It's been a couple of days since I came home from the hospital. I don't know why but I thought everything would go back to normal when we came home, or at least be a little less hectic. Unfortunately, however, it's been the opposite.
My family insisted on staying with Harry and I for the first two nights. Mom wanted to make sure that I was safe and comfortable. I tried telling her that I was fine and that I had Harry in case anything were to happen, but her overprotective mode came out and Harry was quick to offer my entire family a couple rooms to stay in, much to my dismay.
My dad, on the other hand, knew I was okay. Of course he was concerned, but he also knew that Mom can be a little overbearing. Dad trusts Harry, even despite everything we've been through, so he knew that Harry would be there for me. However, he didn't object to staying with us either because he loves the apartment and the city. If anything, he treated the past couple days as a vacation.
And then my siblings...well, they wanted nothing to do with me. All they wanted to do was spend time with Harry since they hadn't seen him in months. Under normal circumstances I might have been slightly offended, but I needed the peace and quiet. While Harry was busy with my family, I was sound asleep in our room. The Vicodin really knocked me out, plus the blackout blinds Harry had installed make it seem like night 24/7.
I still spend most of my time sleeping even though my family left yesterday afternoon. I don't know why I thought I'd be up and active as soon ass they left, but all I've been doing is sleeping or reading, and on the occasion playing Scrabble with Harry. He's in love with the game, apparently, and is very competitive. I found out that my vocabulary is much more advanced than his which led to several playful fights over what words were real or not and small temper tantrums from my other half. Perks of being an English major and soon-to-be author, I suppose.
I had to take a break, though, from the game. We played for about three hours this morning and it got so unnecessarily intense that it gave me a migraine. So currently, I lay in bed with a cold compress on my forehead and over my eyes, trying to get rid of it. Turns out the Vicodin can only handle so much.
I begin to doze off when I hear footsteps enter the room. I hum at Harry's presence, and then feel the bed dip down before he nuzzles into my side, throwing an arm over my waist. I rest one of my hands on his, but my eyebrows immediately furrow. There are no rings and this hand feels...smaller.
Out of confusion, I take my compress off and then turn my head to the side. I nearly scream at the sight of him, but somehow I manage to suppress it.
"Hi," Louis Tomlinson says with a cutesy smile on his face.
He laughs and then rolls away from me, giving me space.
Sure enough, I'm not hallucinating. Louis sits on the bed across from me, chuckling at my distress. He's clad in black Adidas sweatpants and a navy blue sweater. His brown hair is slightly messy and he has more facial hair than I remember.
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