Protector
“Molly! What the h-…Let me through!” you heard Harry screaming for you over the roar of the fans, his voice distant but close enough to at least be audible.
“HAZ!” you yelled, eyes pinched shut as you were shoved to and fro, the girls unrelenting in their constant shoving of you. Tossed around like a rag doll for the past ten minutes, your body ached, your ears rung, and your vision was beginning to grow hazy; it was all too overwhelming.
“She’s over here, Harry,” you heard a familiar Irish brogue call, an arm wrapping around your waist and supporting you against all of the shoves.
“Lay off, you bloody idiots! You’re hurting her!” your best friend roared, attempting to push through the masses but having no luck whatsoever. There was suddenly a part in the girls though, the rest of the boys scrambling through and shoving people aside none too nicely. Your eyes darted around frantically, a static sound filling your ears and cold chills making your body shake with such a vigor that it only spurred you on more. You could hear nothing, feel nothing, but every movement of everyone around you was sharpened and more threatening.
“-it’s not a good idea! She’s scared enough as it is!” what you thought was Liam’s voice call.
“Yeah?!” Harry spat. “Well at least she’ll be safe. That’s my priority right now. I’ll do damage control later.” With that, you were scooped into as vice like hold, a scream ripping through your throat as you hit the warm chest you were being pushed against.
“LET GO OF ME!” you begged, your voice hoarse from the exertion. Your hands were pinned by a solitary hand that could envelope both of your wrists, your body being held with now only one arm as the familiar voice above you growled commands at everyone in his way. Breath catching, a sob left your lips, all struggle quickly leaving your body as slipped into a state of panic. You were going to die. They were going to kill you.
“-in here-“
“-water-“
“-security-“
Your quivering body was set on what felt to be a chair, the chattering of familiar voices dragging you back to reality, yet also making you aware that everything wasn’t just a figment of your imagination, it actually happened. That mere thought made your vision grow hazy, your hands desperately trying to grab hold of something, anything. They didn’t have to go far. Fingers intertwined with you own, squeezing your hand tightly as if to try and tug you back to the cruel world you were so desperately trying to avoid.
“Don’t,” you gasped, eyes pinched shut. The soft pads of finger tips brushed against your cheek, warm breath fanning over your face.
“I know it’s scary, baby. I know,” a deep voice soothed, his touch now sliding down to your free hand. “You have to relax though, yeah? Nice and even breaths for me. You’re safe now.” You shook your head vigorously, fat tears rolling down your cheeks.
“Yes, darling,” he encouraged, bringing your hand up to rest on his chest. “Just count my heartbeats. Feel them under your palm and count, alright? Don’t focus on anything else but me, only me.” You did as he said, listening to him softly whisper numbers, your lips slowly beginning to form the words as your breathing calmed.
“That’s a girl. You’re doing wonderful, Molly. Just keep counting,” he encouraged, his eyes flitting over your features that were slowly regaining their color. His heart twisted into a knot though as he saw the prominent bruising on your forehead that wasn’t fading, if anything it was darkening. He carefully coaxed you into a more serene state until only a small trickle of tears dripped down your cheeks. You pulled your shaky hand away only to hold your arms out, just wanting to be held. Harry was quick to comply, wrapping your arms around his neck and picking you up slightly so he could slide under you. Your body rested on his thighs, your legs thrown over the arm of the chair and shoulder leaning against his chest.
“Alright?” he asked quietly, his thumb going to dash away any stray tears that were left. You nodded, sniffling slightly and fists raising to rub your tired eyes, the action drawing a chuckle from your boyfriend.
“There’s my baby bunny,” he cooed, kissing the tip of your nose and trying to withhold his laughter as you grumbled at the nickname. He leaned his forehead against yours and smirked. “You know you like it, bunny.”
“Mmm, yeah. I do,” you yawned, nose crinkling right after, the very action that caused that particular nickname.
“Here. Sleep, darling,” he murmured, a large hand gently guiding your head to the crook of his neck.
“But what if they come back,” you mumbled, nuzzling into his warm skin.
“Don’t be frightened,” he whispered, leaning his head against yours. “I’ll protect you, bunny. I’ll always protect you…”
