Recovery / / h.s

Chapter Fifty-One.

Lily's POV.

I woke up drenched in sweat. The branches smacking against the window was drowning out the sound of Harry's snores and even though the snores were loud and he was rather annoying, I couldn't help but to smile at the way my husband was sprawled out across the bed, holding me with both bare, inked arms and holding a pillow between his legs.

It was still so surreal to say; my husband. I was married now. I was now legally known as Lillian Brielle Styles- wife of Harold Edward Styles. If you would have told me I would be married to him when we first met, I would laugh in your face. But now, honestly, I can say I have never been more in love with anyone as I was right then.

I slid out from underneath him, standing close to the bed until I was sure he was done wiggling around and wouldn't wake up, and made my way to the kitchen to get a glass of water. That was a side effect of cancer- at least that's what they told me- being thirsty all the time. I gulped down nearly two full glasses and ignored the throbbing of my head as I washed the glass and put it back in the cabinet.

Harry was awake when I came back into the room. He was propped against the headboard, still dazed as he scratched at his hair.

"Morning, Sunshine," The hardwood floor was cold as I made my way back to the warmth of our bed and he immediately pulled me to him, dotting my face in kisses.

"What?" I asked when he finally let me pull away. "Didn't get your fix last night? Or even the night before-"

"Am I not allowed to kiss my wife?" And, yep, there were those butterflies, especially when he was smirking at me and he looked barely awake and his accent was the perfect mix of morning husk and low British drawl.

I leaned over and pressed a kiss to his lips, taking his lower lip between my teeth as I pulled away. "You're killing me here, Lil, and I haven't even been awake for an hour," he groaned, trying his hardest to put his massive hands on my hips.

"Lil?" I wondered, raising my brow. The only people that called me Lil were my father and Amelia. It was odd coming out of Harry's mouth.

"Is there something wrong with that?" He cleared his throat, grabbing my hand and taking my wedding band between his fingertips before twirling it around my finger.

"Just weird hearing you say that. You're rather reluctant in calling me anything but Lillian, is all."

"Do you like that better?" He asked quietly as he brought my fingertips to his lips. "When I call you by your name?"

I was distracted by the way his lips wrapped around my fingertips. "Yes," I said breathlessly and he smirked before dropping my hand.

"How are you feeling?" He wondered, his voice serious which was an odd contrast to the playful tone he had been using.

"I'm okay," I said, which was half true, really, the pounding in my head had gotten worse, but it wasn't unmanageable.

"Just okay?" He questioned, and I know that the doctors said we were supposed to go back to the hospital if anything hurt at all, but I had cancer for fucks sake and I hurt all all the time. Was it so bad just to have a few days alone with my husband?

"I'm fine, Harry, really." And that seemed to be good enough for him because he stopped pestering me about it and started twirling the wedding ring on his own hand. He hadn't put his eyebrow ring or his lip ring back into their rightful places since the wedding, but I liked it. I liked him with the piercings too, I liked Harry no matter how many piercings he had or tattoos he decided to get, but it was a little odd to kiss him and not feel the cool metal attached to his bottom lip.