What Was Lost // (Harry Styles FanFic)

Chapter 41

Lilly's POV

I really want to punch Sutter in the face. Like hard.

But seeing as how his face is already busted up and his back, I probably shouldn't. But I really want to. At the same time though I want to help take care of him because I hate that he's in pain.

I honestly don't know what to feel right now. When Jesse called me while I was enjoying a girls night with Nadine and Jo, I never expected it to be him telling me to get to his house, we might need to take Sutter to the hospital.

He said it wasn't anything serious but maybe some broken ribs and he might need a couple of stitches. Sutter told Jesse he didn't want Jo to know what happened yet, so I made up some stupid excuse about swim practice in the morning so I could leave early.

Neither one of them bought it obviously, they both teased me and said they knew I was going to see Sutter somewhere. Whatever.

When I walked into Jesse's room upstairs, I didn't realize just how bad Sutter's face was going to be. He was sitting on the edge of the bed with a towel in his hand, holding it up to his lip.

I gasped and covered my mouth with my hands, my eyes instantly filling with tears at his appearance.

It didn't take a genius to figure out who he fought with either.

"What the actual fuck is wrong with you?!" I yell at him, not bothering to hide my disappointment.

The whole time I've been standing in the room, he hasn't looked at me or acknowledged me once. But I know he knows I'm here, we always know when each other are close.

"Can y'all give us a minute?" He says to Jesse, Bobby, and Fuller, who all seemed to have stunned expressions on their face too.

Jesse's the last one to leave the room, and before he closes the door behind him, he gives me a look that tells me he doesn't want me to be too hard on Sutter. Well tough shit, because I'm going to be.

When the door clicks shut, Sutter finally lifts his head up and makes eye contact with me. I notice a few more bruises on him now that I can see his whole face. Without my consent, sympathy fills my body because I know he has to be in pain.

"What hurts the worst?" I ask.

"My ego." He responds, cracking a little smile at me. I roll my eyes and fight the urge to hit him myself. Again

"Be serious, please."

"My backs the worst. I think I have some broken ribs or something."

I walk over to where he's sitting on the bed and lift up his shirt, closing my eyes when I see the blue and black taking over his spine, and some red swelling.

"How did this happen?" I ask, almost afraid to know the answer.

"Fucker tackled me into a table." He responds, and I can't help but detect a hint of pride in his voice. I don't have to ask who tackled him, already knowing exactly where he decided to go tonight.

"Why do you sound happy about that?"

He shrugs his shoulders. "It was a good move, its what I would have done too."

I roll my eyes, because he sounds like such a guy. They beat the shit out of each other and then analyze all the good hits?

"A couple of your ribs might be broken since its swelling and red. Does it hurt to breathe?"