Again

Chapter 4: Cecilia

"Move along! Move, NOW! Bloody hell, there's nothing to see here! Go...GO! Shows over, you lot ought to go find lives!"

Being lifted onto the stretcher jolts me awake again. Everything hurts, it even hurts to lift my eyelids.

"Be careful! She's sensitive!"

A voice yells at the EMTs. It's a familiar voice. It's the voice, but it can't be. No fucking way. 'I lift my head, which is agony, and look down at my hand. His fingers are linked between mine, I see my hand is clutching his. I let my eyes wander up the arm, I let them rake over that face, that face that has changed so much but not really, those incredible eyes that haven't changed at all. That damned beanie covering up his beautiful hair. I feel like passing out again. He's staring at me. He's worried.

He's real.

"Haz?"

I sound weak and terrified.

"Shhh, Cilly, you're going to be fine."

"Don't leave me." I say as they lift my stretcher up into the ambulance, the grip on our hands slips. "No."

I whine, to my relief Harry climbs into the back of the ambulance with me.

"You're fine. I promise. Don't be afraid."

He takes my hand again and looks me straight in the eyes, I nod my head and bring his hand to my lips, kissing it gently before I feel myself slipping away again.

"I missed you."

They don't bother to take me into a room, this is a city hospital and I'm not mortally wounded; I'll be waiting in the ER until someone can get around to me. I sit in the uncomfortable chair, holding the courtesy ice pack to my head. It's throbbing, my arm is leaking, my stomach feels tight and aches like hell, but at least I don't feel like fainting anymore. Harry's hand still clutches mine as he sits in the chair next to me, looking worried at the gash in my forehead and the blood trickling down my arm.

"This is ridiculous, I'm going to speak to someone."

I squeeze his hand to stop him, he immediately sits back.

"They're doing the best they can."

"I bet you wouldn't be saying that if it were me sitting there, hurt and bleeding." He's right; I'd be raising hell at the receptionist's desk. I smile a little and lean back, resting my head on the back of the chair and closing my eyes. "You can't sleep until they run tests, Cilly."

I open my eyes and sit up straight. It has to be a concussion keeping me this calm, like having Harry here is normal and natural. Why does it feel that way despite the fact that I haven't seen him in years? Despite the fact that I'm supposed to be pissed off at him for something even though I can't remember what it is now? Fuck head injuries and fuck bike messengers.

"Ow," I say as I lean on my elbow and feel the sharp pain of the open wound there. My shirt sleeve is heavy and red drops of blood drip out of it. "What the hell?"

I try to examine it, Harry gets up before I can stop him. He leans over the desk, his back is to me and I can't see his lips moving. He gestures to a plaque on the wall of the emergency room, the middle aged woman with the sandy blonde bowl haircut looks up at him from behind the desk, her eyes skeptical. Harry reaches into the back pocket of his jeans and pulls out his wallet. My eyes linger on his skinny butt and those jeans, those impossibly tight jeans. Are they even jeans,? They look kind of like leggings. He looks really good in them too, those long legs, like spider legs except there's only two. He did get taller, and he has broader shoulders, and I think there might be muscles under his clothes. The thought of whats under his clothes makes me bite my bottom lip, I taste blood but I could care less. I just had a dirty thought like a normal person, maybe that bike knocked something loose in my brain, if so I'm not sure they should fix it.

"They're coming," he says, taking my arm gingerly as he sits down. I notice bandages and tape in his other hand. He rolls the sleeve of my shirt up past my elbow and my blood drips on him. He doesn't seem to notice as he takes a bandage and gently tries to clean the blood from the wound. "Does it hurt very badly?"

He asks as he tapes a clean bandage over my wound. I shake my head no; the pain is excruciating but I don't see the point in telling him that. I'm stunned as his lips meet mine, quickly and gently. I feel the pain in my busted lip, but also a flutter in my stomach. I know I'm supposed to be pissed at him, but God knows I can't remember why. I want to kiss him every second I can while I'm probably concussed and not in my right mind; while I can feel it. His forehead touches mine and I close my eyes. I breathe out words I had absolutely no thought of saying before.

"I loved you so much."

I'm in bad shape; I don't even have the decency to be embarrassed by my admission or excited by the fact that I said the words without hesitation. Harry is surprised enough for both of us, and he leans back in the chair, his eyes wide and a playful smile on his face.

"I know you did."

"I never told you...I'm sorry. I should have, I just couldn't say it before, now it's too late and I'm too different but I loved you. You should know. I loved you more than anything else. You were it for me."

God I hope they come soon and save me from myself. Feelings are exploding like grenades all around me, only I wish they were grenades so I could hurl myself on one to stop the incoherent rambling. I tug on the ring in my lower lip. He kissed me in spite of it; he must not mind.

"Cilly, I love you too."

I tense up; I'm almost relieved, that's the feeling I know, this is what I'm used to.

"I said 'loved'."

I say quietly, turning around in my seat and away from him as a team of doctors approach. I don't turn fast enough to miss that he looks embarrassed, but I pretend that I don't notice as I'm preoccupied by watching the doctors as they circle around me. One of them gestures to a wheelchair pushed by a handsome smiling orderly.

"Alright Mrs. Styles, lets get you into a room upstairs and check you out. Mr. Styles you're more than welcome to come along."

I blink a few times as they help me stand and sit in the wheelchair. Everyone ignores my quiet protests and attempts to correct their mistake.

Mrs. Styles? What the hell?

I look up at Harry who immediately takes my hand into his and rubs his thumb cross mine, it comforts me immediately.

"Just go with it, Mrs Styles. You'll be fine."