"Harry?" His name left my lips, as my eyes widened, suprised to find him standing outside my hosptial room at two in the morning.

He stood in front of my door, his stance less confident than I had ever seen. His hair was flopped over his forehead, disheveled as if he had had a rough night. His eyes met mine, and there was something different about them.

There was something heartbreaking about the way he looked. I don't know why I was feeling sorry, or sympathetic, for the boy in front of me after all that he put me through. But, something about the sad look on his face had me interested.

"Hi." He quietly murmured from the doorway. He made no move to walk into the room, but just stood there. I walked back to the bed, feeling light-headed at my sudden movements to get to the door.

"What are you doing here?" I asked, not sure whether I was dreaming or not, because I hadn't actually believed he would ever come back to see me.

"I, uh, you said to come back." He said, stumbling through the door and taking a seat in one of the chairs beside my bed.

"I didn't mean in the middle of the night." I said statically.

"Yeah, sorry. I-I'll just leave." He stood to get up, but I grasped his wrist, forcing him to sit back down. I could feel his pulse quicken under my fingers at just the little contact we made.

"Don't leave." I said. He didn't say anything, but just sat back down. He looked me straight in the eyes, making me notice for the first time the redness that surrounded the ususal bright green iris. "Harry..." I said curiously, trying to take in more of his behavior. "A-are you drunk?"

His eyes widened a bit, and guilt rushed over his face, confirming what I thought I already knew. Anger immediately rushed over me as Harry cowered back under my harsh gaze, knowing I already knew the answer to my question.

"Did you drive here?" I tried to stay calm for his sake, because drunk Harry was a lot more pathetic and childlike than sober Harry. He slowly nodded his head, not able to bring his gaze to mine. I just took a deep breath, trying to take in everything that was happening.

Here he was, after I told him to come back when he truly meant it and he was sitting in my quaint hospital room at two in the morning, drunk. The irony of the situation overwhelmed me. It was the accident, but flipped. He had the power then, the power to hurt and damage, but now it was me. I had the power now, the power to not listen to a word he said, but to let him live with maybe just the tinsy bit of guilt he deserved.

"Why are you here, then?" I asked, getting more angry as I thought about what he had done. "Why now, would you come back? Did you think it was okay to come back here while you're drunk, the very same condition that got us into this mess?" I spurred, getting it all off my chest.

"I honestly don't know why I'm here." Harry said, his voice still quiet, too quiet.

"Well you sure as hell better figure it out now." I said angrily. Harry opened his mouth as if to say something, but then shut it. "Well?" I asked. I'm not putting up with this.

"I don't know. I just, I was at a party and I just felt like I should come here. Your words from last time have been replaying in my mind. I can't seem to stop thinking about you. All I can see when I close my eyes is your mangled body laying in the street, and as much as I don't want to  feel sorry for what I did, I do. I feel bad." Harry said out loud, his voice somewhat surprised as if he didn't plan to say everything he did and that he had only maybe realized the truth in the words as they came out.

I tilted my head back in sympathethy. As angry as I wanted to be at him, he was in too fragile of a state right now, and as much as I didn't want to believe he was actually sorry or that this whole experience actually changed him, I had always heard that kids and drunk people speak the most truth.

"Well you should be sorry, Harry. You've changed my life forever."

"But that's the thing. I can't be sorry. You mean nothing to me. I don't even know you, so why should I be sorry? I don't know why I'm sorry like I am." He went on, his eyes looking over me frantically, as if he was more confused than ever.

"No, Harry. That is why you should be sorry. I'm not going to be able to breathe properly and normally for the rest of my life, because of a crappy decision that you made." I said, getting more angry and emotional as the conversation drug on. "I was the one that was good that night. I didn't drink, I was being safe. You were the one that decided to take a chance, and it just so happened that the consequences were taken out on me." I said, tears now spilling down my cheeks, because it just wasn't fair and I couldn't quite figure out why I couldn't be more angry at him.

His face changed when he saw that I was crying. "I'm sorry, Paisley. I didn't mean to make you upset, by this. I-I just don't know what's wrong with me." He said frantically.

"I don't either. Any normal person would feel horrible doing this to another." I said, feeling less angry now, more just sad for the both of us, because we were both confused as hell and didn't know how to feel.

"I know. But I'm not normal. I never have been. I don't feel emotion like others do. Well, I didn't, until all this happened. Until you came along."

"Well, Harry. I'm not quite sure what we're doing here. I don't know what you want me to say." I said, realizing what we were doing was getting us nowhere. Either he is sorry or he isn't, and if he is, great, but I can't harp on this forever, I have to move on.

"I don't either. I'm just confused. I've just always been able to forget about the shit I did, before this. But now, I just can't get it out of my head, and I don't know how to stop the images burning in the back of my brain."

"It's guilt, Harry."

"I know. I just don't want to accept it."

"But why?" I asked exasperatedly. "Being sorry and being able to forgive makes things so much easier. It means you can accept and move on with your life."

"I'm sorry, Paisley."

"Sorry for what, Harry? You're not making any sense." I yelled, equally as confused as to what was going on as he was.

He took a moment before speaking, then slowly met my gaze for the first time since he had gotten here. "I'm sorry for everything. I'm sorry that my bad decisions had to affect you as detrimentally as they did. I'm sorry I'm such a dick. I'm sorry that I can't be like a normal human being that would visit during normal hours. I'm sorry that I am the way I am, okay." he said. My heart seemed to pound in my chest at his words. I have no idea why I feel anything for him. As I've thought many times, I should be mad forever at him, but I can't be. The only thing I feel for him now is just sympathethy. Not because he is physically hurt like I am, but because he is emotionally hurt in a way that only he can fix himself.

I'd thought about what I would say to Harry if he did visit me, during the endless hours of waiting in this dreaded hospital room, and I need to forgive him. If he is sorry, I need to forgive him so we can both move on. I would never want anybody to live with guilt forever. So, as hard as it might be, at this moment where we're both complete messes, I know what I have to say.

"Thank you, Harry. As hard as it is to believe, I forgive you. Not because what you did was okay, but because I don't want you or I to live with this on our chests forever. I'm very proud of you for coming back and apologizing to me. If I'm honest, I thought I'd never talk to you again. As much as I don't want to believe it, I know you, and this whole experience, has changed me. And I hope, that it has changed you for the better as well." This conversation was a rollercoster of emotions. One minute I was yelling at him, the next crying, and now I was forgiving him and wishing good on him.

Harry just smiled at my words, but it was a sad smile, like he didn't believe anything I had just said.

"You're sweet, Paisley. God knows this has changed me as well, for goodness sakes I'm feeling actual emotion for the first time in years, but I'm not sure I can actually turn my life around to be what would be good for me." Here he was saying stuff to make me angry again.

"Anyone can change for the better, Harry. Anyone."

"Well. I hope I can too." He said slowly, looking to his feet again. I have a million thoughts and feelings running through my head, because Harry is just so overwhelming. On one hand, I want to be angry at him, for first off doing this, second off thinking he can apologize, and then showing up here drunk at two in the morning, but I can't be mad at him, because it's just not who I am. On the other hand, I want to convince him he can be a good person and change who he is, but its not my place, considering the most interation we've had has been tonight. We've gone to school together for years, and never said a word to each other. He has no idea who I really am, and I really know nothing about him.

After a long silence, filled with deep breaths, and the annoying beep of the heart monitor, Harry looked up, meeting my eyes again.

"I guess I'll leave now. I just uh, wanted to tell you that." He said, acting unsure, a total contrast to his usual cocky, over-confident self.

"Well, thank you Harry." I decided to say. "I wish you all the best, Harry. I really do."

"Um, thanks." He said nervously, running a hand through his dishevled curls. "I hope the same for you." He said genuinely, and even though he was drunk, I believed he truly meant it.

He stood up from the chair beside me and walked towards to door. "Call a cab, Harry." I said, giving him a stern look, to which he gave a cheeky grin. It's the strangest thing, the two of interacting with each other like this. An onlooker might have thought we were old friends, not a teenager who almost killed the other and was seeking absolution.

"I will."

"I'm serious." I said, not playing around. It was stupid enough for him to drive here, let along take another risk. I don't want him, or another person getting hurt like I did. Harry seemed to catch on to the fact that I was totally serious, because he just responded with a curt nod.

"I'll see you at school, I guess." I said, dismissing him as he walked towards the door.

"Yeah." He replied, standing in the doorway. "Well, uh, nice talking to you, Paisley. Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Harry." I said, watching him walk out of the room, the door slowly closing behind him.

I laid down, eager to find sleep again, but couldn't stop my mind from racing.

Even though Harry was drunk, and I absolutely hated the fact that he could still be selfish enought to drink when he hurt me the way he did, I saw the softest side of him, that I'm sure not many others see. He opened up to me in a way that I didn't even know he could, let alone expected. He apologized and I forgave him, lifting a ton of bricks off my chest, because I feel like I can breathe now. Not physically, because I can do that already now, but figuratively, because all the loose ends are tied up, hopefully leading to the end of this nightmarish story that has occured in the past couple days.

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Comment whose point of view you like better! Paisley or Harry?

I'm interested to know :D

Thanks for reading!

Macy xx