Where Your Heart Is (A Harry Styles Fanfiction) #pfcc2k16 #Wattys2016

Chapter Thirty-Eight: After The Fall.

I can't hold on forever.

*****

"Are you sure you're okay? I could get you more pillows, or water... Maybe some soup? Do you want soup?"

We got home over an hour ago, and he hasn't left my side other than to bring me a whole lot of things I don't even know what to do with.

I am lying in my bed, leg high up in the air and bound to the most hideous, inconvenient footwear ever made, and I am surrounded by my computer, a bunch of magazines I have never read in my life, and a lifetime supply of junk food I'm not even that hungry to go through just yet.

I look at him trying not to laugh. Not for his sake, but for mine; because every time I move, is like a million tiny but killer needles stab my ankle from the inside out.

I swear, even with the painkillers the doctor prescribed me, the pain won't go away entirely.

"Soup?" I ask, cracking up despite my efforts. "I don't have the flu, Ha..."

The pain breaks through my leg, making his name get caught in my throat as I groan.

"You should have let the doctor gave you the other stuff. You're clearly still in pain." He reprimands me rather sweetly, pushing a few stuff away so he can fit himself next to me.

"No way. They made me all woozy and have these really weird dreams." I wave him off, carefully squirming to the side so I can give him more space.

"Dreams? What dreams?" He enquires curiously once he is already lying by my side. "Was I in them by any chance?"

I close my eyes shut, cursing at myself for ever saying that, and my face begins to heat up.

"Maybe..." I admit rather vaguely. "Don't remember exactly."

He stifles a chuckle pressing his mouth against my temple as his arm runs across my shoulders behind my neck. I lift up my head to look at him, meeting his eyes with a frown on my face.

This playful, sassy smile plays on his lips and both of his devilish dimples appear instantly.

"Oh, no!" I gasp, instinctively trying to pull away from him as the flushing of my cheeks escalates dangerously.

"Oh, yes!" He mocks me, not even bothering to contain the laughter this time around, and holding me tight in my place. "Although, to be honest, I would've like to hear that I'm inhumanly sexy..."

"Oh, my god! Shut up!" I try to punch him in whatever soft spot I can reach, but my payback gets interrupted by a stinging pain that makes me recoil.

"Easy, love." He beams with a much more serious tone, although traces of that smile still linger on his face. "Now, tell me again how pretty you think I am."

*****

I don't remember falling asleep, but the vibration of his phone buzzing in his pocket brings me back from my snooze.

He's sleeping soundly next to me and he doesn't seem to be anywhere near from waking up, so I just patiently wait for the phone to stop and I simply look at him.

His chest rises and falls rhythmically with each breath he takes in and out, and this expression of sheer content takes over his features. He looks so calm, so at peace, it is impossible not to feel the same way even when I am constantly battling with this angst that has settled on my chest.

I look at his hand, draping over my shoulder and to my chest, and my fingers find his, twisting around them. I see the anchor on his wrist and I smile.