Harry Styles Fanfiction - Remember Me?

Chapter 90

December 2015
**YOUR POV**
Harry was patient throughout all of it, so it was just a matter of time until his patience wouldn't last anymore. On the fourth day out of the hospital Harry slowly started disregarding his recovery and it was driving me mad. He could be stubborn, very stubborn and dealing with Harry being stubborn wasn't really easy.

I left the house to go to the store down the street for twenty minutes and by the time I came back, Harry was out of bed, walking up the stairs. He didn't use the ice pack I gave him to lay on his back before I left and let it melt on his bedside table instead. He even snapped at me now and then when I tried to help him with some things he clearly still needed help with.

It was the morning of the sixth day when I woke up, realizing Harry wasn't in bed next to me, his back brace lying next to his bedside table. I got up, out of the room and walked down the hallway, finding Harry in the kitchen, cleaning up, partly bending over the dining table to clean it. I was furious. I was calm the last few days, not saying a word when Harry completely ignored the doctor's orders, but it was enough now.

"What the hell are you doing?" I snapped.

Harry flinched, surprised by me standing behind him suddenly. "Morning, love. Didn't even hear you coming."

"What do you think you're doing?" I rephrased.

"I'm cleaning up the kitchen, what does it look like?"

I frowned. I couldn't believe he was being serious. "Cleaning up the kitchen." I repeated.

"Yeah, wanted to help a bit."

"Harry, first of all, I told you I'd clean up in the morning and second of all, don't you see the problem with our current situation?" I asked, still trying to stay calm.

"Well, I just wanna help you and clean up, but you're scolding me for no apparent reason."

"Scolding you for no- are you kidding me, Harry?" I shook my head at his stubbornness. "You are a week and a half out of having intense back surgery, you're not wearing your brace and you're fucking cleaning the kitchen when you know damn well you're not supposed to be bending and twisting."

"I'm feeling better anyway." He argued.

"That's because you're on fucking prescribed pain killers, Harry." I burst out. "You're still on bed rest. Go lay down and I'll clean up here."

"No."

"What?"

"I said no." Harry replied, dryly. "I can take care of myself. I don't need you watching my every move."

I blinked dumbfounded. "What?" I repeated.

"I'm fine, Y/n." He turned back to continue what he was doing. "I don't need your help."

I didn't know what to say. I know I should have talked Harry out of being so stubborn and get him to his senses, but I also knew that it wouldn't be easy to achieve that. "Whatever then." I said instead and turned around, going back down the hallway. "Just want the best for you and help you recover, but whatever." I silently talked to myself on my way back, shaking my head.

Harry and I didn't talk for the rest of the morning. At one point, I moved to sit down in the living room, trying to write a bit where Harry happened to be laying down, but none of us said a word until a story about Harry came on TV that was running in the background. They were once again speculating what was happening at the moment, saying things that weren't true at all, but would give them the attention they seeked.

Harry sighed at the news report and stood up from the couch. I tried my hardest to ignore the grimace that spread across every line of his face and the sharp inhales he made while struggling to sit and stand up before he went to the kitchen. I reached for the remote and switched the channel to something more suitable, some series that came on every day at the same time.