A Touch of Cinnamon ✓

s e v e n t e e n | fractures and promises

I told @NarryNut1211 that I'd update an extra time or two this week, so here is the next chapter. Hope you like it :)

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HS

It's half two in the morning when Harry's phone rings, pulling him out of his sleep. He blindly reaches for it, grabbing it and peeling one eye open to answer the call, before snapping it shut straight after because the light of his screen is simply too much for such an unholy hour.

"H'lo," He mumbles, his voice thick with sleep.

"Hello, Mr. Styles?" The voice speaks, sounding far more awake than Harry wants to be.

"Yuh?"

"My name is Dr. Wright at Princess Grace Hospital, you need to come here. Now," The voice continues, sounding urgent. Harry's body quickly jolts upward, awake.

"Who's in the hospital?" He asks, sitting upright and fisting his blanket in one hand.

"Niall Horan, you're his emergency contact."

Harry's heart stops. Niall's in the hospital? Is he okay? What happened? Why didn't he call Harry himself? Is he unable to do so? Is he conscious? Is he even still alive?

He can't fucking breathe, and he struggles against the impending panic that is closing in on him.

"Is he okay?" Harry's voice is hushed, scared of the answer.

"I can't disclose his condition over the phone, he simply requests that you get here as quickly as possible. Room 4423."

That's precisely the answer Harry was dreading. Or, one of them at least. The worst would be, "He's dead," But this is just as bad because, for the time being, he has no idea if his boyfriend is okay.

But, instead of arguing with the doctor, he simply mobilizes.

"I'm on my way," Harry bolts out of bed and throws on the closest pair of sweats he can find, a t-shirt out of his closet, and one of the jumpers lying on the floor of his room before he's running to the front door, barely grabbing his wallet but missing his keys completely.

He chooses not to drive because he knows he wouldn't be able to sit still for a single of the five minutes it would take to get there by car, and it's ten minutes on foot - unless he runs. He can make it in five if he runs.

Suddenly, he's grateful for all the times Liam dragged him out to run with him, because he's able to sprint the entire way there, hardly breaking a sweat. There are very few cars, so he makes it to the hospital in record time, immediately rushing inside and to the service desk.

"Hi, how can I-"

"Room 4423," Harry rushes out. He must look wild, he thinks. His hair is a mess, he's breathing hard, his eyes are wide, and he's demanding answers.

The lady at the desk, however, doesn't seem fazed or even offended. She merely tells him the directions, sends him a soft, consoling smile, and allows him on his way. He's so grateful that she isn't overly bubbly, or even rude, because he just wants someone kind and soft right now directing him, and that's what he got.