Italy In The Spring [h.s]

17

Harry's P.O.V

"Flower."

She doesn't move. Her eyes are wide and filled with terror, her entire body shaking so hard any other person would think she has hypothermia.

But I can see what's happening. She's scared. Scared of me.

I look down to find my hands are covered in blood. Something that once created art has now created destruction. There's nothing pretty about the crimson liquid smeared across my hands and the limp body lying on the floor.

He's breathing. Barely. He's unconscious and looks like he's on the brink of death.

Shit.

"Aurora, let's go," Liam is shaking her shoulders, trying to get her snapped out of whatever trance she'd fallen under. "We need to take him to the hospital. C'mon, Rora."

She still doesn't move, eyes locked on mine and filled with an ocean of tears and every terrified emotion in the dictionary.

"Harry," Louis' voice snaps my eyes away from her. "Help me carry him to the car."

I look down at Timothée from where I'm standing, knowing I've taken it too far this time. I blacked out.

My hands begin to shake and I look back at Louis with fear in my eyes, "What did I do?"

"You beat the fucking shit out of him, Harry," Louis says, eyes flooded with anger and disappointment. "Now move your ass and carry him to the car before he fucking dies."

This is not who I am.

I make art. Beautiful things. Masterpieces. I don't wreak havoc. Destroy things. Hurt things. People.

"Move, Harry!" Louis screams this time, grabbing at Tim's shoulders and waiting for me to take his feet.

It's like I'm a puppet being controlled by a string. While my mind is trying to process what the fuck I've done, my body complies with whatever Louis tells me to do. We carry him to the car and lay him down in the backseat, thick tears pouring down my face while I continuously apologize to him under my breath.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," I stare at his limp body, hands still shaking and mind still racing.

My feet start pacing in front of the car, keeping my eyes trained on the front door, waiting for Aurora to walk out. And when she finally does, she doesn't even look my way. Her face is still filled to the brim with fear, body shaking while she moves in a zombie-like trance.

"Rora. Rory. Flower," I walk up to her, causing our eyes to meet. "I'm sorry. Baby, I'm so sorry." Reaching for her hands, everything in me dies when she flinches away. "Fuck. Aurora, please, no. Don't. Let me touch you."

Liam steps between us, an understanding look in his eyes, "She's in shock, Harry. Trust me, she has no clue what's going on. We're going to take Tim to the hospital."

I nod my head quickly, "I'll come."

"No, Harry," Louis lays his hand on my shoulder. "You need to stay here. They can handle everything."

"But- she's not-"

"Liam will be with her. I'm staying here with you," Louis assures me and I take a deep breath that doesn't do shit to calm me down. "Go inside the house and take a shower. They'll be back later, okay?"

I nod my head, not moving while Liam directs Rora to the backseat and places Timothée's head on her lap. She stares down at him and shakily runs her hand through his hair, tears shining as they fall down her cheeks.