Wistful Paradise / H.S. [COMPLETE]

Seven

Florence

"Goodmorning Florence, how are you feeling today?" The nurse was smiling so brightly that I wanted to rip her smile from her face. I feel like shit and you're smiling at me like I just learned how to walk again? Not today.

I shrugged, my eyes fixated on Harry, who was still fast asleep in his chair. He's been staying with me the whole time, never even thinking about leaving my side. I'm grateful that I have him but at the same time I can't help but feel guilty. He can't even sleep in a normal bed, he has to walk around this hospital and watch these dull walls, being reminded of what happened here.

Every time I look at him I can't help but think back to when Storm was born. The silence, that's normally filled with cries, was heartbreaking.

And for Harry, it was the first realisation of many that his first baby had died. He was being strong for my sake but I wanted to give him a breather and let him cry for a while. I wanted to run my fingers through his short curls until his crying would stop. The only thing is, he doesn't cry. He acts all though and yes, his eyes are welled with tears, but they never leave his pretty, green eyes.

The nurse stood in front of my bed, grabbing the board from it and writing some stuff down. "There will be a funeral director here today to discuss what you would like to do with Storm," She informed me and I knew that everything she would say to me today would be perceived inappropriately by me. "And later Doctor Paulsen will visit you, to discharge you and ask you some other things. Are you hungry?"

"Uhm, no," I answered, meeting her friendly gaze for the first time. "Could you maybe bring something for Harry though? I'm sure he'll be starving." The nurse nodded and soon enough I was left alone once again. This time the only thing I could hear were Harry's soft snores.

I never realised I would crave noise. Normally, I love the silence. I love to sit there and listen to absolutely nothing and clear my head. Now, I want nothing more than to hear Storm's cries or snores or whatever he would do. I just want to hear it.

I want to know what his voice sounds like and what colours his eyes would be. I want to know if he would be a good sleeper or not. And now I can't even see him.

Harry slightly stirred in his sleep, his eyes slowly opening as he mumbled a good morning my way. "Hey, honey, how'd you sleep?" I asked him, holding out my hand waiting for him to take it.

"Mmm, slept alright. M'back is killing me though," He groaned, stretching his muscles before lacing our fingers together.

He kissed my forehead, as I complained about his bad posture, something he's been hearing from me for years now. "I'm serious, you should really work on that."

Harry rolled his eyes slightly, his lips locking with mine. "Shut up," He smiled softly, pressing another kiss to my lips.

"I want to see Storm again before they take him from us forever," I admitted, my heart ready to break into a million pieces again, but I need this. I need to see him once again and remember how his skin feels against mine. I want to remember his little fingers in my hand and his little cheek that feels terribly cold.

"I'll go ask the nurse."

Yesterday was very private and personal, after our parents and my sister had left, both Harry and I were alone with him. We told him stories, things he should know about us if he could still hear us. Harry sung to him and it was the sweetest melody I had ever heard. We gave him the little giraffe cloth to hold on to and it is one of the few things I wanted to take home with us as a memory.

A kind woman came in during our time alone, asking us if we wanted pictures from Storm and I instantly agreed. They stook pictures from his hands and the giraffe, they took a picture of his feet, of his tiny little head. I haven't seen them yet but I'm sure they'll turn out just fine. It will be another memory to add onto the pile.