This isn’t a dream. Part two.
“Mr. Styles, I’m going to need you to explain to Dr. Worthington what you just told me.”
Harry’s hands hadn’t stopped shaking from the moment he broke down the bathroom door to discover his girlfriend lying on the floor in a small puddle of blood with a large cut on her arm. A million thoughts raced through his mind, and he still hadn’t been able to make sense of what happened.
“She went to the bathroom. I heard glass breaking and I thought I heard her scream so I went to check on her. She wouldn’t open the door so I broke it down and that’s where I found her.”
“Now, Mr. Styles, do you have reason to believe that this wound was self-inflicted?”
“No!” Harry scowled. Why would she do something like that? Harry wrote it off completely. He didn’t understand: everything had been so good, why would this happen? Was it an accident? Why wouldn’t (Y/N) let him into the bathroom?
He watched as Dr. Worthington took down a few notes on his pad and then looked up at Harry again.
“We’re going to wait till Ms. (Y/L/N) wakes up so she can explain the situation. We might have to consider getting into touch with the Psychiatric ward.”
“Excuse me?” Harry scoffed. Psychiatric ward? Over what he was sure was just an accident? And yet, Harry couldn’t shake the feeling that maybe she had done this to herself after all. He couldn’t piece the picture together, though. (Y/N) didn’t have a past with self-harm or mental illness. Nothing serious had happened in the past months. Hell, last night Harry held her as they binged “You” and came up with theories about Joe together. It wouldn’t make any sense.
Every hour that passed with (Y/N) still unconscious, Harry grew more and more antsy. He had too much time to think and he didn’t like it. What if he had overlooked something? Maybe she wasn’t as happy as he thought she was. He was resting his head in his hands and his elbows on his knees - which were currently shaking with nerves. But they stilled when he saw (Y/N)’s hand begin to move.
(Y/N) could feel herself regain consciousness, and grew more and more confident that she had done it; she had successfully restored herself to her normal life again. So it was a very realistic dream, alright. She had learned her lesson: no more attempts at self-hypnosis for lucid dreaming. She noticed how heavy her arm felt, and she flinched at the bright light that met her eyes as she opened them. She sudden movement caused a shooting pain up her arm, and she cried out. She took a look at her surroundings, and felt tears well up in her eyes upon noticing that she was once again in unfamiliar surroundings.
“(Y/N)! Baby, you’re awake, thank god,” Harry reached to pull his girlfriend close to him, desperate to make sure she was okay. He needed to hear her say that it was an accident, that it was all fine, and that she wanted him to take her home now. Instead, she pushed him away as she tried to contain her sobs.
“Why are you pushing me away, love?” Harry whispered, feeling tears well up in his eyes also, overwhelmed by the events of the day, and now this?
“Why do you keep calling me that?” (Y/N) cried out, hiding her face in her hands as she sobbed. It hadn’t worked. She was still here. She felt her heart ache in her chest - what was happening?
“What do you mean?” Harry pleaded with her.
“You don’t know me! This is so weird, don’t you see how weird this is?” She sputtered, as she felt her chest getting heavy again. Her breathing was irregular and Harry grew evermore worried for her. He got up to call the doctor, trying to ignore what she had just told him. He wanted to cry out to her, to have her explain what she meant but he didn’t want to upset her even more.
Dr. Worthington rushed into the room, two nurses hot on his trail. “Ms. (Y/L/N), everything is going to be okay. You’re in a safe place, everything is fine now.”
She could only imagine what she looked like right now. She tried to calm herself down, realizing that she wasn’t helping her credibility. She knew that no one would believe her story, that she just woke up in a different life, but she felt that freaking out like this would only confirm the doctors’ thinking that she was insane. When her breathing had evened out, she spared a glance at Harry. He was standing at the side of the hospital room, eyes bloodshot and a lone tear at the bottom of his chin.
“Ms. (Y/L/N), do you remember what happened? Do you think you can tell us how you got here?”
Of course (Y/N) remembered. But how does she even begin explaining? Oh yeah Doctor, I woke up in a random house that ended up being Harry Styles’ and I stabbed myself so I could wake myself up cause the only logical explanation was that it was a dream. As if anyone would buy that. She tried to think of ways to phrase her story so that it would make sense.
Should I just lie? Tell them that it was an accident, that everything’s okay and then go home with Harry and try to figure this out? What good will it bring me to tell them the truth, they won’t believe me anyway. I’ll drive myself insane.
“I cut myself on some glass, sir. I didn’t think it was that bad. I heard the door knock but I was too dizzy to get up and open it. As I was getting up to try and do so, I must have fainted.” (Y/N) opted for a half-truth.
Dr. Worthington took down some things on his clipboard once again. Then he looked up at (Y/N) and smiled, thanked her for her cooperation, and told her she would be just fine. He gave Harry the okay to take her home, gave some instructions for caring for the wound, gave them an appointment to get the stitches removed, and sent them on their way. After (Y/N) had gotten dressed and made her way outside the room, Dr. Worthington handed her a Psychologist’s contact card, nodded, and left. She tucked it into her bag and made her way to where Harry was waiting.
They walked side by side in silence. What were they supposed to say to each other? Maybe freaking out at him like that wasn’t the right thing to do, but she was in a hell of a position right now. They got into the car, and Harry took a deep breath before grabbing the steering wheel and clenching his jaw.
“(Y/N). I don’t know what’s going on. But I don’t think it’s fair that this is how you treat me after scaring me like this.” He noticed himself getting choked up so he stopped talking, looking down instead.
(Y/N) took his hands into hers, and she felt a wave of calmness wash over her for the first time since she woke up that morning. She stroked his hands with her thumbs, noticing how soft they were. This isn’t his fault. It isn’t easy on him either, poor thing.
“I’m sorry, Harry. I’ll try to explain when we get home.” She reached one hand up to his face, wiping away a tear and then cupping his cheek, stroking it with her thumb. Harry lifted the hand that was clasped in hers, gave it a soft kiss, and then started the car to get the two of them home.
A/N: Thank you guys so much for your positive feedback and support for this story! Seeing your positive reactions to this story, which I am so passionate about, is amazing. Love you all, and as always, let me know if you would like a continuation.
