Obvious // A Harry Styles Imagine //

24-26 Fear An Erection and The End

You unfold the much thumbed letter.

10th January.

Hey beautiful,
I've never written you a letter like this before, it feels really odd. I probably won't even give you it, but I need to say this somewhere and if I try and talk to you it'll all come out jumbled and wrong. So here goes. Basically I love you. I. Love. You. Man its liberating to finally admit that. Three simple words that have meant different things to us at different stages.
As children I love you meant you're my bestest mate and like a sister.
As a teenager it meant pretty much the same, except as those years went on I stopped thinking of you as a sister, I started to notice you were a girl, if that makes sense? Ibiza was proof of that.
The next day all I wanted to do was kiss you again, but you acted like nothing had changed. I heard you talking with a few of the guys, saying it only happened because of the pills we'd taken and I was gutted
But. That's the word that usual follows isn't it. I love you but...not that way, only as a friend, you infuriate me, not as much as my current partner. Well this time there are no buts. I love you that way, I love you as more than a friend, and I love you because you infuriate me. Above all else I love you and only you. I want to-

It ends there. It was in Harry's belongings at the hospital. He had written it three weeks before the accident, he must have carried it with him waiting to find the words to express what it was he wanted. It tears you apart that you'll never speak to the person who wrote that letter again.

Sure Harry is here, you live with him. But that Harry, the carefree lad he was before the accident? He's gone.

But maybe today will be the day you get him back. It's a year since the accident, since Harry's 23rd. you let the day pass without comment, but today is your birthday and today you are going to finally tell him you've seen the letter.

You enter his bedroom, where he is lying in bed facing the wall. "Harry?" you call quietly in case he's asleep. You can see in the mirror that he's not but he doesn't acknowledge your presence. He often doesn't. "Harry I know you're awake." Still nothing. You exhale loudly and plough on anyway.
"I've seen the letter Harry." He tenses. "It's time we talk about it."
"No." his voice is raspy, he speaks so little these day. You know he resents you, because you care for him, bathe him, dress him, help change his bag.
"I love you Harry, always have."

Liam is long gone. You blamed him for you not being there for Harry. It wasn't his fault not really, but you couldn't help the anger you felt, the wish it was him not Haz who'd been hurt. The calls from him begging you to take him back stopped after about four months. You made it perfectly clear how you felt.

"No you don't. You love who I was." He sounds so bitter, so devoid of life.
"That person is still in there. You just need to be more positive. Your physical therapist has told you what to do; you just need to do it."
"Go away y/n." he's flat, almost expressionless.
"Oh fucking stop feeling sorry for yourself! I. Love. You. Still, I love you. And I'm not going to let you say no to us simply because you feel full of self-pity."
"You think this is about pity? It's about fucking pride!" Harry has more life in him than you've seen in a month. You cherish the anger in his voice, on his face. "I don't want my girlfriend to be the one who changes my piss bag! Who I depend on for everything! Who I couldn't even fuck!"
"I don't care." You say softly.
"Well I do. I'm too ill and too weak. So just get the fuck out. I don't love you, and I didn't then why do you think I never gave you the damn letter?"

"Y/N!!!!" you hear Harry shout. Dropping the eggs you were putting in the cupboard you race through to the former sitting room that now serves as his bedroom.
"Are you ok? What's happened?" you words come out in a jumbled mess.
"Get here." He commands, so you race to his bedside. He pulls back the covers and the sight that greets you makes your eyes widen.
"How?" you breathe, unable to believe what you're seeing.
"I was thinking about you, you bent over earlier and your arse just looked so smackable. I was picturing it, thinking how I'd love to sink my teeth into it and bam! First bone on in two years."