Patch Our Hearts

Chapter 25

Harry's P.O.V.

I pushed my eyes open forcefully, revealing a way-too-bright light. Snapping my eyes close again, I started to come to my senses with my surroundings all the event rushing back. The crash. I peeled my eyes open for the second time, instantly recognizing Gemma's bedroom at her apartment. My head was pounding, a sharp pain every time I focus my eyes on something. I slowly sat up, I have to get out of here.

"Harry!" Gemma proclaimed, practically running over to me, handing me a glass of water and setting a American breakfast sandwich onto my lap.

I gladly accepted the glass of water, hoping it would relieve my headache as I downed the whole glass. I handed the glass back to Gemma, rubbing my temples.

"How are you feeling?" Gemma asked, searching my eyes for the answers to her questions she probably spend all night pondering over.

"Fine, thanks for picking me up." I said, trying to end the conversation as quick as possible. I needed Gemma in my business just as much as the cops.

"Anytime, but don't you need to go to the hospital? Talk to the cops? What even happened?" Gemma poured out.

"I got in an accident, okay? The last thing I need is the paps seeing that after everything else I did! Management is going to kill me." I exploded, and immediately felt bad.

"Sorry, just need some sleep," I said, trying to cover up the anger coursing through my body.

"It's okay," Gemma said, but her eyes said different.

"Are you sure though?"

"Yeah I'm sure, just a few bruises." I assured confidently.

"Okay, well, I'll be just out there," She tilted her head to the door, "if you need me."

And with that, Gemma left, still carrying the glass I had given her. I shifted slightly in the bed, trying to sit up.

"Ow," I said to myself, not to loud so Gemma wouldn't hear. Pain paralyzed my body from multiple areas.

I slowly reached over to my jacket, trying to see if my phone was still tucked away in its pocket. It wasn't, and I searched frantically for the device. Just about to call out for Gemma, I noticed it underneath my empty plate on the nightstand.

Pushing the plate over, I hastily grabbed my desired item, pressing the power button.

"Fack," I mumbled to myself, fourteen missed calls and nine messages.

I scrolled through the call history. Carina, the lads and Simon had called, but I had no calls from Abby. My stomach dropped, and a lump formed in my throat.

I had twelve voicemails to go with all my "missed" calls. Skipping the hundreds of seconds of voicemails, which were all going to say the same thing, where are you?, and I moved to my messages.

Carina: Where are you? We're worried.

Simon: Harry, rumors are starting to fly about the accident, come back to the studio soon.

Liam: Lad, Abby's worried about you, come home.

Abby's worried.

So does this mean Abby still cares for me? After the fight with the paps and everything?

I shoved the thoughts away, knowing the damn answers already. Of course she doesn't, they just want to know I'm not dead.

All these messages were making me sick, so I held down the power button on my phone. I hesitated for a half second before sliding the red bar over. Rolling the device over in my hand, I chucked the phone across the tiny room.