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Please don't leave me here
The world is a nonstop wheel. It keeps spinning and spinning and spinning. Sometimes you are on the very top of it, able to look over anything and everything around you. Then there are times that you are on the bottom, waiting for the inevitability of falling off. And once you fall, that is it. You were there and that was that.
Harry had grown used to the smells of hospitals in his later years. The amount of time he has spent in those small plastic waiting room chairs was astronomical. Encased in the walls that only seemed to get whiter and whiter the more you stared at them. He didn't like that he was so familiar with the setting, it only reminded him of why he was there in the first place.
Francis's last visit to the hospital was some time ago. He was here for the very same reason he was now, knowing this didn't make it any better.
He rushed to the front desk, eyes roaming the while halls, breath quickened. "Uhm... Francis Keith, which room is he in?" Harry pants. The lady behind the desk has a blank look on her face, fixing her gaze to the computer in front of her.
"Family?"
"Yes, I'm his brother."
She eyes him up and down with a raised brow, not believing him for a second, he can tell. "ID please."
"Fucking hell," Harry whispers, fishing his ID out of his pocket and handing it to the woman. He wants to get to Francis, that's the priority.
"Well, Mr. Styles, care to tell me why yourself and your brother don't share the same last name?"
"I'm married," He rushes out, hiding his hands under the counter to remove the rings on his fingers, leaving only one. "Three weeks, it's a dream." He says with a huge smile on his face.
"I can imagine,'' she mumbles. "Why aren't you still Keith then?"
"Styles has got a ring to it," He begins, trying to get himself out of the situation as fast as possible. "Harry Styles... Harry Keith... Keith Richards... you know, everything's a bit confusing so I just decided to take her name instead."
"He's in room 265."
"Thank you very much."
~
Francis was lying in bed when Harry came rushing in. He looked up at the green-eyed, curly-headed boy standing before him. The only friend that he has ever had. The only one that he couldn't imagine going a day without. There was no one else in this world that he admired as much as Harry. He had put him through hell, yet he still stuck by his side. He was right next to him in an instant. It didn't matter what he was going or where he was, he would drop anything to be right with him if that's what he needed.
"The bar mitzvah sucked," Francis broke the prominent silence.
"You're a fucking idiot," Harry snapped back, walking towards the nearby window to open the curtains. The midday sun streamed into the dark, muggy room.
"Well that's not how a therapist should talk to their patient, now is it?" Francis frowns. Harry is not the least bit amused by his joke, only staring him down.
"I'm not your therapist, and this isn't funny."
"I'm sorry."
"What happened?" Harry grabs a nearby chair placing it next to the bed.
"My mom noticed last night, so she sent me here. I'm okay, Haz. I didn't do more than usual, everything's fine, they already bandaged it up."
"Are your parents searching for another therapist?"
"No."
Harry lets his eyes fall closed for a moment, trying to keep himself from losing it. "Why not? Why isn't your mom freaking out right now?"
"I told her I'd never do it again and she believed me."
"You've got to talk to someone. Do you have any idea how worried I was when I got that call? I thought you did something really stupid."
"I don't need a therapist, Harry." It seemed like he had said those very words over a hundred times in their friendship. "I have you."
"I'm not a therapist, Francis. I'm your friend."
'You'll do."
He finally allowed himself to really take a look at his friend. His bandaged wrists, sunken eyes, and pale skin. It wasn't a weird or unnatural sight, it was normal and that pissed Harry off. He wasn't sure Francis knew how much he needed him. He needed him to be here.
He didn't belong in this decrepit hospital room. He should be out in the world living his life, not laying here waiting for some old hag to spoon feed him strawberry jello. Things used to be so different, it was only a short while ago that everything turned to be how it was now. He had always been like this, sure. But not this bad. Never this bad.
"I'm not going to kill myself if that's what you are thinking."
"I'm not thinking that."
"I know you are," he whispered quietly. "I can see it in your eyes."
Harry didn't reply, only staring down at his folded hands. Francis knew how he felt, he knew it all too well. This wasn't his problem, he has told him countless times not to worry, that he was okay, but this only increased the never ending worry inside of Harry. It always did. He would never be able to understand why Francis would do this to himself. His actions have brought more harm than good.
He is existing, if that, and Harry would be a liar if he said it didn't piss him off. He had so many people who loved him. He had his family. Were they ideal? No, no one got the families they deserved, but they were better than most. And Francis had Harry. He had him and he would never lose him.
Every part of Harry wanted to scream at his friend, his best friend who he felt was quite literally dying right before his eyes. A ticking time bomb. I'm here. I'm right here. Stay. Please just stay. If not for yourself, for me. Please... "You know I need it, Haz"
"I know... but I need you, Fran... I need you here."
