Make You Mine(H.S.)

Broken Lamps and Stitches

"Fine Malik. I don't know why you're back, but I guess you can have your job back," he grumbled.

"Splendid! Now, I must be off but make sure that you get plenty of rest. I wouldn't want you to jeopardize your chances of winning," Zayn said and winked at me on the way out.

Harry slammed his fist onto the floor causing me to jump slightly.

"That d*ck sure knows how manipulate people," he muttered. Oh Harry, you have no idea what you're in for.

Laila's POV

Harry stood up and headed towards the bedroom. The slamming of the door echoed throughout the entire room, shaking the lamp beside me.

I wonder what Zayn had done in the past that upset Harry so much. Sure, he was a rude and was a little manipulative but even that could not have caused this sort of reaction.

I felt guilty for agreeing to Liam's plan for a while, but I need to get back home and this seems to be the only way.

I'd do anything to be able to get back home.

I also couldn't help that I was starting to feel more comfortable around Harry. He meant well, but he still had some troubles. I was still trying to understand him.

I heard something smash against a wall and my face paled. Curse words tumbled out of his mouth that could be heard from the floor below us. Luckily for him, this room was soundproof. I winced when I heard a loud thump, he had thrown the bedstand.

I knew I needed to stop him before something really terrible happened but I had never been put in a situation like this before. His anger fueled his strength and it was very possible that I could get seriously injured in the process.

F*ck it. I was going in. I threw open the door and ducked at the phone that hurled over me. Harry's eyes widened when he realised he had almost hit me and slammed his fist into the wall, causing the debris from the wall to rain down on the floor.

His blood started to trickle down him knuckles and run down his arm. I grabbed his arm that didn't have it's fist lodged in the wall and pulled him away from the hole he created.

"I don't know what your problem with Zayn is but you need to get it together if you even want to compete. Now clean this mess up and get a shower," I demanded and was surprised when he began to pick up the broken glass on the floor and toss it in the trash can.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled and trudged past me to enter the bathroom.

I sighed and headed out of the room in search of a broom and dust pan. At least he picked up some of the mess.

I had just finished sweeping up the glass when I felt something grab my hand.

I turned around to face Harry with dripping wet hair and a towel wrapped around his waist.

"I can do the rest," he said with a defeated look on his face and began to straighten up the rest of the room.

I noticed a cut on his arm that must've been caused by the lamp that he smashed which was still bleeding. He really was a mess right now.

"Harry,"

"I can do it Lai, it's my fault."

"Harry-"

"What?!" He snapped and turned to face me.

"You have a cut on your arm."

"Leave it, I deserve it," he muttered.

I sighed and pulled him towards the bathroom and motioned for him to sit on the countertop.

He towered over me even when he was sitting. I rumaged around in the cabinets before producing a first aid kit.

I removed the piece of glass lodged in his arm and and he held his breath, trying to block out the

pain.

"You need stitches," I commented at the depth of the wound while whiping it with the disinfectant whipes.

"Can't. Do. Hospitals," he gritted through his teeth.

"Well I don't know how to do them."

"Look it up."

"I'm sorry, what?"

"Just look it up, you can follow the instructions," he hissed.

"Harry, I'm not comfortable with doing stitches on a person when when I  haven't even seen them on a person."

"Well you'd better get comfortable soon because I can't go back there," he snapped.

"Your funeral," I muttered and looked through the kit to produce some stitching thread.

"According to this article it says that a cross stitch will hurt more, but be more effective and a regular threading stitch will hurt less, but have a possibility of snapping more easily," I said.

"Do the cross stitch."

"Are you sure? It says it hurts twice as much and we don't have any numbing medicine," I replied, uneasy about the situation.

"I'll manage," he answered, as if he had felt pain much worse than this.

My heart sunk at his tone and I felt immediate guilt in what I was to put him through. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad if I just stayed with him. I could help him, or even find help for him. I could learn more about him and maybe even have a future with him.

That's crazy talk! My subconscious snapped at me. I knew it was, but I hated to leave someone who seemed so broken that one wrong move could shatter them for good.

I picked up the threaded needle and slowly lowered it to meet his cut. I looked up to him only to see him nod at me, and with that, I pushed the needle into his flesh and he cried out in pain.

"I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!" I frantically blurted out to his response.

"Just. Finish. It." He gritted through his teeth and gripped onto the counter, knuckles burning white.

I continued on with the stitching as quickly as possible and tried to block out his painful cries. I never wanted to do this. Why did he make me do this?

I had gotten to the last cross and hurriedly tied it off before clipping the leftover thread.

Harry sighed in relief and pulled me into his chest.

"Thank you," he mumbled and kissed the top of my head.

"Don't ever ask me to do that again."

Author's Note

Hello! I apologize for not updating last week, it was pretty busy! What do you think of Harry's attitude and Laila's internal conflict? There's a lot more to come!