Harry Styles Imagines

62. The man with the golden heart

Your pov:

I'm waiting for Harry to come over to my house so that I could sneak out with him to a festival. It's new year's day and we had make plans a few months ago to go to this festival together.

I pick up my phone as soon as I hear it rang, my heart beating fast under the hoodie he has given me.

"Hello?"

I have to rethink what the person on the other side said to me. I dash out of the door after I finally understood what it was. I hear mom and dad calling my name. But, I needed to go to him.

He told me it would be alright coming over at this hour. What happened on the way? Why is he in the emergency room? Is he going to die?

Tears fall out of my eyes, making my vision blur but I no longer care to wipe them off. I put out my hand to stop a taxi and here I am, sitting in a taxi, tears running down, praying that he would be alright.
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Room no. 58

Harry told me before that the number 5 and 8 were bad luck for him. They always causes him family problems or serious injuries and I never believed him until now.

Harry was there laying restlessly on the white bed. A few hours ago, he was the one who told me not to worry and that everything will work. But how is it going to be true when he was on the hospital bed while I'm sitting on the hard cold wooden chair beside his bed?

I take his soft pale hand in mine and thought about what the doctor said. He told me that a girl, aged five, was running after a teddy bear and Harry saw a big truck coming in her direction. So, he crossed the road and covered the girl to protect her.

Good fortune wasn't by his side at that time.

The brake of the truck wasn't functioning well and so, it hit him so hard that his head needed four stitchs and his left leg got paralyzed.

Rich people were born with a silver spoon in their mouth but for Harry, he was born with a golden heart in his chest. Ever since he was a child, he treated others with kindness and love. When the other kids bullied him, he would always give them what they wanted and they would call him a coward for doing that. But no one understood that he was making everyone happy. When he became a teen, he took out girls because they asked him to.And every now and then, he would donate what he had in his hands to the poor or homeless people despite of him being not successful in photography.

No matter how kind he was to his environment or to the public, my parents didn't like him. They found him too carefree and wasn't serious in his job or money. They said that he was untidy because he had long hair and wore stupid clothes but they didn't knew that he is growing his hair long to donate it to a charity and yes, he wore stupid clothes because he didn't look into the mirror before going out and they looked stupid but do they matter?

They also thought that he wasn't good enough for me because he had dated many girls in the past. Of course I knew that's not true. Okay. He might be a flirt but it wasn't as they say. He was the type of guy to help what the girls asked for and some of them took him for granted.

They wanted me to have a high-paid salary job even if I wanted to be an artist but they didn't care. And because of all these reasons, Harry and I had to sneak out whenever we wanted to see each other or for date nights.

This happened because of me. I look at him and could not help but feel sorry and sad because of all the cuts and bruises on his face and body. I take out a wet tissue and wipe the blood stains carefully not to touch the cuts.
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Harry's pov:

I feel something wet but with a sweet scent on my face. I wake up and see (y/n) crying and wiping my face with a wet tissue. "Ow." I yelp in pain when she accidently touches a cut.

Her eyes enlarge when her sad eyes met mine. She covers her mouth with the other hand and come closer to me. I smile weakly at her. I rememeber what happened. I saved the little girl. She's only five years old. I couldn't let that truck crush her tiny body. I have lived my life more than her. So, I ran to her, carried her onto my lap and faced the truck with my back. Where is she? And where am I?

I see (y/n) calling the nurse and doctors. I try to sit up but my left leg is disobeying to do so. I try again but I couldn't.

Was my left leg paralyzed?

The doctor and two nurses come in and do a quick check-up. They told me that my left leg is paralyzed due to the car accident.

Oh my lord. I hope it will recover soon. Please tell me that I'm dreaming.
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Part 2 coming right up.