Things We Don't Normally Do

TWENTY SIX

Alex was disoriented to wake up to Harry saying her name, and gently patting her shoulder. She could hardly see anything with the lights off, but she felt like she was drenched in sweat—that or someone had poured a bucket of water over her at some point during her sleep.

"What's going on?" she asked groggily.

"You scared me." Harry said quietly, reaching for one of her hands and busying himself with them.

As her eyes started to adjust to the darkness, she saw the stricken look on Harry's face. Alex pushed herself to sit up, absolutely confused. She pushed the blanket off of her, only leaving her legs covered. She realized her heart felt like it was beating too fast, and the free hand on her lap was shaking.

"Why am I so wet?" she asked, laughing at the end as she realized how the question sounded.

He gave a little smile, but his face was still overcome with worry, "Were you having a nightmare? You were trembling and talking in your sleep."

"I don't know." she shrugged, "I don't remember."

"You scared me." he said again.

It made her feel terrible seeing him like that. Seeing this  happy-go-lucky guy crumble into a worrying mess because of her did not feel fair. You don't deserve him.

"I'm sorry." was all she could think to say.

"No, no!" he said quickly, "Don't be daft. No need to be sorry."

She laughed at being called daft. It wasn't the most common thing to say in North America, so it sounded way too posh to Alex. But in a weird way, it made her feel more at ease to hear Harry call her daft. Because since his first visit at the hospital, it had felt like he was treating her like she was so fragile, being so careful and polite with what he did and said.

While she appreciated the sentiment, it was starting to drive her crazy. She wanted their old relationship back, where they could be silly and say whatever.

So she smiled and pulled him into a hug. It caught him off guard; Alex has not initiated much of any form of physical contact at all. He almost thought he was getting a slap on the arm, but eased into the hug, as his body remembered just how good she felt against him.

"You are soaked!" he exclaimed, when he put his arm on her back, only to feel it was drenched in sweat.

"Way to ruin a moment, Harry." she laughed, pulling away from him, and gesturing to get up.

He tried to pull her back into a hug, but she was already pretty much off the bed, and heading to the bathroom. He smiled as he watched her disappear into the bathroom, but the smile didn't last long as worry still plagued him.

It did bother him not knowing what had happened to her. Yes, he had resolved not to push her to talk about it. And yes, he has an inkling of what had happened. However, not knowing for sure just made his mind reel. But then he also knew that this wasn't about him--no matter how terrible he felt, he knew it was incomparable to how she felt. He understood that much.

"Wanna hear something funny?" she called from the bathroom, her voice muffled.

"Yeah?" he replied.

She opened the bathroom door so she could hear him better, but stayed inside, "They want me to try baths."

"Wait, what?" Harry asked, confused, "and they?"

"In my discharge plan, one of the suggestions is to start taking baths" she said, as if that clarified anything.

"What do you mean? Did you start refusing to clean yourself and was stinking up the place?" Harry still wasn't sure what she was on about.

She reached her hand out of the door to flip him off, "No, instead of showers, they want me to start taking a bath. As a form of self-care, apparently."