<ul class="conversation_lines" style="outline: none 0px; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0); margin: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; clear: both; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.600000381469727px; font-family: Courier, monospace; list-style: none; padding: 0px; color: #444444; text-align: left;">
<li class="chat_line" style="outline: none 0px; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0); box-sizing: border-box; list-style-type: none; padding: 0px 0px 6px;"><strong style="outline: none 0px; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0); box-sizing: border-box; margin-right: 4px; display: inline-block;">Harry:You wake up in a hospital bed, confused and rather groggy. Reaching up to rub your tired eyes, you feel the tug from the IV that's been injected into your arm. All at once it all comes back to you: the fall you took while cleaning out the gutters, smashing your head against the pavement below, and being in and out of consciousness while Harry rushed you to the hospital. Major surgery wasn't needed, just a resetting of your left arm, stitches on your forehead and cheek, and a scan to make sure that you didn't suffer any sort of brain damage. You glance out the window and notice that it's dark out, making you curious about the time and how long you've been out cold. "Well, look who's awake," Harry says, rising from his seat at the end of the bed and plopping himself down beside you. He reaches out and takes your hand in his own, relieved that you've finally opened your eyes. You're about to smile when a rather genius idea pops into your head. It's slightly cruel, but you can't help yourself, realizing that you might never get another chance like this again. With wide and confused eyes, you retract your hand from him. "Who are you?" You ask, watching in sheer amusement as he turns white, panic washing over his face as his eyes widen in horror. You don't think you've ever seen him so distraught. Breaking character you smile, unable to carry on your joke in fear that your boyfriend might have an aneurism. "I'm just kidding, I know who you are, I'm so sorry," You say in between fits of laughter, finding the dry and unamused look he's giving you absolutely hysterical. At least you think you're funny.</li>
<li class="chat_line" style="outline: none 0px; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0); box-sizing: border-box; list-style-type: none; padding: 6px 0px; background-color: #fdfdfd; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial;"><strong style="outline: none 0px; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0); box-sizing: border-box; margin-right: 4px; display: inline-block;">Liam:Your eyelids flutter open, allowing you to take in your surroundings. You're in a tiny white room, seated in a dentist's chair of all places, and your mouth is throbbing. You don't think you've ever been in this much pain. All you can taste is blood and you feel foggy and light, as if your brain is somehow floating and you're not entirely sure what's going on. "(Y/N)!" A voice says, pulling you out of your reverie, the sudden noise surprising you. A familiar face is standing in the doorway, a bemused smile on his lips as you stare at him, clearly confused and trying to figure out why you feel so out of it. "Liam?" You whine, squinting your eyes and absentmindedly reaching your hands out to touch him, "Liam, are you my doctor?" Your words are muffled by the excessive amount of cotton balls in your mouth to stop the bleeding. You think that you look like a chipmunk but you can't be certain that your assumption is correct, in fact, you're not even quite sure of your name at the moment. You hate this feeling, and you don't understand why your boyfriend is laughing at you. "Come on, love, let's get you home," He chuckles, easing you out of the dentist's chair and wrapping his arm around your waist, just in case you happen to tip over. He nods to the dentist and she waves her goodbye, smiling at you though you only gape at her. You're pretty sure that she said something to you, but you're too focused on figuring out how to make your feet work. You grip Liam's shirt in your fist, clutching onto him for dear life and mumbling something about how your shoes are broken and refuse to let you walk. You're literally making no sense, and Liam can't get enough of it. He's slightly disappointed that you only have to get your wisdom teeth out once in your life.</li>
