Whenever You Remember (A Niall Horan Fan-Fiction)

Chapter 1

"What the..." I sat up, blinking against the bright lights that blinded my eyes. "What the hell am I doing in the hospital?"

"Hello dear," a friendly nurse parted the curtain to my room and entered. "Nice to see you awake."

"What am I doing here? I didn't get hit by the cab."

"No you didn't," she checked the chart at the end of my bed. "But you were a bit traumatized by the impact. You went into shock. Witnesses say you screamed and screamed until you cut off the oxygen to your brain and passed out. A man caught you but you bumped you head off his knee as he did so and we thought it was best to check you out as well."

"What about..." I trailed off, realizing I didn't know the blonde's name. "Is he?" I didn't want to say dead so I just left the question opened ended.

"He's fine, he's fine," the nurse smiled. "He's right next door if you want to visit him. He's been asking about you."

I slipped out of the bed, my bare feet cool against the tile of the hospital floor.

"He's a cute one," the nurse winked. "You're a lucky girl."

"Huh?" I crinkled my eyebrows in confusion. "What?"

"Your boyfriend," she hitched her thumb towards what I assumed was the blonde's room. "The boy who was hit by the car." Her face was practically begging me to acknowledge this lie, "They said you didn't have amnesia."

"Right, of course." I agreed with her hastily. I was positive that I had just met the kid on the street minutes before he was hit by the cab, but if agreeing with her got me out of this room then so be it. "Sorry I was just a little woozy after the accident."

"Completely understandable," she gave me another friendly smile. In her eyes I saw there was something she was hiding; she knew I had no idea who the blonde haired boy was.

I smiled back, hoping my confusion didn't show, and then hurried out of the room. I felt the stiff hospital grown brushing against my calves as I paused outside of the drawn curtain that hid the blonde kid's room. I could hear laughter coming from inside.

"Excuse me?" I stuck my head in and saw the blonde boy's head was wrapped in thick white gauze. He was giggling with one of the younger nurses, who quickly backed away when she saw me. "Can I come in?"

"Course you can babe," the blonde waved me in with the one arm that wasn't in a sling. The nurse disappeared as I stood cautiously at the edge of his bed. His Irish accent was gone, though the hints of it still remained underneath his thick Staten Island one. Had he been telling the truth before when he said he had lived in New York for ages?

"I'm really sorry," I felt my throat closing up as I looked at the red scratches on his face and the bandaged wounds on his bare chest. "This is my fault."

"It's not your fault love," he patted the edge of the bed and I accepted his invitation to sit, sinking down carefully so not to jolt him.

"What's wrong?" I pointed to his head.

"Not much," he beamed. "I had to get a lot of stiches though. I'll probably get a cool scar."

"Well that's a plus," I was relieved to see that he seemed fine. I would have never been able to live with myself if something had happened to him just because he had been kind enough to offer to help me. "What about your chest?"

He looked down at himself, "Cracked rib."

"Arm?"

"Broken," he sheepishly lifted the sling. "Want to see my leg?"