sign {h.s.}

chapitre cinquante-trois

"Let's do it."  

They are the first words out of my mouth when I awake the next morning. Harry still nestled into the bed right next to me, giving me the impression that he had not moved from my side once all night. It had been a restless sleep. We had arrived to the hospital sometime around four in the morning, I would safely assume. My parents came stumbling in fresh off of the flight that they had taken in this morning at nearly eight am. After checking in on me, I assured them that I would be fine with Harry and that they could spend their time worrying about Connor. I could tell they were hesitant to go, but in the end, when they saw Harry subconsciously nestle himself into my side--his lips slightly puckered in the formation of a small kiss, instinctive even in his sleep--I suppose they figured then they were leaving me in good hands. 

After my parents moved into my brother's room, I returned to a fitful sleep. I awoke again not even an hour later when a noisy nurse entered the room, insistent on taking my vitals and ensuring that there still was no damage. Again, she was satisfied and left the room shortly after; leaving me to try for sleep once more.

This time even less successful than the last, I woke up again at nine thirty. Only, this time, I awoke to the simplest of pleasures: my boyfriend running his hands through my hair. His fingers wrapped around the curls, tugging on them slightly before winding them around his finger, the delicateness by which he is handling himself is enough proof to me that he is looking not to wake me.

When finally he sees that he has, there is a small tinge of pink to his cheeks. Embarrassed to have been caught in such a way, I wave off his embarrassment. After all, this is the same man that had braided my hair for me. Playing with it is no means for concern. But, I still can't shake the thought of how sweet he is being to me from my mind. "Let's do it," I say to him, adjusting myself on the bed. Wires are still hooked up to me that tug and pull with each of my movements, but I ignore them. I brace myself against Harry's chest as I give him a hopeful look, my voice raspy from not having been used in so long. 

"Do what?" He questions, propping his head up against his arm, his hand returning to play with my curls as he speaks, the simple movement seeming to calm him down. Lazy eyes look up at mine, a small tribute to his deep fascination with me. Ever since we've met, I noticed small things about him. Though, the most pressing is his inability to keep his eyes off of me. Whenever we are in the same room, I nearly always find his eyes attached to me. Almost as though something is compelling him.

I take my own hand and trace it along the black ink on his arm. In a similar way, this is an action that calms me. Once, I'd had the dream of taking markers to his skin and coloring all of the black lines in. Elegant and formal, the black lines against his skin are a work of art. Beautiful. Though, I do dream what he would look like with a burst of color. Nothing permanent, of course, but just something to pass the time. Oddly enough, I'd never mentioned it to him. 

Releasing a small sigh, I stop my movements against his arm; wanting to give him my full attention. Likewise, he stops his fingers from curling around my hair. "I love you. So, so much. And I stand by what I said earlier. You do have to try harder for me," I trail off, not entirely sure what else to say. I know what I want to come across, eventually, but the words in the middle are not my strong suit. "You said you were willing to commit to me. Did you mean it?" 

Numbly, he nods his head--seeming to have a hard time forming words.

Swallowing, I close my eyes. Blindly, I reach out, searching for his hand in mine. Somehow, things seem better with his hand in mine. Instantly, Harry assists, his hand finding mine in the middle. His large hand envelops my smaller one. Before I have a chance to continue speaking, Harry brings my hand up to his lips, pressing a lingering kiss against the skin that sends shivers down my spine. "I want to be with you." I blurt the words out, not knowing a better way to say it. As soon as I've spoken, I open one eye cautiously, wanting to see his reaction.