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Battle Scars

Despite the events that took place during Tripp's Halloween party, Harry was still very much intoxicated by the time he and Freddie made it back to their apartment. His head was still spinning, and the throbbing gash by his eye didn't help things. He had managed a few moments of hyper focus when he found Freddie crying outside Tripp's building, but then the daze came right back over him after some time in the car. No amount of excitement could override the alcohol content of his blood.

Thus, when Freddie sat him down at the kitchen table to tend to his wounds, he could hardly protest. He felt the sting of the rubbing alcohol acutely when Freddie cleaned the blood off his hands, then a bit more when she moved to the cut by his eye. He winced but only hardly. All he could think about was her.

Freddie looked troubled and pensive as she dabbed at his enflamed skin. Her brows were taut, her eyes were focused, and she seemed to be biting down so hard on the inside of her cheek that Harry was beginning to think she was likely drawing blood. He didn't think he had ever seen her so tense.

Harry wanted to make that go away. He wanted her not to worry about him or Damien or any of it. He was fine, and so long as he was in her life, he would never let Damien lay a hand on her again. But how to find the words? How could he begin to confront that when he had to apologize first? Surely, she was expecting it. Surely, she was upset with him for making a scene and letting her ex-boyfriend get to him the way he did. It wasn't a good look for him, and it certainly didn't make her look great either. Harry couldn't forgive himself for that. It was one thing to act a fool with only his reputation on the line, but to do it when hers was too? He knew it wasn't even remotely acceptable.

"There," Freddie sighed, sitting back and looking at her work. "I'm done, but you should probably keep some ice on everything so it doesn't swell too much."

Harry nodded but didn't say anything in return. He was trying to work out an acceptable apology, but the words just weren't coming to him.

Freddie didn't seem to notice his struggle as she stood and silently went to the freezer for some frozen vegetables to put on his hand.

"Here," she said solemnly, handing the bag of frozen peas over to him. She wouldn't look him in the eye, and that only made Harry's head hurt worse with how hard his heart was pounding. He had to say something before it was too late and she went to bed upset with him.

Before Freddie could walk away, Harry looked up and met her eye.

"Wait," he said quietly. "Don't go. I, uh... I need to say something."

Freddie looked at him apprehensively, but nodded all the same and resumed her place across from him. She still wouldn't look at him, and the tension in her whole body seemed to heighten again. It seemed to Harry that she was trying to hold back from going off on him. Suddenly, he wished he hadn't decided to apologize just yet; it'd be better if he could do it while in his right mind so he could properly gauge what needed to be said.

"Look, there's probably more I could say... and definitely need to say, but I, um, I just wanted to apologize for tonight," Harry said, figuring that simplicity was the best way to go given the alcohol that still plagued his blood. "I shouldn't have drank so much, and I shouldn't have hit him, and I'm sorry. That's– that's not the person I want to be, and I– I really fucked up tonight, and I want you to know that it won't happen again."

It seemed, however, that Freddie hadn't expected that from him. She looked up, her face surprisingly relaxed and her eyes somewhat wide. It took several moments before she could gather herself enough to speak.

"Oh... um... that's okay," she eventually said. "Yeah, that's... no, that's fine, really. I didn't think..."

"What?"