Eccedentesiast || Larry

10. Depressed

H

"Louis, my mom is in the hospital," Harry says with a shaky breath. Tears have started to stream down his face by now, after his conversation with Louis and the fact that his mother is in surgery right now and all Harry can do is sit in the waiting room and wait.

Louis is silent for a few minutes, but Harry can hear a car starting and heavy breathing, so he knows he hasn't hung up. Harry closes his eyes as he awaits Louis' answer.

"What hospital are you at?" He finally asks, and Harry tells him, adding what floor he's on as well.

"Okay, I'll be there as soon as I can," Louis says, then hangs up.

Gemma is sat next to him, fiddling nervously with her thumbs and trying very hard to keep herself together. Robin has gone off in search of something to keep his mind off of his wife undergoing surgery. His father has not been notified about any of this, and Harry doesn't really care. He could care less about his father. And, Harry? Well, he's trying to piece everything together.

His mother, one of the most important people in his life, is in the hospital with catastrophic injuries, and it's all some drunk guy's fault. Drunks ruin everything, Harry thinks.

Harry never thought he'd have to deal with something like this one day, never thought his mother could be hurt as bad as she is right now. It's like when a child never thinks about growing up and having responsibilities, like paying bills and going to work, and then it all hits them like a freight train and they're left in the dust to handle everything on their own. Except Harry isn't entirely on his own. He has Louis and Gemma.

Louis comes into Harry's view several minutes later. He looks worried and hesitant. Harry stands up as if royalty has just entered the room.

"Harry, I'm so sorry, I didn't know-"

"Can we talk about this later, please?" Harry asks.

Louis nods and Harry turns around and sits back down. Gemma looks confused when Louis sits down because when did this happen? Harry gives her a look that says 'later.'

"So, uh, what's going on?" Louis asks, turning to face Harry. Harry doesn't look back at him.

"She was- was hit by a drunk driver. A hit and run, apparently. She's in surgery right now—I'm not exactly sure what for, they won't tell me anything—but she's got a punctured lung, a few broken ribs, a huge gash on her forehead, and I wouldn't be surprised if she left here with a few bruises," Harry says, glancing up at Louis. He can't help but notice how red and puffy Harry's eyes are.

"Oh."

"Yeah. Now, we're just kind of sitting here," Harry sighs.

And that's exactly what they do for the next two hours. Harry's hand somehow ends up encompassed by Louis'. They don't talk, they don't move, they just sit in silence. Louis is there for Harry without having to speak.

Gemma stands up and wipes her sweaty hands on her jeans. "I'm going to get something to eat, do either of you want anything?"

Harry asks for a wrap of some kind if she can find one and Louis asks for the same. She gives them a small smile in return, then goes off to find some food. Harry and Louis' fingers are still intertwined when she leaves, and they're still intertwined when she returns.

Gemma hands them their wraps (chicken caesar, Harry's favorite) and Harry mumbles a quiet thank you at the same time as Louis, causing all three of them to smile for a short moment. The smiles are small and forced, but they lighten the mood just a bit.

Harry takes a moment to really sit and think while he eats the surprisingly delicious food. He should be feeling something right now, sadness, anger, anything. But he doesn't. Harry just feels empty. He's not upset that Louis yelled at him. He's not sad about his mother. He's not angry at the man who caused the accident in the first place. He just feels completely empty, like there is nothing left in him. Harry's not even that hungry, if he's being honest. He still forces the food down, however, because he knows he won't be able to last all night without something in his stomach.

Harry's hand is no longer squeezing Louis' hand, since the wraps are quite big and Harry needs both hands to wrap around the sandwich so he didn't make a mess of it. His hand is cold and lonely without Louis' own to comfort him, which doesn't help with the emptiness inside him. But, he still feels comforted.

And even when four hours pass by and they haven't heard a single word from a nurse or doctor, Harry remains calm and collected, because he knows Louis—and Gemma—are there for him, and he's there for them.

-

Harry doesn't like the sight before him.

It's his mother, laying on a hospital bed in a paper thin hospital gown, looking like she just fell out of a thirty story building. Her lip is busted open and a bandage is wrapped around her head, probably to cover the wound on her forehead, and her arms have many, many, scratches on them. Wires are all over the place. A tube is running down her throat, presumably to breath for her, and liquids are flowing into her body through an IV.

"She's under anesthetics from surgery, and won't wake up for several more hours," is what the doctor is telling Harry and Gemma.

Harry isn't really listening to him, though. He's more focused on his mother, bloody and bruised, laying on the bed, helpless.

He wants to reach out to her, tell her he's here and isn't leaving her side. But he can't. He can only sit there and stare at her motionless body while Gemma weeps in the corner and Robin tries his best to comfort her.

(A/N: I didn't really know how to end this. We've reached 1.5k reads! Yay! I love you all so much and I appreciate every single one of you.

Edit: I'm republishing this after removing it, and we're well over 1.5k reads. silly, naive past me.

Thank you for reading this far.)