Devil's Desire [h.s.]

Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Harry looked like he was ready to shit himself.

"Harry," I repeated a little more earnestly. "Am I at my mother's house?" He said nothing. Simply blinked at me with a slightly concerned expression. "Let me rephrase that," I went on, "why am I at my mother's house?"

He opened and closed his mouth a few times, furrowing his brows. "Well, given everything..." His fingers scratched the hair at the back of his head. "It's the safest place for you–"

"Safest?" I interjected with wide eyes. "Have you met my mother?"

Harry blew out a long breath. "Quite a few times now."

"Oh my God," I dropped my face into my hands. That alone was the scariest thought. Harry and my mother? Together? I didn't even want to think about how that had gone down the first time they met. "How'd you get me here?" I asked, voice muffled against my palms. "How'd you get her to agree to have me here? She barely wanted me around when I was a kid, I'm sure the conversation to house me as a comatose potato was probably hell–"

"She was surprisingly good about it," Harry said calmly. He was lying. I could tell. Probably something to do with the whole 'not stressing me out after I just woke up' bullshit.

"I have to pee," was all I said. "Also, my head hurts. Am I allowed to take an advil? Or maybe have a glass of wine? I'm gonna need it if I have to deal with my fucking mother."

"No to the advil and the wine," Harry said quickly with a shake of his head. He was before me the moment I threw off the comforter and had his hands braced on either of my knees. He looked even more nervous than before when our eyes met. "Also, you're gonna kill me but you actually... can't pee, either. Er, I mean, you can but–"

"Holy fuck," I glanced between my legs, my face burning. "Ew. Ew, ew, ew! Do I have a catheter in–?"

"Riv–" Harry reached up to cup my face in an attempt to settle me down. "You've been in a coma remember? You couldn't just not pee for 3 weeks. I'll call the nurse–"

"Harry, this is so nasty!" I shoved his hands away, my voice sharpening into something shrill and terrible. "Stop. Go away. I feel gross. I don't want you to see me like this." My head felt like it was spinning a bit. The limited elation I'd felt just after waking up and seeing him had completely dissipated – reality having now set in. Pressure threatened behind my eyes, and I looked up at the ceiling, refusing to cry. "I can't believe this is happening. I'm so embarrassed."

"Baby," Harry cooed and sat down on the bed beside me, refusing to let go of my face, even after I'd tried again to shoo him away. "It's okay. It's not gross. It's normal. It was a good thing actually. To know that you were going and that your organs were working as normal–"

"No! Stop!" I cupped my hands over my ears. My voice came out with a slight whine. "Don't tell me that. This is awful." Squeezing my eyes shut, I could feel his thumbs running softly over my cheeks as I quietly mourned, "We are not supposed to be at this stage of our relationship yet. You're not even supposed to know I have normal bodily functions." Tears pricked my eyes and I tried to laugh, but the sound came out garbled. "We're supposed to be in those few months of bliss where we act like one another are perfect and–"

"Hey," Harry waited until I'd opened my eyes again to speak. He angled my face toward his. "Hey, when have we ever been perfect, hm?" He cocked his head to the side, eyes searching mine with an honest sort of expression I couldn't read. "You've seen some of the worst parts of me. You helped me through a relapse, Riv," he swallowed hard, his throat bobbing. "What, you think just because I know you piss like a normal human being, I'm gonna run for the hills? I think you're perfect no matter what."