Listening To The Silent Lyrics (Harry Styles fan fic) [completed]

chapter 62

Lucy’s POV (About 9am)

I don’t know why I woke up this early.  I really don’t. Maybe it’s the early night? Or the fact that I might have had my first peaceful night’s sleep in god knows how many months. The point is, I am happy. I feel like a floating bundle of joy for some unknown reason. I can’t quite seem to figure out that one either. What is the matter with me?

I check my phone again to see if I am still unpopular. Answer to that one: why would I ever think I was popular? Also known as, NO.

I could sleep forever, dream forever, but what would I dream about? You only have so many hopes and dreams that you can run out as soon as they are done. Broken or real life. Then what? Do you want a medal? A golden statue of you, 50 foot tall and covered with little congratulations from everybody in the world? Yeah, you found your dreams and made them come true, now what are you going to do?

I roll myself out of the warm heavens of the duvet and stand up. I’m hungry. I WANT FOOD.  I trudge down the stairs like a zombie and head straight for the kitchen. What does Ed have for breakfast? I don’t want cereal. Not in the milky mood. Toast, crumpets, muffins; all laid out on the side! Whoop! I will have one of each then. I jam a crumpet and some bread into one half of the toaster then slice a muffin in half to put into the other two slots. I am so bored. I wonder what we are doing today. I hope it’s not more ‘learning’ or else I will run out of the house screaming bloody murder.

“ED WAKE UP OR I’M NOT COOKING YOU BREAKFAST!” I yell up the stairs. No answer. That’s strange. Is he out or something? “Ed?” I shout while walking into the living room. Oh, there he is, in a heap of blankets on the sofa. What is he doing there?

He is facing the inside of the sofa so I cannot see his face. Or any part of him oddly. I know it’s cold but does he really need like 6 duvets on him? I walk up to him and pull off all the duvets. 

.

.

.

… oh. My. Fucking. God.

What happened to him? “AHH! ED!” I scream as loud as I possibly can. He jumps up and falls off the sofa. But he groans in pain as the disgustingly yellow bruises hit the floor with his weight on top. Ouch, that must hurt! “JESUS CHRIST ED! WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED?” I shout at him in horror. He doesn’t say anything. He just pushes himself up off the floor ans sets himself back onto the sofa. “Ed!” I sit beside him.

Why isn’t he talking to me? Did I do something stupid? Wait, what does him being covered in  bruises got to do with me? “Ed, please talk to me.” I said in a nurturing voice. Nothing. God dammit. I let out a sigh and get up when the smell of my breakfast. “Don’t move, I’ll be back in a minute to get you clean up.” I tell him and go into the kitchen. Great, my food is burnt. Oh well, stuff the food. My best friend is in trouble, beaten up and bruised on the sofa and do you know what the best part is? He fucking hates me right now! He isn’t talking to me. I only want to know why…

I find the first aid kit on top of the fridge. It was a bit of a reach but I got there in the end. I get back into the living room to see Ed still hasn’t moved an inch from where I last left him. “Ed, let me clean you up. Then you can ignore me for no reason at all for as long as you want.” I stubbornly tell him. He just nods and moves over slightly so there is more space for us to sit down.

I start cleaning the cuts on his face, careful not to press too hard. After that was done, I lifted off his top and took in the canvas. Who did this to him? “Who?” I asked simply, he looked away from me and to the curtains hanging above the windows. Thank god they are shut. “Edward. Look at me.” I say sternly. “Who? Did? This?”