It was funny how Clara had gone from desperate for Liam's attention, to the one blatantly ignoring him. His persistent calls and texts through the week were in vain; she didn't respond to a single one because Clara just didn't know what to say. She didn't know what to think so, true to her nature, she ignored the problem as if it was nonexistent.
The problem was not that Liam had feelings for her- Clara thought that if he had kissed her a month ago, then she probably would have reacted differently. She would have wrapped her arms around him and let her lips follow the movement of his.
The problem was Harry. The thought of even answering one of Liam's calls forced a knife to lodge into her stomach and twist around with guilt. She shouldn't have felt like she was cheating or anything, because Liam was still her friend, right? And Harry was nothing more than an emotionless lover. But Clara couldn't help it. She hated herself for letting Liam's lips touch hers when Harry's cherry ones were the only pair of lips she wanted to kiss and have linger on her skin. She didn't want to hear Liam's declarations of love over the phone; she wanted to hear Harry's gravelly voice in her ear telling her how pretty she looked in the morning.
"Clara," her brother approached her with a mug of hot chocolate in his hands. He had come over one evening to help her decorate the small tree she had got for the front room of her apartment. "You have been standing there staring at the box of ornaments for the past five minutes."
She blinked out of her daze and gave a sheepish smile. "I was just deciding which one to put on first," her voice wavered as she finally reached for a plastic, clear star. "This one will do."
"Right," he rolled his eyes and took a sip from his mug. The damage from the car accident had mostly faded, except for a small scar on his temple. Jackson told her about how their parents let him skip a few days of school because of it- normally, she would have responded with a snarky remark, but this time she just hummed and nodded her head, distant. Jackson watched with knowing eyes as his sister hung the ornament on the tree, then went back to the box on the table to get another one.
"Do you want to talk about it?" he asked, sitting down on the couch. He tried to keep the worry out of his voice, but it was obvious that he cared for his sister more than he let on. He set the mug of hot chocolate down and Clara looked at him with doe-like eyes.
"I- what?" She shook her head and turned her back to him to conceal the redness on her cheeks. "There's nothing to talk about."
"Yes there is," Jackson fought back another roll of his eyes. "You're easy to read, Clara. Just tell me what's up."
"Nothing is up," she insisted. When she turned back to retrieve another ornament, his brown eyes caught hers and a sigh left her lips. "Fine, fine. Where do I even begin?"
"Is it about that guy?"
"Sort of," Clara shoved a hand through her hair. "It's about Liam, too. I think he likes me."
"Well duh." Her brother snorted a laugh.
"You knew? Why didn't you tell me?" she whined pitifully and took a seat beside him, cupping her cheeks in her hands. "He's my best friend, how could this have happened?"
"He's liked you for years," Jackson snickered. "You're an idiot."
"Thanks." She huffed out a breath and puckered her lips. "I've been ignoring his calls."
"So you don't feel the same way?" Jackson questioned with a tilt of his head. Clara gnawed at her bottom lip before slowly shaking her head, shamefully.
"Not in that way," her voice was solemn. "He's my friend." That's what hurt her the most about the whole thing. She had been friends with Liam since he was a chubby-cheeked boy and she was a scrawny girl with pigtails; why couldn't things just stay that way?
"Maybe you do like him but you just haven't given yourself the chance to realize it."
Clara furrowed her eyebrows, the words striking something within her. She reached for the mug of hot chocolate and sipped from it before looking to Jackson. "What do you mean?"
"Well, I'm no expert on this sort of thing," he shrugged and clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth. "But maybe falling in love with someone isn't as simple as people make it out to be? If you've never been in love before, how would you know the feeling when you felt it? It's probably hard to recognize at first."
Clara's breath became shallow as a pair of green eyes swarmed her head. "I think you would know it right away," she said weakly.
"Nah, I don't think so." Jackson rubbed the back of his neck and stood up. "Alright, let's get this shit tree decorated." Clara forced a small smile as she stood up, as well, but her stomach was churning and her mind was racing even more as they hung ornaments together on the small tree in her living room.
~
Harry's chest heaved as a hot pant shot through his throat and a fist was swung at his face. He managed to elude the knuckles aimed right for his cheek by quickly stepping to the side, a strand of his hair slipping from his bun and falling over his sweat-clad forehead.
"Fuck," he swore under his heated breath. Tonight was not as easy as most nights; his opponent had approached him with a cool smile and stone eyes, as well as bulging muscles that made his size triple Harry's lean frame. Harry had hid his mild intimidation behind a blank stare, but internally he was going over ways of not getting beaten, because he knew that his usual attack would not suffice this time.
Before Harry could get another fist aimed his way, he leaned forward and ducked his head a bit so he could shove at the guy's torso. It was an amateur approach but it seemed to do the trick; the man let out a grunt and stumbled backward a bit, bare feet in the thin layer of snow that covered the concrete. Harry smirked to himself and took the opportunity to throw a punch to his stomach, earning him another groan of pain. He could feel the wounds on his knuckles opening up again with each collision, but the pain and trickles of blood that dripped down to the white snow didn't faze him; his mind was cleared of all thoughts other than how to get his opponent down on the ground.
Unfortunately, his small success was followed by an unexpected blow to his torso, the loud smack of bone knuckles against toned flesh sounding through the drunk cheers and yelling around them. Harry felt his lungs cave in for a short moment, the breath in them expelling, and his lips pursed tightly to keep himself silent. He hadn't been hit like that in a long time and it only fueled him further; Harry recovered after a split moment and ground his teeth together. With a sharp inhale through his flared nostrils, he put all his strength into hitting the man's jaw. Blood spurted from his mouth from the impact and his head lurched to the side. Harry didn't waste any time before lifting his leg and kicking the side of his stomach, sending his well built opponent to the cold ground with a heavy thud.
Finally. Harry straightened his back and stood there for a minute, his heavy breath creating smokey pools in the cold air. The side of his waist ached from where he had been hit, but he ignored the pain and instead glanced down at his bleeding knuckles. Grumbling, he pushed past the people around him to reach for his backpack, pulling out a water bottle to clean his hand.
"That was quite a show there, Styles," Ray made his way beside him, a thick wad of money in his hands. Harry didn't say anything and narrowed his eyes at his knuckles, the water rinsing off some of the blood, but not all of it; the red streams seemed to be endlessly oozing out.
"That's for you," a good portion of the money was stuffed into Harry's zipped open bag. He didn't even glance at it, his attention zeroed in on split skin. He could already hear a shrill voice in his ear nagging at him for being so careless; he smiled. It seemed that the effects of fighting lasted shorter and shorter with each day; already images of Clara were creeping back into his mind like invasive weeds.
Harry set down the bottle of water before reaching for his bag and pulling out a black shirt to put on. He poked his head through it and pulled the fabric over his scarred torso, then slipped out the elastic in his hair, letting the strands fall down in ringlets past his shoulders. When he slung his bag over his shoulder and turned to head home, his eyes landed on a familiar face, her waves of hair waltzing in the subtle wind as she hugged her arms around herself. A gentle smile broke out on Clara's features when she noticed he was standing there across the street, looking at her in surprise.
After shooting a brief glance at the men who were beginning to flee, probably scurrying back to the nearest bar, Harry pursed his lips and took long strides to reach the other side of the street where Clara was, her cheeks flushed.
"Hey," she greeted, voice soft and sweet.
"What are you doing here?" Harry narrowed his eyes and his tone was anything but welcoming. Clara was used to his unfriendly nature, though, so instead of cowering away like she may have done when they first met, she rolled eyes and her lips twitched into a smirk.
"I'm here to see you, obviously," Clara stepped closer to him and snuck her hand to the hem of his black shirt, playing with the thin material. "Aren't you cold?"
"Why do you want to see me?" He ignored her question and shifted the strap of his backpack on his shoulder, a frown settling on his chapped lips. "It's not Thursday, my dad is home. We shouldn't-"
"I have an apartment, you know." Her tongue swept over her full lip, drawing his gaze to the wet muscle. The memory of it gliding over his sensitive shaft as she took his c*ck down her throat caused his body to tense. She lifted herself onto the balls of her feet before he had time to say anything, and brushed her lips so lightly against his that he swore it was just the breeze caressing them. He inhaled deeply, her scent invading his mind, and every ounce of restraint dissipated from his tightened muscles, and the pain in his stomach and knuckles fled him.
"Come with me," she smiled and backed away. Her hand dropped from his shirt and she turned on her heel, opening the car door and getting inside. Harry's disgruntled face implied the irritation he felt; what kind of power did this girl have over him if she could just show up out of the blue and he would do exactly what she requested?
He didn't let himself dwell on it too long because before he could stop himself, his legs were carrying him to the passenger side of the car. Warm, fragranced air enveloped him as he joined her inside and she started the engine, wearing a gleeful grin.
"You shouldn't be coming here," Harry said as she pulled away from the curb. He placed his backpack on the floor between his legs, his eyes staring out the window so he didn't have to look at her and feel his insides melt by the sight of her beautiful smile. "It's not safe."
"I'm capable of taking care of myself," she tapped her fingers against the steering wheel to the rhythm of the song playing quietly on the radio. "Besides, I have you. I saw you fighting that guy- I was a little worried that he had you there for a moment, but I was impressed by how you pulled through."
"Thanks," he spoke dryly. Harry looked out at the row of cars ahead of them- the traffic was pretty thick now that they had hit Main Street, where he could see a few police cars up ahead. Probably another bloke driving while alcohol was in their blood.
Clara found the courage to reach her hand over and sprawl it across his thigh, where his loose shorts were bunched up. The curls of hair on his skin prickled her hand and she could feel his gaze suddenly burning through her.
"You know," she started, not taking her eyes off the road. "Seeing you like that, fighting with your shirt off even in the damn freezing temperature," she inched her hand closer to his crotch and palmed over it slowly. "That was probably the sexiest thing I have ever seen."
"Clara," Harry's voice was shaky, "Pay attention to the road."
"I'm a multitasker," she squeezed his bulge over his shorts.
"Yeah and you're a shit driver," he hissed and his eyes almost rolled back. "I don't want another innocent passerby to be victim to your lack of focus."
He instantly regretted saying the words when her hand pulled away and his crotch ached for her touch. Clara wore a smug expression and reached over to turn up the volume of the radio.
"Clara," Harry griped, tightening his fists.
"Harry," she mocked. The car halted in front of a red light and she looked over at the brooding and irritated man sitting beside her, his cheeks flushed. Her grin widened. "Do you need something?"
His response was long digits latching onto her wrist and forcing her small hand back to the prominent bulge in his gym shorts. Clara didn't have the energy to tease him for very long, the desire bubbling within her too overpowering. She had missed him so much the past few days, and more than anything she wanted to please him, to make him feel hopefully at least a fraction of what she felt. Without a thought, her hand tugged on the hem of his shorts so she could reach into his black briefs. Her eyes flickered between the road in front of her and his lap as she kept her other hand on the steering wheel.
"Don't kill us," Harry breathed when her fingers wrapped around him. She began to pump his hardening erection, the palm of her hand dragging along the warm, silky skin and eliciting quiet groans from Harry. She knew by now where and how he liked to be touched- her thumb prodded over the sensitive, pink flesh under the head of his c*ck and her other fingers squeezed his thick shaft. Harry's eyes fell shut and he let himself relax into the seat, arms slumping to his sides. He had to keep his fists locked, reminding himself that they were still in the car and to reach over and touch her, too, would be suicidal, especially with her driving.
Clara felt the familiar burn in between her thighs. She had to squeeze them together to relieve some of the pressure building in her abdomen as she continued to work her hand over him. The drive to her apartment seemed longer than ever before as the need to have more- to touch and kiss and let him delve inside her- became so strong that she felt like pulling to the side of the road. It will be worth it once you get there, she told herself. Being able to waste away the evening in her bed with him sounded too good to let her impatience ruin.
Harry forced himself to hold his climax back for as long as he could, but it was just as she pulled up in front of the brick building that his restraint crumbled and hot cum dribbled onto Clara's hand. She continued to pump him slowly as she stopped the car and Harry breathed heavily, riding out his orgasm.
"See? I am a good multitasker," she smiled and retracted her hand to bring it to her mouth, licking it clean.
"Jesus," Harry muttered. He leaned across the console to grip the back of her neck and pull her lips to his, kissing her for a brief but intense moment before drawing back and fumbling with the seat belt. It seemed like the walk to her apartment was just as long as the drive- Harry trailed right beside her and snuck in gentle gropes of her waist and kisses to the side of her neck, his patience wearing thin. Clara bit at her lip to keep from smiling like a fool as they reached the door and she rummaged around for her keys.
"I want you so bad," Harry whispered in her ear, biting at it. His hands pressed against her bum, squeezing and kneading it, and she let out a whine.
"Stop it, jerk. I'm trying to find my keys." She laughed and nudged her ass against him to push him away. Harry just didn't care anymore; he grabbed her purse from her and with knitted eyebrows, shuffled through the contents before clasping the cold metal. He pulled out her keys and opened the door.
Clara followed him inside and flicked on the lights, illuminating the small but cozy interior. Harry let his gaze wander around for a moment, assessing her living space; various pictures and paintings were framed on the dark walls, and the wood flooring looked like it needed to be polished soon, but everything about it screamed Clara. It was cute but not too orderly, just like her scrambled mind.
Harry turned to her and watched her shrug off the thick coat from her shoulders. "Like it?" she asked, hanging up her coat and setting her purse on the table before ambling over to him. Harry placed his palms against her subtly protruding hips, thumbing them, and shrugged.
"I guess."
He didn't want to waste time when his crotch was still aching from his lingering climax. He dipped his head down to plant a firm kiss against her parted mouth, tongue slipping in without warning, and his hands taking a thoughtful journey along the planes over her waist. Clara's eyes fluttered shut and she wound her arms around his neck, partly so she could bring their bodies closer together, and partly because she feared her knees would buckle and she needed some support to prevent her body from melting to the floor.
Just as a whine slipped from her mouth, Harry felt something soft and furry glide over his calf. He grimaced and broke away from their melodic kiss, his eyes darkening in frustration.
"Is that a cat?" he asked as he looked down at the orange feline purring at his feet. Clara was panting slowly, her chest falling down gently with each exhale, and she followed his piercing gaze to the orange cat.
"That's Maggie," she mumbled, attempting to pull him back to her. Her lips made contact with the corner of his cardinal mouth, but he pulled away before her tongue could taste him properly.
"I'm allergic to cats, Clara."
Harry dropped his hands from her waist and shuffled backward, away from Maggie. He sifted slender fingers through his unruly hair (it always got extra messy after putting it in a bun), and lifted his eyes to hers.
"I'll put her in the bathroom," Clara negotiated, needing to have his hands on her flamed skin again.
"Please do."
Clara bent down to pick up the orange cat and cuddled her against her chest. She practically jogged to the bathroom, her blood surging through her veins with anticipation, and placed the cat inside, giving her cooed apologies as she shut the door. Clara met Harry back in the front room and nearly lurched into his chest, making him stumble back.
Their mouths connected again in a lustful but thoughtful kiss- their lips moved together then drew back, then went in again, like the pulse of a full moon's tide. His lips felt like velvet against hers, and she swore she could taste each fine crease as her tongue stroked meticulously along his plump bottom one.
Harry hooked his arms under her thighs and hoisted her body up, legs wrapped firmly around his narrow torso. His hands were strong enough to make her feel secure as he began to walk aimlessly to the short hallway.
"Which one?" He broke away from her lips and looked at the doors.
"On the left," she grumbled, irritated that her lips weren't on him. She quickly found another area to pay attention to, burying her face in the dip of his neck and sealing her swollen mouth over the warm skin at the base of his throat. She sucked and nipped and tasted each gulp of his as he moaned under his breath. Harry held her with just one arm (she was surprisingly very light despite her more curvy build) and reached for the door knob. He opened the door and stumbled towards her bed.
Clara's dark hair fanned across the white linen as he laid her down and hovered over her aching body. He looked like a dark angel lingering above her, every need and wish of hers being in his lips, his warm skin, his toned chest; how had she not realized that he meant so much to her? With a yearning throb under her ribcage, she gripped his biceps and craned her neck up to sponge an affectionate kiss to his forehead. It caught Harry off guard since it contrasted greatly to their lustful kisses only moments before, but he didn't have time to think on it because suddenly, her small body was urging him down onto the mattress so she could straddle his hips.
"I'm on top this time," she smiled and cupped his face in her palms so she could kiss his cherry lips again. Their tongues danced together in a lazy rhythm for a few minutes, and Harry's hands slid under her top to feel the warmth on her skin and the sweat beginning to film over. It was starting to get hot between their bodies, so he tugged on her shirt to urge her lips away from his and allow him to lift the fabric up over her head. Her breasts were cupped in a black bra, simple but deliciously sultry against her golden skin, and he fought back a moan just from the sight of it. He wound his arms around her body to pull her back down and attach his lips over the pad of her bra, suckling the skin of her breast.
"Oh Harry," Clara whimpered softly and ran her fingers through his hair. His tongue swept over the skin before his teeth clamped onto the hem of the bra and tugged it down, letting her breast roll out. He took her nipple in his mouth, the perky bud of nerves rolling against his tongue and making endless whines and moans slip from her parted mouth.
Clara's hips ground down against him to create some sort of friction. Every tissue in her body was urging her to release some of the fire stirring in her belly. They had hardly touched each other and yet she already felt like she could come undone any moment, just from the look of his curled hair splayed against her bed; the fine pores on his face that she wanted to taste under her tongue; the shadows casted over his cheekbones from the subdued lighting of the room. He was beautiful.
As she maneuvered herself on his lap so she could peel off his shorts, Clara wondered what this all meant to him. Did it mean anything close as what she was realizing it meant to her? She had refused calls from her best friend for this man- this man whose body laid beneath hers in all its tattooed, scarred, and imperfect glory.
Once Harry's shorts were off, tossed to the floor of room without a single care, Harry did her the favor of taking off his shirt. She thought back to how he had once warned her of what laid beneath, saying that she wouldn't like what she saw; with that memory lingering in her mind, Clara leaned down to plant a kiss to a faint scar by his hip, beside the laurel inked into his flesh. She trailed two, three, four kisses up to the moth on his stomach, and then let her tongue flatten against him. Harry stared down at her and their eyes met.
"Now, baby," he murmured. His hand tangled in her hair to draw her head back and he kissed the valley of her breasts gently. Clara felt the urgency from his lips, and she was pleased to know that he felt it, too- her hands worked quickly to shrug of her jeans and panties, so they were now two naked bodies meshed together into a beautiful yet complicated painting that only they got to revel in.
She gripped his length and pumped him for a moment before sinking down onto it, her breath hitching in her throat. Harry's eyes were dark and his face was clipped with intense pleasure, a grunt rippling through him as he lifted his hips up to meet her downward movement.
Clara felt him; she felt him deep inside of her, filling her up to the brim as if she was just an empty glass before. Now she felt complete as she rolled her hips down against him, letting his large c*ck drive in and out of her. Her forehead leaned down onto his, sweaty and all, and Harry stared into her eyes.
"You feel so good," he breathed, praising her. He clutched her ass in his hands to help her increase the pace, their moans thickening in the air. Harry was the perfect distraction. Clara felt everything slip from her mind, like she was just fucking losing it at this point. She mewled out incoherent phrases as she bounced on his engorged c*ck, mentally applauding herself for deciding to see him today. This is what she needed- what she wanted. Not Liam, not her stupid job, not even her family. Just Harry and his rich moans filling her ear.
Harry's hands wanted to feel all of her. They ventured over her soft thighs, kneading the supple flesh, before trickling up her spine, feeling the shudders of pleasure that raked through her. He pressed his lips to hers to swallow her moans, which were becoming louder with each movement of their hips, almost drowning out the sound of their skin smacking together. Harry finally unclasped her bra so he could take both of her breasts in the expanse of his palms; he flicked his fingers over the hardened nipple of her right breast while massaging the left one.
The feel of it all became too much; Clara's lips detached from his and she screamed his name, her chest rising and falling at an even more rapid pace than her hips as she rode him to the sinful clouds of hell and back.
"Harry- fuck." Her head lolled back, her long hair scraping the tops of his thighs under her. Harry could tell she was losing her ability to keep up with their feverish beat, so he clasped her waist and flipped them over, his erection slipping from her momentarily, but he eased his way back inside once he settled his hips against hers. He leaned onto his elbows and panted while thrusting his c*ck in and out, pounding her into the messed up sheets. Her head plunged into the feather pillow beneath it and Clara gasped for air. This time was so much more than every other time before, at least for her- it felt like he was cleansing her body and mind of every bitter aspect and replacing it with that burst of emotion that fluttered in her abdomen and now her entire body, from her curled toes to her sprawled out limbs
"So good, Harry," she raked her nails down his bare back, reopening the lacerations she had left from last time, "M'so close."
And that's when Harry slowed down. He splayed his hands against the mattress and moved his hips deep and meticulously, his swollen tip hitting that sweet spot inside her. Clara's eyes lazily drifted to his and they both smiled.
"I'm close, too," he told her, leaning down to kiss her full lips. She brought her hands to his hair and massaged his scalp. Their chests molded together, soft breasts against toned muscle, and they kissed lazily as they took the time to reach their orgasms. He lapped at her sweet tongue, tasting her pleasure, and snaked his arms under her back to keep her close to him. Harry loved this, God did he love it. He loved it so much that he didn't care if he came or not (even though he knew that he would); her pleasure was enough to make him spiral into pure, numb bliss.
It was when Harry drew his mouth away from hers and he breathed heavily over her lips, sticky forehead pressed to hers, that they both came. Clara's wet walls clasped around him and a high-pitched whimper left her lips. Harry sputtered her name quietly as he, too, felt his body go numb and spilled his seed into her, filling her with every ounce of himself in which he thought he was capable of giving.
Harry held her cheeks as he nudged the curve of his nose against hers a minute later, the smell of their heated actions still clouding the air of the room. "You good?"
Her eyes were glossed over and her head moved slowly to give him a nod of assurance. "Yup. Really good." She giggled and smoothed her hands over his back. Harry kissed her chin, and her jaw, and then the length of her neck, wearing a suppressed smile the entire time. When he lifted his head back up to kiss her lips, his nose twitched and a sneeze suddenly formed in his throat- he pulled back just in time to release it into the crease of his elbow.
"That's gross, Harry." Clara laughed again and shoved his shoulder. "Get away from me."
"It's that damn cat," he sniffled and wiped the back of his hand against his nose. "If it comes near me again, I'll have to kill it."
"Sure." She rolled her eyes and pushed his shoulder again so she could sit up against the pillows. Her hand shuffled through her hair and Harry watched her with wandering eyes- he stared at her exposed breasts, the way they moved as her arms stretched, and at the gentle curve of her stomach, soft and perfect for laying his head on as he listened to her steady breathing.
Then his eyes traveled down to her parted thighs. White liquid had seeped out of her and down her inner thigh, dribbling onto the white sheets so that there was a small damp stain. He bit at his lip and nearly growled at the sight of it, loving how he had marked her in such a primal way- a way that he selfishly hoped nobody else got to do.
"What are you looking at?" She asked him, following his eyes to where their bodies had been connected.
"I made a mess."
"Oh." She snaked her tongue across her lip. "We could... we could go clean off?"
"You wanna take a shower?"
She nodded her head sheepishly. Already, images of water droplets rolling down his toned body made her gulp.
"Okay." Harry scooted off her bed and reached his hand out to her. Clara clasped onto it and stood up, not bothering to hide her staring as she gawked at his naked body towering over hers. His back muscles flexed as he padded over to the door, and Clara also let herself indulge in the soft yet firm curve of his ass. Next time, she thought to herself with a smirk, I'm going to sneak in a squeeze.
It was a little difficult to walk given her body's slightly sore and numb state, so she kept hold of his hand- a little too tightly- the entire way to the bathroom. Harry stopped in front of the door and scrunched up his nose.
"What?" Clara raised her brow.
"The cat," he said flatly, shaking his head.
She sighed and breathed out a short laugh before untangling her digits from his. She opened the door carefully and Maggie padded out. Clara picked her up and kept her close to her chest as she set her down in the opposite direction of the hallway, away from Harry.
They entered the small bathroom and Clara went over to the shower, turning on the water. Harry's eyes caught his reflection in the mirror over the sink and his lips etched into a frown when a large, darkening bruise stared back at him.
"Is that from today?" Clara stood beside him and let her fingertips gently caress the side of his stomach where the bruise was.
"Yeah."
She stared at the purplish skin for a lingering moment before sighing and turning away, stepping into the shower. The hot water drilled into her skin like a multitude of little hands massaging into her muscles; she leaned her head back, closed her eyes, and sighed in content, her hair becoming black. She could feel Harry's presence a moment later, the sound of him shutting the glass door echoing against the wet tiles.
When Clara opened her eyes, the first thing she noticed was dark, almost brown, water at her feet. Her eyes widened and she looked up to Harry, silently questioning him. As an answer, he raised his right hand and allowed her to see the torn, red flesh of his knuckles. The dried blood had been rinsed off by the shower water and was now spiraling down the drain. How had she not noticed before?
"Harry," she frowned and took his injured hand in hers. "I thought they healed?"
"They did, but they reopened today."
Her frown not letting up, Clara dropped his hand and turned from him, letting the water run over her face. She splayed her hands over her cheeks and rubbed her skin, thoughts astray. It pained her to see him hurt that way, from the swelling bruise on his side to his bloody knuckles- Clara felt a sudden hatred course through her at the thought of who had inflicted those injuries on her Harry. Her teeth gritted together and her muscles became tight again, despite the warm water that had just relaxed her.
"Clara," Harry placed his hand on her shoulder. "Babe, what are you thinking?"
Her stomach would have been doing pirouettes at the use of babe, but her blood was on the verge of boiling and that's all she could think about.
"I'm thinking that you should stop fighting," she said as calmly as she could. Her nostrils flared and Harry's face contorted in confusion by the anger radiating from her body.
"Why do you care so much?" He wondered aloud. His voice rang against the shower walls and Clara let the words replay in her mind a few times. Why did she care so much? Harry was a grown man, he could do whatever he pleased, whether it was illegal or dangerous or not something that she was comfortable with.
"I..." Clara's shoulders slumped and she faced him, swallowing down her nerves. Moments ago she was plotting her revenge on the dickhead who he had fought today, but now Clara was standing before Harry looking utterly lost, her eyes drifting to her feet. The question was something her conscience had been nagging her about for weeks now, and she had yet to come up with a reasonable answer.
"I just care, okay?" she finally spoke, but her voice came out small. "I don't want you to get hurt."
The twist in her gut at the image of Harry laying on the cold ground in a pool of crimson made her feel something she didn't recognize or understand. Why was it more painful to think of that than when it had been to see her own brother in the same situation? Her hands trembled at her sides at the stirring emotion within her and Jackson's words slipped into her thoughts; it's probably hard to recognize at first. She quickly pushed them away before reaching for the faucet.
Harry didn't have a moment to respond because suddenly, the water was shut off and he stood there naked and cold, his hands rubbing his biceps. "We're getting out already?" He almost pouted, disappointed that he hadn't gotten to enjoy their shower to the fullest, meaning his hands hadn't felt up her wet, naked body. Clara didn't answer; she pulled back the glass door and stepped out, her bare soles against the cold tile. She reached for the fluffy lavender towel and enveloped her wet body in it.
Harry huffed and got out as well. His nose twitched again before he let out a loud sneeze. He waited for Clara's snarky comment to come but it didn't. She stood there, wiping her damp limbs, and not sending even a glance in his direction.
You just haven't given yourself the chance to realize it.
~