Daydream [H.S. A.U.]

Ch. 41

I'd been in this damn bed for two weeks. I'm so bored out of my fucking mind I was contemplating crawling out of the window. I was feeling like a prisoner in this disinfectant smelling hospital. This 110 square foot room was driving me crazy. My friends and family came by as often as they could; bringing me books to read, flowers to admire, and a stack of dvds to keep me occupied.

I couldn't get Harry to leave and go home to save his life at any point, it was kind of sweet. Luckily enough him being, well, who he is, the hospital stopped even attempting telling him to leave after visiting hours.
Almost every night has been spent squeezed into my tiny ass hospital bed with him rubbing my back, braiding my hair after helping me wash it, and bringing me my favorite pack of chocolate covered pretzels.

Today was my last day in the hospital, so Harry was getting all of my discharge paperwork ready to leave within the hour. He comes into my room with a small duffle of clothes for me to change into, his clothes or course.

Sitting up, I slowly swing my legs over the edge of the bed, Harry already right by my side. "Lemme help, ok?"

I nod and allow him to switch out my pale blue hospital socks for a pair of my favorite fuzzy ones. Because my right leg was in a cast, Harry gently pulled a pair of workout shorts over my legs. Reaching behind my back, Harry unties the back of my hospital gown and pulls it from my shoulders. "so I grabbed a tshirt with the sleeves cut off so that way we can get your arm through it easily."

"You thought of everything didn't you?" I beam.

Harry hums, but he doesn't look me in the face. His brows pinched together, bottom lip captured between his teeth. "Hey, what's up?" I ask.

He shakes his head and doesn't utter a word.

"You're a bad liar, babe. You have something on your mind." I try and tread lightly, not wanting to rub him the wrong way. This whole ordeal has been a lot for him, so I wanted to be respectful but also needed him to open up. There's no getting past this if we don't communicate.

Harry chews on the inside of his cheek and gently pulls the tshirt over my head, slipping my bad arm into the large cut out arm hole. I eyeball his face, trying to get a read on him. Sage green with a hint of somber behind them look everywhere but my face. I know what he wants to ask, because anyone would. He hasn't even touched on the subject, and I appreciate him wanting to give me time and space, but I want him to be open and honest about how he's feeling about all of it.

Once I'm settled and dressed Harry steps back and sits down in the chair 3 feet from my bed, leg violently bouncing up and down. "H. Look at me."

Timid eyes gaze up, a shaky breath escaping him, "Can I ask..." Harry swallows harshly, "how far along?"

"About 8 weeks." My voice trembled ever so slightly and Harry grabs my hand out of instinct. His thumb rubs the back of my hand in soothing circles, "8?" Harry glances at me and his lips turn up slightly at the corners.