Reticent (h.s fanfic, punk Harry)

Chapter 48

Every time I listen to what a feeling, I get a weird feeling in my tummy. I can almost see Harry singing it on stage. I sound like such a creep, sorry. Okay I will start now. Love you all.

I had seen quite a few forms of Harry Styles; I'd hated him, I'd loved him, and I had truly seen him; naked of the hate and the love that had coated my senses. He was a-how do you put it- an alluring morose boy. I watched his hair stick to his face slicked with sweat, the veins at his temples standing out, with every inhale and cough he grouched out. A rose tinge had settled on his face, blood red seeping from between his lips. Eyes drooping closed from fatigue, almost hoping another cough would not come.

My hands fumbled with one another, muddled if they should connect with him, or simply stay by my side.

His hands had gone almost white with the rigid hold he had over the sink, tightening every time he got himself ready for another spout of blood to pour out. For some time after that one, he calmed down, the colour of his face turning slightly normal. He took a minute to breath.

Inhale...

Exhale ...

Inhale...

Exhale...

The faucet turned with a harsh 'fiss' sound, turning the rose red liquid stains in the sink to a small pink as it washed it away.

His hand cupped under the running water, shaking as he led it to his mouth for a quick rinse.

"Harry," I finally found myself saying. I could hardly recognize my own voice.

A sigh, then his head to mine. He looked frustrated.

I waited for him to speak, but he mutely walked past me, heading to the bed.

The girl standing there patiently pushed the covers back and helped him settle in. "There we go," she hummed.

I waited for anyone to utter anything. Louis was silent, Connie too. All in all, the room was conjured with silence.

"What happened?" I broke the stark silence, I could not wait anymore. I just walked in with Harry coughing up blood in the bathroom, I had a right to know what was happening.

Still the room stayed silent, it confused me to a terrifying state-I had questions, and nobody wanted to voice any answers, at this point even Louis bit his bottom lip to stop himself from speaking.

"Ophelia," Harry spoke from his position on the bed, his body curled to a fetal position, almost as if he was a child again. He looked so pale, and so frail; almost as if one touch could hurt him. The brunette stood by the bed, bringing a soft wet cloth to his flushed forehead, slightly dabbing, ignoring us. "You don't need to concern yourself with me."

I had no semblance to be angry before, but I felt it flush over me. "No need to concern myself? What the hell! I come in here and see you coughing blood and I'm supposed to just turn around and act like everything is fine?!"

Harry simply rolled his eyes. "Jesus, what do you want?" He huffed.

"I want to know what happened, I don't think that's much to ask for."

"I told you to not let anyone in here," He spoke to Louis

"Sorry. But, I think she does deserve to know, you know."

Harry seemed to have an internal war, then finally looked at me. "Ophelia, this is Bailey," he pointed to the girl beside him. Bailey give me a small wave.

"I want to know what is going on with you," My voice had harboured a pleading tone, and I rushed to sit at the end of his bed. My hands gripped his. 

"We should go," Louis addressed everyone else in the room, and one by one, they walked out, leaving me and Harry to sit on the bed. 

"Harry, please. I just want to talk to you." 

His eyes softened, a small smile broadened his lips but missed his eyes. His callous fingers rubbed against mine, slowly at first, then gripped like iron. 

I saw something spark in his eyes, something I had never seen, Harry was a strong man, he was always so brave, he seemed unfazed by everything, I could tell you everything that would happen step by step if anyone ever crossed him, because although a stark charmer, Harry had the temper of a bull seeing red. And when he was happy, I couldn't see anything but happiness in his face. 

And now all I saw wasbleak dejection 

I held his hand tighter, and moved closer, somehow trying to give him any hope to continue.

I think I somehow knew what was happening, but my brain did not want to register it as a possibility, I simply could not think about Harry dying. And still although I wanted him to tell me now, everything, I wanted to give him all the time in the world, I wanted to wait a few more minutes in this bubble of confusion than face the truth.

"Did you buy another flower to replace the one that was dying?"

The fatigue was not seen only in his eyes, and his pale face, his voice was hoarse, used too much, working too hard.

I waited for a moment, my heart almost coming to a stop, because this was not what I was expecting. "Yes," no use lying to Harry, he could always see through my poor excuses to lie.

He grunted out a laugh, and I almost wanted that moment to stop; to hear Harry laugh non-stop.

"I knew it," he hummed. "That one was my mum's favorite." He looked towards our hands intertwined. He laced our fingers together, taking a deep breath, willing himself to continue. "One day, when I was eleven, I went out to go get some groceries-" When Harry talked like this, it was hard to remind myself that he had no semblance of a childhood; he knew nothing about being carefree at his younger years. And now it was hurting me more than anything. But I stopped the tears from falling from my eyes. "-And on the way back, this lady was giving out flowers for Mother's Day; she had this sign up by her," his other hand went to his lips to tug, then brush over the corner of his lips, trying to recall, "it read: Please give your mothers flowers on this blessed day, since I can't give them to mine anymore. I talked to her for a short time and learned that her mother had passed away, and she told me that those flowers were very special to her. Groceries in one hand, and the flower vase in the other, I dashed home," he chuckled. "I gave them to her in such a hurry, even she was taken aback. She grew that flower with as much nurture as she could. From all of them she gave it so much love, and every time I noticed it was about to die, I would just buy her another, then another." He sighed, eyes casting down, remembering, his eyes were watering. "I take those flowers to her grave every time I go and visit."

I think I knew where this was really going now. I was not ready.

"I want you-" his eyes came up to mine, a tear slipping out. "To take those flowers to her grave, every time you visit her." He stopped abruptly, looking over at me pleadingly. "You will go visit her right?"

I nodded, I don't think my voice was strong enough to come out.

"Thank you." His tongue brushed over his lips. "I want to tell you about Bailey."

"You don't have to."

"Yes, I do." His words halted, hand snaking over my wrist to pull me down beside him under the cover. I snuggled in, looking at his face, seeing now that I should have noticed sooner, the times he would sneak into the bathroom, the middle of the night he would leave for such a long time, nowhere in the garden. I hummed, trying to forget, and give all my attention to him now. I heard him speak so softly. "I loved her at some time back then."

Lorraine <3