Different 36 (Patreon)

Author's note: Enjoy. Let me know what you think? Do you think that their appearance will bring good things or just drama?

 The room had grown quieter in the hours after Ivy’s abrupt departure. Y/N sat beside Harry, her elbows propped on the edge of the bed as her forehead rested against her clasped hands. She hadn’t moved much, save for the occasional shift to check his breathing or adjust the blanket pulled over him.

The soft hum of the machines had become a strange comfort, a reminder that Harry was still there, tethered to her by those rhythmic beeps. She didn’t know how much time had passed. Morning light had dimmed into the muted glow of evening, the shadows in the room stretching longer with each passing hour.

Her eyes were beginning to flutter shut again when she felt it—just the slightest shift. A faint rustle against the sheets. Y/N’s head shot up, her heart pounding in her chest as her gaze snapped to Harry.

At first, she wasn’t sure if she’d imagined it. He was still pale, his skin clammy under the hospital lights, but then she saw it again—a small twitch of his fingers. Her breath caught as she leaned forward, hope rushing through her veins.

“Harry?” she whispered, her voice soft and trembling. She reached out, her hand covering his gently. “Harry, can you hear me?”

For a long moment, nothing happened. Then, with an effort that seemed almost monumental, Harry’s eyelids fluttered. He groaned softly, his brows knitting together as though even the act of waking was painful.

Y/N’s heart leapt to her throat. “Oh my God,” she whispered, a tear slipping down her cheek. “Harry, it’s me. You’re okay. You’re in the hospital, but you’re safe.”

Harry’s chest rose with a shaky breath, his lips parting as he tried to speak. The words didn’t come at first—only a low, hoarse sound that broke Y/N’s heart. She squeezed his hand, careful not to hurt him, and leaned closer so he wouldn’t have to try so hard.

“Take your time,” she said softly. “You don’t have to say anything. Just—just open your eyes. Please.”

It took another moment, but finally, finally, Harry’s eyes opened—just a sliver at first, then a little more. They were glazed and unfocused, searching the room like he didn’t quite know where he was.

“Y/N…?” His voice was rough, barely above a whisper, but it made her heart jump all the same.

“I’m here,” she choked out, a sob of relief threatening to break free. “I’m right here.”

His bleary gaze found her, and for a second, something flickered in his tired green eyes—confusion, recognition, maybe even relief. “What… happened?” he croaked.

Y/N’s throat tightened, but she managed to force a small, shaky smile. “You scared the hell out of us, that’s what happened,” she said, her voice wobbling. “You’re safe now, though. You’re going to be okay.”

Harry blinked sluggishly, his brows drawing together. He looked like he wanted to say something else, but exhaustion won out, and his eyes fluttered shut again.

“No, no, Harry—stay awake,” Y/N urged, squeezing his hand gently. “It’s okay, you can rest, but don’t—”

“It’s okay,” a nurse’s voice cut in softly as she entered the room, quickly checking Harry’s vitals. “He’s stable. It’s normal for him to drift in and out for a while. His body’s been through a lot.”

Y/N swallowed hard, nodding as she wiped at her tear-streaked face. She turned back to Harry, smoothing a strand of hair off his damp forehead. “You scared me,” she whispered again, even though he couldn’t hear her now. “But I’m not going anywhere. You’re going to be fine. You have to be.”

The nurse finished her checks and offered Y/N a small, reassuring smile. “He is doing great. He’ll just need time”

Y/N nodded again, her heart feeling a little steadier now that she’d heard his voice, seen his eyes. As the nurse slipped back out, she settled back into her chair, her hand still wrapped gently around Harry’s.

For the first time in hours, she let herself exhale. Harry was awake—weak, confused, but awake. And for now, that was enough.

The soft hum of the hospital room was broken by the distant sound of hurried footsteps echoing down the hall. Y/N glanced up, her heart skipping a beat as the steps grew louder, more purposeful, until they stopped just outside the door.

The door burst open, and there they were—Anne and Gemma.

Anne was the first to step in, her coat hanging loosely from her shoulders, her face pale and drawn with worry. Her eyes landed on Harry in the hospital bed, her breath hitching audibly as one hand flew to her mouth. Behind her, Gemma stood frozen, her expression a mix of shock and simmering anger as she took in the scene.

Y/N rose quickly from her chair, her hand still aching from earlier but her focus entirely on them. “Anne,” she said softly, her voice gentle as though trying not to shatter the fragile moment.

Anne’s eyes snapped to Y/N, and for a brief moment, Y/N swore she saw a flicker of relief in her gaze—relief that someone had been there with Harry. Anne quickly crossed the room, dropping her bag onto a chair as she stepped to Harry’s side. Her trembling hand hovered over his cheek before finally cupping it, her thumb brushing gently against his skin.

“Oh, my boy,” Anne whispered, her voice breaking as she leaned over him. “My sweet boy, what happened to you?”

“Drugs were put in his drink”

Gemma stiffened, her hand curling into a fist at her side. “Drugged? Who would—” She stopped herself, her face hardening with a mix of confusion and anger. “Who did this to him?”

Anne, who had been listening quietly while stroking Harry’s hand, turned to look at Y/N now, her expression pained but steady. “Is he… is he going to be okay?”

Y/N nodded quickly, though tears still pricked her eyes. “The doctors say he’s stable. They’ve given him medication to help his body recover, but he needs rest.” She looked between Anne and Gemma, her voice trembling. “He’s going to be okay. He has to be.”

Anne’s face crumpled with a mix of relief and heartbreak as she wiped at her cheeks with trembling fingers. “Thank you, Y/N,” she whispered, her voice hoarse. “Thank you for staying with him.”

The room had fallen quiet again, save for the occasional beep of the machines and the soft hum of the hospital’s ventilation. Y/N sat slouched in the chair beside Harry’s bed, her body heavy with exhaustion, but her gaze remained locked on him—watching the slow rise and fall of his chest, counting every breath like it was the only thing keeping her tethered.

Anne shifted from her place near the bed, turning to look at Y/N. Her expression was soft but firm, her maternal instincts sharpening despite her grief.

“Y/N, sweetheart,” Anne said gently, walking over and crouching beside her chair. “You’ve been here for so long now. You need to go home for a bit. Take a shower. Rest. Eat something, love.”

Y/N shook her head immediately, her tired eyes widening. “No. I’m fine. I don’t want to leave him alone.”

Gemma stepped closer, crossing her arms as she regarded Y/N with that familiar no-nonsense look she reserved for when she was about to insist on something. “He’s not alone, Y/N. Mum and I are here now. He’s in good hands.”

Y/N glanced between them, her heart hammering as she clutched her own hands tightly in her lap. “What if he wakes up again?” she asked, her voice cracking. “What if he wakes up and I’m not here? I promised—”

Anne took her hand gently, holding it between her own. “You’ve done more than enough already, my darling,” she said softly, her voice steady but full of warmth. “He’s going to wake up. But you need to take care of yourself too, Y/N. You’re running on empty.”

Gemma nodded in agreement, stepping closer until she was standing directly in front of Y/N. “Honestly, babe, you look like you’re about to keel over,” Gemma said, her tone light but edged with concern. “Go home. Take a shower. Lie down for even an hour. You’ll feel better. Then you can come straight back.”

Y/N opened her mouth to argue, to insist that she couldn’t leave, but the exhaustion weighed her down like an anchor. Her body ached, her head throbbed, and her hand—already bruised and swollen from earlier—throbbed relentlessly.

Anne squeezed her hand again, her eyes searching Y/N’s tired face. “Please, love. For him?”

Y/N hesitated, glancing at Harry’s still form. The thought of leaving him—of not being here the moment his eyes fluttered open—twisted painfully in her chest. But when she looked back at Anne and Gemma, their concern evident and unwavering, she knew they were right.

“Okay,” she whispered finally, her voice barely audible. “Just for a little while.”

Anne smiled softly, relief clear in her eyes. “Good girl. We’ll call you the second anything changes. I promise.”

Gemma grinned faintly and tugged Y/N to her feet, steadying her when she wavered. “I’ll walk you out,” Gemma said. “I don’t trust you not to change your mind halfway to the parking lot.”

Y/N managed a small, tired laugh despite herself. She turned to look at Harry one last time, her heart twisting at the sight of him so still and pale. “I’ll be back soon,” she murmured to him softly, her fingers brushing gently over his arm. “Don’t go anywhere, okay?”

Anne watched her with a small, knowing smile as Gemma guided her out of the room. “Get some rest, Y/N,” Anne called softly.

As they stepped into the quiet hallway, Gemma nudged her playfully. “You’re bloody stubborn, you know that?”

“Yeah,” Y/N muttered, leaning into Gemma’s support as they walked. “But he’s worth it.”

Gemma smiled faintly, her voice softer now. “I know he is.”

The apartment felt eerily quiet when Y/N stepped inside. The weight of the last 24 hours pressed down on her shoulders, making her limbs feel heavy as she locked the door behind her. She kicked off her shoes in the foyer and shuffled to her bedroom, moving on autopilot as exhaustion hung over her like a fog.

The hot shower was exactly what she needed. The steam loosened the tension in her aching muscles, and for a brief moment, she let the water wash over her as though it could erase the memory of Harry lying so lifeless in that hospital bed. But no matter how long she stood under the spray, the image stayed burned into the back of her mind.

Once the water started to cool, she finally turned it off and stepped out. She wrapped herself in a soft, oversized towel and threw her damp hair up in another. Digging through her drawers, she found an old pair of pajamas—soft cotton shorts and an oversized t-shirt—and slipped them on. It felt good to be clean, but the fatigue still clung to her bones.

Standing in front of the mirror, Y/N applied a light layer of moisturizer to her face, her motions slow and methodical. The quiet of the apartment settled over her again, and for the first time since she left the hospital, she felt a hint of peace.

But then—

A noise.

She froze mid-motion, her hand hovering near her face as her head whipped toward the door. The faint sound of the foyer creaking echoed through the stillness, followed by the unmistakable shuffle of footsteps.

Y/N’s breath hitched sharply, her heart slamming in her chest. What the hell was that? She quickly set the moisturizer jar down with shaking hands, her eyes wide as she strained to listen.

There it was again. The soft thud of footsteps—moving closer.

Her pulse roared in her ears, panic bubbling up in her throat. She grabbed the closest thing to her—a heavy glass perfume bottle—and clutched it tightly, tiptoeing out of the bathroom. She paused by her bedroom door, her back pressed against the wall as she listened.

Someone was definitely inside.

What if someone broke in?

Her mind raced, heart pounding harder with every step she heard. She hadn’t left anything unlocked. She was sure of it. But now there was someone—something—in her apartment.

The footsteps grew louder, nearing the hallway. Y/N’s breathing quickened, and her grip tightened on the glass bottle as though it could somehow protect her. Every creak of the floorboards sent chills down her spine.

Swallowing her fear, she peeked her head into the hallway—just in time to see a dark silhouette step into view.

Y/N gasped, stumbling back a step, her voice catching in her throat. “Who’s there?”

The figure stopped. The faint light from the window cast a shadow over their face as they stood there, unmoving.

Y/N’s knuckles whitened around the perfume bottle, her voice trembling. “I said—who’s there?”

The figure shifted, and then—

“Hello? Y/N?”

The voice made her freeze. She blinked, her mind catching up as two familiar figures stepped into the dim light.

“Mom? Dad?”

Her parents stood there, suitcases by their sides and travel bags slung over their shoulders. Her dad gave her a small, tired smile, dropping his bag with a soft thud. “There you are, pumpkin.”

Y/N stared at them in disbelief. She didn’t move. Couldn’t move.

Her mother pulled her scarf loose and took a step forward, her eyes softening as they met Y/N’s. “Oh, sweetheart.”

Before she knew it, her feet were carrying her forward. “You’re—” The words got tangled in her throat as her dad opened his arms wide. She barreled into him, nearly knocking him off balance as he wrapped her up tightly.