ORION.
I turned to Athena as she drove us away from the hospital, my voice barely above a whisper. "Can you take me to Harro's place?" I needed to surround myself with the echoes of his presence, to immerse myself in the space where his laughter, his smile, and his love had once filled every corner. Athena's soft smile was a gentle affirmation, and I felt a wave of nostalgia wash over me like a bittersweet tide. This was the place where Harro had found solace, where he'd felt safe and happy, long before our lives had become intertwined and the shadows of pain had crept in.
The car ride was a silent, tense journey, the air thick with unspoken emotions. I steeled myself for the flood of memories that awaited me, memories that would transport me back to a time when life was simpler when love was new, and when happiness was within reach. I could almost see it all—the warmth of our laughter, the comfort of his arms, the days spent together, lost in our own little world.
As we arrived at Harro's place, Athena's gentle urging was a welcome respite. "Go freshen up, I'll order us something to eat." Her thoughtfulness was a balm to my frazzled nerves, and I felt a surge of gratitude toward her. She knew all too well that her cooking skills—or lack thereof—couldn't fend off the darkness that had settled over me.
As I wandered through the vast, echoing halls of Harro's house, everything felt impeccably clean, a testament to the diligent efforts of his housekeeper. Yet, it was Harro's aura that permeated every corner, an obvious presence that slammed into me like a wave as I reached the threshold of his bedroom. Memories came crashing down around me – passionate nights that had left us breathless, light-hearted banter that had filled the room with laughter, and even silly arguments that had ended with us both laughing. The weight of those memories was crushing, and I felt a tidal wave of grief threatening to consume me whole.
Tears brimmed in my eyes as I sank to the floor, overwhelmed by the sorrow that clung to me like a heavy, suffocating blanket. I felt like I was drowning in a sea of pain, unable to escape the undertow of emotions that pulled me under. After what felt like an eternity, I steeled myself and dragged myself to the bathroom, seeking refuge in the warm, soothing waters of the shower. The water washed away some of the heaviness, but the ache in my heart remained.
As I returned to Harro's freshly made bed, I curled up among the pillows, hoping to catch a fragment of his essence. The scent of his cologne lingered on the sheets, a poignant reminder of his absence. Just as I began to drift into a melancholic reverie, Athena's gentle voice called me back to reality. "Come on, we need to eat," she encouraged softly, and I reluctantly dragged myself up, following her as she navigated the familiar paths of the house.
Each step was a painful reminder of the day my life had taken a drastic turn – sitting in this very spot after that drunken incident when everything had shifted between us. The hurt was almost unbearable, a gnawing sense of injustice that felt like a festering wound. It seemed so profoundly unfair that Harro was fighting for his life while I sat here, drowning in memories, powerless to do anything but wait and hope.
"Thank you," I murmured, my voice barely audible, as Athena set a plate in front of me. Her warm smile was a gentle attempt to comfort me, but I could see the concern etched on her face like a delicate pen and ink drawing. She tied her hair back, the gesture a habitual one, and began to eat, her eyes never leaving mine. Just then, my phone rang, the sudden sound jolting me with urgency. My heart skipped a beat as I wondered if it might be the hospital, but hope was short-lived, extinguished by my father's name flashing on the screen like a cold, harsh reality.
With a tremor of annoyance, I dropped my phone, glaring at it as if it were a venomous snake. "He doesn't know when to give up, does he?" Athena remarked, her voice laced with a mix of frustration and empathy. I could tell she felt the weight of the situation, half blaming herself for everything that had happened. Her eyes, usually bright and sparkling, were dull with worry, and I felt a pang of guilt for putting her through this.
"What about your parents, do they know?" I ventured, wondering how deep the fallout had spread. Would they be devastated when they learned their plans for us were shattered? Athena's sad smile answered my question before she spoke, her voice barely above a whisper.
"I told them last night. I couldn't keep pretending everything was fine. It was better to come clean before they found out on their own." Her honesty took me aback; I hadn't expected her to be the one to break the news. A wave of gratitude washed over me, and I reached out, taking her hand in mine.
"What did they say?" I pressed, my curiosity burning like wildfire, desperate to know the details of the conversation. Athena's voice was laced with a deep sadness as she shared her story, the hurt and pain evident in every word.
"They were upset—expectedly so. Then shocked, disappointed. They're not speaking to me right now, but I guess I deserved that," she whispered, the vulnerability in her voice tearing at my heart.
I reached for her hand, squeezing it gently, wanting her to know she wasn't alone in this storm. "I'll talk to my father soon, but not today," I vowed, my voice firm with determination. "He needs to understand I meant every word I said. And I'll face your parents too; I owe them an apology for being a coward." Athena nodded, her eyes filled with a deep understanding, and for a moment, a shared resolve filled the silence between us.
As we ate our meals, the reality of Harro's condition loomed over us like a dark cloud, casting a shadow over our conversation. But despite the weight of our worries, I found myself eating more than expected, driven by a hunger that went beyond physical need. It was as if my body was trying to replenish the emotional energy I'd depleted in the past 24 hours.
But as the last bites disappeared, an overwhelming desire to be back at the hospital washed over me like a tidal wave. I yearned to be by Harro's side again, to hold his hand and whisper words of encouragement in his ear. Yet, Athena's firm insistence that I take a quick nap eventually won out, and I surrendered to exhaustion, crawling back into Harro's bedroom. The moment my head hit the pillow, sleep seized me, and I was lost in dreams of him, imagining his bright smile and infectious laughter guiding me through the darkness.
As I finally emerged from the haze of sleep, the warm evening light filtering through the curtains ignited a spark within me. I burst out of bed, enthusiasm propelling me forward like wildfire, leaving Athena to trail behind me. She hopped into the driver's seat of her car, and I barely restrained myself from sprinting into the hospital, my heart racing like a jackhammer as I burst through the doors.
"Orion, hold on! I can't keep up when you walk that fast!" Athena called after me, her words echoing down the corridor. But I didn't stop, my feet carrying me on autopilot until I reached Harro's room.
I collapsed at his bedside, clutching his uninjured arm and kissing it softly, whispering the words that had become my mantra..."Hi baby, I'm here."
Athena finally made it into the room, panting slightly, a hint of amusement dancing in her eyes. "I need to work out more!" she joked, trying to lighten the mood. I managed a small smile, but my gaze remained fixated on Harro, drinking in every detail of his face.
"How's he?" I asked Sabastian, who was already sitting by his bedside, his eyes red-rimmed from exhaustion.
"Still the same," he replied, his tone a mixture of exhaustion and hope. "The doctors checked him a while ago." I nodded, trying to process the information, but the sight of Harro—his bandaged head and bruised face—felt like a dagger to my heart. He looked so peaceful as if he were simply sleeping, but I knew otherwise. The machines beeping around him, the steady hiss of oxygen, and the faint scent of antiseptic all served as harsh reminders of his fragile state.
"It's your turn to go home and get some rest," I finally urged Sabastian, breaking my gaze from Harro's peaceful face. Sabastian began to protest, his voice laced with a mix of exhaustion and stubbornness, but I countered, echoing his own words back at him. "Harro wouldn't want to see you like this, you look like a walking ghost." The image of Harro's vibrant smile flashed in my mind, and I knew I had to convince Sabastian to leave.
Reluctantly, he agreed, and I arranged for my bodyguard to drive him home, with Athena tagging along to ensure he wouldn't be alone in the big, empty house. As Sabastian left, he dropped another piece of information I'd been waiting for, his words hanging in the air like a promise. "I received news from SJ's grandmother's estate in Germany about your message. They're reaching out to her and Azalea, though it might take time before they get to them." The glimmer of hope in his eyes was infectious, and I felt a spark of determination ignite within me.
Then, silence enveloped the room, leaving me alone with my swirling thoughts and the rhythmic beeping of machines. I turned back to Harro, taking his hand in mine, framing it with my warmth. It felt so wrong to see his once-vibrant face marred by pain, and the weight of my heartache settled heavily within me, like a physical burden I couldn't shake. As I prepared to endure another uncertain night, I found comfort in holding his hand close, ready to weather the storm together, even if he was still unconscious.