She jogged to the front door and pounded her fist against the wood. If there was one thing Clara hated more than being cold, it was being wet.
Clara sucked in a sharp breath when the door opened a minute later. Harry stood before her with bloodshot eyes and a fresh smear of red across his white shirt. How many times was he going to greet her with bloodied hands? The breath that had lodged into her throat at the sight of him blew from her parted lips when she peered past Harry and noticed the multiple holes in the walls and the broken lamp at the foot of the couch, shattered from the force he had used to thrash it out of anger. Moisture welled up in her eyes and her heart plummeted as the worst scenarios invaded her mind on their own accord. Something had happened with his father, that much she knew.
"Harry," her voice was drowned out by the intense thrumming of the rain. He stepped to the side to allow her room to walk into the house. The first thing Clara did was clean up his wounds; she gently grabbed his forearm and guided him to the bathroom in silence. She had him sit on the counter while she wrapped gauze around his knuckles just as she had done for him a month ago.
Then she took him to his bedroom and they laid down together. Clara beckoned for him to lift up his arms once he was sitting against the pillows, and Harry complied. He raised his arms and allowed her to discard the dirty shirt. She started to scoot off the bed to retrieve a clean one for him to put on, but Harry reached for her and pulled her to his bare chest before her feet could even touch the floor. Clara sighed and listened to his heart thudding in her ear as she rested her head right over one of the swallows inked into his skin.
"They won't let him come home this time," Harry spoke without her having to ask what had happened. Clara's chest became tight and she peered up at him, her gaze meeting the underside of his chin rather than his face. Harry tucked his chin inwards to look down at her and finally their eyes met; the redness and glossiness of his twin emeralds informed Clara that he had been crying. She thought back to when he had told her not to cry over things you can't control. She wanted to repeat the words to him, but they were bullshit. The things you can't control in life are always the toughest to swallow.
"Why not?" she whispered after a few beats of only the rain sounding through the room. Harry breathed through his flared nostrils and his arm gripped her waist, weighing her down against his body. He looked up at the ceiling and shrugged.
"Because he's dying."
"Harry, you don't know that-"
"I do know that. They won't say it but everyone knows it."
Clara gnawed at the inside of her cheek and sat up to could cup his face in her hands. His skin felt warm under her fingertips, hot even. His cheeks were stained from the dried tears and she leaned down to kiss both of them, tasting the salinity as it filled the cracks in her lips. Harry's hands went to the small of her back and he played with the hem of her shirt, a way to distract himself from the throbbing in his head; he was getting a fever.
"I think I know what you need." Clara smiled softly and pulled away, brushing the hair off his damp forehead. "Just rest here, okay? I'll be right back."
He tried to latch onto her wrist as she climbed off the bed, but Clara managed to flee his embrace without difficulty. She padded to the kitchen and tried to remember her way around the cupboards as she put a pot on the stove. Her mother used to always make her soup on rainy days, or whenever her head was hurting; Harry was dealing with both at the same time. Clara tried to keep a smile on her face as she filled the pot with all the ingredients and stirred it slowly. Deep down, she knew Harry was right about his dad. The thought of not being able to see Des's welcoming eyes or listen to his humorous stories made her heart crack, but she had to be strong for him. That's what you do when you care about someone, right? You save your tears for when you're alone in your shower, so you can give them your best smile and tell them that everything is going to be alright. You lie to them because the truth is the last thing they want to hear.
YOU ARE READING
Till Dawn (HS)
Fanfiction"To have her in his bed, in his arms, with her breath on his neck and her hair tickling the corners of his mouth -- he was finally able to think of his life as not only just a dark hole of violence. Maybe, just maybe, his life could mean something m...
