Authors Note: Hey hey! It took me a while to piece this chapter together, I decided on trying to somewhat make this a bit fluffy. I know it is not action packed, but it was a bit of a filler chapter, I guess we can call it. 7906 words and a headache later and I am finally done; I hope you guys enjoy this chapter! (I sure as hell have somewhat enjoyed the six and a bit hours I have spent just today on this chapter). Please, enjoy. Xx
(I just realised that the ending to chapter 14 somewhat clashes with the beginning of 15, I got lost in my daze. But it still makes sense! It's 3am so I'm just going to give my deepest apologises and call it a night).
There are no warnings for this chapter. Just the usual explicit language/content.
*** ***
I gradually wake up to the sound of shuffling downstairs, my heart immediately racing as I notice Harry isn't beside me and his side of the bed is still made up. I tighten the covers around me, my fingers digging into the fabric as I mentally begin to come up with multiple scenarios in my head.
All of them revolving around an intruder.
I let out a sigh of relief when I hear the din of keys slapping the floorboards, a sharp curse from Harry echoing dimly, a small reassurance that all my ridiculous thoughts in a panicked state are just that— absurd thoughts.
I rest my head back down on my pillow, the shuffling of Harry getting closer rings in my ears, a few grumbles and grunts escaping his lips, something that doesn't tend to happen.
When he gets in late, or when he knows I'm likely to be asleep, he does his best to stay as quiet as possible, striving not to make any sorts of rackets that'll wake me up. For some reason, he absolutely despises when he wakes me up when getting in.
I leisurely sit up when I apprehend his footsteps reverberating against the bedroom floors.
"Harry," I drowsily lament, "are you okay? I heard you mumbling." I yawn, the comforter falling to rest on my hips as I rub my eyes.
"Go to sleep," his thick voice attempts to whisper but it comes off as a hoarse tone, directly causing me to frown amongst the darkness whilst my eyes stare at his black figure.
I lean over and turn the lamp on, illuminating the bedroom, his eyes wincing as he lets out a sigh, my own eyes casting themselves on him, instantly widening when I see a thick carmine shade covering his hands— the hands he's promptly proposing to cover with his coat while he stares at me and gulps.
"Go to sleep, baby." He comments, biting his lip when I don't rest my head back down on my pillow.
"Your.. your hand." I stutter, gazing over at him with glossy eyes.
He shakes his head at me with a hefty exhalation, "I'm fine, get some sleep." He continues to command, but I refuse to listen.
I shift the blankets off my body and swing my legs over the edge, permitting my feet to caress against the imperceptibly cold flooring. I step closer to Harry, his coat collapsing around him as he shrugs it off, revealing his stained shirt. For a moment I cringe and look away, red being a colour I don't like to view on clothing that it doesn't belong on. I move eyes back to Harry, dropping them to his hands.
My mind spontaneously moves to a panicked state, various questions circling my thoughts.
"Elle, please," he gradually begins, his words being drawn out as I move even closer, my hand striving to reach for his, but he doesn't approve, alternately, he takes a step away.
"You need to go back to bed," he proposes to use a firm tone with me but it doesn't work. I view up at him, my own thoughts swimming in circles as I view the blood.
"Harry-" I breathe, but I'm cut off by his voice,
"Elise, go to sleep, the sight of blood doesn't settle well with you." ...
"I just- you're.. there's-" I stammer, grappling to focus on what I want to say. All I can think about is blood.
"Hey, I'm okay, my love. Go back to sleep." He lowers his voice, "go," he gestures towards the bed, "I know you don't do well with the sight of blood, get in bed and relax before you get queasy and stuff." He reminds me of my weak stomach when it comes to the sight of blood.
But, I don't care.
All I care about is him.
"You're.. not okay. There's blood on you, your shirt, and your coat... what.." I shake my head as I continue to sputter, my emotional and anxious side getting the better of me at the moment.
I have no idea what the hell happened between the charity event and now, but all I do know is that this is a visual perception I never thought I would lay my eyes on. He is not a violent man, liquid bodily substances should not be smeared, or dried across his hands, or painted into his expensive work button up.
"Elise." Harry hushes me with a dense suspire, his hands travelling to unbutton his shirt, "just go back to sleep." He comments, groaning as he rolls his shoulders back, allowing his shirt to slide right off his arms, the besmirched shirt slipping to the floor.
I study him up and down, directly endeavouring to see if I can perceive any damage to his body, only managing to get a glimpse of a flushed area on his side.
He shuffles to the bathroom and turns the water on, enabling the liquid to pour over his hands as I follow, leaning on the doorframe. Harry has never come home with wounded hands or blood painted across him. I have seen him get enraged, furious to the point he wants to kick a wall, but he has never ever touched anything, I have never seen him get into a battle of any sort, not one.
"Harry, were you attacked?" I challenge, unsure of the events that happened from when he left me at the charity to now.
He shakes his head, wincing as the stream cascades over his hands. I can only assume the water is stinging his battle-scarred hands.
I step closer, grasping a small wash towel and dabbing it with rubbing alcohol. "Harry," I breathe, gesturing for him to give me his hands, steering them away from the sink.
He tries to resist my touch but I shake my head, taking a grip on his wrist, and he doesn't dare try to pull away with force.
"Elle, you don't need to-" He begins but I hush him with a very light kiss on his lips. "Thank you." He breathes against my lips before I pull away, ignoring my own battle with the sight of blood as I glance back down.
I gingerly assist him with wiping away the blood and the stains, cleaning his hands as he takes deep breaths, still not saying a word on what precisely transpired.
The bathroom stays quiescent, neither of us speaking a word while I assist with cleaning his hands— hands that have graced my skin so placidly that I could never envisage them to being ferocious and rough.
"Are you hurt anywhere?" I challenge, only observing a meagre bruise developing on his side, and some minor swelling under his eye. He shakes his head, stepping around me and nonchalantly making his way out of the bathroom.
I soon follow, observing as he seems pained while taking off his pants, his eyes peering over at me. My eyes catch a glimpse at his shirt, the carmine colour not settling well with me, physically and mentally as I press my hand to the edge of the Chester drawers, leaning against it lightly.
"I warned you and you didn't fucking listen to me." His voice distracts me, "You never fucking listen." He grumbles brutally,
"You're a dick," I mutter, scowling at him as he forces himself to step closer to me. He reaches out his hand to press to my arm, but I shake my head, "Don't touch me," I hiss, beyond irritated with his tone of voice with me.
His grey eyes roll at me, his hand pulling away from me along with the rest of his body. "Fine, be bitchy." He mutters, "I'm not in the mood to deal with you." He continues,
"You're the one who had blood all over his hands and you're not in the mood to deal with me?" I cross my arms over my chest, unsure of how I am the one he has a need to be pissed off at.
"Fucking hell, Elise." He groans, "I told you to go to sleep and you didn't want to listen so here you are, arguing me while leaning against the damn drawers because you are so fucking stubborn. My hands, my body, don't fucking worry about it." He lowers his voice to a more suitable level, his manner of speaking still being atrocious. "Fuck," He utters to himself, forcing himself to clasp the varnished garment from its position on the flooring. "Elise, get in the damn bed or so help me; I will pick you up and put you in it myself." He remarks, his eyes darkening as he stares at me, watching as I raise a brow at him, somewhat challenging his statement.
He grimaces and steps closer to me, and I grow quiet, unsure of whether he is going to raise his voice again, or what.
He stops for a moment, cocking his head slightly to the side, his eyes beginning to soften with his gaze.
"You're quiet, you never grow withdrawn in an argument." He observes, "Elise." He draws my name out as I gulp, his hand raising and reaching for my arm,
"Please, don't." I gently shrug his touch away, something I do on very very rare occasions. He instantly removes his hand, putting his hands up in front of him as if to assure me his touch is no longer pressed against my skin.
"Are you okay?" His voice is now low and no longer full of rage or anger.
I give him a nod, my eyes staring down at his hands only managing to continue to envision the blood across them, a reminder of the person he became tonight while I was not around.
I trail my eyes back to meet his, his weary and grey eyes that no longer resemble such emotional arousal as they did moments ago. "I don't know what happened, but, I do know that the hands I am used to touching me have never been covered in blood, your touch hasn't scared me until now. All I can see is them shaking in front of me with someone else's blood painted across them." I whisper,
"Elle, I would never." He breathes, "Never." He shakes his head, his voice a bit precarious. "They'd never hurt you."
I give him a timid shrug, having no words to express to him.
"I am sorry for raising my voice, can we just go to bed? We can discuss this in the morning when we are both in a better mood?" He proposes, a clear implication he is attempting to dismiss the whole conversation regarding tonight's occurrences.
"I just.. I am scared, Harry. What happened tonight? This isn't you." I motion towards the man standing in front of me, the man that has been flowing with an emotion I have never perceived to this extent, anger.
"You're not going to give up, are you?" He mutters in a god-awful temper, referring to my several interrogatories on why the hell my soon to be husband came home with blood stains. He clears his throat, "Sorry, I uh... I didn't mean to sound like a dick, again." He apologises dimly, offering his hand to me, "Jus' making sure you get to the bed without stumbling." He explains,
"I am not a damsel in distress, Harry. The sight of blood doesn't kill me." I remind him with an exhalation, my emotional and bitchy side accidentally escaping.
He nods, "Mhm, but I learnt my lesson the first time round with you and blood." He comments, reminding me of the one time I thought I was completely fine and the next thing I knew, I was far from fine.
It was an oops moment on my behalf. He was far from amused with my oops moment.
I shake my head, "I am fine, you're the one that needs to explain," I respond, leisurely pushing away from the Chester drawers and wandering towards my side of the bed, his eyes following me intently. I get on the bed and stretch the blankets over my body, patiently waiting for Harry to inform me on what the fuck occurred tonight.
He sighs before he delicately inches his way towards his side.
"Well, someone needed to be taught a fucking lesson, and I taught him." He comments, only causing me to furrow my eyebrows, interested for more information. He draws his side of the covers back, "fuck," he moans, lowering himself to the bed, "I dealt with Charles Taylor." He sighs, tugging the covers over his body.
"What? Why? How?"
"He drugged you the other night. I don't take that lightly, the son of a bitch got what he deserved." Harry informs me, taking me by surprise.
Why would he do such a thing?
"Before you ask, I don't know why he did it. But, he won't be getting close to you again." He answers my question before I can even enquire, "I am going to sleep, I suggest you do the same, goodnight." Harry bluntly dismisses me, my heart sinking as he doesn't say anything else. No, I love you, goodnight. No, I have work, I will see you when I get home tomorrow night. Nothing.
*** ***
My eyes flutter open before my alarm can even manage to chant, my anxiousness and many questions kept me tossing and turning through the night.
The fact that my soon to be husband came home last night with blood malignment across his knuckles without much of an explanation unsettles me. I have never had to encounter him with such perplexity and beaten hands. I never thought he would ever lay a hand on someone to the extent his hands displayed.
I discreetly separate myself from the warmness of the bed, making sure not to bother Harry as he rests peacefully between the sheets.
I continue on with my morning routine, getting myself ready for whatever the day will throw at me. Logan said something about files to sort through, papers to read, and something else. Not to mention after work I have errands to manage, unfortunately, despite having a very stringent oriented CEO lover, he is absolutely unaware of what a grocery store is, perpetually leaving it to me to make sure there's food in the house.
I frown as I take notice of Harry still in bed, customarily, if I'm awake before him, by the time I have done my hair and makeup he's already getting dressed or he's about to head out the door. But, this morning my eyes find him still in bed, a few groans escaping him.
"You alright?" I request as I slip on my heels, sitting at the edge of the bed.
He hums an mhm, not being too convincing, of course.
"Do you have any requests for the Grocery store? I am going after work. I need to know what it is you want." I inform him, standing to my feet and adjusting my pants.
"Food," He mumbles, "Maybe some over the counter pain meds, that would be nice." He sighs, his voice raspy and visibly pained.
I turn to face him, "Care to tell me what's the matter?" his eyes staring at me with their common morning grey radiance.
For a moment, he just gazes at me until I shuffle closer to him, standing beside him as he peers up at me with his pitiful grimace. He doesn't give me an answer, but I assume he managed to hurt himself to a certain degree after last night's antics.
"Shouldn't you be getting ready for work?" I challenge as he draws at the comforter.
He shrugs, "I am not going. If you can, I'd love for some pain meds, and if you could get the fruits I like to take to work sometimes, maybe some grapes? And yoghurt." He requests and I take a mental note of his wants, adding them to the list of things that I need to purchase. "Surprised you're talking to me after last night, thought ye' would end up hating me with how I spoke to you." He speaks with a weary and raspy voice, reminding me of the raised voices we both threw at each other.
I decide not to bring up the disagreement of last night, his tone of voice is not satisfactory, by any means, but it was in the heat of the moment, and it is on extremely rare occasions he speaks to me like that, not to mention, he did apologise before going to sleep.
I lean down and kiss his parched lips, "Want to tell me what hurts?" I gently demand, unable to disregard the misery in his eyes that I can perceive. I can only assume it has to do with last night. "I promise I won't think any less of you if you admit you are in pain. I can help you, you know?" I add, comprehending that he can be a bit on edge when it comes to admitting pain.
He has this demeanour where he strives to conceal pain, he does not let me featherbed him, or baby him too often. He just closes himself when it comes to accepting when he is sick, overworked, or in any sort of pain.
He rubs his weary eyes before groaning, "I uh- I kinda have a rather raw back and before you try to convince me to go to a doctor, I assure you, I am fine." He answers my question, still being a bit vague with his response.
I raise a brow, staring at him as he strives to give me a petite reassuring smile, a facial expression I can see right through. "I don't think you should diagnose yourself as fine if it is your back," I comment, a little concerned about him.
He sighs profoundly, "You're going to be late for work, I love you, I will see you when you get home."
"Are you politely telling me to go away?" I cross my arms, my eyes tapering down on him.
He nods his head, "Mhm, don't forget I love you."
"Yeah, yeah, yeah." I roll my eyes, leaning down and kissing his forehead, "Call me if you need me, think about getting checked out. I will bring back some food in a minute." I straighten myself back up, adjusting my shirt. He gives me an obedient nod before he closes his eyes, unquestionably doing his best to dismiss me.
*** ***
Logan's building is continuously buzzing with numerous people, ranging from clients to workers, to just casual people that I don't know how to categorise.
There's never a moment of pure stillness unless I close my door completely, and ignore what I can notice through the glass that separates my office from everyone else.
I have overheard a great deal of discussions already, Charles Taylor is one of them. Apparently, someone in the staff knew him.
I can't help but listen in on the different conversations, curious as to where any of these people have managed to get their information from. Their sources seeming to me to be incorrect, of course, considering the fact that the so-called, 'attacker' as they are labelling Harry, was allegedly a bankrupt man. I don't know what happened last night, but I do know the stories are circling around are made up of bullshit and more bullshit. I guess it is true, Chinese whispers is a game even adults suck at playing.
I assume none of the current people gossiping around the office is aware that the unknown attacker had a motive or the fact that Charles Taylor is not the innocent man they are claiming him to be.
It irritates me that staff are commenting on a situation they do not know the whole story on and are purely filling in the blanks with their own ideas from their own creative thinking, not giving a damn about the fiction they are scattering.
I am just grateful they do not have Harry's name in their mouths, some of them have caught onto the relationship I have, their prying eyes being something I have not managed to hide from. It would be hell if they knew it was him who caused such damage to their not so innocent friend, or whatever the hell Charles is to the gossipers.
Harry was right when he used to say, "The business world is so astronomical, yet so diminutive, everyone knows everyone. If you don't —then you might as well be exiled because you are fucked."
I am distracted from my work and my eavesdropping self when I overhear a ding coming from my laptop, an email coming through from Logan. He requests to see me in his office, I am sure this is going to be swell, I can only imagine what he has to offer me this time.
The last time Logan emailed me to meet him in his office, he told me about the trip to New York. I am pretty sure my relationship cannot handle another impromptu business trip; I don't need something else to put Harry on edge. I don't need him pouncing on my boss and earning more battle scars.
I sit down in Logan's office as he leans back in his leather seat in the same way Harry does. Logan gives me a petite smile accompanied by a sigh.
He might as well cut to the chase, I don't have all day to sit in his office. contrary to popular belief, I have work to do, work he requests of me.
He begins, to my surprise cutting right to the chase, not beating around the bush. "So, Elise. I'm curious. What happened last night?" His enquiry is problematic; I need more information on what he is wanting. He knows where I was last night, I am not quite sure he is after.
"What do you mean?" I politely request, last night I went to the charity with Harry and Logan took me home. End of story.
He chuckles and rolls his eyes before he moves forward, "I'm aware of Charles Taylor managing to catch his flight while battered." He explains, "I'm sure you know something, I'm inquisitive." He remarks, distinctly prying for information on what Harry did last night.
"Are you asking as my boss or as an acquaintance?" I raise a brow, not sure whether I'm meant to give him an answer. After all, that crosses the line of work and crosses into mine and Harry's personal life.
"Acquaintance," he confirms with a gesture, seeming intrigued and exceedingly curious.
I give him a shrug, "I don't have the details." I manipulate the truth to my own advantage. I don't have all the inside information, all I know is my future husband came home with blood coated and dripping down his hands.
Logan laments, gawking at me as I don't give him the detailed disclosures he's decidedly searching for, "Harry did, in fact, find him. Correct?"
"You could say that." I nod, "not that it's really anyone's business. He had his reasons, but I don't think I need to justify him to you." I mutter, no longer talking to Logan as my boss.
What Harry does is none of Logan's business, I know that, Harry knows that, and Logan definitely knows that.
Logan nods, taking a moment of silence before commencing to speak, "I'm aware of his reasons. Charles, he drugged you, correct?"
I nod, not having much to say about the whole situation. I much prefer not to remember the night Charles managed to drug my drink, not to mention the aftermath that followed the next few hours. That was hell.
"Some people are just imbeciles." He sighs, "I couldn't imagine why he'd do such a thing to you." He comments, part of me unsure of why we are having this conversation, part of me somewhat intrigued by the softness of his voice.
"I uh, I don't want to talk about that night," I inform him with authority to my voice.
Logan acknowledges my tone of voice, "Elise, you know if you ever need to talk, I'm here." He leans forward on his desk, "I'm your boss, but I'm not an inconsiderate asshole, at least, I don't like to think I am. My door is always open to you, Elise." He informs me with a gentle tone, taking me by surprise.
"Thank you, that's nice of you. Is there anything else?" I question,
"You're dismissed. Tell Harry though from what I hear, he did one hell of a dandy job, he scared Charles off for a long time. Saves me a lot of trouble," Logan grins, his tone of voice sounding like a complete prick, but I don't comment on it.
"I'll be sure not to tell him that, don't think he wants to hear any words from you, but thank you." I respond,
"Oh, by the way, it will be our secret. I will make sure to keep Harry's name clear of conversation." He gestures outside his office, regarding the discussions that have taken place, I assume he has overheard a few.
Why he wants to keep Harry's name clear of their spoken communication, I do not know, but I will merrily take it.
*** ***
I push the heavier-than-air door open, struggling to contain the grocery bags in my hands as I shove the door closed with my food. I shuffle my way towards the kitchen, throwing them to the counter before letting out a heavy exhalation. My day has been rather long and quite tiring, despite Logan allowing me to leave the office earlier than usual. I didn't question his kindness, I took his, "You can go home early and tend your boy of yours, heard he didn't go to work." I didn't bother to make commentary on his smirk or his unnecessary remark on Harry.
I am dragged away from my thoughts when I hear the familiar sound of Harry's voice.
"Elise?" I hear my name travelling the walls' of upstairs, a gentle reminder that Harry is still stuck in bed, probably hungry, grouchy, and rather miserable. My eyes glance down at my phone and I notice that is is five in the evening.
"Shit," I mutter to myself, unsure of how I could be so stupid to leave Harry here on his own for so long, he probably has not eaten all day.
I reach the bedroom and perceive Harry between the covers, a gentle smile forming on his lips, "baby, hi." He cheerfully greets me, probably delighted to finally have some company.
"Hey," I lean down and kiss his forehead, only for him to furrow his eyebrows and pucker his lips into a pout,
"I want a real kiss, don't half-ass it." He whines, and I roll my eyes at him before giving in and kissing him somewhat deeply.
I pull away and sigh, "Harry, it's fucking cold in here," I point out, kicking my heels off and kicking them to the side.
"Well, I can't get up to turn the heat up." He reminds me, "please tell me you have food and painkillers?" ... "and tell me you'll keep me company because I'm bored as fuck." He sighs, curling his lips into a pout, again.
"Yes to all your demands. Give me a few minutes to prepare your food, okay?" I smile, observing his hand touching mine before he smiles at me,
"Thank you, I do appreciate it." his thumb rubs over my engagement ring, a small gesture that makes my heart flutter. "Can I maybe get my laptop, too? Baby, I am so bored." He gives me his patient smile and glistening eyes, accompanied by his dimples.
For a moment I frown, wanting him to stay away from the business world of work, he finally has a reason to keep his ass in bed, and I think he should take the time to relax. "You're welcome. If I get you your laptop will you promise not to work?" I attempt to bargain with him, his hand mildly drawing me closer to him.
He glances up at me, "What am I meant to do then with it?" He raises a brow,
"Watch Netflix, surf the Internet, anything but work."
"I guess. Anastasia said that things at the office went smoothly and so far all is good. Niall also did some digging on that file Charles left." He informs me, apparently having no desire to keep himself relaxed and away from the business world.
"Harry—" I sigh, promptly getting cut off,
"We need to discuss that deal I was discussing over the phone yesterday before you got naughty."
I exhale profoundly as I endeavour not to fall too deeply for his eyes that are working their magical spell on me, "I said no work, and here you are, working,"
"Mhm, I love you." He grins, "so can I have my laptop?" I can't help but give into his requests, well aware that either way he will get his laptop, with or without my help, I might as well just let him work.
*** ***
"Elise... Elle, baby." Harry calls impatiently as I climb the stairs, reaching to the bedroom before he can call me again.
I step inside and observe him lying on the bed with drowsy eyes, his hair a disordered mayhem, and his phone thrown to the end of the bed.
"Let me guess, you got pissed and threw your phone?" I challenge, moving closer to the bed, clasping his phone in my hand and giving it to him.
He nods, flashing his silvery eyes at me, "thank you, baby." ... "can you do me another favour?" He gently requests, pouting his lips imperceptibly, I nod, waiting for him to tell me what he wants.
"I'm fucking cold and I kinda can't put my pants on." He comments, shifting the covers off his body, exposing his body that is clothed with just a pair of boxer shorts.
I lean down and kiss his forehead, feeling a little sorry for him.
I grab him a pair of sweatpants before I assist him, sliding his sweatpants up against his lengthy legs, doing my best to keep him comfortable and pain-free. "Do you want a long sleeve?" I suggest, already returning towards the wardrobe, grabbing one of his hoodies before I hand it to him. Again helping him with putting it over his body.
I overhear him mumble under his breath, a heavy sigh escaping his lips as he rests back down and I stretch the covers over his body. "Still in pain?" I question, my heart sinking as he nods his head.
I can't help but feel blameworthy for the pain he is in. If it wasn't for me swallowing the drink, nothing would have ever happened.
But, I can't help but wonder what would have happened if it had of been Harry that had the drink? Or what would have happened if Harry never showed up?
I shudder at the unknown crippling perception of what ifs, my eyes focusing on Harry as he relaxes against the luxury of all the pillows I have on the bed, the ones he has whined about many times before.
I step closer to him, running my fingers through his hair, "You're not comfortable, are you?" I inquire, getting my answer when he shakes his head. I instruct him to move forward a little, taking the time to promptly adjust the pillows to his comfort, doing what I can to make sure he is relaxed against the softness of the pillows. "Better?" I glance down at him as he leans back, my hands already reaching for the duvet, dragging it to relax at his stomach where he tends to keep it.
He nods, his hand pressing against my wrist, "Come relax with me, you have been running around getting me food and stuff, just breathe for a minute." He instructs, "can you also kiss me? I'd lean up and kiss you but I-" He begins and I cut him off, leaning down and kissing him, this time, not half-assing it like earlier. I allow him to deepen the kiss, our tongues skimming each other as I do my best not to fall over on him.
It is not every day I am positioned like this, leaning down in an uncomfortable position to kiss my pained fiance.
I carefully pull away, his lips curling into a pout, "I was enjoying that." He comments with a wide grin,
"I am aware," I nod, "But, if you enjoy it any further you will have me mounted on top of you, and that is not happening," I state, moving away from his side of the bed, walking to the Chester drawers to grab a change of clothes, these work clothes are not going to cut it for another damn minute.
I gradually undress, feeling his eyes burning into me as I pull up a pair of warm pyjama pants. I turn around with a sigh, my eyes meeting his.
"Well, they're hot." He winks, only causing me to roll my eyes, "Seriously, your ass-"
I cut him off, "Knock it off, Styles." I shake my head, unbuttoning my shirt as he observes, "Go to sleep," I instruct, attempting not to chuckle at him as he sulks. I don't know what got into him, but he definitely does not seem as pained as what he did when I first got home.
"I have been in bed all day, waiting patiently for some company."
"Whatever you're desiring, no. Pain meds make you horny, apparently." I comment, pulling a long sleeve over my body, continuing to do last minute things that need to be done around the bedroom and the house.
When everything is completed, all groceries in the right spot, my work for Logan completed, the washing done, and Harry's pain meds finally kicking in to relax him even further, I finally take the time to breathe.
"Harry-" I begin, his eyes fluttering open to glance over at me, giving me a nod to advance. "Can you tell me what happened last night?" I softly ask, a sigh emerging from his rubicund lips, "I know you're exhausted and sore, but I just— I heard some things and I just want to know." I whisper, his attention focused on me.
"What have you heard? And from who?" He straightaway interrogates but I shake my head, dismissing his requests for answers.
He sighs, caressing the space beside him, motioning for me to gingerly climb up on the bed with him. I carefully climb on the bed, sitting in front of him, not wanting to get too close in fear of causing him more discomfort. "I will spare you most the details, but I will give you the night in a nutshell."
*** ***
He takes a breath before he begins to tell me the story from his point of view:
I breathed profoundly as I crumpled up the piece of paper, Charles Taylor's where about scribbled on it in my black ink.
After some digging, a few calls, and considerably the threatening discussion with Logan over the phone. I got what I wanted. Logan was forced to show some loyalty and integrity when I told him what transpired. He appeared extremely sceptical and on edge at first, but after a few ominous comments, he gave me part of the information I required.
I stepped out of the car and anticipated for my target to leave his building, it had been slipped to me he was going to be moving at around ten-fifteen to catch the next flight out of London.
The fucker wasn't going to get on the flight so smoothly and swiftly.
The minute I observed his repugnant shadow casting across the damp pavement, without a second consideration, I emerged from the darkness, my fingers digging into the thickness of his black coat. Before I knew it, I slammed him against the car, the heavy noise of a grunt flew from his mouth.
Our feet began to scuffle against the concrete, his fists coming in contact with my body as I continued to pounce, having no mercy what so ever. He deserved every single hit, and every ounce of blood I extracted from his body. He attempted to throw his forearms up, but it only enraged me further.
His hits were nothing compared to mine, they were weak and showed no sense of trying to defeat me. He knew he had lost no matter what he did. It was evident in his eyes and the way he struggled against me.
I had never felt such rage humming through the blood of my body, I never imagined that the vibration of grunts escaping from someone's lips would satisfy me the way it did.
He sought to speak a few times while we were enraged within a battle of who could draw more blood, but every time I would catch a word, my fist was hitting his beaten body. I did not care what the fuck he had to say for himself.
I felt a nerve in my back, but I was more conceded with the thrill and shrieking of my fist to his frame, that I didn't care. I couldn't help but feel intense emotion as I continued to devour him with physical blows.
Pain was just an illusory sensation — mind over matter was definitely running through my thoughts as the tinkling pain drove into my back — like a knife slicing the edges of my spine. He managed to get an upper hand, throwing me to the ground, fucking my back, leaving a heavy groan to become emerged my lips.
For a moment, I thought he had won— I thought there was no way I was getting back up but, I did.
He lapsed for a moment, giving me enough time to bring myself to my feet. My eyes captured the view of his beaten and bruised figure, he stared at me bleakly and in that moment, I knew. It was time to stop.
He got what he deserved, it was evident from the blood trickling from his mouth and the intense burning in my overly applied fists.
I said a few choice words that he needed to hear and I don't think he will be stepping foot in London for quite a while.
*** ***
I delicately seize Harry's hands, my eyes subsequently taking note of his battered and reddened knuckles that were submerged in blood just last night.
"Elle," he breathes, "it's okay." He assures me, my eyes focusing on the few cuts and the purple bruising around the top of his hand.
I shake my head, "Harry, it isn't." ...
I bring his hand closer to my lips, pressing sweet kisses to each knuckle, "please, don't do this again." I whisper, feeling incredibly guilty for the way Harry's back is hurting him and how his hands are covered in bruises, not to mention the fact that Charles Taylor got the bad end of the stick. "I am so sorry, it is my fault."
"I did what needed to be done. It is not your fault, don't be sorry."
"Harry, physical violence didn't need to happen."
"Elise, what would have happened if I never showed up? The things he could have done are fucking endless and to even think for a second that anything could have happened to you— well, that just doesn't sit right with me. I would never have forgiven myself if anything happened beyond you being sick." He shakes his head, "nobody pulls shit like that on you and gets away with it. I don't give a damn who it is." He mutters, his eyes becoming obscure, his voice deep and overflowing with anger.
I benevolently release his hand from mine, glancing away from his piercing stare. I do my best to hold back my emotions and the tears threatening to fall, but they get the best of me, defeating my attempts to conceal them.
Harry reaches for my hand but I pull away, using my own to wipe away the tears I don't want him to see. I try to get off the bed, but he instantly stops me.
"Elle, come here.." .. "Baby, don't make me move, please just come closer." He instructs, stretching his arm out towards me, his fingertips just managing to grace my hand. I try to conceal the tears, but the moment I glance over at him, they flow like a streaming waterfall.
"Hey, Elle, sweetheart don't cry, it's okay." He assures me in his loving way, "Come here, please." He graciously orders, trying his best to extend his arm further, a groan escaping his lips.
So I don't cause him any more pain that what I already have, I comply with his instructions, moving closer to him before he gingerly brings me even closer to him, "Shh, it's okay, I'm here and I'm okay, I promise." I feel his arm wrap around me lovingly.
"All I see is red on your hands" I mumble into him, his hand gently resting on my back, "it is all my fault,"
"No, no, no, this is not your fault." He instantly disagrees, "Sweetheart you did not force me to do what I did, I did it on my own free will. This is not your fault, I am fine, honest."
My tears soak into his hoodie, his hand caressing my back as I sob into him, mumbling my words of guilt.
"If I hadn't have had the drink, everything would be fine. I was stupid, it was my fault."
"Elle, no. Hell no. It was not your fault, relax. It has been a long day for you and you are emotional. I promise it is not your fault." He tries to make me feel better but it does not work, the badgering thoughts in my head telling me otherwise.
It is all my fault.
I bury my head further into his chest, my fingers clutching the fabric of his hoodie, "I am so sorry, I am." I whimper, unable to control my emotions, the sight of blood on his shirt burned into my mind. "If it hadn't of happened you wouldn't have come with blood over you, and you wouldn't be stuck in bed. I am so terrible, I didn't even feed you, fuck." I grumble into him, my thoughts a raging circle of a mess.
"Baby, you did feed me, did you forget?" He questions and I lift my head off his chest, "this morning before you went to work you brought up the last of the grapes, three different sandwiches, a protein bar, and three bottles of water." He informs me, taking the moment to press a kiss to my forehead as I glance up at him.
I don't remember much of this morning, my mind has been a bit of a chaotic scramble most of the day, focusing has not been my strongest suit, not today.
"Okay, but still. If it wasn't for me you'd be pain-free, and, and-" I stop, losing my train of thought as he wipes away a few tears from my cheeks,
"You, my darling, are an emotional fucking wreck right now." He places another kiss on my forehead, holding back a groan as he is forced to move insignificantly from his pillows. "Take a few deep breaths, this is not your fault. I promise." He whispers, continuing to wipe away more tears as they drop.
It is not like me to get extravagantly emotional and to break down in tears, but I can't control myself right now.
I shake my head, sniffling as I lower my eyes to disconnect from his, no longer wanting him to witness me weep.
"Alright, come here, come on, Elle." He moves his hand to benevolently press me against his chest, enabling me to bury back into him, my tears soaking his hoodie yet again.
"It's okay, I'm fine, I'm here. I'm all cleaned up now, relax." ... "Shhh, darling, I'm alright." He whispers soothingly, his hand stroking my back in a pacifying motion, his voice continuing to whisper sweet things to calm me down.
I begin to feel weary, the repetitive motion of his chest rising and falling being enough to make me even sleepier. I slowly lift my head off his chest, a small smile meeting my eyes, "Hey," He hoarsely mumbles, drowsiness wearing on him.
"Hey, am I hurting you?" I query, unsure of how long we have been in this position.
He shakes his head, "No, I think you should get some sleep though, sweetheart." He murmurs, his hand flowing through my hair gently, "Do you want to rest back on my chest?" He sweetly offers, but I shake my head, knowing that he cannot have me resting on him the whole night. He won't admit it, but I know me being on his chest did not bring him much comfort.
"I'm sorry, still. And I love you.." I whisper, ready to fall beside him on the bed and fall to sleep; I emotionally and physically feel drained right now.
"Don't be sorry, love. I am okay, and you're okay- despite being emotional." He chuckles, trying to make me laugh softly as he winks, "It's all okay, Elle. You and I are okay, I love you." He slightly moves to kiss my lips,
"We are all going to be okay, right?" I drowsily challenge, needing a bit more reassurance on many things.
"Yes, my love. Come on baby, get comfortable beside me so you can sleep." He gestures towards the space beside him on the bed, my side of the bed. I carefully move and lower myself beside him.
I force the duvet over me, my head resting on my pillow as I feel him move within the bed, a small moan departing his lips.
"You okay?" I murmur, his hum immediately assuring me as he relaxes onto his side, his eyes sleepily glancing into mine before I feel his arm wrap around me, tugging me into the warmness of his body.
"Will be now that you're closer." He mumbles, permitting me to cuddle into him, his chest, yet again being my comfort, his soft voice and sweet whispers of nothings eventually lulling me to sleep while I am pressed against him.
*** ***
Note: Wow, emotional Elise is really fun for me to write, damn she is a wreck. Poor thing.
So, we have an overly emotional Elise, angry, fluffy, and very sore Harry, a suddenly understanding Logan who has his door wide open for Elise, and Charles Taylor out of the picture for now, hmm, I wonder what is brewing in between the lines of it all. :) XX