(DISCONTINUED)

○ 3.8 :: Concussion ○

Dedicated to cewbear bc they went through this whole thing and voted but I had a list going so it took ages to get to you. I've decided to just fùck that list now, so here you go.

*

I was often struck by how attractive Harry was, and this was one of those times.

The first thing I noticed when I groggily opened my eyes was that I was in his room, on his bed. The next thing I noticed was that both my head and side were throbbing. My hand wandered down my side until my fingers came into contact with the rough fabric of the bandages wrapped around my middle, and it was then that yesterday's events came rushing back to me, sending me into a panic. Where was Harry? Was he okay? Did Des hurt him? Had he obeyed his father and decided to stay away from me? I tried to remain calm, willing my pounding heart to slow down. He had to have brought me here, right? That meant he was okay... right?

I craned my neck to look around the bedroom, as if some clue to Harry's location would appear. As it happened, I hadn't even needed to worry in the first place. The very man I was looking for was seated just a few mere metres away, unknowingly battling all my fears away. I allowed my eyes to drink him in, admiring him from head to toe. He was still wearing the same long-sleeved t-shirt he'd been wearing yesterday, and his biceps bulged from the way his hands were tucked behind his head. His long legs (clad in black skinny jeans, of course) stretched out in front of him, crossed at the ankles. One of his socks was black and the other grey, but it didn't take away his look of put together-ness as he stared aimlessly through the window. I wondered what he was looking at, what he was thinking. Was he worried about me? Was he planning on keeping his promise to Des?

I attempted to sit up, crying out as pain shot through my side. Harry's head snapped towards me, and in less than a second he was by my side, gently pushing on my shoulders so I was laying back.

"No no no," he scolded gently. "You need to take it easy for a few days, love; you have about twenty stitches in your side and we can't really go to a hospital, so if you rip them then we're in trouble."

"Twenty?" I croaked.

Harry nodded grimly, briefly dragging his fingers through his hair and huffing through his nose. I knew that was just his way of remaining calm. "Does anything else hurt?"

"M' head," I mumbled, clutching it with one hand.

Harry nodded again, wincing. "You have a concussion - from when you hit your head on the floor," he explained. "You've been out for two days."

"Two days?"

He nodded again.

"And you've been here?"

He shifted slightly. "I had to go yesterday because Des called," he admitted. "Just to get him off our backs, you know?" I nodded in understanding as he grabbed his chair and dragged it over to the bed, taking a seat. "I don't think I could ever... watch something like that again."

"Why are you sitting?" I quizzed, patting the empty sheets beside me.

"But your..." His eyes flickered down to the gash in my side, concealed beneath the blanket.

I waved my hand carelessly. "I'll be..." I frowned and shook my head slightly to clear it. Everything seemed kind of fuzzy around the edges, and every now and then my speech would slur a little. Hopefully this concussion wouldn't have any lasting effects. "I'll be fine."

Harry didn't look convinced. "But what if I hurt you?"

"I'm a big girl," I said proudly.

"But-"