Imagine #3: Not Again
It had become a problem. Well, it’d been a problem since the cast was on, but now it was just getting worse.
When you first broke your leg, you weren’t too upset about the cast and the crutches. You’d never had them as a kid and now you were excited to experience what your friends all had the chance to experience in school.
Crutches seemed fun. An excuse to not take the stairs. People would do things for you with no questions asked. And you could bum around without any judgement. Seemed like a great life.
Except for the fact that crutches hurt. Bad. Your arms hurt. Your armpits hurt. Your shoulders hurt. Your boobs hurt. Your other leg hurt. And you kept tripping. No matter what you did the crutches would land on a dog toy or they’d get caught on the carpet or you were just a klutz. Whatever the case you couldn’t wait to get them out of your life.
Today was the day. You were going to be free. But you weren’t.
Your doctor smiled sweetly before relaying the bad news.
“Y/N, your leg can’t be out of this cast yet. It’s still in bad shape.” Yeah, probably from tripping constantly with the crutches. “If you’d like we can get you a new wrap for it.”
“No. It’s fine. I just want to go home.” You groaned. The doctor gave you another sad smile before helping you off the exam table and holding the devil’s ornaments aka crutches out to you.
“Is someone here to drive you?” You nodded. You knew he’d be thoroughly amused to see you hobbling out on the metal death traps. “Okay love. Have a great day. See you in three weeks.” THREE WEEKS! Almost a month of continuing to trip and hate life. Sounds wonderful.
You gave her a smile and limped for the door. Your arms were sore and ready to give out and you knew your back couldn’t take much more of the hunched position they caused. As much pain as you were in, it dissipated when you saw Harry slip out of the back of his car.
He was coming from interviews, but he’d promised to pick you up so you wouldn’t have to take another Uber. And as usual, he followed through with his promise.
What you hadn’t been expecting was the driver and the suit and the luxury car. Maybe the Range Rover, but not the Bentley. You weren’t complaining. At all.
“Well, well, well,” Harry stopped when he saw what must have been a very depressing sight. You were all but hanging off your crutches in front of him, with a very blue cast that matched the very blue feeling you had inside. “I thought you were a free woman today?” He frowned and kissed you.
“I was supposed to be. But these death traps keep tripping me and so my leg is still broken and so I have to keep using the death traps and so I keep tripping and so my leg will forever be broken.” You groaned in one breath and he just looked at you.
“And so?” You knew he was mocking you, but you weren’t in the mood.
“And so I’ll just get myself home. Thanks so much Comedy Central.” You sassed him before hobbling away from him. It only took you a few swings before your crutch got caught in the sidewalk crack and you almost fell.
You knew he’d lunged behind you to catch you, as he had been doing for weeks, but you caught yourself. Reluctantly, you turned to face him. He had his eyebrows raised and was watching you carefully.
“I’m sorry, Harry. I’m just really sick of this and I just want my leg back.” You whined, some tears threatening to roll down your cheeks. Harry chuckled a little bit with his perfect smile and you couldn’t stay mad. But you could stay irritated at the world and your crutches.
“It’s not funny.” You pouted. This time you didn’t have the strength to hold the tears back. Finally, Harry saw that you weren’t joking about your upset. But that you were actually genuinely stressed.
“Babe,” He grabbed your shoulders and you flinched as they were still sore. He immediately removed his hands. Another issue with the crutches–he was afraid to touch you. “Sorry.” He mumbled. “I like you with one leg and crutches and tripping just as much as I like you with two legs and no crutches and falling. You’re still Y/N and that’s all I need.” He smiled at you.
There was no way anyone could have been grouchy after that, except you. You still found a way and he saw it.
“Alright, you know what?” He frowned and shrugged his jacket off and handed it to the driver. Harry rolled up his sleeves and then gestured to the driver to come towards you. “Take the crutches would you?” He asked nicely and the driver nodded.
“Harry, what are you doing? I need them. I can’t walk without them.” Your voice went from watery and breaking to frantic and scared. “You’ll kill me.” Your voice cracked and he rolled his eyes as he rested his hand on his cheek mocking your upset.
“You’re not walking anywhere.” He mumbled before leaning down a bit. Within a blink of the eye you were propped up in his arms being carried bridal style to the car. “You don’t want to trip? Fine. I’ll carry you everywhere. Just like the princess you are. The ground doesn’t deserve you.”
Part of you knew he was being sarcastic and mocking your dramatics, but another part of you knew he semi-meant what he was saying.
He carefully ducked into the backseat of the car, being careful not to hit your head. You watched as his driver placed the crutches in the trunk and then enter the car.
“It’s really going to be okay.” He kissed your forehead and you finally smiled. “Well would you look at that. You smile.”
He may have greeted you with an over-dramatic entrance and mocked your pain, but at the end of the day you knew you were his princess and nothing was going to change that.