Amnesia Harry part 3 (Patreon)

Some more mushy gushy sad and sappy 

part 1   

part 2 

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iii. 

What was the recipe for Y/N to comfortably sit and cook Harry Styles, the boy who had broken her heart for his own enjoyment, a spaghetti dish that her Aunt used to make as a comfort food? Putting it together is simple but once it starts cooking it’s complicated. There’s one cup heartbreak, being left alone in a bloody park so your boyfriend could fuck off with someone he works with and tell you he’s busy, two cups head injured Harry stumbling upon you think your his girlfriend, three tablespoons of not minding your own business and making him a priority in your life while he’s in the hospital, just a teaspoon of his real girlfriend who can’t handle the thought of him not remembering her, and a pinch of finding all the right ingredients to make him your Aunt’s family famous spaghetti because you have to cook for him since he’s confused and his stomach’s growling. 

Then there you have it. 

An absolute disaster. 

Y/N left about three separate messages to the doctor he’d been assigned but he supposes he was in surgery or something and Y/N’s emergency wasn’t technically dire. She just knew that his girlfriend was supposed to be the one calling and making appointments and helping jog his memory -- that’s what he would have explained to her on the phone had she given him a call -- but Y/N’s got an aching suspicion that she hadn’t tried it. 

Did she blame her? Not entirely. It had to be difficult hearing someone you love kept asking for a different person and Harry truly wasn’t fucking with them, in believing that Y/N was his girlfriend that much was for sure. The way he was looking at her as she ambled around the kitchen was almost like she’d built the damn building they’re in -- filled with gratitude and awe when she broke a bundle of spaghetti noodles in half. 

“So,” she’d begun, thinking they’d might as well speak to one another opposed to sitting in a silence where she knows Harry is thinking about being in love with her, “I know you don’t remember the woman that was here and you think that I’m your girlfriend -- which is okay, I understand that this is confusing for you. It’s confusing for me too.” She moves to the saucepan after straining the noodles in the sink, “And I’m not going to force you to think about it too hard -- but in reality, I don’t. . .well, I don’t know a thing about you outside of when we went to school together.” She adds the sauce to the noodles, stirring them together, “So why don’t you tell me about yourself so I can catch up, yeah? Starting with, what do you do for a living?” 

When she turns to him, she sees that there’s a pleasant smile on his face, and she remembers then why she had been so into him at the very beginning. He had quite the charming look to him, she’d always give him that, and it only makes her heart sore thinking that he may be hurting. Which is fucked -- he’d hurt her so terribly, she shouldn’t give a damn how he felt, but she’s human isn’t she? 

“I’m the Chief Operating Officer of Barclays, a multinational investment bank and financial service company. I work from 9 to 5 every day but it often runs into 6PM to 7PM every night. It’s a lot of focusing on the employees and creating operation strategies and policies, but I’ll spare you the boring logistics of it.” He shakes his head as Y/N plates the food in front of him, having moved the pots, pans and plates over the the island where he sat. He marvels as she spoons it over onto the plate that already has to pieces of garlic bread placed on the sides, “I like watching romantic comedies, I enjoy hiking some but I know you hate it so I seldom do it, I would say photography is a bit of a passion of mine but m’shit at it so I don’t tell anyone, um. . .” he thinks, and she goes to get them glasses, having to search through three cupboards until he tells her it’s the one right of the fridge, “I’m close with my mum -- so close that she still did me washing throughout college just so I had an excuse to go home. I’m handy with some knitting needles and yarn, I love a good midday nap.” 

“Favorite color?” Y/N muses, interested in the fact that he’d gone into the deeper things rather than what people normally start with and he figures that’s because he’s fairly sure that they’ve been in love for the past year or two. 

He thinks for a moment, brows furrowed before he gives a good sure nod as he responds, “Pink -- I love a good pink.” 

Y/N smiles, distantly remembering him relenting when he’d gone on that first date with her and she’d asked him, receiving a “It’s pink, but if you tell anyone I’ll deny it at all costs” in return. Sometimes she feels stupid for recalling such small, insignificant things, but to be fair she hadn’t thought about Harry for quite some time. Had erased him from her memory the best she could after all of it had happened, but those three dates had meant something to her as much as she hated to admit it. Y/N had been shy back then; had a few close friends but that was all. So when someone like Harry had come sit next to her while she was eating lunch and chatted her up like a proper gentleman, offering her to a party, courting her there and then asking her out on a date -- well, she’d been elated. One of those moments where she’d gone home and squealed into her pillow out of sheer excitement.

Had she heard the rumors about him? A few here and there about him being the devil incarnate, however he had been so sweet to her and so gentle, she figured there was no way they’d been true. Had to have just been some jealous girls who he’d broken up with and it left a sour taste in their mouth, right? Because this sweet boy, who’d complimented her bumblebee shirt and inquired her opinion on a dress he wanted to get for his mum and, “You always dress so nice, so I trust your opinion.” 

The party he’d invited her to could’ve been the end of it -- he could have humiliated her there and left it at that, but he had been so kind at the party. Saw how uncomfortable she was and showed her a nifty spot in the home, even though it was his friend’s place. He’d told her how it’s necessary to find a spot at each house for each party that he could retreat to incase things got to be too much, and in this case at Joshua Felderman’s easily 900k house, it was his mum’s office. There was a big couch in there, a few lamps, a tv even and when the door closed, it shut them off from the rest of the party. The music and cries of drunk teenagers had muffled to distant murmurs, a Harry offered her either another drink or a water if she wanted. 

They talked for a while. . .about things Y/N doesn’t just tell people, but he was such a good listener and he looked like he genuinely cared and was even getting personal with her (she doesn’t know if he had forgotten his plan to ruin her emotionally at the time or if he’d just gathered she wasn’t a shit enough person to go around talking about how he felt when his parents divorced, but either way he had her fooled)! 

That night he had nearly kissed her, but just a breath shy from her mouth and taking her first kiss he’d paused. 

“I want to kiss you right now,” he’d murmured, “But I want to take you on a date first. Would you come with me to the movies?” 

Y/N had told herself that had she ever ran into him again, she would ask him what had inspired him to be so cruel. Even for a high school boy -- the epitome of all things unnecessarily sadistic -- it just felt way to evil villany, and truly like she’d plucked him from an old teen romantic comedy. She’d question him for being such an asshole to her poor high school heart, and why he had chose her instead of someone else, and why he had the nerve to look even a little  hurt when she’d called him a heartless bastard. He had to know that, didn’t he? 

But this Harry, who was sat before her, seemed like a completely different person. It was hard to wrap her brain around it. People could change from high school -- she definitely knew that -- but she can’t even imagine it. 

She tries to wipe that from her brain though, at least for now. She wasn’t going to get any answers from the boy who had told her his daydreams of cuddling her when they were at the hospital, and how he’d snuggle her to bits as soon as he got the chance. No need in dwelling on it because it’s only upsetting her and who would that help currently? 

“Your favorite food?” She asks, sliding the plate and a glass of water. 

Harry smiles down at the plate mawkishly, eyes flickering up to her, “Spaghetti with honey in the sauce,” he murmured gently, “Thank you.” 

Her heart lurches -- the nerve of it! 

They eat and talk more, mostly just Y/N coaxing out more about his life and trying to ignore how familiar this feels. Y/N keeps him talking, keeps his brain churning and making him think further in the past to see if he would pull her from his memories as what she really was to him but he wasn’t really gathering it. Only replayed some memories fondly that weren’t their memories together but with the vivid detail he puts into them, Y/N forgets that she wasn’t there. He must’ve really loved his girlfriend, she figures, from the fondness in which he replays these events, which only makes her feel guilty though it wasn’t technically her fault that he didn’t remember her. All these trips and dinners and stories -- none of them she had encountered firsthand but Harry just seemed so sure of it. The brain is such a weird, amazingly complex thing she’ll never be able to wrap her head around it, how it could just superimpose her in his girlfriend’s spot. Clipping around a photo of her and pasting it over Sheri without even a glimmer of a doubt, not seeing the clear indents that would suggest that it wasn’t the original photo. 

After dinner, and Harry is sufficiently full (clears his plate twice and says something about how it’s the best meal that he’s had in forever) he shows her to the living room once again. Y/N asks what he wants to watch and he says the Notebook like she should just know that already, so she turns it on for him, and tries to get comfortable on the couch despite it easily being three months rent for her at least. They sit on the same couch though she keeps a safe distance between them and though Harry pouts, he’s working on understanding that while he may have a clear memory of them together, she didn’t technically have one. Around 9PM, she leaves the movie so that she can get his pills, offering him a pain tablet and a water bottle. He peeled his eyes from the screen to thank her, taking both of them easily and making a show of opening his mouth so she can see he swallowed them. She rolled her eyes and pat on his shoulder playfully, and Harry almost looked like he was revelling in it. 

Y/N doesn’t realize how tired she is until she feels herself fading, eyes fluttering shut and nodding out, only brought back by a particularly loud part of the movie or Harry laughing gleefully beside her. Though she eventually can’t help it anymore and she can’t believe how big of a baby she’s being. Harry had gone through so much in the past few days and taken pain medicine and he was still up and functioning but she felt like she was going to fall asleep. 

The only thing that stirs her after quite a few minutes of having her eyes closed and wavering in and out of consciousness, is when she feels a blanket fan out over her. It makes her jump some, eyelids popping open but Harry shushes her sweetly, “S’okay, s’okay, just covering you. You had goosebumps.” 

“Thank you,” she murmurs, though her tongues feels heavy, reaching up to wipe at her face, “M’sorry, I didn’t mean to fall asleep.” 

“No, it’s fine, you’ve had a rough couple days.” he tucks it around her feet, “Rest, yeah? I’ll be okay.” 

She squints at him, “Don’t -- don’t go to your bedroom then, sleep ‘ere.” Lying her head back against the couch pillow, she takes a deep breath and lets her eyes flutter back shut, “Then I can keep an eye on you, ‘cos m’only closing my eyes for a minute.” 

Harry laughs lowly and she can imagine him shaking his head. A very careful hand brushes the hair from her face, back behind her ear, and it send a shiver down her spine. She wishes he would do it again. 

As she feels him settling back on the couch, Y/N lets herself be whisked off to a land of dreams where Harry’s memories are her own. Them on a beach in France, scuba diving, late nights on the veranda, and lying out on the hotel balcony to watch the twinkling glitter of stars in the midnight blue sky. The warmth licks her skin and the feeling in her heart swells. 

She wakes up for only a moment about forty minutes later, and when she looks around she finds Harry at his end of the couch, under a small blanket that his legs poke out through terribly, but he’s still there and still resting as she’d instructed. 

A smile takes her mouth for a moment, before laying her head back down and going to sleep.