Eucalyptus & Honey |H.S.|

Chapter 33 - It's New York, Baby

After Harry had told me everything, it was nearly mid-afternoon, and I told him he had to call the doctor. He still was very reluctant to do so, but it wasn't something I was going to let go.

I was sort of shocked when the doctor came to Harry's house, rather than us having to go to an office, but I guess that was the privileges of being a celebrity.

The doctor came and went, telling Harry there wasn't much to do except take pain killers, rest, and take hot baths to speed up the healing process. The doctor didn't seem too concerned with the severity of the bruises, which almost had me screaming at him. I mean, how the fuck could those bruises not be concerning?

He'd told Harry that the bruises weren't in any spots that would warrant too much concern. Which, again, almost had me screaming at him. I wasn't sure what place would be concerning, since the bruises basically covered his whole fucking body.

By the end of the visit, I was irritated with the doctor for offering little help other than the stuff we already knew to do to treat a bruise, and Harry was thoroughly amused, taking the opportunity to tell me he told me so, and that he knew he had been fine. Which only irritated me more.

Harry could clearly sense my irritation, and he eventually reluctantly agreed to letting me help him out with Marc, but sternly told me to never do anything without telling him first. He also added that he would still never be taking me to see Marc and Alexander.

I wasn't so sure how I felt about that. I didn't want to be an idiot—of course I wanted to stay away from human traffickers. But, it's not like Marc doesn't already have plenty of opportunity to fucking kidnap me. I'm pretty sure he has a fucking key to our house.

Plus, if it meant that Harry wouldn't continue to get hurt like that, then it felt incredibly wrong not to go with him. But, I knew he would never allow that.

He also told me that he wanted me to stay with him for at least the next few days.

However, the next few days turned into a couple of weeks, and now we were in New York for Harry's first time hosting Saturday Night Live.

After everything that's happened since the day Harry finally told me about Marc and Alexander, it feels like it's been months, rather than weeks since then.

Everything seemed to have happened so quickly. Since we had missed a few days of practice that week because of Harry and I's brief brake up, we had extended our practices, and worked through the weekend as well.

Harry had shown the rest of the band and his team "Falling," and they had all loved it, insisting it needed to go on the album, despite how late of a change that would be. The rest of the week was spent tirelessly recording the album and making any last minute decisions on it.

The whole recording process only took about a week, which was much faster than any of us had anticipated it taking. We pretty much spent day and night at the studio, along with Jeff and Harry's producers as well.

I knew that we were doing so much at once with the album because Harry was running a bit behind on his schedule, but I also wondered if it had anything to do with Marc. With avoiding thinking about what happened. We had hardly had any time at all since that night to even discuss all of it, and I had yet to speak to Margot about it as well. I had no idea what the fuck to even say about it, so I may have been slightly avoiding the subject.

When I had told Margot I would be staying with Harry for a little while, she had said, "I'm happy you're happy again, Steves, but I'll still kick his ass if he ever fucks with your heart again." Then, she had tried to convince me to give Harry the phone, "Just to talk," but I figured he'd already been punished enough and didn't need Margot giving him shit.