Coming Home

H.P.O.V

"You feel warm," I sigh, pressing the backs of my fingers to her forehead, "how are you feeling brown eyes?"

Presley shrugs and rubs her face. She looks tired, and exsasperated. She didn't get to sleep much and the little sleep she did manage she spent it tossing and turning.

"Presley--"

"I'm fine," she snaps, shuffling on the paper mat over the doctors's chair. "You didn't have to come along. Ben was fine to go with me."

"Please don't start," I plead. Getting her here felt like a mission. Not only did we have to drag her, but having to get through the sea of screaming fans with a less then healthy Presley is completely and almost impossible. Luckily I forgot my phone and I now have an excuse as to why I'm not answering all the calls Jasmine is most likely sending. "You're still sick."

"Observant I see," Presley mumbles, "I'm not on my death bed. I didn't have to rush here."

"Are you mad at me or because I've dragged you here?"

"Both are accurate choices," Presley murmurs with half a smile that doesn't reach her eyes. I've noticed that. She doesn't smile. Not genuine ones at least.

"I'm doing this for you," I try.

"You're doing this for your conscious," I'd rather she yell at me. I want her to throw things at me, or hit me. I don't want these declarations that hurt more than they should.

"Think what you will baby."

"Again. Please don't call me that."

"I've always called you that."

"You didn't always have a fiancée," she argues with raised brows, "nothing's changed."

A lot has changed. In every aspect of our time together. Presley and I changed the moment I waltzed in and forced myself into her secluded life.

"Ben likes me," maybe that will help me, "why can't you?"

"Because you're you." She states, giving into my stare.

"Point," I sigh, uncurling my fist and scratching against the chair, placed next to her spot, "how do you have the energy to fight with me? You're sick."

"I need a drink," my head shoots up as I stare bewildered and shocked. She retreats back into herself, before she realizes what she's said and shakes her head, "I meant from the vending machine." She mumbles with hands raised.

She goes to hop off when I stop her, "I'll get it," I say, standing and stretching my limbs. "What would you like?"

"Peace on earth," she says, straight faced.

"To drink, you dud."

She smirks and shrugs, "anything but cranberry juice." I nod and kiss her cheek, enjoying the way she flushes and looks up surprised.

I walk out and head into the snack area. There are security surrounding this wing and one is following close behind. It was all for safety measures and to keep anyone who did not need to be here away. Like, the mob that's huddled outside, ready to attack.

The drink gets stuck and when it does come out eight minutes have passed, which means the doctor has already gone in, I'm assuming. Meaning this might have been a ploy to get me out of there or she really was thirsty. It could be either one really.

I head back nodding to the man behind me. He acknowledges me and continues strutting behind until we reach the door and he stops, situating himself close.

"Well, cuddles, you certainly have been under great stress haven't you?"

Cuddles?

I barge in a bit too loud. Presley looks my way as the man in the lab coat spins.

"For you," I move towards her and hand her a juice. She smiles and takes it, mumbling a thank you. I nod and reach my hand out. "Harry," I utter, trying not to frown as he places his hand in mine.

"Conor Sparks," he replies with a heated gaze. He drops his hold and looks down at his clipboard, "I wasn't aware you'd be joining us? Ben said he'd be here?"

"I wanted to learn more about Presley's condition," I shrug. I don't owe this man any explanation. "That's not a problem, is it?"

"Not unless Presley says so," he says looking at her.

"S'fine," she says much to my relief, "Conor, Ben said you wanted me to go back on the meds? Is that really nescessary?" I want to slap his smile off of his face. I want to grab his clip board and stab him with it so I don't have to endure his heart eyes.

"Only for a month, cuddles," and there he goes again with the nick names. No, I don't think so.

"Presley. Her name is Presley," I tell him with a hard look.

He looks over at me annoyed as Presley looks confused. "Yes, well, we're a tad more personal. We've been together for a while, haven't we love?"

"Yeah," she smiles, completely unaware of the intent he's trying to have with his words, "almost two years."

"Not very professional, don't you think?"

"Harry," Presley hisses, "he's my friend. Leave him alone." I'd roll my eyes and kiss her face off to prove a point, but she's sick as it is. I don't want to complicate things ever more. "M'sorry Conor."

"Don't be, cuddles," he states smug and gloating. "Guess Mr. Styles has missed out on quite a bit since he's been gone."

My face scowled and my heart quickened. This man is a fucking joke, "and what have I missed out on exactly?"

"Oh, that's not why we're here." He answers coyly.

"No it's not," Presley agrees with a glare directed at the floor, "I feel fine Conor, do I really have to take my pills again? They make me drowsy and I can't drink tea and that's my favorite."

"I know cuddles, I remember," first thing I'm going to do when I get home is get Presley a new doctor and then I'll come back and beat this one to a pulp. I don't know what he remembers but I'll make sure he forgets it soon. "It's only for a month, love. Just to help strength your stomach."

"What's the situation with her stomach?" I need answers more than I need to hear this man try to make moves on someone who's mine.

Sparks looks up unimpressed, "there's no situation. Her stomach can't handle as much as ours can. So far the only thing affected is her kidney and hopefully that's as bad as it'll get. The meds will help strengthen it, and actually eating," he turns back to Presley expression softening, "cuddles you have to eat more. Can you do that for me? Or do I have to keep an eye on you?"

"You don't," I cut in rapidly, "I'll make sure she eats." Anything to put space between this man and Presley. I'll do anything.

"Yes, well," I look over at Presley and reach out for her hand, relaxing slightly when she doesn't pull away. She's been quiet, taking it all in and I'm a bit concerned. Sparks looks between our interaction and raises a brow, "would you like to start our weekly talks?"

Weekly talks? What have I missed between these two?

"Can I let you know?" Presley squeezes my hand, "I have to figure a few things out."

Sparks smiles and nods once, "of course, let me know when ever you'd like. I always have time for you cuddles."

"Thank you," Presley smiles, "you're amazing Conor."

No. He's annoying and trying to get in to her pants. He's not amazing.

"So I'll write you a prescription? Take it as indicated and eat more cuddles. Let me know if you'd like to get together this week, okay?"

Presley let's my hand go and hops off, "thank you." She goes to hug him, his arms winding around her lower back. He gives me a smug look over her shoulders and visibly squeezes her. "I'll call you." He lets her go and only leans back in to kiss her cheek, his lips lingering against her skin.

"Okay," we either leave now or I can take his needles and stab both of his eyes out. "Come on baby. Let's go home. I'm dying to get back to bed." Presley's eyes widen and her face flushes crimson. She sputters and I grab her arm, feeling a sense of pride as Sparks glares deadly and cold at me.

Once we're outside and tucked into the car safely (which is still a big challenge when there are hundreds of flashes happening and questions are being screamed) she turns, her face is hard and angry.

"Tell me I fucking imagined you saying that."

"Saying what?" I innocently ask.

Presley frowns and groans, "I can't believe you fucking did that!"

"He deserved it cuddles," she narrows her eyes at me, "did you two date or something? Why is he fucking like that with you? Giving you nicknames-- and you are not seeing him this week or any other."

"Excuse me?"

"I didn't stutter," I bite back, "he can't properly take care of you when he's fucking useless!"

"He's not useless," Presley stammers, "he's a good doctor. He's helped me with everything."

"I'm here now," at that Presley doesn't say anything. She sighs and looks down at her phone. She curses under her breath and puts her phone away. "What is it?"

She shakes her head and bites her bottom lip, "my father is waiting at Louis'."

"Steve?" Steve is a good man. Always considerate and kind. He loves his child and protects her dearly. He was a bit of a mess when Caleb died and I'm not sure he likes me very much right now that I've damaged his only child left.

"No," she replies.

I look over confused, "I thought you said your dad was here?"

"He is. My real dad." The car stops at our destination and before I can ask her who she's talking about she opens her door and stops before she can get out, "I'm sorry."

"What? Why are you sorry?" This is all so confusing. Why was she sorry? I think I should be apologizing for what I said before.

"I'm-- just... I'm sorry. Remember that." She gets out and half jogs to the door. I follow closely behind her, mumbling a small thank you to the driver over my shoulder. "I'm here," she yells throwing her things on the floor, "come get me." And suddenly a man I've never seen before barrels towards her, followed by Louis and Eleanor, Ben, Liam, and Niall. She's thrown against the door with a, 'oof' not bothering to move from where she's landed. "Let it out Russell, you've done better than that."

Everyone around me is shocked in their place not being able to move. It happens so quick A slap to her face, a shove against her ribs, and as he begins to bring his fist up, my mind catches up enough to push him out of the way and connect my fist against his cheek.

"That will never happen again," I bark out, deadly. The strangers face flick with understanding as his eyes widen and his arms go limp. "No one touches what's mine. No-fucking-one." I connect my fist with his face again, enjoying the way he half falls.

Liam and Niall grab both my arms as Ben walks towards Presley, pressing his hand against her stomach.

"Get him the fuck out of here," I pull away from Liam and Niall and move towards Presley. I push Ben out of the way and pick her up, so her arm is around my neck and her legs are dangling over my arms.

No one says anything, and if they did I didn't hear them. All I could make out was the blood boiling up to my ears and my heart beating so fast it could potentially beat right out of me and hit three people in the process.

I set her on the edge of her bed and begin pacing. I want to yell, and I want to interrogate Presley until everything comes out. I need to know everything. I need to protect her. I need so much from her and I deserve so little.

"Harry--" she mumbles moving on the bed and wincing.

I move towards her and gently push against her shoulder until she complies and lays down. Her body stiffens as I pull her shirt up, "there's a bruise," the skin is slowly changing colors and when I try and touch it, her face puckers with pain.

It adds up now. Her apologizing before we came in. She was apologizing for what she knew would happen. And that's what is eating at me. She knew this would happen and I can't fucking think straight.

"Harry--"

"How long?" I rasp, "how fucking long, Presley?"

"Not long. This was only the third time," she murmurs, pushing away and sitting up, a shallow breath leaving her mouth, "I told you I was sorry."

"Don't you dare," I warn. She sighs deeply and looks down, "your stomach makes sense now."

She doesn't say anything. She doesn't try and deny it. She runs her hand through her hair, "it's part of it." She whispers, "please, don't be mad Harry."

"I'm--," well. Shit. I am mad. I'm furious and I want to go and find this fucking man and beat his face until he's unrecognizable. But I can't say that. Not when Presley looks so small and her eyes are glossy and she's clutching her side, because she's in pain. I can't admit to being mad.

"Please," she whispers.

"I'm not mad," and I'm not. Not with her, "I'm going to take care of you," I promise. And I mean it. I need her to understand that, "you're mine. You're not anyone's cuddles or that man's punching bad. You are mine."

"Harry--" I know what she's going to say. I know she's thinking about Jasmine, and sadly she hasn't crossed my mind (that's a very big problem I need to take care of) I shake my head and lean in smashing my lips with hers.

It's overwhelming and it's everything. Like a bullet being released and setting so many emotions that have been pushed down free. She taste of her breakfast tea and sadness. She taste like all the memories we share.

I pull away , hating the way the distance feels. I look at her as my chest constricts, "say it. Say you're mine." Her mouth opens and I shake my head again, "if you don't want me to be mad, then say it, Presley. Say you're mine. Say you know, you're mine."

She looks conflicted and pained as she whispers the words I've been wanting to hear since I've been back. "I'm yours."

Notes

Red velvet cake is bae. Xx