RED ROOM [H.S]

39.

The numbness followed me back to Las Vegas. That deep, dark feeling that sat on the bottom of my stomach, followed me on the plan ride home, and I wondered if this was what it was going to be like for the rest of my life, or if my brain was still trying to process what had happened to Harry.

I was thankful that we didn't need to drive home. Louis had done whatever black fucking magic he did, and we were suddenly allowed to fly home without even a hiccup at the airport. I didn't want to question it, I was fearful of the answer I would get. Fearful that there was something worse about Louis that was lurking behind the surface.

I wondered how it was all suddenly so easy, that Harry seemed rather relaxed that he didn't need to keep an eye out for his old boss. It made me uncomfortable though I didn't question it. This was all too much and I thought that if I allowed any more information into my head about the dark world Harry was in, I might lose my mind completely.

All I knew, and all I wanted to believe, was that Harry belonged to a group of men who held too much power, who held too much darkness in their souls and should have never been granted such dominance in a world where war got you further up the food chain, and I was suddenly wrapped in it.

It was close to midnight when we arrived back at Harry's apartment. A sickling silence filled the room as we walked in, and I had to blink away the memories of the last time I was here. How I was escorted in unconscious, bounded at the wrists.

"Are you okay?" Harrys soft voice filtered through the air, pulling me away from my darkening thoughts.

He dropped his bag near the couch, wincing slightly as he sat down. The bruising of his body had gotten worse from last night, and I could tell he was struggling to even breath properly. He had practically knocked himself out with painkillers on the short plane ride here, and I was surprised he wasn't slurring his words right now. He had taken enough to knock out a fucking cow, yet now seemed to be alert as ever.

"I'll be okay," I said with a shrug. I didn't want to draw attention to my mood, because if I did, I would have to actually speak about what I was feeling and acknowledge that it was all becoming too real for me.

Harry eyed me closely, lip pulling between his teeth as he did. "Which means you're not okay right now. Come here."

I did as I was told, shuffling towards Harry until I was seated on the armchair of his couch. His bruised knuckles reached out to brush against the fabric of my shirt, wrapping around my wrist until he tugged me down. He moved himself back, allowing room for me to straddle his waist, arms wrapping around my waist, as if this was the most comfortable position in the world for him. He didn't seem bothered as my knees nudged his sides. He only held me tighter.

"Talk to me," he urged with a softness in his voice that was hard to say no too. I took a deep breath, my eyes dropping down to where my knees touched the sides of his waist.

My mind was rattling like it was running loose in the middle of a storm. I felt as if I couldn't hold anything down. "Do I really make the voices quiet for you?" I asked him.

I gave into the demand to touch him, my fingers running over the material of his thin shirt, before they travelled across his exposed collarbone. He shivered at my slight touch, though mad no move to pull me away from him.

"You do," he confirmed, a frown pulling at his lips as he studied me. "You make me feel as if I can breath again. The voices turn into a dull hum when you're around."

It sounded so poetic falling from his lips, it almost made me forget how truly dangerous that was. How truly lethal that would be for anyone around Harry if I was to ever leave. "You don't think that's dangerous?" I asked him, voicing my thoughts.