Bad Blood (h.s.)

Part Fifty-Nine

Part Fifty-Nine

"Why would you punch someone that hard Harry?" I ask him, his right hand being iced on his thigh as I drive him to the hospital.

"I punched him because of you Beth," he tells me, my eyes widening. He remains silent and I turn to look at him.

"Because of me? Harry why would you punch because of me? What did I do? I understand you Harry, I know what is-" he cuts me off, his voice booming in my ears.

"It was that fucker Greg Hobbs Beth! I punched him with everything in me because I wanted to let him know he messed with the wrong girl. Beth, he is a waste of space and I only did it because I love you so fucking much and hearing him say things like that, telling me he wanted you because you were a virgin, I lost it. It was one punch and he was out."

He takes a deep breath and his left hand grabs my right one, holding it tightly in his large hand, and kisses the back.

"It was for you Beth. I need to show you that I love you and will protect you from every bastard who ever hurt you."

My eyes glance over at him, his hand holding mine close to his mouth, patching tiny little kisses to each finger. I have never felt so at ease as to why he punched someone. It was to show me he would protect me. The car pulls into an intersection right when the light turns red, and I stop, placing my lips to his.

His hand lets go of mine and he cups my cheek, our lips molding together. My teeth pull at his bottom lip and I pull away, my eyes opening to see his slightly opening up.

"I love you Harry. So much," I whisper, turning back to the road and driving. Harry leans over the consul in the car and rests his chin on my shoulder, his lips running along my jaw.

"You mean so much to me," he whispers. I pull into the hospital and park, his lips still on my cheek.

"And we're here. Let me see your hand." My lips kiss his cheek quickly and he brings his swollen hand to my face.

"You see it Beth?" he laughs, my laugh mixing with him.

"Yes, be careful. It's broken."

"It's not broken. Just a simple fracture."

~

"Mr. Styles, it would seem you broke your hand."

I nudge Harry's arm because I was right, and he grabs my hand, whispering a curse under his breath.

"You will need a cast on your hand for six weeks. You didn't break your forefinger and thumb, so those will be the only two fingers not wrapped in the cast. It will take 6 weeks to heal and then you will have to wear a brace. You have to wear a bag over it when you shower and you can't get the cast wet at all."

Harry nods and squeezes my hand. The doctor goes over the x-ray, determining the surgery for screws. Harry hates it all and I told him I'll be here every step of the way. The doctor takes Harry back, Harry giving me a goodbye kiss before he goes, and I walk to the waiting room. My feet walk and I sit in a chair, filling out his paperwork. I go through multiple sheets, his forms, his allergies(which is none), his medication and anesthetic forms, and all of the other crap that goes with casting and surgery on his hand.

A few hours later I am told to go get Harry, his anesthetic still wavering off but his surgery was successful. I walk into his room and he's lying down, his eyes observing the cast on his forearm.

"Harry, how you feeling?" I ask, running my hand through his hair.

"Okay, but this is the stupidest shit I have ever seen," he says, looking up at me. I laugh and lean down, kissing his forehead.