Devil's Desire [h.s.]

Chapter 2

"Careful–" he hissed, gently removing the few he'd gotten to first, while I fully ripped the others clean off. The adrenaline was preventing me from feeling anything anymore.

After a second, the machine went quiet.

We looked at each other again.

And then his chest was colliding against mine. He was on the bed, curling me into his lap, and slotting his body against my own before I'd even had a chance to do anything.

"River..." he breathed into my ear, his hand sliding up to cup my head. He was crying before his face had even burrowed into the crook of my neck. "Thank God," he sobbed, breathing even heavier than I'd been. "Thank God, thank fucking God. I'll never ask for anything again in my entire life." He hugged me tighter. A pain reared up in my shoulder. I ignored it. "Riv," he repeated. His tears dampened my shoulder. "Riv, baby. My poor girl. Riv, Riv, Riv."

I hadn't realized I was crying until he finally pulled away. "No," he looked suddenly crushed as he reached for my face. More tears fell down his cheeks. "Please, no. Don't cry. Don't cry, I'm so sorry."

For some reason. For some dumb, dumb fucking reason, the first words I was able to say were – "Did I knee you in the face?"

He laughed then, nodding, all the while still crying. With a sniffle, he managed, "Yeah, you did a bit. I was asleep in your lap. But it's fine–"

"You're going to have a black eye–" I instinctively reached for his face, the face I'd tried so many times to touch in my dream, only for the pain in my shoulder to suddenly turn blinding. The noise of anguish Harry made when I doubled over, clutching it with my left hand, would have killed me if the agony hadn't caused my ears to ring and my vision to blur.

Harry seemed at a loss then. In my peripheral, while I nursed my shoulder, I could see him stand up – hands hovering around me – before he sat back down with a small noise of sorrow, dragging his fingers through his hair. He glanced at the door, and I could tell he was debating on whether or not to call someone, when I said, "Can you just..." I swallowed a few times, my mouth still feeling thick and dry, from the misuse no doubt. How long had I been asleep?

"You should lie down," Harry said softly. Way too softly. "Baby, you should rest–"

"Can you just hold me?"

He was silent for a moment, the only sound being the sharp noise his throat made when he swallowed before he began nodding so emphatically I thought his head was going to tumble right off his neck. "Yes," he breathed the word so quickly, so earnestly, I thought I might have dreamt it again. "Yes, of course. Always." He drew me into his lap, cradling me akin to how you would a child.

When a long enough time passed that I was sure things weren't going to suddenly fade away on me again, I quietly asked, "So I didn't dream it?"

Harry swallowed again. He tucked me closer to his chest and kissed the top of my head.

I buried my face into his shirt, refusing to let him see me cry. Though any attempt of this was thwarted when my voice cracked the next time I spoke. "How many people died? At the warehouse?" Harry didn't answer. "Are Zayn and Morgan okay? Where's Derek? Harry, I need to explain to you what happened that night–"

"Riv," Harry cut in softly. He drew an arm around me and urged me to look up at him. His eyes were red-rimmed as well. He shook his head. With a sad smile, he drew in a long breath, and simply said, "Not now, okay? Later."

I didn't argue with him on that. My body wasn't just the only thing that was exhausted. So was my mind, my wits. I just felt a bit... off, in general. I wondered vaguely if that feeling would ever go away again. Normally it did with Harry, yet here I was. Feeling not to completely whole with the person who usually filled in all of my cracks.