Chapter 14:
I rushed into the flower shop, trying not to be late to avoid any questions Harry might have about it. I grabbed an apron from behind the counter and tied it around my waist, hating how it squeezed onto my waist. The shop was quiet, but I heard faint sounds of footsteps in the back room. I knew they must belong to Harry, so I decided to stand patiently at the front desk and await his arrival.
I heard his footsteps drawing nearer, and I turned to face the entrance from the back room, leaning my body over the check out counter. Harry emerged from the back room with a vase full of flowers in his hands, and I heard him humming a soft tune to himself. He gasped and jumped, wincing slightly, when he noticed me, but he still managed to keep his grip on the vase of flowers.
"You scared me," Harry said, his free hand on his chest as he tried to calm himself after his moment of fright. "When did you come in? You were so quiet."
"A few seconds ago. I thought I heard you back there, but I didn't want to bother you," I said, hearing the front entrance to the flower shop open. A young couple walked in, and Harry greeted them before turning back to me.
"I was just working on a new arrangement for the window display." He walked behind the counter and grabbed some ribbon, tying the yellow thread around the vase in a neat bow. Even if it wasn't something I was passionate about, or even cared for, I had to admit that his arrangements always looked pretty good. He definitely had a talent-- even if it was one that was basically useless in a serious situation.
"Do you want me on the floor today or behind the counter?" I questioned, hoping I could stay and relax behind the counter instead of constantly doting on customers and listening to the reasons they need flowers. I didn't really fancy hearing about someone's birthday or wedding or some sorry guy trying to win over some girl he's had a crush on for ages.
"Actually, I wanted to talk to you about something before you got started today," He said, and I froze momentarily as Harry walked over to replace the flowers in the window. He reached over, his face screwing up into a painful grimace.
Something seemed off about him today. He didn't seem as peppy or happy. The smile on his lips seemed more forced than natural, and I only noticed the tired look in his eyes when I took a closer look at him. There were light bags forming beneath his eyes, and the pink of his cheeks weren't there. He seemed pale, in fact, almost lifeless.
Just play it cool, Louis.
I leaned against the counter and gave him my full attention. "Yeah? What is it?"
Harry glanced out at the couple browsing through the rows of flowers before turning back to me. "I was wondering... if you knew anything about fighting? Um, s-self-defense?" He stuttered out, his teeth worrying his bottom lip as he awaited my response.
It wasn't what I was expecting to hear from someone like him. In fact, I never thought I would hear those words from anyone in this town. The last time Harry and I spoke about things like this, he told me that it wasn't right to hurt people-- no matter what they did to you.
I raised an eyebrow at Harry as I relaxed even more against the counter. "I know a thing or two. I've taken some classes, but I never pegged you as a fighter."
"Oh, I'm not," Harry said, looking down at the ground as his cheeks coated in a light blush-- the first time his cheeks seemed alive with color today. He fiddled with his fingers as he swayed in his spot for a second. "I just think it'd be nice to know. You know... in case someone broke into the shop or... you know. You never know."
He shrugged his shoulders, but his eyes never met mine. Eye contact was definitely the first rule of lying. However, I decided not to pry. Besides, his personal life wasn't my business, and it wasn't my job to act as a friend or therapist to him.
"What kinds of things did you want to learn?"
He rubbed the back of his neck and shrugged his shoulders again. "I don't know. I've never really done anything like it before."
"Well, why don't we just start with the basics? Is there a gym in town that has private work out rooms?"
Harry shook his head, and I didn't want to give him another reason to visit, but it seemed to be the only option.
"Come over to my place tomorrow night. We can start you up on training then," I said, but Harry shook his head.
"C-can we start tonight? After work?" He wondered, and I saw the desperation in his eyes as he took a step toward me. I briefly wondered where all of this was coming from, but I had a pretty good idea.
"Whatever you want," I submitted, and Harry's lips spread into a stunning smile. It was a real smile-- not one he was forcing. His teeth were on display, and I was caught off guard as his arms wrapped around me suddenly.
"Thank you," He said, and I began to pry myself free from his grip.
"Yeah, um, no hugging. It's not-- I'm not a hugger," I demanded, and Harry chuckled at that but nodded.
"Got it. Sorry about that," He backed away and kept his arms at his side. He stared at me for a moment, and I was beginning to feel slightly uncomfortable under his gaze. I didn't quite understand what the hell was going on with him. "You can stay at the register today. I'll handle the floor."
With that, he stepped around the counter, plastering a smile on his face, and he went over to the young couple, engaging them in conversation as if nothing was wrong. He seemed so alive and animated once more, and it confused the hell out of me.
After standing behind the desk for most of the day, and dealing with multiple customers-- including a lady who came to pick up an order and insisted that I wrote down her order wrong, even though she specifically told me three arrangements with yellow and orange marigolds instead of four, leaving Harry to talk to her in a much calmer voice than I could ever muster (I really do think she was just trying to get a discount)-- it was finally time to close shop.
I finished sweeping the floor right when Harry stepped out of the back room. He offered me a small smile as he walked over to the register. He pulled out some cash and held it out to me.
"Why don't you go over to the diner and order some meals to go for us? I can meet you at your place after I finish closing up."
I nodded, but I didn't take the money. I pushed his hand back and held up my own wallet-- which probably contained more money than Harry could ever gain from the shop. I'll give Zayn one thing, he was actually good at business deals.
"I got it covered. See you soon," I said as I walked out of the door with a wave, and the whole situation felt awkward. It felt like Harry was becoming this reoccurring character in my story, and I couldn't have that. Perhaps I could find a way to make him see that tonight-- without blowing my cover, of course.
I drove to the diner down the street, and I walked in to hear Joan's voice sending a greeting my way. She was still all smiles and energy, even after a full day of working. It was really annoying.
"Hey, Louis. How's your day been?"
"Fine." It was straight to the point without beating around the bushes or offering any opening for follow-up questions. "I need two orders to go. One cheeseburger with fries and...." I trailed off, realizing that I had no clue what kind of food Harry liked to eat.
"Forget something?" Joan questioned with an amused smirk, and I sighed as I slumped against the counter. Why couldn't this day just end already?
"I forgot to ask Harry what he wanted before I left the shop," I confessed, and both of her eyebrows seemed to shoot up further than I thought they could go.
"You and Harry spending the night together?" She questioned, and something about the way she worded it rubbed me the wrong way.
"He's insisted on coming over for a little while. We'll probably eat and talk about whatever it is he wants to talk about, then call it a night." Maybe it wasn't the whole truth, but I knew that anyone in their right mind would automatically question why someone like Harry would want to learn how to fight. He seemed like the poster child for the saying, "I'm a lover, not a fighter."
"Harry's really sweet," Joan reminded, and I wanted to roll my eyes as she leaned one arm on the counter, trying to become intimidating. I had no doubt that Joan could probably do some damage to anyone else in this town, but I wasn't intimidated in the least.
"So I've heard."
She shook her head. "Everyone adores that boy. If you do anything to hurt him, it'll ruin you."
What the fuck did she think I was going to do to him? I never gave any notions of attraction to him. Hell, I hardly even spoke about him to anyone in town. The only time I did mention him was to reiterate to Niall, Zayn, or Liam how obnoxious this place was.
"I'm not going to hurt the precious peach," I muttered out as Joan wrote down an order for Harry. I assumed she knew what he liked. She sent me a warning look, but there really was no need to heed it.
"He's a good person. Too sweet and caring at times. He's had a rough life, though. Very unfortunate. He's fragile, so be careful, Louis. Don't lead him on if you know he's interested. Be honest with him if there's nothing there."
I knew that I should be listening to her, but I couldn't get passed the part where she described Harry as fragile. From what I've seen, he was anything but fragile.
I thought back to how concentrated and relaxed he looked as he cleaned my hand and stitched the deep cut back together. I flexed my hand, feeling a slight bit of pain still there, and the cut was still very much prominent, but it was slowly healing.
I remembered how focused he was on his target when we went shooting. He was unfazed by everything around him. I've trained guys who couldn't reach that level of concentration for a few months-- Harry did it on his first try.
Finally, I recalled the way he was thrown by Zander that first night I witnessed their dynamic from my bedroom window. I remembered the way his whole face turned as he was slapped by Zander's hand at full force. Most people would break down in utter trepidation, but Harry was a fascinating one. He picked himself right back up and plastered a smile on his face-- no complaints, no hesitation, and no cracks in his exterior. Still, he remained the kind boy that people apparently loved to talk about throughout town.
I didn't offer up a response. Instead, I waited, rather impatiently, for our orders to get filled and brought back out to me.
"You both have a good night, now," Joan said, and I nodded while stepping out of the diner.
I climbed back into my car and drove home, seeing Harry's car in the driveway as I pulled up. I parked beside his car and walked out, seeing Harry scramble out of his car to meet me and assist with the food, which really wasn't necessary. I wasn't fucking disabled. Still, I allowed him to take the food out of my hands since it was easier for me anyway.
I walked ahead and unlocked the door, throwing the door opened for Harry to walk in.
"Thank you."
I ignored the sincerity and shut the door behind him. Harry went straight to the living room while I went into the kitchen to grab some napkins for us. I returned to the living room to see Harry already opening up the food and setting everything down. He was setting everything up so meticulously, paying special attention to the way he set out my food. He set my drink down in front of my food and then sat patiently on the sofa, not once touching his food or even glancing at it. He didn't even open up his own to-go box.
"Aren't you gonna eat?" I said as I walked into view, passing him a napkin. "You didn't have to do this. I'm not royalty or some shit like that."
I sat on the opposite end of the couch and flipped on the TV for random background noise. I set down the remote before grabbing a hold of my burger. It was only then that Harry finally moved to touch his own food. It was a really unusual behavior. So, I waited-- I didn't take a single bite of my burger, and Harry noticed. He stopped touching his own food, seeming to wait for me to actually eat.
I set my burger back down and raised an eyebrow at him. "Are you not hungry or something? Did Joan write down the wrong order? I didn't exactly know what you wanted, so I guess that's my bad if the food is shit," I ranted, feeling rather annoyed with his antics.
"N-no!" He stuttered out. "The food is fine. Great, actually." A small smile plastered onto his lips. "Joan was always good at knowing what I would like. I've known her for years. She was actually friends with my grandmother before her passing."
I could almost physically sense the wave of sadness that seemed to wash over Harry at the mere mention of his grandmother, and the curious part of me-- the part that found a thrill in interrogations-- wanted to push deeper for his backstory. However, I didn't fancy having a drawn out conversation tonight.
"Then eat your food before it gets cold," I said, seeing Harry smile at me slightly. This was a different smile. It was almost a thankful smile, as if his gratitude was much deeper than a surface level response to a stranger. I decided to ignore it as Harry began to eat, and I picked up my burger again before finally taking a bite.
That's how it continued as we both ate. There was a silence between us, the only sound being the news anchor on the TV talking about politics and disasters one after another. I knew that most people were terrified of the news, but I didn't think it was anything to be afraid of. Hell, it was better to stay informed rather than be ignorant. Besides, the news only made things seem big and bad because of the spotlight it filtered over it.
Finally, we both finished eating, and I figured enough time had passed that Harry could begin training in self-defense without puking up his food everywhere. After all, this house was a rental home, so it would be nice not to ruin the carpet while I was staying here.
I had Harry help me clear the space in the living room, and then I held up my hand in front of me.
"First thing's first," I began, "I want to see how hard you can hit. Just throw your hardest punch at my hand."
Harry seemed unsure as his eyebrows furrowed in worry.
"A-are you sure that's okay? I mean... won't it hurt? What if I hurt you? I- I don't want to hurt you."
I rolled my eyes. "I'll be fine. I've dealt with things like this before. It's going to take more than a little punch to hurt me."
He still seemed unsure as he got into a punching stance, one leg back and one leg forward, pulling his right hand back weakly. He didn't have any power to his motions.
"Harry," I voiced, looking him directly in the eyes. "You're not going to hurt me."
I didn't break eye contact, wanting him to realize that I meant it. He must've taken my words as a promise before really pulling his fist back and throwing it at my hand full force.
A loud smack filled the silence in the room, and my eyes widened in surprise because-- holy hell! He could actually punch really fucking hard.
I grit my teeth and ignored the stinging pain in my palm that seemed to tingle out in a spread to the very tips of my fingers. Nothing was broken, but the punch did manage to knock my hand towards my body.
He punched harder than some of the guys I knew in the gang. It was surprising, but maybe I shouldn't have been so easily surprised. After all, Harry did seem full of the unexpected.
I knew that if the punch would have been to my face, it would have left a bruise in its place. Hell, he could have possibly even broken my nose if he really wanted to. Of course, only if I wasn't fighting back. I've never lost a fight yet.
"Fragile my ass," I muttered under my breath as I shook out the tingling feeling from my hand.
"I'm so sorry-" Harry quickly began to apologize, rushing toward me, and I watched him wince in pain just as he had in the flower shop this morning. I narrowed my eyes at the action before holding my hand up to silence him.
"You want to learn to defend yourself, right?" I gave him a pointed look, and he nodded hesitantly, still wringing his fingers in guilt. "Then you can't apologize. Sometimes--" I glanced at him with a smirk growing on my lips "--you have to hurt someone in order to protect yourself."
"But... I don't want to hurt anyone." There was a small pout on his lips as he looked down on his feet, his shoulders shagging in defeat. I saw his hand move to cup the side of his torso, fingers twitching and flexing as his form seemed to shrink even more. I was surprised as I noticed the slight wobble of his bottom lip, as if he was holding back tears. I've never seen Harry emotional in this way.
"Then why do you want to learn?"
It was a simple question, even a reasonable one, but Harry seemed to struggle to find an answer. Shoulders sinking even lower than they were before, he shook his head gently. His eyes filled with water as a tear dripped down his cheek, and I didn't know how to respond as his head drooped until he was looking at the ground.
In the gang, nobody cries. You never display your deepest emotions unless those emotions are anger. Anger and blind rage; sometimes those emotions can be the difference between half-assing something and surviving.
I didn't need to know his story. Hell, I didn't even want to know. It wasn't any of my business and the last thing I needed was baggage. I didn't need to be someone's shoulder to cry on. No, but I knew exactly what he needed to hear.
I stepped toward him and sighed before putting a hand on his shoulder. "Look at me." He lifted his head until he was looking me in the eyes, and I saw a reflection on a similar type of pain I've seen before in someone else's eyes. The only difference being that I didn't know how to help that person. I failed them. Perhaps this could be my chance to amend that.
"Whatever you're feeling-- be it fear, anger, sorrow-- take that emotion and use it. I don't need to know your story, and I don't need to understand a thing about this, but you need to understand that the world is a dangerous place. It eats at anyone who shows it weakness. It's a festering monster full of demons that walk its earth. Not every single person is good. If you want to beat your demon, then you have to fight. So take those emotions... and use them. Can you do that?"
He was staring back at me with innocent eyes that slowly sharpened with determination. He nodded hesitantly at first before it became more firm. I offered him a small, rare smile, and he wiped his eyes as I backed away again.
"Good. Now," I lifted my hands up again, "don't hold back on me."
Harry smiled as well, a wide, toothy grin, before punching full force. All of his inhibitions were finally crumbling down.