Stall

Chapter 44.

"Well..." he sighs out a deep breath "I know the owner because, I kind of...am the owner. It's my club"

My jaw drops as I stare at him.

My mind flooding with all the realisations that make so much sense now, and I must be a god damn moron.

That's why he had keys to the bathroom, that's how he organised the free drinks that night, that's why everyone there seemed to know him, that's why he comes and goes as he pleases with work and that explains why he's always there.

I screw my face up in confusion "Why didn't you just tell me that? I don't understand why you'd lie about that"

He shrugs his shoulders, glancing at me "It was something personal, and I also thought you wouldn't want anything to do with me if you knew I owned a place like that"

My face drops "It's a club, not a brothel Harry, I wouldn't have cared"

At least I don't think I would have, if anything it would have just made things make more sense when it came to him.

His lips quirks as he lifts his brows "It may as well be with half the shit that happens there"

Well...I can't argue with him there.

I look to him confused again "Hang on, you said you work in customer service and waste management, what does that have to do with owning a club?"

His shoulders tense as he glances at me again, and he swallows "That's the part you're not going to agree with"

I reach my hand out to rest on his leg, urging him "Well even if I don't, help me understand it"

He nods apprehensively, bringing his hand up to scratch against his jaw before he messes his fingers through his hair, pushing the loose strands away from his forehead.

"Believe it or not, I used to be a lot worse than I am now" he starts slowly, staring at his lap like he wants answers from it "Growing up the way I did, I was around a lot of violence, so much awful shit, and when I was in foster care you only get surrounded by kids as damaged as you, and the places I lived were never with nice people, it's like I kept going from one nightmare to the next - so the way you learn how to cope with things, what's right and wrong, what's normal to you is so fucking warped compared to kids that get to grow up with a normal life, without all that shit"

I just listen to him intently, absorbing whatever he needs to say, taking each piece and trying to put his puzzle together, stroking my thumb against the fabric of his jeans to try and offer him some comfort.

"If you're around monsters long enough, you just become one too" he says lowly, his face wincing as it frowns and I shuffle closer to him.

"You're not a monster" I tell him firmly, leaving no room for argument in my voice.

He's a man, a troubled one and he's just misunderstood, even by himself.

He doesn't reply to me, only hangs his head and my stomach knots.

He can't help the environment he was in, or how he learnt how to cope with it if he was never shown any better, I wish I could show him that.

You can't throw a kid into the water when they've never learnt how to swim, and then get angry at them and blame them when they drown.

His starts to twist his rings around his fingers, and looks ashamed to be even sitting next to me and I hate it.

"When I was back in England, growing up, I was always involved with bad people, they're the only people I understood, they were just as fucked up as me. I started drinking and sleeping around when I was 13, started screwing around with whatever drugs I could get my hands on at 14, always fighting, doing illegal shit - it's what everyone around me did, that was my normal, I did anything I could so I didn't have to feel anything, so I could get away from my own head"