Happy birthday to my favorite boy. x
~
"Faster, Harry!" Clara groaned as she shifted her thighs against him.
"I can't go any faster, Clara."
She huffed playfully and dragged her foot against the floor to signal him to stop. Harry complied, removing his hands from the wheels and then lifting the makeshift blindfold from over his eyes so he could see again. Clara turned around in his lap and straddled his hips while crossing her arms over her chest.
"You suck at this game," she mumbled. Harry rolled his eyes and cupped her hands in his, lacing their fingers together.
"Maybe we should play a different game. One that doesn't involve me being blindfolded," he said with a small smile. Clara had insisted that he wear the rag over his eyes while she sat in his lap and directed him on where to go. She had the easy job; Harry had to use his arm strength to propel the wheelchair as fast as he could to please her. It will be fun, she had squeaked with a gleam of excitement in her eyes. The only fun part of the game was when she would shift against his côck and cause him to bite the inside of his cheek.
It was the eleventh day of Harry's stay at the hospital and the following day was what he had been so impatient for. He would finally be able to go home.
Clara stayed with him most days. That first day following the night she nearly lost him, she didn't want to be away from Harry for even a minute. She brought a bag with some of her belongings (Jackson was paid to feed the cat), and sat with him in his room, her head on his chest as they laid there in silence. Sometimes he would speak up to tell her that he loved her, just because the words felt so good to say, and other times Clara would whisper things in his ear about how beautiful he was, and that she had never felt anything for anyone that compared to what she felt for him.
Clara even slept there with him. The nurse allowed her to stay in his room during the night, and even though it wasn't the most comfortable for two bodies to squeeze onto that narrow bed, they didn't want to have it any other way. Clara clung to him through the night, her arms wrapped around his torso as nightmares haunted her sleep. Harry could hear her cry to herself at early hours of the morning sometimes. He knew that she was hurting, not only because she had almost lost him, but because she had lost Liam; she had lost him years ago and she didn't even know it. Now he was completely gone- for 15 years.
Harry was hurting, too, but he had mastered the art of hiding behind a blank mask years ago.
"What game should we play then?" Clara asked him with a slanted brow. "We've already played cards with your dad today. It's not even fun anymore since you both always lose." She laughed quietly and wound her arms around his neck. Harry shrugged his shoulders and his hands found their way to her hips, thumbing over the bones.
"We can just cuddle?" he suggested.
Her nose scrunched up like a kitten and she shook her head. "No, we can do that later."
"Kiss?"
"No," she smiled.
"Yes." Harry slithered his hand firmly around the back of her neck and drew her lips towards his puckered ones. Her hands played with the curls at the nape of his neck as their mouths met in a slow, sweet kiss that seemed to erase their surroundings. Harry tasted the bitter coffee from her breakfast on her tongue and he sighed in content; it was hard to imagine that not even two weeks ago, he was almost certain he was never going to taste her again.
Clara was the one to break away a minute later, her cheeks tainted an ethereal shade of pink as she sat up in his lap. Harry exhaled a breathless chuckle and trailed one hand up to her cheek, caressing it as his eyes observed her soft features. He shook his head, disbelieving that this angel was all his.
"You're the most beautiful girl in the whole world," he told her quietly, a subtle flush to his cheeks.
Clara would have given him a sheepish smile if it weren't for the sudden distance in her eyes as she recalled the way Liam had said the same thing to her. Her spine raked in a shudder and she looked away from him. Harry noticed her sudden detachment and his emerald eyes surged with worry. He was becoming used to the way her beautiful face would turn pale on occasion, thoughts of him invading her mind, and it made Harry's chest feel tight with sympathy each time. He knew she needed a distraction, just as when they first met and he had provided it to her in the form of feverish kisses and merciless thrusts.
Harry placed his fingers under her chin and directed her gaze back to his. His chapped lips nudged against her ear, hot breath fanning over her skin and summoning goosebumps- the good kind. "I get out of here tomorrow," he whispered.
Clara's hands snaked down to his shoulders and she nodded. "I know."
"Yeah? Then you should also know that you're going to have a hard time walking for the next week," his teeth tugged at her earlobe. Harry's chest filled with pride and joy when he felt her heart beat faster against his chest. He smiled and let his lips brush against her soft neck.
"And why is that?" Clara replied smoothly, knowing that his filthy words would push away the memories that were still fresh in her mind.
"Because this-" he drew her delicate hand to the bulge under the hospital gown. "-is going to be pounded into you over and over again until all you can think about is me."
Clara smiled, giving him a squeeze before pulling her hand away. "You're already all I think about, Harry."
They ended up going back to Des's room and watching a film with him, one of those animated movies that were meant for the younger patients. Clara sat in Harry's lap with her head reclined on his shoulder and would laugh at the dumbest jokes that the cartoon fish made, but Harry found himself giving in and laughing with her. He twirled a strand of her hair on his finger and his father watched them with a smile filled with adoration. Maybe his son had lied about his relationship with her before, but it was clear to him that Harry now felt something for this girl- it was written on his face whenever he was with her. Des couldn't have been happier for him.
"So you get to leave tomorrow?" he asked Harry when the movie ended.
"Yeah." Harry threaded his fingers through his hair and released a heavy breath. "I'll still come see you, dad. I promise. I just have to get used to driving."
"Don't worry about it. Focus on yourself," Des told him gently, but his son shook his head defiantly.
"You're mad if you think I'm not going to see you," Harry raised his eyebrow and reached for his father's hand. It hurt to see the man who raised him lose the life in his eyes day by day, but somehow he knew everything would be alright. He felt like he could get through it with Clara by his side.
Harry rolled the wheelchair as close to the bed as he could get and leaned forward to envelop his father in a warm embrace, screwing his eyes shut. He hadn't told him of what happened for the same reason that he had lied multiple times before. Harry had begged Clara to not share this secret with him, and despite the way her gut twisted at the thought of Des not knowing the truth, she realized that this was one thing he was better off not having to worry about.
The next morning couldn't have come any faster. Clara snuck out of the bed early in the morning to buy Harry a new pair of clothes from the nearest mall. She came back to the room with the clothes for him to change into, a cup of coffee, and a warm bagel for his breakfast. He was awake, sitting up in the bed as the nurse helped him fit on the prosthetic leg they had molded for his leg a week ago.
"Morning," Clara greeted with a small voice. Her heart tightened with guilt when she looked at his leg- it was hard to shake off the thought that it was indirectly her fault.
Harry looked up at her and smiled when he saw the food and bag of clothes. "For me?"
She nodded and moved to sit on the edge of the bed. The nurse left them a minute later, and Clara reached into the bag to hand him the clothes, a pair of loose sweats and a plain black shirt.
"You know me so well," Harry commented, his hand drifting over to give her thigh an affectionate squeeze. He shifted so his back was towards her and glanced over his shoulder. "Help me out of this thing?"
Clara brought her fingers to the strings of fabric holding the blue gown together, and undid each one with her breath shallow as it filled her throat. Her fingertips grazed over his cold skin on purpose just so she could be reminded that he was still with her. Once the strings were all undone, she slowly pushed the material off his broad shoulders so it slid down his body, leaving him in only his white briefs. Harry leaned his head back onto her shoulder and there was a beat of intimate silence before he lifted his lips to the underside of her chin.
"I love you," his deep voice was a susurrus against her skin. Clara brought her hand to his hair and stroked the soft chocolate locks, a forced smile dancing on her lips; as much as she loved hearing the words vibrate through his baritone voice, Clara couldn't ignore the fear that he would inevitably take them back.
"I love you," she repeated the words back to him.
Upon aiding Harry in getting his clothes on, she snaked her arm around his waist and kept his body close to her as they walked out of the hospital. He was still getting used to walking since he had only done it twice before, but his limp was a lot less noticeable than the first time he tried it out. Harry had fallen multiple times and had to hang onto Clara's shoulder to keep balance. There were a few frustrated swears and insecure whines that escaped his lips as he limped through the halls, but Clara made sure to silence them by giving him sweet, encouraging kisses.
The parking lot was just as empty as when she first pulled into it; her blue Corolla was sitting there waiting for them and Harry was grateful when he got inside, glad to be somewhere else other than that dreaded white room.
It started to rain during the drive, small drops of water trickling down the window to obscure Harry's view of the streets that rolled by. It felt like a lifetime since he had been out in the world, even though it was only about two weeks. He tapped his fingertips against his thigh and watched Clara as she drove. Her full lips were naturally formed into a pout; eyebrows lowered; her hand occasionally lifting up from the steering wheel to tuck her hair behind her ear. She was beautiful- just the sight of her brought comfort to his own tormented soul.
Clara pulled up in front of the small, white house after about twenty minutes of a comfortable silence. She stopped the car and exhaled deeply before turning to him with expectant eyes.
Harry gnawed at the inside of his cheek and his gaze drifted to the house. There was still a deep stain on the concrete in front of the door. He closed his eyes, stomach twisting at the memory. What was the point in going back there? He would only be reminded of the haunting experience he had only two weeks ago. The empty walls would make him feel alone, and Harry didn't want to feel alone anymore.
"Clara," Harry murmured, looking back at her.
"Yes?"
His tongue smoothed over his dry lips. "Can I stay with you?"
Clara's eyes widened slightly. "Stay with me?" she repeated, tilting her head to the side. "You mean, at my apartment?"
"Yeah."
"Why?"
"Because I don't want to go back to that place. Not when..." He trailed off, but she understood. It made her heart twist painfully just looking at the house. There were good memories that had been made there, especially ones with his father- but wasn't Harry supposed to be moving on, anyway?
"Okay," Clara nodded and started the car up again. "I'll go tomorrow to get your things for you. You can stay with me for as long as you want, Harry."
~
Clara's room was engulfed in darkness, except for the slim sliver of light that snuck in through the window from the street lamps. Harry woke up to a shrill scream penetrating the silent room; he was jolted out of his slumber, alarm seeping instantly into his blood. Whimpering sounded from beside him and he reached his arm out for her.
"Clara?!" he panted and pressed his hands flat against the mattress to lift himself up. When he looked down at her, squinting his eyes through the blanket of night, he saw that she was still asleep, but her entire body was shaking and her head thrashed against the pillow. He reached for her shoulder and shook it as gently as he could to urge her awake.
"Clara, baby-" Harry gulped down his unease. "Wake up, it's just a dream. Please wake up, baby."
He shook her shoulder a bit more forcefully and finally her eyes fluttered open. Her skin was pale and filmed with fearful sweat; her lips parted to gasp for air while her eyes darted up to him.
"Harry," she wailed and wound her arms around him. He enveloped her in his comforting embrace, their legs entwining under the sheets. Images of her nightmare were still lingering in the back of her mind as she clung to him desperately, crying into his neck.
She stepped into the room and a splash sounded beneath her feet. Her eyes drifted down and a sharp gasp sliced through her throat when she noticed that she was stepping in a sea of blood. Then a pained grunt filled her ears and she looked up to see Harry laying on the floor, the source of the river of scarlet liquid that was pooling at her feet. She clamped her hand over her mouth as a shrill scream filled the room.
"You're okay?" Clara cried against him. Her fingers twisted the fabric of his shirt tightly, desperate for him to be real. Harry frowned in worry and nudged his nose along the curve of her jaw.
"Yes, baby. I'm okay. So are you."
"He killed you," she whispered frantically, inhaling his musky scent. Harry felt his throat become dry as the memory of a knife being pressed into his neck caused his palms to turn clammy. He had to be strong, though. He had to act like he wasn't scared because that's what Clara needed.
"No, he didn't. I'm right here," he murmured to her, lifting his hand to her cheek to collect the stream of tears that had rolled down her pale skin. Clara nodded into his neck and took several deep breaths.
"I'm so scared, Harry," she admitted in a whisper.
"I know. You shouldn't be, though. He can't do anything."
"He was my best friend," she sobbed, letting all of her pain seep through her tear ducts. "I still can't believe it."
"I know, princess. I'm sorry," he sponged a tender kiss to her saline forehead. "I love you."
Clara sniffled and felt a strong hand rub her back to provide a distraction from her fear. The close proximity of their bodies made her feel warm and safe; the memory of her dream slipped away from her mind and she was consumed by Harry's chilled skin and familiar scent and comforting, strong arms. She retracted her face from his neck and their lips were breaths apart as they rested their heads on the pillows, bodies meshed together under the blanket. Clara studied the details of his face and reached her hand out to scrape a few fallen curls from his forehead.
"Do you remember when we met?" Harry whispered after a few quiet minutes, once her breathing leveled out and the room had returned to silence.
Clara smiled softly, tears now just a drying sheen on her skin, and nodded. "It wasn't that long ago." It had only been a little over two months, back when she still worked at that dreadful restaurant with Janice, and when she was still completely unaware of her friend's instability.
"It feels like a lifetime ago," Harry said wistfully and his girl nodded in agreement. "I remember that night so well. Your brother looked so damn smug when he challenged me," he cracked a faintly amused smile at the memory. "He hasn't changed a bit."
"And I remember when I heard your voice for the first time," Harry continued, brushing his calloused fingers through the tangled waves of her dark hair. "It was so loud and annoying. I thought a damn baby was screaming in my ear."
"Hey," Clara pouted and swatted her hand against his clothed chest. "Be nice."
"I love your voice now, though," Harry assured her. "It's my favorite sound."
Clara's teeth dug in her lip. Her hand moved to cup his waist under the sheets, slipping under his shirt in order to stroke his cold skin. Her need for him was evident in the way her short nails scarped over his skin, as if to keep him from escaping her.
"I remember you being a complete jerk," she murmured, hazel eyes gleaming with playfulness that shined through the darkness and made Harry feel that warm sensation in the pit of his belly that he now recognized to be love.
"Jerk? Me?"
"Yes, you," she giggled softly and swiftly maneuvered her body so she was straddling his hips. Harry stared up at her and his hands drifted naturally to hers, fingers lacing together tightly, like they were fearful of someone trying to disconnect them.
"You hardly talked to me then," Clara noted with a tilt of her head. "I must have made you feel shy."
"No," Harry quickly denied. "I wasn't shy. I just didn't want to talk to you."
"How sweet."
"I'm sorry," he sighed, remembering the multiple times he had done something to cause her beautiful face to fall in disappointment. It was never his intention to hurt her, he just didn't know how else to deal with a pretty girl who for whatever reason wanted him. "I love you," Harry added after a moment of silence, as if to make up for his lack of words in the past. If he was going to die someday, he wanted at least his love for her to endure- he needed to speak the words enough times for them to never fade.
"I love you, Clara."
He watched her nose twist as though she was unconvinced. Harry frowned, eyebrows etched together and that crease forming between them.
"You say that now," Clara exhaled quietly and leaned her head onto his chest.
"I will say it for as long as you are here with me to hear it." Harry tucked his chin down so his eyes could study her pensive face. "You don't believe me?" he almost choked on the words. How could she know believe him when he held her that dreadful night and repeated his love for her in her hair until the morning came? How could she not see that she was all he had to cling to for hope?
"I don't know," she admitted in a breath. "I feel like if he hadn't- you know- you would have never said it to me."
"That's not true," Harry argued. "I wanted to say it back to you when you said it the first time, but I was," he paused and searched for the right word. "Scared. I was scared, I guess."
"Scared of what, Harry?" Clara lifted her head and used her elbows to gain some height, eyes peering down at him in curiosity. She couldn't imagine Harry ever being scared of anything, but yet here he was, staring back at her with vulnerable cracks cutting through the stone walls of his irises. He blew out a breath and dragged a hand over his face.
"I don't know, fuck- everything? Everything about you scares me."
"Why?" Clara breathed, a frown tugging at her full lips.
Harry let his eyes close so he didn't have to look at her as the words formed on his lips. "Because everything about you is beautiful, and it's always the beautiful things in life that get taken away."
If Clara's heart hadn't already taken so many beatings, it would have torn at the seams as his grim confession resonated in her ears. She shook her head and her delicate fingers went to his scalp, her eyes searching his. It was that very statement that had driven Harry away from her so many times- she never wanted to hear it again.
"You can't think like that," she nearly cried. She pressed a firm kiss to his lips to push away his solemn thoughts, letting her mouth caress his for as long as he would allow it. Harry responded by splaying the expanse of his large hands against the end of her spine, just above her fluffy pajama bottoms. Clara waited a moment before kissing him deeper. It was fueled purely by passion and yearning, the fresh desperation for each other sizzling through the cells in their bodies despite the exhaust that was lingering in them, as well. The fact that it was some early hour in the morning didn't matter as they indulged in just being together.
"I'm not going anywhere," Clara urged quietly while pecking kisses down the length of his throat. She stopped when her lips were right above his heart; her hand tugged on the collar of his shirt to lower it over his collarbones. Her tongue flattened against the scarred skin, the pulses vibrating over her taste buds.
"Clara," Harry gasped with urgency. His hips lifted upwards to meet her, a carnal and graceful moan traveling through the hollow of his larynx.
Her soft hands found the hem of his shirt and peeled it up over his head.
"I love everything about you," Clara uttered between kisses that were placed randomly across his bare chest. "Even what I don't understand."
Harry could only respond in a heavy exhale, his hands itching to feel the soft skin that was hidden under her shirt. Clara peeled his boxers down; she undressed with nimble phalanges; she released a content sigh from her parted lips as she lowered herself onto him.
It was different this time than any other time they had shared together. It was fast, then slow. They raced to hear each other's sweet moans fill the room, and then they slowed down to revel in the deep connection of their bodies. As many times as something got in the way between them, even their own flaws threatening to shatter whatever it was that they shared- they always made it back to this. Touching and kissing and exploring each other's bodies like their chests were rolling hills and their lips were oases. Their love was sweet and pure- it created beautiful things and healed scars and tamed beasts. Whatever Liam thought he had felt for Clara wasn't love, because it had resulted only in darkness and a lost soul.
Everything will be okay, Harry was able to believe this after they both came undone and laid there until sleep overcame them once again. Everything will be okay.
~
One more chapter 😩 I tried to add some cute bits to make up for the sad stuff
I'm actually sad this is ending because I have fallen in love with writing it. I'm so excited for you guys to read the epilogue, though