TRIGGER WARNING: very brief mention of non-consensual sex
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" he don't do you right, he won't love you like i would "
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harry styles.
I wait at the bar of all places, surrounded by people intoxicated on whatever it is they took and in suspense of their own personal bloodlust tonight. The walls and floor vibrate with the hip-hop music pumping through the massive underground space.
The Pit is coated in its usual crimson, overheating with the sheer amount of people packed into this place, and yet you still seem to wonder how it could even be an exclusive secret to the city.
I rake my fingers through my hair, leaning back against the bar as I wait for my girl to get here tonight. And my stomach coils in nausea, twisting in knots for her.
I just can't seem to figure out why she's so adamant about continuing this, if not for finding Griff, it just doesn't make sense.
But I wait for her to enter through that door into the familiar scene with her friends as per usual. I glance down at my brightly lit phone for a moment, checking the time as it ticks down to the countdown before the fight.
And the second I drag my eyes back up, I watch the door open up and the incessant drumming of my fingers on my thigh comes to a halt.
I catch her friend Lou walking in first with the other two trailing close behind under the red light.
Ace is easily given away with the mask she wears to keep herself anonymous to the guilty people of the city.
My feet move before I can think about it, weaving through people to get to her before she steps in that ring. I slip past Jules without her even noticing me in a sea of strangers like this, intercepting Ace to step up right in front of her.
She slams into my chest to tug a smile on my face as she audibly groans. "Every time," she grumbles, lifting her eyes to me through her mask as I smile down at her.
Her hair is tied up in a tight bun that somehow is messily secure with that hair tie, and a dark black mask clasps over her eyes and the bridge of her nose. Her body swims in a pair of joggers, and a sweatshirt with the faint scent of tobacco seeping from her pores.
"Hi to you too," she mutters, her voice carries over the thumping music like a fresh cigarette on a god-awful day in my head. I snort a little as the bodies of people surround us to keep us concealed from the scene.
"You sure you're alright to do this?" I double-check, shoving my hands into my pockets. I stare down at her to attempt to assess her eyes as if they would give me anything into what she's thinking right now.
She just laughs at me with a nod of her head, "M'alright, Harry, I was fine training with Lou this week," she says, and I huff under my breath.
"This guy tonight–" I start, and this girl cuts me off with another laugh.
"I know, Lou filled me in on it. He's only good with his right, the guy can't use his left for shit," Ace smiles up at me, and I blink a few times as to how Lou even knows so much about her competition every night.
"I'm perfectly fine, I need this," she tells me, and my eyebrows draw together at that need of hers.
But at this point, I knew if anyone could tear up those guys in there it's her.
I puff out a sharp breath, shaking my head at her as I pull a hand from my pocket to slip off my ruby ring off my pinky. I take her dominant hand, pushing her sweatshirt sleeve back to slide the ring onto her delicate middle finger.
"Don't give me another heart attack," I mutter not only to her but to the universe.
Ace chuckles as she stares down at the ring, flexing her hand into a tight fist as I grin down at her.
"Also I'm driving you home after, so don't leave without me," I mutter with a subtly wink, and my tongue pokes the inside of my cheek at her reaction. I don't even give her a second to oppose as her jaw drops and I just brush by her to leave her gaping.
It stills a smile on my face as I start weaving through the crimson-coated crowd again to the door to the platform above the ring. The security at the door recognizes me in an instant as I pull the door open with ease to the hollow staircase.
The music seals off to only become a distant thrum through my bones when the door shuts at the base of the staircase awaiting me. I jog up the stairs, echoing my footsteps as I ascend to get to the second door.
I push it open to reveal the only people I've had as a constant in my life, crowding near the bar with drinks and reclining with cigarettes on the couches.
Their faces light up when I make my appearance, only relaxing my stirring nerves for my girl down there for a moment.
Bella and Gi engulf me in a group hug that has a bubbling laugh echoing from my chest as I squeeze them back.
"Hey," I smile, glancing up from their dark brown and blonde hair to find Zayn with a soft smile on his face.
I slip from their two of their greetings to clasp Zayn's awaiting hand, tugging him into a familiar hug as I clap his back with his thick spiced cologne spreads across my nose like a warm hug.
I pull back to the smile on his bearded face with his silver nose ring glimmering in the dim light and glance over at the movement out of the corner of my eye.
And I'm yanked into Niall's embrace faster than I can process it as he squeezes me tight enough to constrict the air from my lungs. "Jesus fuck, Ni," I groan as he snickers close to my ear.
"Took you long enough," his Irish accented voice pierces through the club music as he lets me go, and I inhale enough when I pull back to find a beaming grin on his face.
I shake my head at him, raking my fingers through my curls before Zayn glances between the two of us with an eye roll.
"How'd the drop go?" Zayn asks as both of them stand around me in a circle of sorts.
I huff out a breath, nodding as my mind buzzes nonstop with thoughts of Rory stepping into that ring in minutes. "Uh, fine, Gray's handling it," I murmur, and they both nod.
The lights flicker, flashing a blinding white light over the ring to force my heart to stop and lodge in my throat.
"Shit," I mutter under my breath. The music changes and both of them turn to look over the rail where Griff and Mia sit nervously waiting for her to step out.
Gigi walks over to Zayn's side, and he pulls her into his side as we start striding closer to the rail to watch.
"Is she alright going back in tonight?" Ni cautiously murmurs next to me, and the ring comes into view in its full glory with the screams of the crowd vibrating the entirety of the hollow space.
I hum, grabbing onto the rail to stare down at the fencing rattling around its daunting octagonal cage. "Yeah," I breathe out a trapped breath in my chest, "she'll be alright," I reassure him, and myself.
Ni pats my back, giving my shoulder a squeeze before he drifts away to sink into the couch next to Griff. I peel my eyes from her friends on the opposite side of the ring, waiting at the door, to glance back at Griff.
He sits there, forearms leaning into his thighs as he stares down with his heel bouncing and obvious nerves written all over his face. I tear my eyes from him before adding to my own anxiety-ridden gut, and I get a glimpse of the opposite platform from us.
The crease between my eyebrows only deepens when I realize Moore isn't here tonight.
But Bella's voice carrying through the Pit tethers me back to this foolish reality. I lean into the metal rail overlooking the ring, watching her competition tonight step in with his tall, lean figure and inked, toned skin.
"Versus Angel!" Bella calls out, and I swear time falters to focus itself on the singularity of this very fight in front of our eyes.
Ace walks out in the usual sports bra and spandex-like shorts that show every curve of her body, leaving little to the imagination of competitors and every single damn person in here watching her. It matching set in the color of black tonight, pairing well with the raven mask that lays over her face.
I fidget, unable to stand still, as I stand up straight with my arms crossed over my chest and pinch my bottom lip in between my fingers.
For the flash of a moment, the sight of her body lacerated with cuts, bleeding out on the mat after the last fight comes flooding back like a gut-wrenching nightmare.
I steady my breath to the vibrations of the crowd below, masking my unsteadiness with a cool exterior but my heart thrashes in my chest.
Bella walks out of the ring, sealing them off until one of them is knocked out.
Look up, look up, look up–
Her head tips back to look up at me, and my lips curve into a smirk of a grin down at her. Her full pink lips subtly do the same under the white fluorescents heating down on her skin.
And without wavering my gaze from her, I nudge my nose with a brush of my knuckle.
Visibly witnessing her press her lips together to contain her smile, her eyes tear away from mine to leave the last few moments before this anticipation snaps into heavy tension.
"3 ... 2 ... 1 ..." I hardly hear the crowd.
I watch her crouch in her fighting stance with my ruby ring glimmering on her knuckle in her tight fists guarding her face.
And the platform of us grows quiet, sucking the cheering crowd into this silently thick air.
I hardly think I'm breathing as fixate on every one of their moves, anticipating his by the way his feet shift as Ace does in real-time.
He snaps at her first, swinging a right hook at her face that she easily dodges with a duck to drive her fist up into his gut in the process to secure the advantage of the first hit. I puff out a breath of air as she obtains a hit on him that audibly forces a groan out of him.
And she takes the moment to lay a combination on him while he's vulnerable. She crosses with her right, jabbing him in the nose before swinging a hook with her left that swings his face to the side.
My lips curl up into a sick smirk as I watch her set herself back up again with a sheer concentration on her every inch of her being like she's sucked into her own dimension whenever she's in the ring.
The guy now with a bruised cheekbone and nose shakes out the hit, swaying on his feet with the strength of her blows, but stalks back over to her with his fists up.
He swings at her out of anger, getting sloppy with his right is only going to cost him if that's his only strength.
Ace takes what I see in the same moment, swinging with her right hook to his face to tear a gash into his cheek before driving her left fist up under his chin. His head flies back, and he stumbles back on his feet to catch himself.
"Atta girl, come on," I mutter under my breath, rolling my neck out to ease the tense muscles at the back of my neck.
She doesn't let up now and swings at him but he surprisingly dodges the hit. I watch his hips, analyzing his next move, and I harshly curse out loud as I realize.
His hips twist, driving a punch that crushes right against her nose.
My stomach plummets the second her head swings back from the sheer strength of his hit, and everything starts to move in slow motion.
"Jesus Christ," Mia mumbles but I can't tear my eyes away from the blood instantly trickling down her nose.
"I can't fucking watch this," Griff groans, and the hit doesn't even phase her.
She actually fucking smirks as the crimson blood drips over that cynical smile. I hold my breath as she snaps her right against his nose within seconds of the hit, cracking it under her fist.
Everyone on this platform hisses at the hit, but she runs with the opportunity in front of her. She crosses to take a hit to his throat, forcing the fucker to choke in the center of the buzzing ring.
Her flexible body twists, whipping around so fast that I only see a flash of her leg in a round kick to his head with such strength that he knocks out cold on the mat.
His body lays lifeless on the mat, and my girl just stands there looking around at the rattling fence with a ruthless, bloody smile on her face and her chest puffing with steady breaths.
I don't even realize that my lips are parted with my jaw on the floor, puffing out a scoff of a breath as I shake my head.
"I swear, she's going to be the death of me if Moore doesn't get me first," Griff makes a sick joke that all of us can only laugh out of relief that she's not in the same condition she was last time.
The nerves exude from my body, and I bring my fingers to my mouth. I tuck them under my tongue and whistle to add to the cheering around her as Bella lifts her wrist into the air.
Rory turns on her heel, tilting her head back to look up at me with deep red blood lacing her smile up at us.
And she attempts to nudge her nose which only results in her face scrunching up. I can practically hear her annoyed groan through my ears when she does it, so she settles on flipping me off instead.
I chuckle under my breath as she makes it out of that ring conscious, and I foolishly smile to myself. I turn around, finding my friends horridly anxious features replaced with relieved smiles. Griff's still slightly pale, but he just glances at me with a head shake of disbelief.
Eager to get her back, I'm already heading to the door to go. I roughly pat Niall's back and wave at the rest of them.
"Shipment at the dock tomorrow!!" Griff reminds me, and I nod at him before jogging out the door. I bounce down the stairs, echoing my footsteps and the jingling of my keys through the hollow staircase and shoving the door open to the crimson club scene in front of me again.
I begin to weave my way through the crowd, searching her in this madness was nearly impossible but if there's anywhere she'd be – it's the bar.
I scan the slick countertop, wrapping around the towering display of liquid psychosis under the scarlet lighting.
Sliding past people, I find her sitting there with a glass of what I can only assume is tequila as Jules wipes the blood from under her nose.
My foolish smile remains as I finally step up to her, and the group of them look over at me in confusion.
Ace just softly smiles at me, snickering at her friends gaping at me. "Ready to go?" I ask over the thundering music, and she hums.
She gently pulls Jules's hand off her to toss the rest of her drink down her throat. "Rory," Jules mumbles in confusion, but my girl just pats her thigh.
"M'alright, I'll ice it when I get home," she presses a peck of a kiss to her cheek as Lou just assesses me in more complexity.
Ace looks back at me, nodding for us to go as she says bye to her friends but I don't get far enough before a small hand grabs my wrist.
I look back to find Jules with a tight hold on my wrist, and no games playing on her soft features.
"If you even dare hurt her, I'll cut your balls clean off with a scalpel–" she starts and my eyes light up in amusement, but Lou covers her mouth with a hand and shush.
"Jesus Christ, Jules," Rory laughs, and I roll my lips into my mouth as she lets go of my wrist. "I'll text you when I get home," she chuckles as I nod at Jules glaring.
Lou slips her hand from her mouth, "I fucking mean it," she snaps as Rory starts to pull me away with a groan at her friends – she doesn't even realize how many people are out there to protect her, how valued her life is.
"I have no doubt!" I call out, allowing Ace to drag me along with a much-needed release of a laugh.
She pulls the door open and jogs up the stairs with my hand clasps in hers. We get up to the parking lot only lit by a single streetlamp, and I guide her now in the direction of my car parked in the corner.
"Sorry about that," she chuckles with her duffle in her other hand.
I just breathe out a laugh, glancing over at her as she stares down at her vans on the pavement. "She seems like a sweetheart," I sarcastically mutter.
"She usually is," she chuckles next to me as I unclip my keys from my belt loop to unlock my car.
Her hand slips from mine to walk over to the passenger side, and we both get into my car. I start it up, thrumming the engine to life with the music gradually building back to my ears in comparison to the harsh music in there.
"Why'd you wanna drive me?" She asks, tugging at the silk so the mask falls from her face to reveal her pretty features in the dim console glowing on her face.
I just softly smile at her, reaching to grab her face by her cheek and bringing my mouth onto hers. "So I could do this," I mumble as I perceive her lips curl up against mine, kissing me back deeper to draw a hum out of me.
A metallic taste spreads across my tongue from the dried blood, but I just savor the bliss of her full lips on mine even with the alcohol tinted on her.
My nose nudges against her, "Ouch," she groans against my mouth for me to detach our sealed lips to find her face scrunched up.
I breathe out a small laugh, "Let's ice that," I murmur as I shift gears before backing out of the parking spot.
My hand finds her thigh over her bare leg, rubbing my thumb over her smooth skin. She doesn't reach for the smoke because the drive is over within minutes of a few traffic lights when I pull over to the curb in front of her building.
The two of us get out of my car after I shut it off, and the chirp bounces off the walls of the outskirts of the city when I lock my car. I clip my various keys to my belt loop before stepping up on the curb to her waiting for me.
Blood still stains crimson under her obviously bruising her nose with the hood of her sweatshirt up. I take her duffle from her hand, and she squints at me with her dark hair slipping to frame over her face.
We head up the stairs of the quiet in her building, our footsteps echoing like a horror melody in this run-down place until we get to her front door. She opens up the locked door, and I drop her stuff at the door before kicking my vans off to rest next to hers.
"I'm gonna shower first, and then I'll ice this," she murmurs, and my eyebrow raises at the offer that I couldn't help but smirk.
"Sorry, not tonight Styles, I'm on my period," she mumbles, and I just hum as she analyzes my reaction for something.
I just lift my hands up in surrender, "No hands tonight, I swear," I smile as I watch a delicate smile paint her bruised face.
"Hmm," she knits her eyebrows together as she crosses her arms, sizing me up.
And I return the expression, amusingly crossing my arms and staring down at her in the same way.
"You don't care that there is blood spewing out of me right now?" She bluntly asks, and I roll my lips into my mouth in a weary expression.
"Spewing?" I question as I tip my head to the side, and she cringes too.
"Alright, that was a bit dramatic, but you get the point," she stares up at me, still analyzing every bit of my reaction.
I mean, I grew up with two girls and practically raised them myself. "Should I care?" I murmur, and she slowly draws out a hum as she lets out an exasperated huff.
"God, I hate you for being so–" she cuts herself off as she turns around to walk to the shower, leaving me with nothing as to what the fuck that was.
"Being so what?" I call out, and she grumbles as she slips into her room.
"For being you, idiot!" She replies, and I hear the door shut to leave me staring at her empty living space.
"Fuck's sake," I curse out, shaking my head as I chuckle under my breath to hear the shower start-up through the walls.
I busy myself by filling up her electric kettle with water and setting it on the device to start boiling. Opening up her freezer, I pull out a bag of frozen peas iced solid so I toss it onto the counter to thaw out.
I reach up into her cabinet for two mugs and set them on the countertop. Tearing open tea bag packages, I drape them over the sides of each.
The bubbles begin rising through the clear material of the kettle walls, and I pour out the piping-hot, steaming liquid into the mugs. And I rest the kettle back on the device and use some of her honey to drizzle into the cups.
I make a mess of it on the countertop, and curse out into the silence filled with the noise of her shower running. I clean it up quickly before I pull open the fridge door, grabbing her cartoon of oat milk to pour out into my mug only.
And I throw it back into the fridge, kicking it shut with my foot before stirring both of them. I wrap a towel around the ice, tucking it under my arm before I grab both of the mugs by the handles as steam curls from the open tops of them.
I slowly walk into her room, careful to not spill the tea as the cold pack under my arm numbs my skin. I set them both down on her nightstand, and toss the bag of towel-wrapped peas there as well.
I sink into the edge of her bed, waiting for her as I listen to the shower run and bringing the steaming rim to my lips. I blow on the hot liquid before sipping it down, and my eyes drift over to her white-doored closet practically calling my name in front of me.
I snap my eyes to the bathroom door, and then to the closet as I remember how this went last time. But my curiosity gets the best of me as I stand up with my mug warming my hands, and gently pull the door open.
I reach for the dangling string for the single lightbulb in this small closet, tugging it to click a hot golden light over the chaos of her head in here.
Breathing out a sharp breath, my eyes scan every part of her own investigation on the walls. A few jackets stay racked in here to attempt to cover up the hell, but it spreads out along the inner part of the door and the back of the closet.
I push the jackets on hangers across the rack, squishing them to the side to see this in its full glory. I sip the simmering tea and drag my eyes across every bit of this.
My eyes drift from the news clippings of various headlines that she followed with red strings to inevitable dead ends. There's the word of medicine along the walls, as she told Griff that that's how she found out about the Pit in the first place but that alone doesn't make sense because she had no possible connections to this exclusive world.
Over the rack is a shelf overflowing with various boxes, shoved up there and concealed from sight.
"You just couldn't help yourself?" I hear her small voice peep out from behind me.
I jump, spilling a quarter of this piping-hot tea onto my sweater, "Fucking hell, Ace–" I curse out as my heart just skipped a beat.
She stands there in an oversized shirt, and a pair of shorts peeking out with her dark slick damp hair drying at her shoulders.
I just give her a nervous laugh with my body hunched over and place the mug down again to look down at my wet knit sweater overheating against my skin that I quickly slip it off my upper half. I turn to find her staring at me curiously, and I grab her mug to hold it out to her.
"Here," I mumble, and she hesitantly takes it from my hand before peeking into it. And I grab the makeshift ice pack to extend to her as well, and she lets out a huff.
She shakes her head at me, taking it from me with her eyes softened when they meet me. "I really hate you," she mumbles, and my eyebrows tug together.
"Why?" I curiously ask, and she shakes her head as she sits at the edge of her bed.
Sipping on her tea as she glances at her open closet door, "You're fucking perfect sometimes," she mutters as her delicate throat bobs when she sips it.
I nearly laugh, and it truly comes out a snort as she shoots her eyes at me.
"Sure," I mutter with obvious sarcasm as I sink into the edge of the bed next to her, nodding at the ice to put on her bruised nose.
She does with a soft groan as I smile softly at her, assessing her staring out in lost thought at the closet.
"You should clean it out," I suggest, and her big amber and jade eyes drift over to me.
Maybe it would help clean that chaotic head of hers out with it like it would loosen the weight sinking down on her shoulders.
I shrug as she stares at me under the dim lighting of her bedroom as if she's processing the decision, "You found him, no?"
"Yeah, maybe sometime this week," she mutters to push it to the side, and I chuckle under my breath.
"Or now?" I tell her, and she pulls the thawing peas from her nose as she squints at me.
"I could never ask you to do that–"
I swiftly cut her off, "How did you even reach up there?" I ask with obvious humor as I get up to walk over to the closet.
"Oh, fuck you," she breathes out a laugh, and I glance over my shoulder at her as she shakes her head with a smile.
"Come on, I'll help," I offer, and she huffs at me as she sets her mug down next to mine with the ice in her grasp. She brushes past me, forcing me to knit my eyebrows together as I follow her to regard her grab the trash can in her room.
My lips curl up as she slides it over to us, and begins pulling push pins stuck in the chipping wood.
And softly smile at her before stepping into her closet, I pull my phone from the back pocket of my pants cuffed at the bottom to search for my playlist. I hit play for the background music to this dense silence, and tuck it back into my pocket before I get to work.
I begin to take them off the back wall to toss them into the trash with her. I peel off a post-it that was near its fall to death from hanging off that wall, chuckling under my breath as I read her rounded handwriting in blue pen.
I turn to face her, "Could you be any more obvious?" I ask her as I read it out loud, holding up the pale yellow sticky note.
Her face deepens a shade of scarlet embarrassment as she cringes with obvious regret on her battered angel face.
"That was a case from a few years ago, the case report described that the murderer was insanely high on cocaine when he killed that family ... and at the time, I was so fucking pissed at him for just not being there and it was so insensitive to ignore the fact that his addiction wasn't something he could control," she mutters.
"The murderer wasn't him, obviously," she peeps out, and I chuckle through my nose as her lips curl into a knowing tight-lipped smile.
"Obviously," I murmur under my breath, peeking up at the flushed heat in her cheeks before I pull the rest of her work off the wall to toss into the bin.
We work at it for 20 minutes, unraveling the snaking red string from the photos thrown out and sticky notes crumpled. She progresses with a single bruised knuckle hand, glittering in my ruby ring, and the other softly pressing the cold pack to her nose.
I clean off the back wall, leaving a bare white surface again.
"Look at that, she has a closet after all," I mutter with slight sarcasm, and she responds with a poke of her finger to my side.
I reach up to grab the boxes from the top. Ace takes a step back with a pale, weary expression etched into her face as I gradually scatter all the cardboard boxes off the top shelf onto the hardwood floor.
I take a sip of my tea before working on the next part, and she sinks to her knees to set the half-thawed bag of peas on the ground next to her. Her nose is pink from the bitter cold, and gradually turning a deep shade of purple along the bridge of her nose.
She opens the first up as I sip my lukewarm tea, and crouch down close to her with an exhale. I rest my back against the edge of the bed frame with my legs extended in front of me as she starts to pull things out of the several boxes.
I just stare in confusion as a blank expression holds onto her bruised face, "Oh, my god," she whispers oh-so quietly as she regards the objects laying in her palms.
"Hm?" I chime in for her to explain, and her big eyes meet mine with items in her lap.
"It's all my old painting supplies," she murmurs, lost in her own thoughts, "I forgot I put them up there."
I peek into the box to find empty palettes smudged with dry paint. There are different kinds of tubes, some half-empty and some untouched in every possible color. There are watercolor palettes, everything dirtied in splatters and smudges of old paint.
It overflows with brushes of different kinds, each with unique kinds of bristles that I couldn't even comprehend what you'd need them for. The other box holds several types of papers that she flips through, and some smaller canvases tucked away.
I set the tea mug down next to me on the floor and reach for the third box, sliding it across the wood to flip through. And I dig, slipping out a paper that felt thicker and textured between my fingers. My gaze settles down on the painting in front of me.
The paint itself is almost translucent on the page as if it was watered down, and it stays slick across the unique paper like it was absorbed rather than smeared on top like the ones at her museum.
And at the bottom, tucked into the right corner etches the initials: S.M.A. '05
The scenery of a suburban backyard lays to rest on the paper, vibrant in color – almost like they perceived it glowing under the hot summer's sun's rays and the gentle breeze dancing along the simple view.
A field of freshly trimmed green grass lines the bottom with a barren playground set decked out with a slide and two swings from the wooden frame. And a tall mahogany fence towers to wrap around the back of the property.
"What's that?" I hear Ace murmur as she scoots to sit at my side with a leg folded under her and the other pulled up against her chest.
I blink a few times to pull myself away from the simplicity of a normal childhood. The idea of a typical suburban home and a loving family to play out on that swing set in the middle of the summer sounded like some kind of fever dream.
The reality of that sort of lucky achievement of happiness was a faraway, and rather distant thought for the past and even the future – I could never imagine that unrealistic fabrication of a world like that either way.
But the beautiful paper slips from my fingertips, and Ace's lips are parted with an expression of shock held on her face.
"This is my mom's piece," she barely whispers without tearing her eyes from the art in her hands.
I throw an arm over her shoulder at the sheer grief in her voice that she attempts to hide, but she softly loosens a breath at my embrace.
"S'pretty," I murmur as I pick up my mug to take another quiet sip of the lukewarm tea, and she leans her head against my chest.
She hums lightly, tracing the dry paper around the playground set in its simplicity. "It was our backyard at the old house. I remember coloring next to her outside and thinking I made something even remotely as good as her work," Ace mutters, and I lean to plant a gentle peck to her temple.
She continues to gaze at it in a mix of emotions that I honestly couldn't tell you, but the blankness on her face practically shows the cruelness in her head.
So I reach into the box again, rummaging through various items like mugs, worn-out books, albums but a printed photo tugs my eyes to it.
I pull it out from under the mug, and my face instantly lights up at the old image.
A vintage filter coats over the glossy paper with a date printed in orange digital numbers on the bottom from when the photo was shot. It's little Rory about 6 or possibly 7, I couldn't really tell but it's priceless.
Her dark hair seems almost darker with the camera lighting, but it's tied up into two pigtails on either side of her head.
Wearing a little tank top and shorts on her tiny body, she stands there holding up a piece of paper scribbled in various colored markers and crayons. Tears run down her flushed, tanned face with a contradicting weary smile for the photo – like it was taken mid-meltdown.
A chuckle finds its way through me as I regard the amusing picture in front of me, and Ace gasps as she reaches for it but I tug it away.
"Oh, god, Harry please, that picture is horrifying–" she complains as my arm extends way longer than hers.
She leans into me, clawing at me for it but I just hold her against my chest with my other arm hooked around her neck.
"You are quite adorable, baby," I murmur, and she bubbles a laugh from her lips before she groans into my chest.
"You've gotta give me context," I murmur, and she huffs at me as she draws her face back from my chest.
She gazes up at me with her bruised nose, and I beam down at her. "Please?" And her lips twitch up at me as her hazel eyes glare up at me, and my arm slips from her as she surprisingly stands up on her feet.
"Come on!" I call out, and she laughs under her breath as she walks over to her dresser.
She slides out the drawer and rummages through it before shutting it. I stare in confusion as she treks over to her backpack resting on the floor, gliding out her laptop before walking back over to me to plop down.
"You tell anyone this, and I'll let Jules tear you apart," she threatens as she pries open her laptop sitting on her lap, and my lips curl into an excited smile as I nod at her before I click pause on my music.
She sticks a USB into the side of her laptop, and I watch a video file pop up on her screen. "I stole this from the station by the way," she hums. My excited smile falters in confusion, but she doesn't let me even get a word out before clicking play.
I watch an unsteady camera perspective in the frame, and a familiar voice on the other end of it muttering things to himself.
"That's my dad," she mutters, and I hum as I comfortingly rub my hand over her hip.
And the camera view shifts to settle itself on a scene in a living space where I slowly realize is her fit over her drawing stolen by Griff teasing her.
Her dad gently talked her through it like she's the world and more, and brought them all sunflowers when he came home.
Again, it was all like watching a fever dream unfold before my eyes.
Her dad enters the frame again and looks over at Ace with a great smile on his face. "And for my little angel," he calls her, handing her the yellow flower.
She grins at it, leaning down and sticking her little nose in the middle to smell it. He brushes a fallen strand of her dark hair back, and gently kisses her forehead. She didn't even take notice of it with her eyes fixed on the beautiful flower in her little hands in awe.
"Where did you get them this time, dad?" She asks, and her dad hums.
"The farmer's market down the road," her dad mostly speaks to her mum but Ace just twirls the sunflower in between her fingers.
"They're beautiful, Will, I love you," her mum mutters before a soft kiss resounds through the screen, and the camera frameshifts when she gets up.
Ace's eyes lift up, big and tainted with zero pain, to her mum towering over her. "Come on you two, let's put them in some water before they wither off," her mum mutters, and the camera finds its way into her dad's grasp again.
Ace and Griff jump up to race into their kitchen, and the camera suddenly turns around to frame only their dad's face in the rectangular frame. His nostalgic dark chocolate hair like both of the siblings, and his eyes shine amber in the summer sun with a trimmed beard on his tired face.
He grins proudly into the lens, "Happy anniversary?" He laughs a little at the chaotic fight from earlier, "I love you, angel."
And the camera shuts off, leaving the blank screen reflecting the two of us.
"Angel?" I murmur as the pieces to her fighter name fall into place, and she hums softly with that blank expression back on her face.
Rory shuts the laptop, yanking the USB from the side before glancing over at me. "M'keeping this," is the first thing that comes to mind, and she shakes her head.
"Absolutely not," Ace murmurs.
"Oh, absolutely," I respond as I lift my hips to slip my wallet out of my back pocket.
I open it up, and I carefully shove the photo of her as a kid into the clear pocket for safekeeping before I shut it and tuck it away.
"It's mine now," I murmur. She groans at me, and I chuckle as I smile.
I finish off my cold tea, and Ace slides her laptop off her lap to lay on the floor. We stare out at the open boxes and the closet door wide open to display the clean space.
"What do you wanna do with this?" I ask, hoping she doesn't suggest throwing it out like the damage to her closet.
I glance down at her as she sits at my hip, tucking her knees into her chest as her eyes drag around all the art supplies on the floor.
"Maybe I'll give it away, I could take it across the city to the shelter if they'd ever need something like this," she murmurs.
As selfless as that was, it didn't make up for the fact that she's shoving aside something she's clearly in love with. The way she gazed at all of it wasn't in an expression of letting go, but it was longing for something she couldn't have.
But I'm not going to make decisions for her, that's always been in her hands – no matter how senseless and irrational at times. "Alright, it's up to you," I murmur, and she softly nods as she huffs.
"Yeah, I'll figure it out," she mutters, and I hum as I slip my arm that was wrapped around her waist.
"Let's just leave it in there for now," I get up, and she just nods along with it.
But I just pick up the boxes to push them back on the top shelf and turn on my heel to find her handing them to me one-by-one. I breathe out a breath of relief as I look around at her now-normal closet before yanking the dangling string to flicker the bulb off.
"Are you staying?" She has to ask as she stares up at me with a deep purple hue across the bridge of her nose.
I give her a reassuring smile, "'Course," I tell her.
Her features soften as if she didn't expect it while we walk into her bathroom. I just swish her mouthwash as she brushes her teeth, and then floss.
The lights shut off, casting darkness over her bedroom with the shadows of the layout of her room with the bed, dresser, and dim moonlight beaming in through the window.
She crawls in first as I unclip my keys from the belt loop to clatter onto the nightstand next to the red numbers glowing on her digital clock.
I undo the button on my trousers as I glimpse down at the lump of her under the covers watching me undress for bed. My zipper whispers through the quiet as I glide the fabric off my legs, pooling them at my ankles to leave me in just my boxers.
I step out of my pants, readjusting the waistband around my hips, and crawl into her bed as she lifts the sheets for me to tuck underneath the warmth. The scent of her perfume with her soft soap and hair products all blend together in lavender and coconut.
I stare into her eyes, hardly able to make out the technicolor of her eyes inches from me before she abruptly rolls to curl away from me.
"Goodnight," she mumbles, and I nearly scoff with her almost a whole meter away from me.
So I slide across the sheets, gliding an arm around her waist to drag her back against my chest as she goes rigid in my arms. "Where are you going? Hm?" I whisper, hoping the delicate kiss I plant under her pierced ear eases whatever it is trapping her in her head.
My chest seals against her delicate back, our bodies fitting together like puzzle pieces as I throw a leg over hers to ensure she's tucked into me.
She goes utterly quiet and still, without saying a peep as I tuck her damp hair behind her ear. "What's going on, Ace?" I softly ask, and her head tilts back to find my gaze already fixed down on her.
She shakes her head against the pillow, staring up at me. "You're not disgusted with me on my period right now?" She's on about this again, but there's obviously more to it with the way she's closing off and talking about it so harshly.
"Why the fuck would I be disgusted that you're a woman?" I raise an eyebrow, and she huffs at me.
She rolls over to crush me into an embrace, flipping me onto my back to wrap her arm around my torso and bury her face into my chest.
I deeply sigh as I slip my hand under the covers, running my fingertips across her outer thigh to find the back of it to guide her leg over mine. I run my ring-adorned fingers through her damp hair as her soft breaths fan across my chest.
"Kian hardly talked to me whenever I got my period," she mumbles into my skin.
It's been long enough without hearing the fucker's name, certainly didn't need to hear it again, and it already makes my blood heat as I lock my jaw tight.
"He acted like I had some fucking disease because he refused to touch me during my time of the month," she huffs, and I swallow thickly. "He used to say that it was disgusting. I apparently got moody so he didn't wanna be around me, but makes sense now because he was just using me for an easy fuck," she softly speaks.
It doesn't take long for my reaction, "What a fucking pussy," I scoff as she softly hums against me, perceiving it vibrate against my chest.
"Didn't you say it was casual?" I recall, and she toys with my mum's cross in between her painted fingertips.
"The second time around it was, but before uhm ... before the accident, we dated for a while," she admits, and I blow out a breath.
I bring my hand to her chin, holding her jaw to lift her face up to me.
"I'll kiss you all you want," I sneak in a peck to her lips mid-sentence and her relieving soft laugh is from the gods themselves.
"And touch you all you want, baby, because I couldn't give two shits if you're on your period," I firmly tell her as I slip my hand under her shirt, gliding my palm across her warm skin to splay my hand across her delicate back.
She blinks up at me before leaning up to capture my lips between hers, and I softly hum as my eyes fall blissfully shut. I lean into her embrace, our kiss is exhausted and torturously slow as if she's saying thank you in some way.
And she softly groans again when my nose brushes against hers, and I draw my mouth from hers to blink my eyes open. Ace softly smiles, and I lean up to gently kiss over her bruised nose.
I drag my eyes down to hers sparkling up at me under the faint moonlight, and I smirk softly.
"I thank whatever fucking God exists up there every day that I got to beat the fucker to shreds," I murmur, and her eyebrows bunch together.
She softly gasps under me, and I arrogantly smile. "That was you? I thought Ni- You were the one who hurt him?" She whispers scolds in the dark, and I hum.
"I had a little help from the guys," I smirk with a nonchalant shrug.
She smacks the side of my head to extract a soft groan out of me as my forehead falls to her warm chest.
"Are you kidding me? Why the hell–" she starts, and I tip my head back to find her confused features as I huff down at her.
"S'like what Ni told you, it wasn't just that he was fucking us over, we heard how he treated some of the girls. And the second I saw you talking to him at the Pit, or the night you fucked him at that party. You were so high out of your damn mind that you couldn't even remember if he asked if you wanted that ... and we all snapped," I admit to her as she processes every bit.
And I told her the truth with every ounce of anger directed to his dead-in-a-ditch self.
"Ni told me you've all been protecting me, but I didn't believe him," she murmurs as I brush her damp hair from her face with a hum as my thumb grazes her temple.
"Who do you think got the first hit?" I ask, and she wearily grumbles not wanting to know as I shake my head.
"Griff ... he was livid. He fucking lost it the second he admitted to the shit he used to do to you, and none of us fucking stopped him," I reveal, and her lips part as she presses her fingertips over her mouth.
I lean down, laying a soft kiss on her temple before rolling back and pulling her into me again with a sigh.
I wrap her in my arms, "You were never alone," I breathe out, and she nuzzles her head into my neck with a soft sigh to melt into me.
"And there's a special place in hell for fuckers like him, Ace," I reassure her – knowing more than a few that hopefully get the shit they deserve there – and she brings her mouth to my collarbone to lay a careful kiss.
"Thank you," she whispers into the quiet of the distant city traffic and our sleepy breaths.
I travel my hand up and down her the groove of her spine under her shirt. I trace her skin with my fingertips as I listen to her slip into sleep in my arms before falling into the beckoning darkness myself.
---
i just want to hug her <\3
also, i'm going to try get the next chapter out this week b4 school hits me like a train if i can !!
reminder to vote and comment, as always.
oh! and i have the rest of killer instinct planned out, it's going to be a fucking trip hehe ;)
love you always,
h <3.