Chapter 17 - Rediscovering

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Hazel's POV

     He didn’t return immediately, Harry Styles. Dad followed him a few moments after I broke down. Dylan stayed by my side and gave me pieces of tissue until my tears stopped.

     How embarrassing. Why? Oh right, I broke down in front of that impossibly stunning dude, WHO also happens to be my boyfriend for six months, and I don’t even remember. Yeah, I feel like shit right now.

     Why the hell can’t I remember anything oh God? I don’t even remember the accident. I mean, sure okay I have the evidences; scream-worthy pain all over my body, check. Dark patches all over my body, double-check. Bandages on places I can’t even freaking see, yeah check. My right leg hurts like hell, and my head’s throbbing like I was hit by a professional boxer on the head over and over again.

     “You do believe him, right Ate Hazel?” Dylan asked quietly as he took away the box of tissues.

     I ruffle his hair. “I don’t think anyone would lie about that Dylan. Plus, you and dad said so. I mean seriously, why would you kid around me if I’m like this right?”

     Dylan’s lips pouted and he nodded innocently. “Right.”

     Let’s not forget he’s also one of the hottest men you’ve ever seen, so you’re one lucky girl, Hazel. Jeez, Stanton really? That’s what you choose to think about?

    I bet this is another effect of my so-called accident; talking to myself more frequently than I did before, like some sort of psycho.

    But hey really, he’s so beautiful I could cry. And that voice! Oh holy crap that deep, slightly rough voice. I’m yours. Yes, and I’m yours too Harry Styles.

     “He’s quite a looker isn’t he?” I ask Dylan quietly.

     He tries to hide a look of incredulity, but fails. “Erm, I guess?”

     “Come on Dylan,” I laugh a bit loudly, “joke lang naman. I’m only trying to lighten the heavy mood that I’m obviously causing.” I make wavy gestures on the air, trying to pathetically show what the physical embodiment of a ‘mood’ would be.

     “You love each other very much you know,” he says, “very much.”

     I purse my lips. We’re back to the serious part now, and it’s my freaking ten-year-old brother who’s bringing me back there.

     “I don’t know,” I mutter, “I don’t remember.” Because what else is there to say?

     “Yeah I know. I just wanted to tell you in case you’re still having second thoughts or something.”

     I frown at him. “Thanks I guess. And FYI little bro, no I’m not having second thoughts.”

     Dylan narrows his eyes at me and I roll mine at him.

     “Fine, maybe a tiny bit,” I say.

     “Sabi na nga ba,” he says, shaking his head. I laugh at him and soon he joins in. He then embraces me lightly, careful not to touch any of the more-damaged areas of my body.

     “I missed you Ate,” he whispers. With that, I hug him tighter even if it caused searing pains all over my body.

*****

My father entered the room around ten minutes later, although Harry did not.

     “Dear,” dad kissed my forehead, “I’m going to talk to Dr. Foster for a while alright? I’m going to bring Dylan along with me.”

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