."
"Okay." I sigh and focus on something other than the sadness in Harry's voice.
"When do you get out?" He asks me.
"I think a few more days." I tell him hopefully.
"Okay." He mimics my sighing.
The door quickly unlocks, bringing our heads to look towards the door. It opens and a cop hurries to the next door to unlock it. I see people walking out of their rooms and into the hallway towards to visiting room where we all came from. Harry and I follow their lead and enter the small area filled with other people. "Okay, the shooter has been captured and been arrested. He only hurt one person, but he is in stable condition. Everyone is now free to go. Thank you for your patience." A police officer tells us as he stands on a table to make sure we all have to hear what he is saying. I hear praises and happy comments that Louis is finally out of the hospital and un-armed.
"I guess this means you get to go back to your room." Harry tells me and I turn back around to face him. "I'll see you another time maybe." He grins and turns to walk away. I instantly follow him.
"Where do you think you're going?" I grab his arm and turn him back around to face me.
"Back to my room." He calmly states.
"Well, I don't know when I'll get to see you again. So, goodbye." I hug him softly and he hugs me tighter.
"Bye, Jess." I look back at his green eyes before grinning and turning away to walk towards the elevator.
