Far Too Many Good Intentions. (Harry Styles)

Lost in the blur.

"Addison?" I heard a soft voice close to my ear. My eyes snapped open. I was on a couch, my head resting on a shoulder, which I realized was Harry's.

The movie's end credits were scrolling. I stretched and sat up. I coughed, a wild, nasty cough; it didn't even sound human. Everything felt confusing and out of proportion.

"Sorry I fell asleep on you," I mumbled, trying to get my bearings. I was dizzy, and I couldn't seem to get enough air.

He looked at me carefully. "Are you okay? You were shaking like a leaf," he reached a hand to press against my cheek, my forehead. His hand was like ice on my skin. "You're burning up!" he retracted his hand abruptly.

My lungs were on fire at this point; as if I'd been running marathons in in my sleep. "Addison, are you okay?" he asked again. His face focused and refocused in front of me, but I tried to stand up anyway to show him I was fine.

"I'm okay," I argued, but suddenly it seemed as if the room inverted on itself.

My words became lost as I struggled to breathe, and I felt myself tumbling to the ground. Right as I was about to hit the floor, two arms were there to catch me. That was all I remembered before I faded into the darkness.

The next time I awoke, I was in a hospital bed, with an IV stuck to my right hand. My chest, to put it lightly, felt like it had been hacked open with an ice pick. It was all too bright, and I squinted against the fluorescents above my head.

As I adjusted to the light, I noticed a certain mop of curly hair at my side, holding tightly to my other hand. He was in deep sleep, and I took my hand gingerly from his, and ran it over his head.

"Harry, wake up." My voice didn't sound like my own; it was too croaky and weak.

His eyes fluttered open to meet mine. "Oh, thank God," he whispered, and pulled me to him gently.

"What happened?" I was starting to get an awful headache from the lights.

He was cradling my face in his hands as if I would suddenly shatter into pieces. "It was pneumonia. You stopped breathing on the way to the hospital," his sea-green eyes filled with tears. "I thought you were dead."

I stared at him in shock, until the coughs came. They wracked through my entire body, rattling my rib cage with unprecedented force. Once the fit was over, I tried to put on a happy face for him. "I'm right as rain," My voice was now completely gone, so I spoke in whispers.

One tear found its way down his cheek, threatening to splash onto his shirt. I reached up and brushed it away. "Don't be sad," Seeing him cry was absolutely heart-wrenching. "You shouldn't have any reason to cry," I comforted, and coughed again. He smiled softly, his eyes lightening a bit.

My hand on his cheek felt...right. Everything fell into place in that moment. At this point, as I stared into those green eyes, I wondered what I would've become if I hadn't met him. I certainly wouldn't be in a very good place; maybe even back home. I knew there was no turning back.

Five days passed like wildfire. I was stuck in the same hospital bed the whole time, Harry only leaving my side just so he could change clothes and shower. It was, in the least sappy way possible, the sweetest thing anyone had ever done for me. The boys all visited as well, Niall even brought me flowers.

When the time came where I was well enough to return home, I was more than overjoyed to be leaving that little white prison. But I was still miserably ill, my voice completely shot. Trapped in another coughing fit, Harry, Louis and I rode the lift to the apartment. Harry held the door open for me, and I fell graciously to the couch. It was amazing how exausted I was just from walking for a few minutes.