Bad Blood (h.s.)

Part Sixty-Five

Part Sixty-Five

"Just sleep Beth," Harry says, my restless night beginning to annoy him. My body is sore, worse than usual, and I don't want him to get up to get me medicine. His hand rests on my stomach and he lies on his side facing me. His eyes are closed in attempt to sleep, but mine are wide open, unable to fall into slumber.

"Let me up," I tell him, his throat releasing a groan of frustration. My fingers grip the restraining arm, pushing him off and climbing off the bed. Once my feet reach the floor and I stand, my body feels like a weight pushes on my shoulders, my body light-headed.

Quickly, I reach behind me to grab the sheets, but I miss, collapsing to the ground in a heap. Harry jolts up and rushes to my side, my hands swatting his away, not wanting his help.

"Beth, you just fell," he gushes, gripping my arms and pulling me up.

"I'm fine. If you are so tired, go back to bed. I can handle myself," I assure him, my eyes wandering around the room.

"No, let me help you," he whispers, tilting my head to the side and brushing his lips across my neck. "Let me take care of you. Anything you need," he whispers, kissing my neck gently. My head bobs and he kisses my cheek, leading me into the bathroom. His hand rests on my back, my head resting on his shoulder.

I sit down on the toilet seat, his body working to get a washcloth wet without getting his cast wet. My eyes watch him as his eyes focus in concentration, moving with delicacy.

"Okay, just relax. Are you sore or hurting?" he questions, moving the washcloth to my forehead.

"Can I have a pain killer?" I ask, his head nodding. He recently showered, his hair in a natural curl that I love. He looks absolutely innocent and loveable, something I would never tell him, him probably thinking he's unmanly.

The pain pill is handed to me and I swallow it with the water I'm given. Harry walks to the sink and rinses the glass out, setting it next to the faucet. I wipe the washcloth around my face, cooling my body down. With the injury, the shock I have endured since is over-heating quickly.

Harry moves in front of me and kneels, his hands resting on my thighs. "Are you doing better?" he asks, my head nodding. My fingers grip the washcloth and I open it, moving it to press against his face. A laugh leaves my lips, my childish behavior causing Harry to smile wider.

"You were getting too hot to handle," I whisper, kissing his cheek.

He laughs and his thumbs rub against my thighs, my shorts showing them off. He leans his head towards me, kissing my cheek.

"It's almost 2 in the morning and you are making me laugh."

He shakes his head, smiling up at me. My shoulders shrug, not even tired. Harry's eyes have bags and he should probably rest, his eyes seeming dull and in need of a good night sleep.

"Are you tired?" I ask, running my fingers through his curls. He nods, but keeps his head up, his eyes looking into mine.

"You should sleep." My hands cup his cheeks and I kiss his forehead, moving up and standing. Harry lifts himself up and I grab his left hand, walking into the bedroom. My body crawls onto the bed and I look back, Harry's hand running through his hair.

"Something wrong?" I ask, his curls falling in front of his forehead.

"Not really. I just don't want to hurt you while we sleep. What if I hold you too hard and I hurt you? I don't want to hurt you," he exhales, his body sliding onto the bed. My arms wrap around his neck and his hands hold me gently, my body rolling onto his carefully.