Amnesia!Harry part 5 (Patreon)

I'm feeling soft and angsty and I can't wait to write where things get better! 

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v.

Y/N is catching feelings for the second time for the same boy and she doesn’t know what to do with herself. ‘

It was different when she was in high school; in high school, he was just a baddie turned goodie is what she had assumed -- someone who hid behind their riches as a front because their insides were soft and tender, but she had chipped away at the exterior somehow. In high school, they went on three lovely dates, and Y/N thought that they might have something, and she wasn’t perceived as the lonely girl who sat by herself in math. A boy wanted to know her, and he was smart, and seemingly kind, and Y/N was head over heels. Until she found out that the baddie was just a baddie, who strung her along for a stupid bet. 

But now. . now that same boy, who had just been bad, was actually good, or at least he was with a mild bump on the head and a dash of amnesia. That boy was like a whole new person almost; the one she had cursed out and sworn was the worst person on this planet, had his heart set out on a pedestal for her, and he didn’t understand why his feelings were reciprocated to the extent that he was giving. The same boy, who now spoke of her like she was someone who’d hung the stars in the sky for him. The same boy, who had sheepishly asked her if she would come with him to his check up, because he didn’t particularly want to go alone, and he looked so worried she’d say no and so soft from the nap he’d just woken from, that she wouldn’t have even thought to say no. 

So she was currently sat in a waiting room with an anxious Harry, wearing a heather grey long sleeve that he kept pulling over his palms, his knee jittering, blinking hard, looking around with his bottom lip bitten between his teeth. She didn’t know how to make it better, but she did recall something that Charlie had done for her -- fuck him to all hell still, however, it was weirdly comforting without being all too intimate in public. This is what prompts her to reach her hand up to his shoulder, and she begins to fiddle with the seam of his shirt on his shoulder. The fabric was soft and beneath it she could feel the tension that’s wrought through him -- he doesn’t like hospitals, and he doesn’t like doctors, she’d gathered as much before, but didn’t know the extent of which until his mum explained to her that he once had to get a shot that took them all for a whirlwind. Not only did it take about five different doctors to hold a thrashing nine year old down, they gave him both shots at the same time rather than the ten minute grace period they usually gave him. Ever since he’d been particularly adverse to them. 

(Y/N on the other hand used to love the doctor’s office because a pinch of pain ultimately met that she would get a sucker and a whole lot of pampering because, “I can’t get it, my arm hurts” with a pout.) 

For some reason, just as it had mysteriously soothed her, she watches as it visibly relaxes him. There was just something so simply calming about it, feeling someone’s fingers skid and skate around the seaming of the sleeve. The jitter of his knee slowly stops and pauses as he glances over to her, his lips quirking in a small smile as a notion of his gratitude and she merely nods as her reply. He still wears his lip between his teeth but at least he doesn’t look like he’s going to make a run for it anymore. 

A nurse comes out in a set of sky blue scrubs, a chart loose in one hand and the pen tucked beneath her pinky, threatening to undo the little work Y/N put into calming him with a call of, “Harry Styles?” His head perks up, standing up almost fast enough to knock the chair over and looking to Y/N expectantly, so she presumes she’s to follow him, pushing her purse up her shoulder and letting them lead the way. He was tense all over again, she could tell by the way his nails were biting into his palms from over his sleeve. 

They’re led to a room with a small bed, rows of cabinets on both the top half and bottom half of one wall and half of the wall adjacent to it and a seat in the corner that Y/N decided to plant herself and take residency. Y/N wonders what they’ll say when they find out she has no family tie in being there with him but she hopes they just don’t bring it up -- she couldn’t even leave him if she wanted to right now. To leave him all bent out of shape would just be cruel, she’d reckon, so she aims to be as silent as a fly on the wall so that nobody even remembers she’s there. 

Except for Harry, who is burning holes into her from across the room as the nurse asks him questions. She just runs through the basics, checks his blood pressure, keeps mild conversation as she does so and Harry makes his best effort to not look like he wants to crawl out of his skin. Y/N wonders if not knowing what’s to come is what makes him even more nervous -- they technically don’t know what the doctor’s going to be telling them about his condition, their additional steps, what could happen next and what might not happen at all. If it’s the same doctor from before, he might recognize her as his not girlfriend and ask her to leave -- that’s also nerve wracking, she thinks for both of them. 

After a slew of questions about his health (asking lowly just to him if he were okay with her hearing his responses), she departs with telling him the doctor would be there shortly, before shutting the door with a quiet latch of the knob. As soon as she does so, Harry looks to her, “I’m sorry I’m being such a baby right now,” he tells her, shaking his head to himself, “I hate doctors and I’ve watched one too many medical shows to feel comfortable.” 

Y/N knows all too well the medical shows he’s seen, because she can quite clearly remember the near five page spoken essay he’d given to her about why Grey’s Anatomy was a superior show to most medical shows out there (including why the singing episode was a waste of time and terrible for the severity of the contents of said episode but “that’s neither here nor there, it’s still a great show). He’d told her all this during their second date, when -- instead of going to the after party of the Friday football game, he invited her over to his place while his parents were out, and they sat on the huge bean bag chairs in his basement, right in front of a massive screen where he had Grey’s Anatomy playing from episode one. 

He’d pumped her full of goodies, sweets and treats, imported from all over. He made them root beer floats, had a bowl of candy, and ordered them a nice greasy pizza from one of the places they could never justify ordering for that price at her house. They just hung out and laughed and had fun and Y/N had reflected on it so fondly when she went home that night, she stuffed her face into her pillow and squealed like someone in a cheesy rom com. That’s the first night he’d told her he thought she was pretty and nobody had really ever just said that openly to her before, besides her parents when she brought up not feeling well about how she looked. 

That feeling blossoms back up in her heart when she looks at him, shaking her head, “S’fine Love, I know you’re nervous. I’ve had all me fingers crossed this whole time so everything should be great. I’ve got magic fingers, y’know?” 

Y/N doesn’t realize how filthy that could’ve been taken out of context until Harry’s brows raise, but there’s a short knock on the door before it opens slowly, “Hello! How’re we doing today?” The doctor is still sweet as ever, taking a seat on the stool with Harry’s chart in his hand, looking over the sheet briefly before looking back up to him as Harry says he’s doing good, “Glad to hear it. How’s your noggin’ feeling?” 

“Good,” he nods, “Sometimes it feels a little sore where I hit, but otherwise I’ve been fine.” 

The doctor leans back, “Yeah, a little soreness is normal when you take a fall like you did, but I’m glad that’s all there is to it. Are you starting to remember things?” Immediately Harry’s eyes flicker to Y/N sat in the corner, and the doctor’s head perks up, turning around in the stool to face her, “Oh, hello! Didn’t see you back there, Love, you’re just about quiet as a mouse.” He nods in her direction, “Have you remembered your past with her yet?” 

Harry’s lips drag back in something like a frown, reaching back and rubbing at his neck when he shakes his head, “Um, no, not quite. Sometimes things come in flashes that might be real but I’m not so sure.” 

“Well, have you asked her if they’re real?” He asks him and when Harry shakes his head, “A big part of Amnesia is trying to figure out what might be a real memory -- your brain is trying to fill in the blanks but you can’t be sure until you start asking. So go ahead, try it out,” he pushes himself backward some so he isn’t between their line of sight, and Harry shifts his gaze to her, taking a moment like he’s thinking about it, and she gives him an encouraging nod. 

“Did -- when we were younger, did we go to the movies?” His brows furrow, “It was really rainy and kind of thundering. . .every time you jumped I thought it was cute and you made me hold the popcorn because you were scared that you would topple it over. Also you didn’t make fun of me when I dipped the popcorn into the nacho cheese, it made me really happy.”  

Y/N giggles some at the thought, nodding, “Yeah, that did happen. You got nacho cheese all over your jeans and I had to ask the lady next to us for a tide-to-go so that you wouldn’t cry.” 

“I wasn’t going to cry!” He all but cried, “It was my first time wearing light washed jeans, I thought that I’d ruined them.” 

“You were a big ol’ baby about it.” 

They both giggle, and the doctor claps his hands together, “See, good start! This girl right here might be the key to you remembering why you guys actually know each other, and that could jumpstart some connections that you weren’t making previously. Now we’re just g’na test some things and I’ll send you on your way.” 

Y/N panics then, because she doesn’t particularly want to tell Harry the nitty gritty details of how he had broken her when they were young. It would hurt and she doesn’t want to break this nice image of who they were together in his head since she’s kind of been reveling in this fantasy as well. She shouldn’t and at the worst moments she does remember what the actual circumstances were, but when she wasn’t thinking about it -- when they were just Harry and Y/N, eating and borderline cuddling on the couch with their legs accidentally tangled while they watched TV together. They were just hanging out and happy and everything was okay. No problems stemming from their high school years, just them. 

And now she wonders, does she even really want him to remember?