Living in London

The Confession

Zayn had been in hospital for two weeks now but it felt like forever. The doctors gave him some medication to counteract the coma drug and they told us that he would be awake 'any time from now.' That was four days ago. Is it meant to take this long for him to wake up? What if something went wrong or they gave him the wrong amount of medication? What if he doesn't wake up?

I haven't left him ever since the doctors told me. I've slept in the chair by his bed and the nurses said that since his was a private room I could shower and use the patient bathroom, so long as we didn't tell anyone. Harry and Lou brought me a change of clothes each day. I hated to leave Zayn. I hated the idea of him waking up with nobody there.

I felt even worse thinking about my moment of realization about Harry. Surely I'm wrong. I doubt that he likes me- I just must've misunderstood and over thought every little thing he has done. But when Kiss Me played again for the second time... there was so much electricity between us. The worst part is that it was mutual.

I squeezed Zayn's hand when a particularly strong surge of guilt washed over me and he squeezed back lightly. I feel terrible. It's bad enough that he is here because of me, but then I go and get stupid butterflies every time I look at Ha-

Wait.

Zayn squeezed my hand back... people who are in a coma do not move. Unless I imagined it... but I couldn't have- it felt so real. I felt a small smile forming on my face as I stood up and leaned over him. Half of me wanted to laugh and cry and call for the boys and the nurses but the other half of me was telling me not to get me hopes up.

"Zayn," I whispered, excitedly. "If you can hear me, squeeze my hand. Please."

I felt his fingers move slightly in mine, slowly wrapping themselves loosely around mine. I felt my eyes fill with tears. There is no way I imagined that. "Oh my God, open your eyes! Please open your eyes!"

He was still for a moment, but then his eyelids fluttered. Slowly, they opened about halfway. He blinked a couple of times and closed them again. This time, he waited a few minutes before opening them half way again.

"Hey babe," he croaked, wincing a little. His voice was low and gravely how he had not spoken or had any liquids in two weeks. My hands were shaking as I poured him some water from the pitcher on the table. I placed the straw between his lips and he took the tiniest tip, just enough to wet his throat. I sent a quick message to Harry saying that Zayn was awake.

"What happened?" he muttered, closing his eyes again.

I swallowed nervously, knowing my answer would bring on an interrogation. "You were a little bit hit by a car."

"A little bit?" he asked tiredly, raising an eyebrow. His voice was starting to sound normal again now.

"A lot," I sighed.

"Who did it?"

I bit my lip. "I... don't know," I lied. Yeah, I felt bad, but what was I supposed to say- 'You were run over because some randomer is sending me creepy messages and hurting my friends and trapping me in elevators just to scare me. But there's nothing to worry about because I doubt they'll run you over again.'? Yes, that would not make me sound crazy at all.

"Oh... when was this?" Zayn asked.

"Nearly three weeks ago."

"Where are the boys?"

"On their way here, I'm assuming. I just messaged Harry before saying you'd woken up."

He watched me and I felt my face heat up. Guiltily I noticed that the butterflies were gone and I felt terrible about it. I'm an awful person.