Solace ~ h.s.

If he weren't there... I don't know what would have happened.

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12. ⪻ 12 ⪼

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Six hours, ten stitches, and a head CT later, Harry and I were free from the hands of unknown doctors poking and prodding around my upper half.

Whilst I insisted I was fine, Harry showed no mercy as he ordered for the best doctor in the hospital to tend to my care. He went as far as to threaten doing everything himself at the expense of their hospital if I wasn't taken care of right away.

Miraculously, I was tended to immediately after the outburst from my tall, brunette friend.

"How's the head?"

His voice is distant, it has been since the orders for me to see a good doctor. Perhaps he's finally realized that this "friendship" isn't professional and he should stay as far away from Edward and I as possible. Nothing good ever comes from befriending me, at least that's what I've discovered thus far in my life.

Is it fun being friendless and lonely? No, but at least it's quiet and somewhat peaceful.

"It's alright."

Not having known Harry for long doesn't allow me all the knowledge in the world as to how I'm supposed to handle this new mood.

We go silent again, the only sounds the engine beneath the bonnet of Harry's expensive car. I don't mind our silence, it's relaxing, somewhat. My nerves are still at a high whilst I ride shotgun in the car, but the medication the doctors gave me for my anxiety should do the trick... once I'm allowed to take them in a few days.

"Would you still like to stop for pizza?"

"Huh?" Harry peers over, slight confusion written on his face in the quick glance he's given me.

"Back at the house you said the only way you'd go with me to the hospital was if we got pizza afterwards."

I must have hit my head pretty hard if I said that. I don't even like pizza that much.

"Right. Um, I think I'd rather just go home. Kind of tired."

Again, silence. Neither of us make an attempt to speak. The only type of communication occurring is the pointing I'm doing to guide Harry back to the house. I just don't know what to say to him.

Thank you for taking care of Edward and I? How has your day been? Would you like to escape the drama this family brings?

"Did I do something to anger you or something?" The silence finally drives me to the point of no return, resulting in bringing light to the awkwardness surrounding us.

"What? No, of course not."

"It's just that you've been a bit quiet since the whole strop you had at the A&E." Harry clears his throat, shaking his hair out a bit.

"I'm sorry, I guess I just have a lot on my mind. I suppose I do get rather quiet after I leave hospitals, force of habit. After a long shift, you tend to just want silence." I chuckle lightly, licking my dry lips to give myself something to do.

"Would you rather me shut up or do you want to talk about what's on your mind?" I question, leaning against the centre console. Harry breaks a small grin in his bright pink lips and shrugs a bit.

"Promise you won't freak out?"

"I can't promise anything."

"I, uh," He begins, clearing his raspy voice a bit, "I think you and Edward should stay with me for a few days. You know, just until you get back on your feet. With your head injury, I don't think you should be without someone there, just in case."


"I think we're fine." I truly have no idea how to answer without seeming as if I'm making the wrong decision.


"Belle, I insist. Especially after what happened this afternoon, I just don't think the two of you should be left alone. You need someone there, just until you've been able to sleep a whole night and take those pills without trouble."
 

He has an good point, we don't want a repeat of today. I don't want to have a panic attack, faint, and then worry Edward when there's no one to help. But I also don't know how to feel about Edward and I going to stay with him.

After an eternity long internal battle, I come to the discussion that I'm far too tired and sore to even think about this.

"Would you like to stay on the sofa tonight? I would offer you our guest room but it's currently being used as storage. Then tomorrow, once I've got a grip on my brain, we'll talk about the next few days."

"Deal."

Hours pass, leaving me lying in bed with a lot on my mind and sleep nowhere in sight. Edward has been curled up beside me, clutching onto me like a life preserve. I left Harry on the sofa to sleep, only once have I seen him since, to check and make sure that I can wake easily after my concussion.

Little does he know, I faked sleep when he entered.

Shortly after our arrival home, I made Edward a small dinner and sent Niall on his way. I was incredibly grateful for him staying with Edward, but he needn't stay any longer. Harry, on the other hand, wouldn't leave my side all through the cooking of macaroni for Edward. If you've ever wondered what it feels like to live in a zoo, I can confirm that it's not fun at all.

Trying to fall asleep once more, I've determined that I'm no longer tired. Scooting out from under Edward, I silently stand to my bare feet and tuck my brother in so that he's clutching my pillow. I don't want him to wake up with a void from where I once was.

With careful steps, I scamper down the stairs, bringing myself to the edge of the lounge, where Harry sleeps. I see his lanky figure, feet propped up on the arm of the sofa, arms encircled around the spare pillow I lent him from my room, and a blanket pulled to his chin. His parted lips allow soft snores to escape and I wish I could rest as peacefully as he.

I tiptoe through the room, closing the door between the lounge and the kitchen to allow myself to make a bit of noise without waking the man on our couch. With a flip of the switch, the soft overhead light comes to life, igniting the room in a glow of honey gold.

A small smile comes to my lips as I stand in the centre of the kitchen, my eyes wandering all the wooden counters and dark cabinets. My first order of business is putting on the kettle to make a cuppa. My mother always suggested a cup in the early of mornings if there was ever any troubles sleeping. Once the kettles on, I move on to the main task.

Baking has it's perks, especially so late at night. It allows you to clear your mind and focus on something else for a while. It tires you out, drawing you to take a nap on the sofa, or fall delicately to sleep up in a warm bed. And, of course, it's fun.

I decide to make a batch of cookies, thanking the heavens that our fridge has been kept well stocked these days. Mum and I always made sure there were ingredients to bake with so if the time ever came up that we wanted to bake, we could.

Proceeding with gathering all equipment and ingredients, I try to remain quiet, not wanting to wake anyone in the house. Trying to explain to someone that I just decided to bake a batch of cookies at half-one in the morning, isn't a walk in the park. Unfortunately for me, the Gods above don't seem to be on my side.

One minute the ceramic mixing bowl is safely being lowered down into my hands and the next it's tumbling to the ground, shattering upon impact.

"Shįt." I hiss, bending down to gather the large pieces of ceramic, careful not to cut myself.

I curse angrily under my breath, this being one of my favorite bowls to use for baking. I just can't seem to have one nice moment without it getting ruined in some way.

"Wha -"

My head snaps in the direction of the doorway leading into the lounge to see the tall couch surfer. His hair is standing up in every which way and his eyes are half peeled open. He's wearing a pair of tight-fitted boxer briefs, causing my hand to shoot up to cover my eyes.

"Jesus, would you put on some trousers?" I hiss to him, keeping a warm hand over my eyes.

I suppose I'm to blame for his lack of sleep attire. I didn't exactly give him time to return home for clothes that were comfortable to sleep in.

"What are you doing?" I peek through my fingers, but only find him still standing as he had before I went to cover my eyes. Only this time his hands are resting on his hips as his tired eyes scan the area.

"Shielding my pure eyes, what does it look like? Go put on your pants." I order sarcastically. I hear a huff from him and with a quick peek I find him to be gone.

Whilst in the time Harry's left the room, I move to the edge of the room, grabbing the broom and dust pan. I've nearly got the entire mess cleared when Harry resurfaces, this time with trousers on his legs. He still is missing a shirt, but in all honesty I didn't quite mind.

I'd have to be stupid not to find the toned man anything but attractive in this moment.

"What are you doing up?" He asks, this time his voice a little less groggy. I send him a shrug, dumping the ceramic shards into the bin before returning the cleaning supplies to their proper home. Looks like I won't be getting any baking done.

"Couldn't sleep, decided to make a cuppa. You want one?" I question, hearing the kettle begin to softly whistle. Harry gives me a sideways glance and then casts his gaze to the spot on the floor where I had been cleaning the mess.

I ignore his gaze, moving swiftly through the kitchen to gather two mugs, the milk from the fridge, the tea from storage, and the sugar from the cabinet. I make the tea in silence, with watchful eyes on my every move. The only words spoken were, do you fancy sugar or milk in your tea and no.

"Did you break a mug?" Harry asks once I've slid the steaming cuppa over in his direction. I bit my lip and shake my head, stirring the sugar into my own mug. "What did you break then?" I sigh heavily, dropping down onto one of the stools beside the island.

"Just a bowl." I respond, sounding more tired now than I have all day.

"What'd you need a bowl for? You didn't eat much this evening, are you hungry?" I let out a dull laugh and shake my head, bringing my cuppa to my lips to blow the steam away.

"You're going to laugh." Harry narrows his eyes and pulls the other stool behind him, taking a seat, mimicking me. He shakes his head ever so slowly, causing me to roll my eyes. "I was in need of a bowl because I was feeling the need to bake."

"To bake? At half one in the morning?" I hum in response, casting my gaze down to my tea. Human interaction isn't my forte, especially not at half one in the morning. Harry startles me slightly by releasing a loud laugh at my confession, causing me to grunt semi-angrily.

This is why I was trying to be quiet.

"Ha ha," I dryly remark, "laugh all you want, but now you're not getting cookies, and neither do I." Harry apologizes through laughs and straightens up when he senses my non-playful mood.

"So you bake when you can't sleep."

"And you have a tiger tattoo on your thigh; we learn new things about each other every day."

With a peek over at Harry, I see a smirk growing on his pink lips, clearly he was amused by my jab at him. And clearly, my jab in his direction did little to shut him up.

"I do indeed have a tiger tattoo, as with many other tattoos." He responds with a shrug. "Have you got any?" I laugh, shaking my head.

"Me? A tattoo? God, no. I don't even really like needles all too much."

My parents weren't big on tattoos either. I'm sure they would have been supportive if I decided to get one, but they really weren't too keen. They didn't think marking pure skin was very good, but then again that was only their opinion. I mean they tolerated my ex and he had plenty.

"What does it mean?" I ask, changing the subject. "The tiger, I mean. Does it symbolize something or was it just a drunken mistake?"

For some reason Harry doesn't really strike me as the drunken mistake kind of guy. But then again, I haven't really known him all that long. I don't know what he did at Uni, besides study his åss off and excel in everything he does (according to Niall).

Harry brings his fingers to his lips, a mannerism that I've seen plenty of times before throughout the day. Whenever he had nothing to say or was concentrating deeply on something, he'd roll his bottom lip between his thumb and forefinger. The mannerism is fascinating to me. Why, I have absolutely no idea, it just is.

"Roar." He finally speaks, only shedding the single word from his parted lips. I don't know whether to laugh or stare over at him, confused.

Late night conversations truly take an unexpected turn sometimes.

"Roar?"

"Roar."

"Okay then."

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