Don't Let Me Go

Emma was furious with Harry after what he did, but after a while of being away from him she was starting to feel like part of her was missing. She needed Harry back...but did he need her?

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1. Burned

Harry's POV

"Baby, come here!" I open my arms, gesturing for my girlfriend Emma to come cuddle with me. 

"No, Harry, I'm making dinner!" I flip over onto my stomach and look at her. She was beautiful, even though she was wearing sweatpants, and her hair was thrown up into a messy bun. Who said that can't be beautiful? 

"Okay..." I smile and lazily roll off the couch. I walk over to the kitchen. She was mixing some type of stew, probably to put on top of mashed potatoes or rice. I wrap my arms around her waist, and put my chin on her shoulder and lightly kiss her neck, she giggles. 

I reach over and turn on the radio. "Kiss Me" by Ed Sheeran was playing. Our song. A smile spreads across Emma's face. I grab the spoon out of her hand and place it next to the stove. I grab her hands and we start to dance around the kitchen. Emma's head falls back with laughter, making me laugh. 

I twirl her around the kitchen, both of us laughing so hard we were almost crying. The song changes, this time it's "Give Me Love" another Ed Sheeran song. 

I pull Emma close to me and she lays her head on my chest. We rock back and forth to the rhythm of the song. "I love you," I whisper into her ear. 

"Something's burning!" She yells, pushing away from me. Of course, the stove on the pot was boiling over. "Shit!" She yells, grabbing a pair of oven mitts from a drawer. She rarely ever swore. "Harry, get out of the kitchen, I don't want you to get hurt!" She yells, the fire alarm starts going off. 

"No, Emma, I don't want you to get hurt!" My hand starts to burn, and that's when I realize I had set my hand down on the stove. I scream out in pain. 

"Harry!" Emma's face was getting red, something that only happened when she was frustrated. "Run your hand under cold water!" I start for the sink, "In the bathroom! Get out!" I run into the bathroom and quickly submerge a rag in cold water and wrapped it around my hand, then ran back out into the kitchen. 

Emma turned the stove off, then grabbed the pot and practically threw it into the sink and turned the cold water on. Steam went everywhere. 

She took off the oven mitts and rested against the counter top. She let her head fall back and she sighed. Her hair was everywhere and I could tell she was frustrated, and trying to calm down. 

I take the rag off of my hand and look at the already forming blister that stretched across my entire palm. I lay the rag back over my hand. 

Emma sighs and I walk over to her. "Babe, I'm sorry-"

"Don't apologize." She pushes me into the fridge and storms into our room. I immediately follow her. She sits down on the bed and I do too. We sit in silence for a while. "Let me see your hand..." She takes my large, dirty, beat up hand in her small, clean, delicate, perfect ones. 

She slowly uncovers the injury. "Ouch..." She whispers. She lightly presses around the blister. It doesn't hurt too bad. She sighs and looks up at me. "I'll be right back," Emma hops off the bed and is back with a needle, wet paper towels, ointment, a couple bandages, and some gauze. She sits back on the bed and crosses her legs. 

She takes me hand. "This will not hurt, I promise," She takes the needle and slowly pokes the blister. 

"Oh, that's gross," I laugh. Emma cleans up my hand with the paper towels, carefully places the band-aids on my hand, and then wraps it with gauze. "Is the gauze-" She cuts me off. 

"Harry, the burn was bad. Be glad that I didn't take you to the hospital!" I hated the hospital. She kissed my hand and then my lips. "Oh my god, the sink!" She realizes, scrambling off the bed and running into the kitchen. I slowly follow her. 

There is water all over the kitchen floor. She turns off the water. "This is not my day Harry..." She says, putting one hand on her hip and the other she used to push back her hair. "Go get some towels Harry," I quickly grab some towels, and with my good hand, help her clean up the puddle of water. 

We throw the soaking wet towels into the laundry room and both sit down on the couch. I wrap my arms around Emma and she lays her head down on my chest. 

My stomach grumbles and Emma looks up at me. "So, I guess we're getting Nando's tonight..."

 

 

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