Chapter Twenty Three: That night

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Farrah's pov

"Babe of course I know that, can I not lighten the mood at all" Harry said in a sing song voice.

That's my Harry right? The one who takes nothing in life seriously.

"It really isn't the time to lighten anything Harry." I spat as I pushed open the door out into the brisk night air.

I should have worn something more than what I have on. The bloody fall has some shitty weather, and dumbass me is caught up with no warm clothes on. Harry was right about that. He told me to wear something warmer, but what does he know? He wears jeans constantly, even in the summer. I remember a time when all that child wore was khaki poser shorts and polos.

I almost smile at the thought of my tatted up boyfriend wearing khaki shorts, but that doesn't change my feelings of the current situation.

"Whoa, excuse me?" He says, as he finally follows me out of the station. "I thought I'd try and cheer you up. Is that suddenly outlawed or some fucking shit?"

"I never said it was, I just feel it a bit uncalled for." I rebuttal.

"How so?" He says while folding his arms across his chest like a child.

"Open your fucking eyes Harry. For fucks sake we were both nearly killed. And god knows what else is in store here? You act like its a bloody fucking soap opera when in fact it isn't." I spat.

I honestly don't know why I'm blowing off at him. He's done nothing but try to make my life a bit easier, and I have done nothing but under appreciate that.

"Farrah I swear to shit, don't yell at me like that." He scoffed, his face alight with anger.

That's the down fall of our relationship, being that we both have a short tempered personality. But the way he never takes life seriously is making my blood fucking boil under my skin. Even the littlest things with him turns my temper up, and he knows it.

"Ill do what I please, and Hey, be my guest to push my buttons Harry. I'm in the mood to win an argument." I half laughed.

Why am I such an arrogant asshole?

"I did nothing fucking wrong you psycho?!" He screamed, pacing around the parking lot like a maniac.

"Take life fucking seriously for once maybe?! If you didn't notice, we don't live in alcohol land, where no responsibility exists, and no one matters but yourself." I yelled.

"We are arguing because I tried to crack a joke Farrah. A fucking joke. No you're accusing me of being irresponsible and only thinking of myself? I hope this isn't the stress talking because its sure sounds like a bitch coming from you."

He's right. Look at me. I'm red faced, huffing around in the cold, screaming random ass accusations that aren't even true. What is wrong with me?

I stopped pacing in place and pulled down the sleeves of my shirt, trying to secure my slowly escaping body heat.

"Fuck." I say while rubbing my forehead. "I'm sorry okay? I just don't like the idea of death, or being chased for that matter. Today has been terribly stressful, and I needed something to put my anger into."

"That's still not an excuse to blow of my fucking insecurities in my face." He said pressing his lips into a frown and furrowing his brows.

"I'm not gonna keep apologising. You can pout all you want, but you aren't going to get anywhere by it." I roll my eyes.

"Well you're not off the hook for that one. That's your problem, you pull people down when you get in a pissy mood." He smirks, obviously pleased with his reply.

I started briskly walking towards the gleaming BMW, throwing up my middle finger in the wind.

I could hear his boots clicking against the pavement, obviously in pursuit of chasing me.

"Maybe I wouldn't feel the need to call you out on your insecurities, if you were more confident." I bark without facing him.

I feel his string fingers lace around my elbow, and he spins my entire body to face him. His hot breath fans out across my cheeks, and his jade eyes pierce my thoughts, making then the only thing I can make sense of.

"You know better than to walk away from me when I'm talking to you." he says almost in a whisper, as his grip tighten on my arm.

I can nearly feel my heart beat contradicting his in the palm of my hand. He's so overbearing when he's angry that I can't comprehend. I can feel my shoulders shaking, and my teeth quietly chattering. Flash backs of him raising my small body up in the air, and letting me crash through the oak table flood my mind.

He grits his teeth together and leans in real close to my face. His lungs rise up and he sucks in a deep breath, as I'm sure he going to scream at me. Just when I expect my ear drums to shatter, I feel his soft lips press a kiss on my cheek.

"Please don't do it again." He smiles.

I feel a small tear brim over the lining of my eye, and slide down my cheek. I'm not scared of harry, I'm truly not, at least I don't think. I can't be. You can't dear someone you love so much right?

Harry's POV

I see a small, insignificant tear slide down her cheek as her deep blue eyes transfix on mine. Her pupils are highly dilated, and her bottom lip is jutted out and quivering. I can hear her shallow breaths, puffing out in sloppy patterns making her body slightly rigid.

I remove my hand from her arm, where I must have been holding too tightly as I can see it turn slightly pink, and back away from her. The lip quivering, the shallow breathing, the tears... That's the same face she gave me when I lifted her from the ground in that bar all of those years ago.

Shame washes over my body as I step farther away from my fear stricken girl. Still, to this day, she's terrified of me.

Her small head starts to shake, trying to reassure me she wasn't afraid of me. What the hell was I thinking? I'm so fucking stupid. To think, I was just playing around with her and she got so deeply upset by it.

"Harry." she says between her quickened breaths. "Come to me."

Her small hand reaches out to me, shaking, beckoning me close to her. No, I can't live like this, with her living with a constant fear of me.

"Farrah no." I say, and flinch away from her touch. "you're terrified of me aren't you?"

"I'm not terrified darling." she says almost in a whisper. She saunters over to me, wrapping her arms around my shoulders, and directing her whispers into my ear. "I didn't know what to expect Harry, but I know you've changed, please believe that.."

I pull her away from my ear, and bore my eyes down onto her small tender features. "Farrah, I couldn't live knowing you were afraid of me. That face....." I trail off.

"What face?" she asks with desperation in her eyes.

"The face you made." I say wrapping my arms around her waist, burying my head in her shoulder. "That's the face you made on the night."

"Oh god no. Harry you know I didn't mean anything by it. I was just scared you were gonna lash out at me, I didn't think-"

"I know, but that face has been haunting me since that night Farrah." I said, which was true. Ever since that night, that facial expression was permanently sketched into my memory. Every time I drank myself into the bottom of a bottle, the only thing I could think about was her, and that god damned face.

"Fuck, Harry no." she says, I can hear the tears forming in her voice. I don't know why, but it's such a touchy subject with her. But I understand now, putting myself in her shoes. how would I have felt if the only one I loved, denied me my affections, and smashed my small feeble body through a table.


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