Harry Styles Preferences

He's comatose

The tubes looks strange on him. He's Harry Styles and I've seen him in weird things all the time. The everything was so achromatic it was either clear or white. Not in the clean pristine kind of way even though it was pristine but in that boxed in suffocating way. Like a dollar Bill in someone's pocket. I grip my hand around his as I look at that face. His lips are cracked like separated earth, his face is like like cement. Sickly grayish white from lack of Sun exposure. His hair pools over the pillow as the respirator pumps more oxygen in him.

I last my head on the pillow as I watch the doctors argue. I can read slowly. "You tell her!" loud and clear. They want me to kill him...take him away. The sound of the door opens and the look of their faces told me I was right. "Don't come back here unless you have good news." I state wiping my face.

"Mrs. St-"

"WHAT DID I JUST SAY!" I scream and the other doctor pulls him out the door. I kiss his hands, "They'll save you."