Afterwards: An "After" Fanfiction

Chapter 28: Alive

Nate hated hospitals.

A deeply ingrained fear of doctors, stemming from watching his mother undergo cancer treatments when he was young, deterred him from stepping foot in a medical building. Yet, when he and Logan crossed the hotel suite threshold to see a pool of blood reflecting in the glow of the bathroom light, Nate pushed his fears aside.

It had been a long drive to the closest emergency room. Zed slipped in and out of consciousness, but that didn't stop him from cursing Hardin's name with his last remaining dregs of strength. By the way Hardin had stormed out of the room with bags in hand, it had been easy to guess what had occurred before he and Logan arrived. Nate had sensed an impending fight since the beginning of the tour, but he never imagined it would unfold so dangerously.

After a few hours of waiting and several futile attempts to contact Hardin, Nate rose from his seat to greet the nurse.

"He'll be fine." The woman assured, her kind almond eyes wrinkling at the sides as she  smiled softly. "It looked a lot worse than it was. Just make sure your friend remembers to wear protective gear next time he gets on an ATV." The nurse handed Nate some paperwork to sign, seemingly privy to Nate's white lie. It wasn't the first time she had seen wounds from a fight.

"I'll make sure to remind him." Nate thanked the woman, nudging a sleeping Logan after she had gone. "Mate, let's go. Zed's fine."

Waking groggily, Logan removed the hoodie from over his eyes and gathered his belongings. At four in the morning, the last place the drummer wanted to be was in a hospital waiting room. "So what are we gonna do about all this?" He mumbled, motioning to Zed's room. "We're not keeping him, are we?"

Nate wrinkled his nose.  "He's not a stray dog. He's our bassist."

"Yea but..." Logan cast his eyes towards the checkered tiles beneath his sneakers. "I'm with Hardin on this one. Zed's been feeding him uppers and downers every five minutes. Been messing with his head and causing a lot of drama. Hardin was right to try and put a stop to it honestly."

Rubbing his tired eyes, Nate shook off the suggestion. "What exactly are you implying?"

"All I'm saying bruv, is maybe One Direction could do with one less member."

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Hardin rarely ever checked Instagram. Especially after what he had just done to Zed, he had turned off his phone to dodge Nate's calls. But on the cab ride from the airport to Tessa's apartment, he figured that he might be able to catch sight of her in a post or story. She hadn't answered his texts, and he wanted to make sure Big Shot hadn't gotten his hands on her.

While scrolling to see if any mutuals had interacted with her, one Instagram story from an old friend caught his eye and nearly stopped his heart.

Calum's story opened with a five second video of Steph's apartment, flashing police lights and wailing sirens obscuring the clip's clarity. "Dude this chick just passed out at this party." His voice barely registered on camera as he zoomed in on a young girl. She was deathly pale, surrounded by EMTs and horrified onlookers. "Yo. Look at that. She's dead, man. Fuck." The recording ended there.

Hardin couldn't breathe. No matter how many times he replayed the video, the end result was the same. He tried to rationalize the fact that he was literally watching Tessa's death unfold on Instagram.

When the feeling came back into his fingers, he tried every number he could. Steph, Tristan, even fucking Trevor. Not a single person answered.

Finally, someone picked up.

"Hello?" Calum's Australian accent crackled across the phone line.

"Where is Tessa?" Hardin lamented. He had to stay calm so the Uber driver wouldn't notice, but as her name rolled off his tongue he could barely keep his composure.