"And I may be evil and I may be vile.
But you must be stupid, yeah,
'cause I made you smile
Won't you take another look at the things I've had to say?
I'm broken and empty, but I try to make a change
I've ruined many things and traveled across the seas
just to throw it away."
***
"You can tell me as much as you want to" I assure him, but I can see that he's looking nervous again.
"Can we uhm, can we go sit on the couch?" he asks, gesturing his head towards it.
"Of course we can" I agree, releasing one of his hands as I stand from the table, urging him to follow."C'mon, let's go sit"
Harry stands with me, keeping his hand gripped in mine as I walk around the table and turn to walk towards the couch.
I'm stopped by Harry tugging on my hand, and pulling me back towards him, and he steps forward to stand in front of me as I face him.
I look at him confused, wondering why he's stopped me, but he just darts his eyes over my face like he's taking each detail of it for the first time.
"Your bruises are gone" he points out, but sounds distracted.
"Yeah, just like you said they would be" I say slowly, wondering what he's thinking.
He holds his breath, dropping my hand and brings his hands up to rest against my neck, tracing his thumbs along my jaw.
I can't help how exilerating it feels to have his touch back, like you've been starving for months and get your first meal.
"Can I kiss you?" he asks softly, looking apprehensive about my answer "You can say no, I know you're still upset with me...I just, I just want to in case I don't get to again after this"
I think back to what he said the day I found out about Andy, how scared he was that I wouldn't let him kiss me again.
I'm realising more and more just how insecure he is when it comes to me, and all this time I thought I had no power when it comes to him, I thought he had it all but I can see now he's the one that feels helpless and powerless.
And I've decided that with whatever he tells me, I'm going to try my hardest to understand, he's making me nervous with how scared he seems about telling me things, but I know that if I want Harry, I'm going to have accept things about him I probably don't agree with.
I'm not that stupid, especially after what he did to Andy, the violence that seems to be his natural reaction, the nights I'd see him surrounded by whatever his drug or choice was, I know there's things about his life that would have terrified me months ago, but I also know that maybe Harry was never given to chance to be any different and while everyone else in his life may have betrayed him, I refuse to do that after he's opened up to me.
I want to show him that you can be honest, and it's safe to do that, this isn't about anyone else or his past, this is about the man in front of me right now, the one I want to show the kindness and acceptance to that he's never had, and life doesn't have to be the way he thinks it does.
I'll figure out a way to get past whatever he tells me, like addicts do, they'll rationalise anything to keep their vice in their life, and he's mine.
I'm just hoping I can, but how I feel about him is enough to blur even a priests judgement, so I can't imagine him telling me anything I couldn't get past.
"I am still upset with you" I point out, and his eyes go to the floor "But please have more faith in me that I'm strong enough to handle whatever you want to tell me, I'm done being scared Harry, I just want you and whatever comes with that"
He lifts his eyes and opens his mouth to speak but I cut him off by pressing my lips against his, grabbing the collar of his unbuttoned shirt to pull him closer to me.
He kisses me back with everything he has, sliding his hands from my neck into the back of my hair and sighs in relief against my lips.
How lips fold and caress against each other like we're trying to say words neither of us know how to yet, and at this point, he could tell me he's the Antichrist and I'd gladly accept the end of days if it meant I never had to be without him.
He pulls back, resting his forehead against my own, darting his eyes between my own "I'd do anything to keep you" he murmurs.
I smooth my hands against his chest, knowing I'm never going back after this, I'm done for with him and I'm okay with that.
"You have me Harry, I'm not going anywhere"
His lips pull up at the corners, his hands smoothing over my shoulders, going down until they rest on my hips.
"You have me too Abby, had me since the first time I saw you, I just didn't know it"
I bite down on my lip, feeling my stomach flip.
"So I get to keep you?" I ask shyly.
Harry grins at me, flexing his fingers against my hips "I'm all yours, for as long as you want me"
I could explode hearing those words ring around in my ears, and I smile brightly at him, unable to hide the giddy happiness coursing through me.
"I know I'm fucked up, and I know it's stupid to want someone like me, but that's all I ever want to do for you, is make you smile like that" he whispers sincerely, his eyes flashing with every emotion I think he's capable of.
My smile grows as I lean back from him, and grasp my hands on my hips to walk backwards, leading him towards the couch.
"Well, if wanting you makes me stupid, consider me the village idiot" I quip, going cross eyed and pulling my chin to my neck to give me at least three chins.
He let's out a loud laugh, his eyes lighting up as he shakes his head at me "Fuck I'm so crazy about you, no one makes me laugh the way you do"
I cock my chin in the air as I drop his hands, turning to go sit on the couch "What can I say, I missed my calling as a comedian"
He chuckles under his breath as we both settle down on the couch, and I turn to face him with my legs crossed in front of me, while his sits wide legged next to me.
He smooths his hands up and down his thighs, and there's a short silence as I wait for him to start talking about whatever it is he's intending to, keeping my posture relaxed so hopefully it settles any anxiety in him.
"Uh, so" he clears his throat, and I'm noticing it's a nervous habit of his "Remember how I said I know the owner of Placebo, when I asked you to come take photos that time?"
"Yeah, I do. Couldn't forget you pinning me against the door in that toilet stall again even if I tried" I say accusingly, lifting my brows at him.
Harry smiles to himself, like he's reminiscing about it "Just can't help myself when it comes to you"
"I've noticed" I deadpan, and he smiles wider.
He creases his brows, as his smile slips into a flat line.
"Well..." he sighs out a deep breath "I know the owner because, I kind of...am the owner. It's my club"
My jaw drops as I stare at him.
My mind flooding with all the realisations that make so much sense now, and I must be a god damn moron.
That's why he had keys to the bathroom, that's how he organised the free drinks that night, that's why everyone there seemed to know him, that's why he comes and goes as he pleases with work and that explains why he's always there.
I screw my face up in confusion "Why didn't you just tell me that? I don't understand why you'd lie about that"
He shrugs his shoulders, glancing at me "It was something personal, and I also thought you wouldn't want anything to do with me if you knew I owned a place like that"
My face drops "It's a club, not a brothel Harry, I wouldn't have cared"
At least I don't think I would have, if anything it would have just made things make more sense when it came to him.
His lips quirks as he lifts his brows "It may as well be with half the shit that happens there"
Well...I can't argue with him there.
I look to him confused again "Hang on, you said you work in customer service and waste management, what does that have to do with owning a club?"
His shoulders tense as he glances at me again, and he swallows "That's the part you're not going to agree with"
I reach my hand out to rest on his leg, urging him "Well even if I don't, help me understand it"
He nods apprehensively, bringing his hand up to scratch against his jaw before he messes his fingers through his hair, pushing the loose strands away from his forehead.
"Believe it or not, I used to be a lot worse than I am now" he starts slowly, staring at his lap like he wants answers from it "Growing up the way I did, I was around a lot of violence, so much awful shit, and when I was in foster care you only get surrounded by kids as damaged as you, and the places I lived were never with nice people, it's like I kept going from one nightmare to the next - so the way you learn how to cope with things, what's right and wrong, what's normal to you is so fucking warped compared to kids that get to grow up with a normal life, without all that shit"
I just listen to him intently, absorbing whatever he needs to say, taking each piece and trying to put his puzzle together, stroking my thumb against the fabric of his jeans to try and offer him some comfort.
"If you're around monsters long enough, you just become one too" he says lowly, his face wincing as it frowns and I shuffle closer to him.
"You're not a monster" I tell him firmly, leaving no room for argument in my voice.
He's a man, a troubled one and he's just misunderstood, even by himself.
He doesn't reply to me, only hangs his head and my stomach knots.
He can't help the environment he was in, or how he learnt how to cope with it if he was never shown any better, I wish I could show him that.
You can't throw a kid into the water when they've never learnt how to swim, and then get angry at them and blame them when they drown.
His starts to twist his rings around his fingers, and looks ashamed to be even sitting next to me and I hate it.
"When I was back in England, growing up, I was always involved with bad people, they're the only people I understood, they were just as fucked up as me. I started drinking and sleeping around when I was 13, started screwing around with whatever drugs I could get my hands on at 14, always fighting, doing illegal shit - it's what everyone around me did, that was my normal, I did anything I could so I didn't have to feel anything, so I could get away from my own head"
He sighs, and I squeeze his leg, wishing I could just wrap my arms around him.
I can't even fathom a life like that, I can't imagine how I would be if I went through the things he did, and there's no way I'll judge him for it.
I can't even begin to comprehend how traumatic a life like that has been.
"You can't be weak, in that world. And being weak was something my father never tolerated either, even if it meant beating it out of me" his jaw clenches as his arms tense, and I suck in a sharp breath.
I'm not a spiteful person, but I'm devastated he ever went through any of this, and thinking about anyone hurting him, especially when he was just a boy has an anger I didn't know I was capable of fire in my chest.
I'm trying to figure out what this has to do with him owning the club, but I'm just going to let him explain in his own way.
"I liked people being scared of me, made me feel powerful. I always felt so helpless as a kid, and people prey on you when you're like that, so, I just did everything I could to make sure people knew to be afraid of me, I could protect myself that way, I felt strong." he explains, looking like he's giving himself a headache from trying to figure out how to.
He glances sideways at me before he murmurs "I don't want you to be scared of me though, you're then one person I don't want that with, it destroyed me when you looked at me like you were afraid of me"
"I'm not scared of you" I assure him softly "Other people may be, and you may need them to be. But I'm not afraid of you"
He looks away from me, his jaw tightening as he squeezes his eyes closed before opening them, and stares back at his hands.
"When I came here, I got involved with the same kind of people, criminals, gangs all the degenerates society wants to pretend don't exist"
"...So you're in a gang?" I butt in, trying to make sense of what he's saying.
For some reason he laughs under his breath, and he shakes his head "No, I'm not. I don't like being told what to do or ordered around, I do things on my own terms. I don't belong to anyone"
My heart skips when he mumbles to himself, thinking I can't hear it "Except you"
I don't acknowledge it, not wanting to make him uncomfortable when he's being so vulnerable, but keep the memory of it filed away with the other moments I have for him that made my heart want to beat out of my chest.
"For a few years, I took up some work, that I stopped doing not long after I met you" he says carefully.
I don't say anything, just wait for him to continue and push down the anxiety about what he's going to tell me.
I'm prepared for the worst, I'll just take it as it comes.
He straightens, his body becoming stiff and uncomfortable, while he refuses to look at me, seeming too scared of my reaction.
"I was someone, that everyone knew of but didn't know, I kept to myself, I've always been alone but kept my connections with all the different organisations here, bikers, drug dealers, gang leaders, I made sure to form connections in high places even if they were rivals, guess I was just playing Switzerland, but it meant I was protected with all of them. There's different rules to the real world, in that life, and sometimes people that do bad things need bad things to happen to them, so when I first met you - that's what I was doing for work, that and my club"
"But you don't...do it...any more?" I ask slowly, not knowing what the fuck to say. What are you suppose to say.
He shakes his head "No I don't, but I'm still involved with those kinds of people, a lot of what they do happens at my club if they need it, I'm just not the one that does it any more"
"Do what though Harry...? What are you saying?"
I hold my breath, my anticipation to great to comprehend oxygen as I try to grasp what he's saying.
"You know...I always wished I was dead, even at five years old, being alive just seemed so pointless if it was so painful and the thing about not being afraid of dying, is it almost makes you invincible, you're useful to people like that because you have no fear. So, I was the one they would call, if they needed someone taught a lesson. It was my job to ruin their lives, and I was really good at it"
I swallow my stomach that's just flew up into my throat, my pulse hammering in my ears as I will out a question I probably shouldn't ask "What do you mean...ruin their lives?"
He notices my reaction and his shoulders deflate, and he's scrunches his face like he hates himself, or just hates that he's telling me.
"Just like what I did to Andy. I knew exactly what I was doing, I knew the exact way to destroy his life, I know exactly what David is like - that he would rather his own son be dead than to hurt his reputation, to embarrass him, make him look weak. I knew Andy was just like him, you can see it straight away in a person when you've been around it enough."
I'm trying as hard as I can to process all of this, my head is spinning and I don't even know what I'm feeling, knowing everything else he's told me has made the things he's done so much more complicated.
This isn't just black and white, and whether it's right or wrong is blurred with his reality versus my own.
How is anyone meant to deal with this? Who am I to say what's right and wrong when I've never endured what he has?
He's right, I don't agree with this, this is awful, but I'm starting to understand and I wish with everything I have he never did those things.
But this time, I don't want to run away from him. I can't explain why. I want him to show me, I want him to show me his world to I can understand what place someone like me would ever have in it, and show him that he doesn't have to live like that.
He looks me dead in the eyes, looking terrified but like he is holding every ounce of sincerity he owns in them "I did that to him because he hurt you Abby. I tried so hard to protect you from that side of people, you were so pure and caring, and I could have killed him for ever showing you the vile things people are capable of. I wanted to keep you safe, let you keep that beautiful, hopeful way you see the world. That's why I hid myself from you too, because I'm one of those vile things, the only difference is I don't hurt innocent people. I had rules, for who I went after, to make sure they deserved it. They were pieces of shit that hurt good people like you, and I made them pay for it. Killing them was too kind, they deserved to stay alive and suffer"
He swallows thickly, his voice hoarse with emotion "I don't feel bad about what I did to Andy. I'd do it to anyone that ever hurt you and not even blink, but I'd take it back if I could, only because of what it did to you. But don't ever expect me to think he didn't deserve it, because to me he did"
My blood feels like its draining from my body, and my head is pounding as I sit my elbow on my knee and rest my forehead against my hand, threading my fingers into my hair, staring at my hand on his leg as I try and process all of this.
I almost feel numb, and I understand more why Harry doesn't deal with emotions well, I've only heard about things he's done and been through, and my emotions feel like theyre being flung around inside me, overwhelming and confusing, impossible to make sense of.
"It's not up to you though Harry, you don't get to decide what people deserve" I say lost in my own head.
"You're right it's not" he agrees pensively "But I don't know how else to be, it was the only time I ever felt like I was close to doing something good, I know it sounds insane, but I'm screwed in the head it's how it makes sense to me - when I said waste management, that's what it was to me, dealing with the garbage that most people don't have to see"
He pauses, holding his breath before he let's it out, and I look to him when I hear how broken it is.
I watch as he hangs his head again, his chin trembling as he swallows "I wanted to be that person Abby, the person I wished would have came and taken my father away from me, that would do to him what he did to me, what David helped him do, what my mum just let him do, what they watched him do. I wanted to be someone that hurt people like them, the way they hurt everyone else....the way they hurt me."
I immediately grab his arm, pulling him towards me and wrap my arms around him.
I don't give a shit if he's done unspeakable things right now, people have done unspeakable things to him, the people that should have loved and protected him, betrayed him, and I could care less if this makes sense but I can't take another second of seeing him so torn apart.
He threads his arms around my waist, pulling him into me as he buries his head into my shoulder, choking on his own breath and his whole body is trembling.
"I hate myself, but I don't know how to be anything else, I don't know how to make it stop. It plays in my head like its still happening to me, I can't get away from it" he whimpers against me, and I pull him closer, trying to hush him.
I shift up, moving myself until I'm sat in his lap and cradle him against me, fighting back my own trembling lips and watery eyes as I try and protect him from whatever is going on inside him, but I just have no idea what to do.
"How can you care about me?" he chokes "How can someone as good as you, care about something as fucking horrible as me"
I cling to him, feeling my chest cave in at how distraught he sounds.
I swallow down the tightness in my throat, saying the only things I can think of.
"Because you aren't horrible Harry...you're in a world of pain, and you can't help how you were created. But I still see the good in you"
***
Sooooo...dunno how to tell you guys this, but uh, if you thought Abby was finding out about those tapes yet - yeaaaaaaaaah, nah.
More needs to happen, but we learn a lot more about Harry.
Let's see what he does for work these days first.
I need a stiff drink.