You Have Me

Ch.9

"Harry?"

I whispered my voice was muffled by his hair. The silky strands damp, and wild at their curliest. Harry was in his natural element, black sweats hanging around his hips. An old T-shirt he wears when he's having a bad night, and it's awful. Completely awful and depressing. Harry shouldn't be having bad days. The media shouldn't be spitting out lies just to make a quick buck. Harry shouldn't be laying on top of me right now with wet cheeks and puffy eyes. It's horrible, tragic, and it's making me lose all my hope for humanity. Tonight was different though. I've seen Harry cry many times before (he's always been a very sensitive guy) when he was happy, or homesick, even at the end of a sad movie. But when I see Harry cry because he's hurt, or sad, well that's just worse than kicking a puppy and leaving it out in the rain.

"Baby." Harry answered. His voice was thick with sleep and raspier than usual. We've been home for about three hours. All in which Harry's spent crying, eating pounds of food (that a doctor would probably frown and then babble about heart disease and diabetes) and then began crying some more. He was sad, and vulnerable and it sucked. It completely sucked on so many levels.

"You're my favorite." I promised quietly. I began running my hands through his hair as he hummed and squeezed me tighter.

"You promise?"

I sighed and dropped a kiss on top of his head. My nose crinkled at the dampness now covering my mouth.

"Always."

**********************************************

"Beth? Are you okay? Did you have a bad dream?"

My head hurts and why couldn't it be real? Why can't I catch a break? Harry's hovering over me. His brows are furrowed and his red lips are in a pout. And no, having Harry this close to me should be illegal. Please someone make it illegal. One of his hands is running up and down my side, in a attempt to soothe me. "What's wrong?"

Well wasn't that the question of the century. What's wrong?

Well I can't remember you or the guys.

My own family hates me.

You won't let me speak to my sister.

And oh let's not forget, that I think I may be a tiny bit, in love with you.

The only problem is that I don't know you.

"I'm fine. Yeah, I'm okay." No I'm not. I'm really, really not.

"You sure?"

I nod and gently push at Harry's chest until he's off of me. He sits back down and looks at me with a conflicted and puzzled expression. It's like, he doesn't know how to react when I push him away, but he doesn't want to show me that it's hurting him. But it is. And I can see it. And it fucking sucks. So with a tired huff I turn and fold myself into Harry's side. I'm determined to allow myself theses moments before my memories return and everything changes. My arm slips around Harry's neck, and I tuck my face into the crook of his neck. I inhale his sent and close my eyes. He smells like man and deliciousness and it's maddening. I don't even second guess myself as Harry inhales a sharp breath (that sounded painful) and I wrap the other arm around the other side of his neck and I'm rewarded when Harry picks me up and I'm forced to open my legs and straddle his lap. It's perfect and we're perfectly tangled together.

"You can talk to me, yeah?" Harry tells me quietly and there's a thread of sadness that has me cringing.

“Yeah. I know,” I say bravely, because I don't know what I'm getting myself into when I say this. "I will."

"I'll hold you to it." Harry promises and his smile seems softer, more relaxed somehow, like it's just for me. "You think, you're up for exploring the town?"

"Yes!,” I scream excitedly. His raspy laugh making me smile.

“If you take me out you'll be my hero Harry Styles!" I look up to his face and his grin is undeniably perfect. I can feel Harry's fingertips dinging into my skin and I shift slightly, moving into his touch and fuck, if I were a cat, I'd be a purring mess.

“That's all I want to be." He admits and my cheeks flush a bright and annoying red. He smiles and places a kiss to my cheek and it's torture knowing that all I have to do is move my face a bit and our lips would make contact.

"Yeah. O-okay" I murmur smiling up at Harry. The distance between our faces is almost nonexistent and it's not fair. “We should probably get dressed if we're going to go”

"We should." Harry agrees and the pressure of his hands tightens slightly. He doesn't pull back and he makes no move to get ready. Instead his face gets closer and I can feel his hot breath ghosting over my lips. My mouth is tingling and my body is buzzing. Harry connects our eyes for a brief moment until he's hand enough torture, because yes, this is bloody torture. He molds his lips against mine and it's incredible and overwhelming and, oh fuck me, it's nice. So fucking nice. His lips are soft and warm, like pillows out of the dryer.

The need to breathe overwhelms me and I have to pull away. Even though that's the last thing I want to do.

"No, no. Don't pull away. Come back." Harry mutters his lips in a full on pout. I laugh and run my hand through his hair. My fingers stopping slightly at the small tangles. "Bethhhh." He whines like a small child, when I don't move back. His hands squeeze around me and bring me back to his chest again. Oh, lord. I'm fucked. Fucking fucked.

"Harry we have to get dressed if we're going to go and explore." I chirp slightly disappointed. But I need to breaths before the loss of air keeps me from living.

“I'd rather keep kissing you,” Harry says inanely.

I'm not going to argue, because I'm pretty sure I'd like that to. But I'm in dire need to walk and see things. So the kissing-regretfully- is going to have to wait. He Sighs and gives me a lazy smile. "Okay. But I get to hold your hand, right?"

I chuckle softly. Harry's nose presses into my neck where his breath tickles my heated skin. "Yeah. Sure.” He puckers his lips against my neck. And he really needs to stop that. It's distracting and glorious.

"And then we can keep kissing? Because I really want to." Harry murmurs. I laugh and try to fight the blush as best as I can, but it's difficult when the image of Harry from my flash back is still running fresh through my mind. Harry's a dream that I'm not even sure really happened. I wish it did, because my mind doesn't remember him but my heart wants him. I just really want to hear at least one nice memory before every dream and every flash back comes back and ruins me. Before everything bad comes flooding back.

"Harry?" He turns his head slowly, grinning happily and lazily. "Hmm" he hums against my cheek.

"You're my favorite."