I'd left him dreaming; a dangerous feat

[forthsofar]

Most mornings, she and Neil keep, if not the same hours, at least similar ones; close enough that there's sometimes a good-natured battle between them for the bathroom, or that it's easy for one or the other to make an extra few pieces of toast while they're putting together their own breakfast. And when they differ, when Neil's been out late or Rosie's spent the night at Nick's, they know each other well enough not to be concerned. Those quieter mornings can even be nice sometimes, a chance to settle into the day at the very start, to have some time without another person around.

All this to say, if it hadn't been for Beau, she might have simply gone to school and left him.

The dog had parked himself just outside Neil's closed bedroom door, something Rosie could only think of as concern in the low note of his whine. "Come away," she'd said, trying to call him over first with words, then the click of her tongue, then finally by taking hold of his collar and pulling. He resisted it all, settling the weight of his stocky body along the floor in a way that made him nearly immoveable. Finally, she'd tapped on the door, listening for the sound of anything within before she pushed it open. "Neil? I'm not trying to--oh."

This had happened before, but she'd been on the other side of it then. Now, it seemed it was her turn to be the one left behind. In a way, she's almost glad for the recentness of her experience, the way it keeps her fear mostly at bay. After looking up the number for Darrow General, she calls for an ambulance: Yes, someone else who won't wake up, please hurry if you can. As she waits, she sends texts to Sabrina, Nick, Charlie; calls Neil's work and makes up a plausible enough excuse as to why he'll be missing his scheduled shifts today and tomorrow. It's only what she knows he'd done for her, not long at all ago. When the paramedics arrive, Rosie follows them down, riding in the back of the ambulance and holding Neil's limp hand the entire way there. He's booked into a room, has an IV set up for hydration, and though the nurses encourage her to leave, claiming he'll be just fine in a matter of days, all she does is pull a chair over to his bedside and settle in.

Perhaps a bit shamefully, she doesn't think about Harry until just then. For all that he's been a little distant to her--and still she thinks it's awfully rude, the way he sometimes acts the few times he's been over when she's there, almost as though it's she who has no business being in her own flat--Rosie knows Neil cares about him. He deserves to know what's happened. Having brought Neil's phone with her just in case, she taps in his passcode, looking up Harry's number. In the hopes of avoiding confusion, she texts him from her own phone; a few short messages, all in quick succession.

Hello Mr Starks, it's Neil's friend Rosie, he's in hospital (unconscious but othrwise fine), wanted you to know
Room # is 387, have put you on visitor list if you'd like to stop by
Please don't worry, it's something the city does at times, very stupid

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[borntohang]

The phone buzzes just as Harry is cleaning up the bar of his club. It's something Hannah usually does, but she has a day off. He doesn't mind it. In fact, he doesn't mind it at all. If his gang at home ever heard of it they would probably be shocked, but Harry finds himself quite content with his club and he doesn't mind having to do most of the work to keep it going. It's not the Stardust; but it's his at last and he likes it. Honest work - no schemes. (Well, one small scheme on the side, but it's not noteworthy.)

Maybe it's the medication. It's better than the shit he used to have to swallow in the sixties; ah, the advances of medicine. His pills don't give him the shakes, but so far they've managed to keep him from going into one of his black moods all the same.

He picks up the phone and checks the message. Despite Rosie's reassuring text, Harry is instantly worried; something happened to Neil.

He manages to compose himself and his first reaction is to thank the girl by text and leave it at that. He's not one for hospitals. His worry quickly wins over his hesitation and he sets out to the hospital moments later.

Rosie's there when he comes into the hospital room. He doesn't dislike her, but her presence is uncomfortable to him. He's never before had a boy who had a life outside of Harry's world. Someone whom he could enjoy, but who was still very much his own. Rosie is a manifestation of that (he lives with her, after all) and Harry doesn't really know how to handle that.

Still, she did text him and he was grateful for that and Harry had been taught manners. "Rosie. Thank you for texting me. How is he?"