Amaryllis

15

"Ni, come on. You can't do anything else for them, they're just going to sleep."

"I can't just leave them."

Voices are the first thing that registers with Harry where he's lying on something heavenly soft. It's Zayn and Niall, and they both sound tired and upset. Harry wrinkles his nose and frowns. He can smell blood in the air, so much blood, and something cloying and dark, like poison. But, as he slowly comes awake, he smells the fire, too, and hears the familiar crackle of it where it burns in the fireplace. The scents of the house are wrapped around him like a blanket, calming him, letting him know that everything is alright, and he's so, so comfortable. He's not at all sure what happened, and not at all sure that he cares.

"Harry?" Niall's voice says, shaky and echo-y in the still room.

"I'm awake," Harry confirms, trying to open his eyes. His lashes feel stuck and sticky, lids heavy. Waking up is hard work.

"Jesus, yeah," Niall answers as he comes closer, a warm hand running across Harry's forehead, then gripping his wrist like he's afraid to let go. "How are you feeling?"

"Really comfy, actually."

"Can you open your eyes?" Zayn asks from somewhere above him, and Harry frowns. Of course he can, and he does.

His surroundings come to him in a slow blur of shadows, all darkness and heavy, warm colour, and he needs to blink a lot before anything comes into focus. There's Zayn, hair drooping sadly over his forehead, standing right above Harry and looking at him with apprehension. He recognises the shadows around him as the living room, bathed only in the warm light of the fire.

"I think so," Harry answers, once he's made out where he is. He's not sure, but he thinks he sees Zayn's eyes glisten suspiciously where he meets them with his own, a little more alert.

At his other side, Niall sobs. It's a desperate sound, absolutely gut-wrenching and irreconcilable with Niall's happy attitude. Harry immediately turns his head, hand shooting up to tangle in Niall's hair.

"Hey, no," he says lowly, confused and worried. "I'm fine, you're fine, we're all fine, it's all okay."

Niall's face is red with equal parts tears and embarrassment when he raises his head to meet Harry's eyes. He's wiping at his cheeks with his free hand.

"Can I please give you a cuddle," Harry says, hands itching to comfort Niall in any way he can. He hates seeing people cry, and he hates seeing Niall cry even more. It shouldn't happen, not ever.

Wordlessly, Niall moves closer, snaking his arms in-between Harry's neck and the pillow he's lying on. He buries his face in Harry's chest, voice still loud and shaky with tears. Harry holds him the best he can, so, so confused. From above, Zayn's hand cards through Harry's hair comfortingly, rubbing in small, affectionate circles.

"We were really worried, Haz," he says, and Harry moves a little to look up at him. Niall sniffles in agreement.

"I don't remember what happened," he says, and a deafening silence answers him. Niall stiffens and pulls back, holding the corner of Harry's comforter to his face, and Zayn holds on to Harry's shoulders.

"Nothing?" Niall asks, voice strangled.

"No."

"You…Harry, you were attacked."

Harry frowns, trying to pull up a memory, anything. "What? How? When?"

"Yesterday morning," Zayn says, walking around the sofa to join Niall on the floor. He rests a hand on Harry's chest, right above where his heart is beating, loud and steady. His eyes are big and liquid in the absence of light. "You were shot."