"We're going to sort you out, ok?" I promise.
There's hair falling out of the tie, curling on his shoulders and brushing his neck. He swipes it away to look at me again, giving me a clear view of impaired socket and an expression of self-pity. There's a tiredness weighing heavy in his bones that's run him into the ground. If Harry allowed himself, he'd probably sleep for weeks and still be exhausted.
"The fighting isn't good for you. I don't want you to get hurt anymore," I admit whilst skimming my fingers lightly across the bruise blooming on his cheek.
An icepack is carefully pressed against the inflamed area, hopefully subduing the colourful swelling. Despite his wincing, I still encourage him to hold it close. The hiss he sucks in through his teeth riddles me with guilt.
"I think we should talk to Mack, he might know someone who you can contact. Maybe you could train again?"
I lean with him against the desk, my arm brushing his.
"As what? I lost my job at the gym, that's why I'm here."
Harry's shaking his head like all hope is lost.
"I know, but there might be somewhere else. You're skilled, there's gotta be something you can do that's not putting yourself at risk all the time," I voice my thoughts with a frown.
The icepack descends to the ground, and I'm a little taken aback as Harry cradles my hand in his. His expression is one of pleading and I half expect him to drop to his knees in surrender.
"I want out, Bo," Harry presses.
"I understand – "
"No, I don't think you do. I need to get out of this," he says, eyes fraught. "I can't do it anymore. I don't want this to be all I am. I come here, I fight, and I go home to no-one. Then I'm back here to start over."
I go home to no-one.
"I refuse to believe this is where you're supposed to be," I tell him.
Because I thought you'd always be with me.
"Where then?"
He looks to me for all the answers, and I'm saddened I can't grant his wishes instantaneously.
"Find a place to be happy. Where you can look after yourself," I encourage before reaching to pick up the melting pack. I hand it to him. "Maybe we can look after you together," I smile, gently knocking him on the shoulder.
Harry seems to deflate, releasing the pent up tension in a deep exhale. The pull of his muscles seems to ease as he gives me a simple nod.
"I'd like that."
I retrieve the neglected icepack and hand it to him. He goes to drop it on the desk but I stop him.
"Uh, ah. Put it back on."
"It hurts," he whines with a pouted mouth.
"You got punched in the face, of course it hurts."
He huffs a laugh before complying to my request. And we're allowed a few measly minutes of easy conversation before we both turn our attention to the door. There's a fuss emanating from down the hall and the bickering crescendos. The beating of numerous pairs of feet follow, rumbling with intent. It's not long before trouble is brought to us in the form of two burly men. I tense upon recognising one of them as the loser in Harry's match. He has more clothing on now and before he can barge forward, a wide palm is pressed to his shoulder.
"Do you know how much money you've lost me?"
Harry's pushed up off of the desk and in front of me before I can blink. He's a tense silhouette, shoulders pinched tight, with hands forming solid fists. There's a third man dressed in a blue suit looking thoroughly pissed off standing in the doorway. His attire puts him in a power position, and a need for bodyguards. His question is lost on me, but I know Harry understands.
"Bo," Harry ushers.
"I'm right here."
His hand reaches out behind him and I meet his desperate fingers. With knuckles cracked and bleeding, he squeezes to reaffirm my words.
"The trouble you've caused me, Styles, is beginning to grind on my nerves."
There's control in his voice but the venomous undertones pry to the surface.
The suited man meanders around the office, regarding the framed pictures on the wall with a sneer. He flicks at paper pinned to the noticeboard with disinterest before gracing us once again with a cold gaze. But my consideration strays toward the broad-shouldered fighter apparently looking for a second round with Harry. Like a bull about to charge, it's probably best not to raise a red flag. But I do it anyway. Stepping slightly to the side, I'm certain he sees me.
"Harry won," I challenge, my words twisting like a knife in the already open wound. "You need to leave."
The fighter makes to barrel forward but he's prevented once again. He shakes off the hold, chest rumbling with distain before he strops like a teenager out of the office. The look Harry throws my way certainly isn't one of gratitude. However, the exchange has eased my temper. I'm encouraged behind him again with a firm hand.
"We both know who should have won. If he wasn't such a fucking exhibitionist," he suited guy gestures to the open doorway, "you'd have been scraping Harry up from the fucking floor."
The words bite and I want to scratch his eyes out. As I'm contemplating the thought, he wickedly smiles.
"How's the eye, Harry? Still giving you trouble?" He snidely asks. "You got off lightly compared to what my incompetent staff should have done."
My mouth dries and the shock bleeds through to the hold Harry tightens on my wrist. I can feel him silently pleading for me to keep quiet because he knows I won't. There's not much Harry can do before I've slipped his grip and I'm standing in front of him.
"You're the one who did this?"
The man understands what I'm asking without me having to point to the scar slicing down Harry's face and through his injured eye. His expression changes, drawing cruel amusement from the tremble in my voice.
"Not personally," he remarks, eyes glittering.
"That's worse, giving the orders but not committing the act."
"If you're doubting my certitude, I suggest you don't."
He aggressively stalks forward and Harry cushions me as I mirror his steps back. An arm cradles my side, a ready hand on my waist. I glance up to him wondering why he's been so quiet during the exchange. It's as his eyes dart back and forth between the men blocking the doorway that I realise he's frightened.
"Anyway," the boss claps his hands with a jovial grin, all bitterness instantly forgotten. "We didn't come here to chat, did we Jack?"
At the mention of his name, the remaining muscle steps into view. He's at least half a foot taller than Harry, with an unnerving twitch to his right eye and arms that are barely contained in his shirt. He starts to roll his sleeves up as he edges towards us.
"We came to ensure my financial assets aren't going to be compromised for a while. Which I'm sorry to say is bad news for you, Harry," the man feigns concern with a shake to his head. "I can't have you winning anymore fights against my competitors, it's bad for business."
I prepare to scream for help. If I alert Mack maybe he can kick up a fuss with the threat of authorities; spook them a bit and buy Harry time.
Harry's hand clamps to mine.
"Let her go first," he almost begs. "Let her leave. Please."
My neck jars with the speed I turn to him. Why on earth would he think I'd leave him?
"No," I shake my head in disbelief. "I'm staying. I'm staying with you."
I bump back into the desk as Harry rounds on me, taking my shoulders and levelling his face with mine. His jaw flutters in frustration as I firmly shake my head again.
"Bo, Harry implores.
He's colourfully swearing at my refusal as we're circled like prey. Apparently I've become the object of interest now and the way I'm being surveyed puts me on edge.
"Bo?" the boss questions, tilting his head like a child. "Is that right, Harry? This is Bo?"
Harry remains silent, swallowing down the unease before standing to full height in front of me again.
"Cute," he patronises. "You're the reason Harry came to me in the first place. Needed to get you out of his head."
I already knew, but the reiteration doesn't do anything for my sinking stomach. I want to steal Harry away from this mess of a situation, tell everyone to go screw themselves and run. I'd take Harry's hand and hide him away until he's healed and can take on the world again.
"Don't touch her."
"Piss off," I screech, hand smacking away Jack's attempt to isolate Harry.
The boss seems highly humoured as he leans against the filing cabinet.
"She's got some spirit," he nods in appreciation. "I like that."
It's as he pushes away from his casual stance that my grip strengthens on Harry. My knuckles are white by the time he's reached us and I fear he'll try to wrestle me from Harry's arms. He doesn't. And my thankfulness doesn't last long before my blood runs cold as he leans in to Harry's space. Green eyes find a desperately needed security in mine, a safe place as he listens to awful words that I want to burn from the man's mouth.
"But you, Harry. People like you never become anything more than this. You'll take you're last breath in the ring and then you'll be forgotten."
I'm about to fiercely object when a familiar individual makes himself known.
"Mr Dax, you and your men need to leave," Mack grits from the door. "Now."
There's a moment of painstaking limbo where it's impossible to predict the next few seconds. My only worry is stood beside me, crushing my hand in his and protectively pressing me closer to his body.
It's almost too easy. Mr Dax indicates with a flick to his head for Jack to move out. He follows after his bodyguard before pausing short of the exit. My heart is hurtling against my ribcage as he turns back. A small ziplock bag is fished out from inside his suit jacket.
"On the house, Harry," he throws the clear bag to Mack's desk. "I'll see you again."
And they're gone.
My body slumps with relief until I identity the contents of the packet. Harry eyes the pills with an emotion I can only pray isn't hunger. After a long moment his eyes close with a calming sigh, head tipped back and when he opens them the pills are gone, safely tucked into my pocket.
"I wasn't gunna take them, Bo."
His voice is shamefully quiet, picking his nails and not meeting my line of sight.
"I need to remove temptation."
***
"You need to stop treating him like an attraction. He's a person, not a spectacle. Harry deserves more than this."
Mack sits soundlessly as I lecture him. Harry's stood behind me and I can't tell if he's embarrassed or thankful that we're having this conversation. He's not said a word to me since Mr Dax left.
"I understand. I think things have gone too far," Mack agrees, removing his glasses and rubbing the tiredness from his eyes.
"Well – good," I reply, hands on hips.
I hadn't expected it to go this smoothly, but with the trouble Harry's attracted to the club, it's probably to Mack's benefit that this ends.
"I'll make some calls, Harry."
"Thanks."
We leave Mack sat at the empty bar that's littered with glasses sloshed with dregs of alcohol. The floor is sticky and the lights are dim. The fresh air is pleasantly embraced and the stifling atmosphere from inside is almost forgotten.
I'm startled as Harry's the one to take my hand.
"I know you have someone else now, but you can still feel this, right?"
I know he's talking about the fiery warmth licking up my wrist to my forearm. It's a sure reminiscent touch of security, emanating from our point of contact. His fingers squeeze just a little to reinforce his words. Harry anxiously chews at his lip, but he's betrayed by the small flash of hope in his eyes.
"I miss you."
"You're different now."
"I can't – I don't think I can do much about it."
"I wouldn't ask you to," I assure him. "Let's take you home."
***
We take the stairs like we did last time up to the third floor and along to the green door that matches the rest. Shouting from another flat turns my head until the sliding of locks brings me back to Harry. The door is open, and he lingers on the threshold to address me.
"Will you stay tonight?"
The skin around his eye is a little blueish and I worry about the small cuts brandishing his face. It will take time to heal.
"If you want me to."
My acceptance of his offer is met with doe eyes and a slack jaw, almost as if he were expecting me to decline his invitation. He stands aside, ushering me in before closing the door behind us. The flat hasn't changed much at all, still an untidy collection of pizza boxes, worn clothes and unnecessary clutter.
This time I allow him to retrieve me something from his room to sleep in. I'm handed a grey t-shirt with a right chest pocket; the clothing instilled with a comforting blend of washing powder and Harry. My shoes are kicked off by my bag and I wait for him to disappear into his bedroom before shedding my clothes. I've just about wrestled out of my shirt.
"Oh shi – I'm sorry. Bo, I didn't –" Harry flusters.
He's stumbling over words as I clutch the clothing to my chest. There's a healthy flush colouring my cheeks as Harry has a near miss with the sofa arm whilst trying to retreat. My laughter bubbles and I'm unable to supress it even when hiding behind Harry's t-shirt. I peek at him only to find he's stopped short of his door. He's smiling at me and I can't recall anything I've ever been happier to see.
I slip the t-shirt on over my head and when I look back to Harry the amusement has fallen from his features. He shifts on his feet before plucking up the courage to look at me.
"So um – night." he calls.
"Try and get some sleep."
I turn to my sleeping accommodation for the night. There's not much to the sofa, worn cushions and uncomfortable springs. I doubt I'll be getting much shuteye. I ruffle as best I can, plumping the pillows and tucking the sheet.
"Bo."
I hum to him. When Harry says nothing further I round to face him.
"I'm glad – I'm glad that we're friends."
He nods to himself as I watch, proud to have delivered the sentence with minimal pause. It's sort of adorable when he rubs at the back of his neck, conscious that I'm still staring.
"Me, too," I lightly reply.
He's leaning on the doorframe as I approach him and my stomach suddenly swoops because there's a hint of that mischievous flare he once had. With his arms crossed, Harry seems a little defensive even with the smile he's sporting. It's as I flex onto my toes that the stern posture falls away and my lips are on his.
It's a short kiss, but kiss all the same. And by the way Harry's cheeks have bloomed I'll say it was more than enough.
"Friends that do that," he mumbles with a growing grin.
His tongue swipes over his lips, tasting me on his mouth.
"Good night."
***
Small noises and annoyances I overlook in my familiar surroundings are now amplified in Harry's flat. There's a clock ticking somewhere in the room and when I roll over I find it flaunting the florescent time of 1:16 up on the wall. My back arches in a stretch but it does little to ease my muscles.
The erratic drip to the facet is insufferable, and louder than normal as the kitchen is an arm's length away from the sofa I'm currently trying to sleep on. With a disgruntled huff, my legs swung out of my makeshift bed. My bare feet feel vulnerable on the carpeted floor, and as I get up I'm pretty sure I've stepped on the TV remote.
My hands guide me along the back of the sofa, until I run out of solid furniture and I'm forced venture into the shadows of the flat. Harry's untidiness is unfortunate for me as I stumble over what I can only guess is a stray boot. The blunder has my palms meet a wall and I follow it around the room until my fingers graze wood instead of plaster.
I shouldn't disturb him, he needs his rest.
Recently, the only time I really get to spend with Harry is being part of an audience that gawp and shout. It's a miracle if he's not bloodied and bruised and it's a rarity to speak to him alone. He's run himself ragged and I'm worried. I'll check on him. Only for a moment.
It's dark when I nudge the door open. My breathing is an intrusion on the peace claiming the personal space. My presence blemishes it. And even with the unpleasant aroma of stagnant smoke still lightly tainting the room, I'm yet to witness Harry's lips kiss the butt of a cigarette. I don't wish to; just something else to mar his body.
My eyes come to settle in front of me where Harry's cuddled under the duvet. The mound of covers shuffles until his gruff voice calls out from the bed.
"Bo."
There's confusion embedded within the sleep-torn tone and I move forward as he props himself upon his elbows. Curtains flutter in the cool air curling in from the window propped open. It creates brief ripples of light that wash over his uncovered skin and I'm breathless watching him. He sits up, curious of the girl stood at the end of his bed.
"Are you alright?"
Suddenly magnetised, I'm surging towards the boy I've been deprived of for so long. It's with Harry's eyes wide that my hands claim his face and the light from the window dissipates once more. The first kiss falls maddeningly short of his lips, catching just the corner of his curved mouth. I hum my frustration and the offshoot is rectified with a toe-curling kiss. It warms me from the inside out, setting ablaze hesitations I've had. It's a fumble in the dark, a fiery touch that's stoked hotter with keen hands on my waist. Harry doesn't miss a beat, collecting me in his arms before hauling me to the mattress.
I go with ease, but now that he has me, he's not quite sure as to what he's permitted to do. So used to being denied. There's a power to the position I find myself in as my knees bracket his hips. I grasp at his naked shoulders, fingers tracing his chest to ease him down onto the bed. His heart jackrabbits against my palms, matching the furious rhythm of my own.
"Please," he softly implores.
I'd be a fool to deny him. Harry's touches are tender, fearful of demanding too much and pushing me away. And as he kisses at my cheeks, my nose and finally my mouth, I can't imagine there's much I wouldn't give him.
We make up for time lost, hands, fingers and lips marking out the landscape of each other's bodies. My nose sweetly traces the hard line of his jaw before he's pulling me in for another gripping kiss. He swallows my pleasured surprise when his thumb rubs over my nipple. My thighs clench tighter to his waist and he revels in the suppressed whimper I produce.
We're a tangle of sheets as Harry rolls me from his lap to the bed. I whine at our loss, seeking his mouth to mine and fingernails to the flesh of his hips. His teeth punish the pulse point below my jaw for tormenting his sides and it's all I can do not to cry out.
The darkness provides its own intimacy, stripping away sense of sight to leave us desperately listening for hitches in breath as we rediscover each other. A sweep of lashes, the press of fingertips is all it takes to have my heart hammering even harder. My frenzied touch slides from his chest, delving down his stomach to where I can almost feel him ache for me. Harry's breath is stolen in a kiss as I angle my hips up to his. The desire is bold and I hunger to feel it without the hindrance of clothes.
I catch the waist band with the tips of my fingers but I'm denied the pleasure of touching him. Harry has my wrist, squeezing a little too tight before pinning it to the pillow beside my head. I press for release but it's in vain because Harry's not playing. There's no tease, no kisses to make light of the action.
"Harry," I plead.
My leg hooks the back of his thigh to ensure he doesn't pull away as I fear he might.
"You already have someone," he painfully sighs. "You're not something that we can share, Bo."
My stomach is a knot of muddled feelings and the emotion that flares through is anger as I shove Harry from me. We lay there in a silence that's plagued with our panting breath. I can still feel him on my mouth.
"I've never taken him to my bed," I softly admit whilst staring up to the ceiling.
There's a rustle of covers and I don't know when I started crying. I smile as he gently thumbs over my face, tracing the rise of my cheek bones, the slope to my nose and the softness to my lips.
"You're even pretty in the dark," Harry warmly hums. "Stay," he hushes. "I've missed you in my bed."
Harry's scorching hot against my back and there's a moment where he's unsure of how we once fitted together. I take his hand and haul his arm over so it's draped across my waist and even then he feels too far away. The fabric to my t-shirt stretches in his fist as I abruptly scoot further back into his front. Harry lets out a huffing "oomph" into my hair and I thickly swallow upon feeling the ache he's still sporting for me.
I'm collected in closer as if Harry's frightened I'll float away.
"You don't know how much I've missed you.