Harry Styles Imagines

You Have a Fight (Part 2)

You wake up with a headache. You can't open your eyes because the light makes the headache unbearable.
This is the worst hangover you've ever had, you think to yourself.
At least you're in a bed, you're just worried about who's it is.
You open your eyes again, this time you keep them open.
You're in a hospital room with white walls. The air smells like disinfectant.
Your leg is in a cast, along with your arm.
Harry's head is leaned on the hospital bed, his hand resting over yours. It's obvious he hasn't been sleeping, the dark circles under his eyes are deep.
You nudge his hand with your hand.
He slowly begins to move, and the all at once he's awake in a hurry.
"Oh my God. You're awake. (Y/N) you're awake." Tears begin falling from his green eyes.
"What happened?" You ask, the question coming out in a croaked voice.
He takes a moment to gather himself.
"You don't remember?" He asks you, his voice threatening to break.

You shake your head no, but movement only makes your headache worse.

"I remember that we had a fight about that stupid party, and I walked out, and then." You draw a blank about the event that follows.

He reaches for your hand and squeezes it. He begins to cry harder.

"This is all my fault."

"What is?" You ask him, anxious to find out what he's going to say.

He wipes his tears with the corner of his hoody sleeve, then takes a breath before continuing.

"We got in that fight about that party, and you left my flat. I followed you outside and you were standing in the street and-"

He stops talking and begins shaking his head vigourously back and forth.

"What is it babe?" You ask him.

"You were hit by a cab, and it was all my fault, love."  His voice is quiet, barely above a whisper.

You lean back on the pillow and begin pondering how close to death you were. A tear of your own begins to slide down your face.

"This wasn't your fault, Harry. You-" he interupts your next sentence.

"It is my fault. If I just would have went to that bloody party, none of this would have happened. I am such an asshole! I should have just went with you like I promised." He says, raising his voice.

"Harry, I don't give a fuck about the party. This isn't your fault, and I don't want you to feel guilty because you wanted to spend time with your friends."

The corners of his lips slightly curl into a smile. He kisses your hand.

"I love you (Y/N).' He whispers.