Your Heart Is A Masterpiece, And I'll Keep It Safe

                                    

                                          
by: jamesniall
                          
Summary:
                          
"Will we ever have a date that doesn't involve you getting into trouble?" Harry chimes, turning around and facing Niall again.
                          
"Me getting into trouble has given us two free meals now, I'd call that a success." Niall jokes, "told you I like you keep you on your toes."
                          
"I'd just like to keep you safe and away from medical emergencies." Harry replies, putting his arms around Niall's neck and bringing him closer.
                          
-
                          
Or, the five times Niall ends up in the Emergency Room and one time Harry spares him the trip.
                          
°•°•°
                          
1
                          
Make my messes matter. Make this chaos count. Let every little fracture in me shatter out loud.
                          
Having the night shift at the E.R on Friday nights it’s always a chore. Harry always tries his best to change it with one of his colleagues, even if he has to take Monday’s morning shift where everyone comes with the silliest symptoms to get some excuse to get out of their jobs for a couple days.
                          
This time, however, Liam has a family thing he can’t get out of and Harry has to cover the night shift.
                          
It goes as he expected it.
                          
Drunk college students with alcohol poisoning are the most common gig of the night, followed by guys with concussions and broken noses that can only be attributed to bar fights.
                          
It’s around 10 pm when he’s making a round through the new arrivals when he sees a guy sitting in the waiting room with what seems to be a scarf wrapped around his left arm and a guitar tightly clutched in his right hand.
                          
He looks downright miserable. Soaked to the bone – though Harry doesn’t recall it raining when he started his shift – hair plastered to his forehead and a bruise in his right cheek that he can tell it’s gonna swell and hurt as fuck tomorrow morning.
                          
He takes a look around the room and figures he’s the most interesting case he can get out of the night.
                          
“Hello there, I’m Doctor Styles. Did the nurse give you the triage paper?” He asks, looking down at the brown haired guy, who startles at his voice.
                          
“Oh, hi, yes, uh,” he searches around his pockets for a bit, hissing when he disturbs his homemade bandage, Harry doesn’t know if he’s hiding a broken, burnt or cut arm, but he’s sure the scarf it’s not wrapped up properly for none of those situations.
                          
He finally finds a yellow crumbled up paper in the pocket of his jeans, “thought the red papers got attention first.” He says, looking up to Harry and handing him the paper.
                          
“Yeah, Friday nights are usually full of yellow ones, though.” Harry says, scanning the paper quickly and seeing Niall J. Horan, 25 year old male, reported bar fight, probable broken wrist, no signs of concussion, vitals in order, pain 8/10. “How’s your pain right now?”
                          
“Out of ten? It’s been simmering between 8 and 9 for the last hour,” Niall replies with a shrug. “Nurse told me x-rays were necessary but that I would have to leave my guitar outside,” he continues, “I refused, because have you seen the people around this place? They’re all drunk. No way I’m leaving it out here only to find it broken, so if you can tell me what to do or what to take for the pain I’d appreciate it so I can go home.”
                          
“You could have a broken wrist, judging by the pain I’m pretty sure that’s the case, isn’t getting the x-ray more important than a guitar?” Harry asks, an amused smile making his way through as Niall splutters and shakes his head.