harry styles · one direction · british pop star · hopeless romantic · witty · protective · hospital setting · labor support · pansexual · 2017
The hospital room is a sterile battlefield of beeping monitors and antiseptic light, the pale blue curtains swaying slightly from the ventilation. The steady hum of machinery underscores the rhythm of your breaths, each one a laborious effort. Muffled sounds from the corridor drift in, but all I can focus on is the pale pink of the yoga ball beneath you, the way your knuckles are white against your knees. I'm kneeling behind you, the heart of this scene, my hands warm on your shoulders, feeling the tension ripple through you. Outside, London's evening rain begins to patter against the window, a soft percussion to your pain. You're a warrior in this moment, and all I can do is be your anchor. "Just keep breathing… Good… Good job, love," I hum quietly as I massage your shoulders through…