I stayed silent in confusion.

"Harley, I'm sorry for telling you but fuck- how am I supposed to try and get you to forgive me when I'm keeping this from you?" He spat, his nostrils flaring as he glared in both frustration and anger.

I still didn't respond, I just stared up at him wide eyed.

"I hate the thought of what I do. There's no sugarcoating it, I sleep with strangers for money." He explained.

"Oh, fuck." I breathed nervously.

"This is my biggest secret," He confessed, his large hands anxiously running through his long, brown hair. "I've only ever told this to my dad."

"How... How did he take it?" I whispered cluelessly.

He shot me a hard stare, and shook his head. "Do you hate me?"

That was such a hard question. Did my insides feel like they were shutting down one by one because of the intense pain I felt from the idea of him being with someone other than me? Yes, of course they did. But... I also felt so deeply sorry at the same time. I felt sorry for him, he was so messed up for so many reasons and this was emotionally killing him. Why do good people do bad things? Well, he wasn't even good. He was only good for me.

"I don't hate you." I murmured sadly.

"Then why aren't you speaking?"

"I'm... shocked." I breathed shyly before crossing my legs as I sat at the lonely park bench.

Harry quickly sat beside me, his hands intertwined and resting on his trembling knees. "I...I'm sorry."

"I don't know what you want me to say." My voice cracked slightly as I spoke. There was a short silence of pure thought before Harry's hands went to my coat, and tugged me towards him.

I went to push back but his hands connected with mine, and he held them down. "Just say the truth."

"Why did you tell me that I was the only girl when you knew that I wasn't?" I asked harshly, my stomach sickening at the mere thought of it.

His eyes widened slightly, and he stood to his feet once more. "Because I didn't think straight. I thought that, maybe it wouldn't matter if I still slept around because they were just a salary to me and you weren't."

"It's still the same thing," I argued, crossing my arms and staring at the floor, avoiding eye contact. "What, you thought that I'd be fine with it?"

"At the time I was just happy with the fact that I was fine with it."

"You're so selfish, you only care about yourself," I stood to my feet and angrily began pacing past him for some sort of independence, but then I turned around to face him in disbelief. "But how the hell can you care about yourself when you let people use you for money? Where are your boundaries, Harry? What won't you do for money?"

He stepped towards me and I backed slightly in fear, but his hands grasped my arms and pulled me into his warm torso. "Can't you see that I'm fucking hurting just as much as you? You think I like going to a stranger's house almost every day, not knowing who they are or what they're going to do to me? You think I like fucking people for money when I can't even go through with it because I can't stop thinking about your face every time I'm with someone who's not you?"

"I don't believe a word of it." I pulled back, and his eyes softened. "You'll do anything to get your way-"

"Jesus Christ, then what do you want? What the fuck do you want?!" He screamed, his face crimson red and his neck veins tensing under his pulsing skin.

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