bare [h.s.]

Fights

A car door slams,
fast paced footsteps click
against pavement,
and the world seems to
carry on without me
as I sit emotionless,
waiting for the
violence to break out.

"Get out of the car, you prick,"
Harry hisses, beating his fists
against Elijah's window.
The door swings open,
and Harry stumbles back
as Elijah steps out.

"Where is she?" Elijah asks,
trying his best to intimidate
Harry.
But his stance never falters,
his feet stay planted firmly
against the cement.

"Wouldn't you like to know?
She's safer with me than she'll ever be with you," He snaps,
getting up close in Elijah's
personal space.

"I doubt that. You're a ticking
time bomb, Styles. Any moment
you'll blow, taking her out with you."
A devilish grin spreads across
Elijah's face, asking for Harry
to take the first swing.

I decide to get out and end their
feuding before any real damage is
caused, but Niall grabs my arm.
"You can't go out there.
Just let them finish this,"
He pleas, but I yank my
arm out of his grasp.

"I started this,
I'm not going to standby and
watch them kill each other."
I jog around the car and
stop in my tracks when
Harry's fist slams into
the side of Elijah's head.

"Did she tell you how she ran
to me when you touched her?
Harry yells, pulling his fist back
for another swing.

One. Two. Three punches
against Elijah's face.
I watch him jerk and lose
his balance with each
contact Harry makes.
"Cried on my shoulder.
Slept in my bed.
She's afraid of you,
because you're the bomb
that will destroy her."

Another blow to the skull,
right above his left ear.
Elijah grimaces at the pain,
spitting drops of blood from
his mouth.
He wipes the trickles of red
from his lips,
quickly regaining his stance.
He charges at Harry with both
arms out in front of him.
They fall together against the
hard ground, Harry getting
the upper hand.
He pins Elijah down
under his weight.

"Stop it!" I scream as Harry
raises his arm high above his head.
"Get off of him!"
He glances over at me,
lowering his fist and pushing
himself off Elijah.

"Sawyer," He begins,
wiping his bloodied knuckles
against the fabric of his shirt.

"Save it," I spit, pushing past
him to rush to Elijah's aid.
Elijah smiles up at me,
placing his hand against my
cheek.

"You're crying," He whispers,
wiping the moisture away with a
sweep of his thumb.
"Everything's okay."

I place his arm over my shoulder,
helping him up on his feet.
He steadies himself,
using my body as support.
He nods me away,
bending over with his head
between his legs to catch his breath.
The precious air his opponent
took from him.
I turn to Harry,
who is studying his bruised hand.

"What the hell was that?"
I yell, shoving him
by his shoulders.
He stands tall with
a bewildered expression.

"Are you serious?
I did this for you. He deserved it."

"Stop doing things for me,"
I snap, running a hand through
my hair. He stares at me
for a brief moment,
mouth agape.

"Fine. I won't," He says,
shaking his head at me.
"Next time he tries something
with you, I won't be here."

I stubbornly cross my arms as
he walks back to the car.
He looks at me one last time
before slamming the door
and speeding away.
I stand alone in the middle
of the restaurant parking lot,
wishing he would've stayed.

"Hey," Elijah says,
placing his hand against my shoulder.
"You didn't need him anyway.
You have me, always."

"Do I?" I ask, my voice
cracking under this pressure.
My eyes remain on the road
that Harry drove off on,
leaving me behind.

"Of course," He gently grabs
my waist and makes me
face him.
The sight is gruesome.
Bloodied lip,
a discolored bruise
running below his eye.
And it's my fault.

"I know I scared you before.
I'm sorry.
I don't know what came over me.
But I do know that I care about you, and I really like you."

His words are soft-spoken,
genuine.
I smile through the unwanted tears, nodding at his sincerity.

"Do you feel the same for me?"
He asks, searching my face
for an honest answer.

"I do," I manage to say
with tears rolling effortlessly
down my cheeks.
I gently touch his battered face,
tracing the prominent bruise
that claims territory under
his dark eye.
He flinches at the pain as
I remove my hand
from his face,
wrapping my arms
around his waist.
I bury my head in his chest
as he inhales harsh breaths.
And as the pain overpowers
his mind, my own fills with guilt.
Because even though I want to,
I don't believe my own words.