This is a dream

Chapter 8

Harry finally regained a sense of reality, something he hadn’t felt in a long time. Since that day his friend’s finally confirmed he wasn’t crazy and Lucy had made her presence known he hadn’t been able to hold a grip on reality. Everything was like constant slow-mo; everyone’s word’s flowed into each other like rivers flowing from their mouths. His vision was like a puddle of crayons swirling together and his hearing was a constant hiss in his ears until it was all too much for him to handle and he passed out again. He couldn’t stand the pain much anymore, it was digging through his muscles and starting to gnaw on his bones it went down so deep to his core, but most of the time he didn’t even have the strength to scream.

But what was this sudden rush of reality coming back to him? It was like when you know your falling but you can’t stop yourself so you have the longest fall ever it seems until the ground comes up to meet you with incredible speed. He drew in a deep breath one that he couldn’t even remember in how long didn’t sting his lungs even though the air was filled with thick latex and starch smell. His green eyes opened, once his focus closed in he realized he was in that very same hospital bed, where he had been for ages. He was surprised his body hadn’t permanently fused to the sheets from how long he was there.

How had his illness just disappeared like that though? He was practically criminally ill; no one knew what was even wrong with him so he couldn’t have been treated right? Unless, it he was asleep longer than he thought he was. Maybe it’s been weeks, years even, he would’ve never known if it had been. He sat up, his young bones still creaking from lack of use. He still felt 19 years old, the room looked the same. He squinted in the dark room dimly lit by monitor screens seeing his four band mates sprawled around the room, deep circles of exhaustion etched into the thin skin beneath their eyes.

He felt guilt creep up in him for doing this to them. He didn’t want them to exhaust themselves or anything. Maybe he shouldn’t try and wake them up to see what day or year for that matter it is. Though, they all looked relatively the same so it couldn’t have been that long. He turned in the bed allowing his feet to touch the icy floor. The chills shot through his body and rushed beneath his skin pushing goose bumps up as he shivered. He grabbed a white fluffy bathrobe that was presumably there for after showering and grabbed a pair of sweatpants from a pile of his clothing folded on a chair just awaiting him to be awake and alert enough to pull them on.

None of his movement even disturbed his friends even though he seemed to be bumping into everything. They must’ve been really tired, he tip toed as quietly as possible over to where they were gathered. Louis was curled into a tight ball a look of distress clouding his pointed features. Liam was slung over the arm of the couch on the opposite side, his thick eyebrows pulled together in concentration even through his sleep. Niall was leaned up against Liam’s leg, his mouth hanging open and arms crossed over his chest and his carefree aura complete gone. Zayn’s face was twisted into the moodiest thing ever and if their fans were there they’d be swooning over the bad boy’s sensitive side.

“Guys?” Harry called to them softly. He was worried, because before him his band mates were not moving, were not making a sound, and most of all not breathing. “Guys seriously! This isn’t funny!” They didn’t budge at all however. His friends could pull a prank but they were never down right cruel like this. He dropped to his knees and pressed his curly head to Niall’s chest. He didn’t hear the familiar rattle of a heart within a chest. But yet Niall gave off the warmth of life, his skin was still rosy with youth. He checked the others, all the same but why didn’t they have a pulse? Why weren’t they breathing? His mind couldn’t process all the thoughts surrounding him. He felt congested and small all of a sudden.

“Harry… Your friends are fine Harry…. Come towards my voice sweet child.” The voices sweetness lingered in the air. It was so soft and delicate, Harry had to follow it, otherwise he could disappoint it and who would want that? The image around him peeled at the edges becoming slightly wavy. Was he dreaming? No. He couldn’t be he could feel, he could taste, everything around him was real. But his head was beginning to fill with dream like images, his reality distorting.