The Adjacent Room [h.s]

Chapter 47

'Harry, please stop. What are you doing?' I groan, with a smile on my face, reluctantly opening my eyes. I feel like I'm dealing with a kid on Christmas morning, which is not far off from what I am dealing with.

'I am having fun.' He states loudly, leaning on all fours on top of my body. He's repeatedly kissing my right shoulder and he's having the time of his life.

'You are waking me up, is what you're doing.' I laugh.

'Oh, you wanted to be woken up by me. Let a boy live.' He teases, far too loud for a singer with laryngitis.

'Please turn the volume down on your voice. You were only allowed to start speaking again yesterday.' I laugh again, placing a hand on one of the swallows on his chest as though it'll shut him up. I sound like an unauthoritative mother who can't control her kids.

'Stop me then.' He responds, squinting his eyes as though to challenge me, so I shut him up by kissing him. His hand reaches for my jawline, and he manages to hold himself up with one arm.

Eventually pulls away, raising his eyebrows and flopping back down on the bed beside me and wrapping his arms around me. 'That's one way to stop me.'

Each day, with more rest and recovery, Harry moves closer to his old self. The morning after we got home from the hospital, I woke up and he had nestled himself in between my neck and my shoulder. Since then, I've woken up every morning on his chest. A place that feels so much like home, and somewhere that I thought I'd lost for good.

We're so much better, and he's so much better, but I know there's still one thing holding him back and I know it's that letter. He said things in that letter that don't go away with just rest and recovery.

I still haven't told him that I read it. We're happy just doing this and pretending like none of the last month ever happened, but it did and we can't ignore reality, or something like that could happen again.

While he was sleeping yesterday, I wrote him a letter too. I didn't initially plan to write him anything, but I couldn't sleep last night and I just started writing. I haven't given it to him yet, and I don't want to drop it on him out of nowhere, so I decided I'd wait to let him bring it up.

The image of Harry's unconscious body has been killing me, but it's slowly fading as each day passes. He's spent most of his time asleep or laying on me in some awkward position, and I've entertained myself by slowly working on the blog post for Paris Fashion Week.

We've FaceTimed Anne and my parents a few times too. Initially, all three of them were livid at what had happened, and it took a lot of convincing to assure them that we're okay now. My dad never seemed to participate in any other conversations, but Kelli-Anne was happy to do the talking for both of them. Harry couldn't talk, so, like my mom, I did the talking for both of us, but Harry was happy to just listen and nod. He would always be touching me in some way, whether that was tracing patterns on my leg or keeping head on my shoulder.

I've always loved how Harry never has any issue with being affectionate around my family. I've been with too many guys who go rigid at the thought of calling my dad anything other than 'Sir'. Harry is so comfortable in being who he is in whatever situation that he doesn't have any concerns in just being himself. One of the reasons my mom loves Harry so much is because he's himself. He doesn't try to be someone he's not or change to be impressive. He's just Harry, and my mom loves that.

The news of the video has been everywhere, and not just in the tabloids, so I've spent a lot of time talking, on behalf of Harry and I, to a multitude of different friends and family, asking if we're okay. You don't realise how many people you know until your face is in every magazine and in every corner of the internet with Louis Tomlinson and Leslie Smith at a hospital.