MOMENTS

“Rumors say that Harry Styles of the UK band One Direction was checked into a hospital in east San Francisco earlier today,” I read aloud from my laptop, looking up at my father’s vegetating body.

He’d been a coma for two months now, and I’d recently read that speaking to, and reading to a coma victim would help keep their brain active, and lengthen their life expectancy, as well as raise their chances of waking up. I wasn’t entirely sure if it was working, considering he couldn’t exactly tell me, but it gave me the hope to continue on. 

“Ms. Westwood,” The doctor greeted as he entered the room. 

“Dr. Shults,” I responded, closing my laptop and sliding it into my bag. Dr.Shults only ever entered my father’s hospital room to check on him, and do tests. Tests it never made me comfortable to see. I leaned down and kissed my creased forehead before standing up straight and walking out. 

As I walked down the hall toward the elevator, I heard a loud racket coming toward me. Before I had time to react, I was being sent flying into the air, and then crashing down onto the ground. Straight down onto my ass.

“Oof!” I grunted, rubbing my now rather ginger ass.

“OH MY GOD! Louis, Zayn, Niall! I leave you for two seconds and come back to see you trying to kill each other!” A strong male voice called out, an english accent lacing his words. I looked around me to see what exactly I’d crashed into - er, had crashed into me. Three boys and two wheelchairs were circled around me, two of the boys laying on the ground, groaning in pain. 

I looked at the one who was standing - he was wearing red jeans a multi colored jumper, his arms crossed and a wide grin on his lips. Another boy came running up then, he had long straight hair and a panic stricken expression on his face. 

“Oh my god miss, are you okay!?” The straight haired boy asked me, holding out his hand. I nodded, taking it and standing up.

“I, yeah, er, no? I don’t know,” I said, rubbing the back of my head in embarrassment.

“Idiots!” He called out, turning to the other boys, the two who were on the ground raising to their feet. These boys looked oddly familiar to me, but after having been sent crashing down to the ground, my mind was a bit jumbled. 

The three other boys walked over, their heads hanging low as if they were in trouble, and by the way the boy in front of me was flailing his arms, I was pretty sure they were.

“I... do I know you guys?” I asked dumbly, scanning my eyes over the four of them. They looked at me now, the one who had originally been yelling giving me a slightly panic stricken expression.

“Um, that depends. What’s your name?” He asked, seeming as if he were trying to cover something up.

“Emily Westwood,” I said, quirking my head to the side at his odd question, “Oh! I know who you guys are! You’re The Backstreet boys!” I exclaimed. 

The four boys looked at me with wide eyes, before they all burst into laughter. I watched as a blonde haired boy doubled over in laughter, his hands gripping his stomach tightly. I bit my lip, my cheeks flushing red - okay, I guess I was wrong. 

“Erm, a little more recent,” A dark skinned boy said. I furrowed my eyebrows, studying the boys more closely.

“OH! YOU’RE ONE DIR-” The straight haired boy, Liam’s, hand clamped tightly onto my mouth, causing the word direction to come out more like, “ireffmm.”

“Yes, now, we’ll sign autographs or whatever else if you promise to keep your voice down,” Liam said.

I nodded my head wide eyed, slightly panicked by the hand chilling on my mouth. The hand of Liam Payne, that is.