seraphic [h.s]

chapter twenty eight.

Time seemed to slow down. Was that possible? It felt like it now, because everything moved in a blur.

The pain of my hand had even numbed for a second, I swam in the feeling. Why had it hurt? Why was it purple? Why was there two men brawling on the ground in a haze? Was that even real?

It only took another second for time to crash down, it came bustling over me, screeched down and came to a halt. When my senses came back, when the adrenaline left, it was then that everything started to move as it normally did. That was when I'd heard it.

"You fucking cunt."

The growl was so loud it pulled me right out of the daze I'd been sucked into. My head turned instantly, eyes hovering over the spectacle happening before me. And before I could really understand what was going on, a hand yanked on my arm to pull me back, "Shit, you okay sweets?" It was Dee. Her raspy voice bringing me back to earth, her gentle tug making sure I was distanced from the brawl that was unfolding.

All I could hear was the harsh impact of punches being laid on skin. Another punch, another punch, another punch. When my eyes focused properly, my mouth fell open at the sight of Harry straddled over Grey Shorts. Harry lay into him, letting his ringed fists punch— left, right, left. It happened again, and again, and again. Blood completely pouring out of Grey Shorts' nose. Jesus. How long had I zoned out for? Since when had this happened?

"You don't fuckin' touch her. You don't get to fuckin' touch her, you hear me? You piece of fuckin' shit." Harry's voice was scarily low and I couldn't prop my mouth closed. He was absolutely going to ruin him. And as much as I hated Grey Shorts, I'd much rather not have a murder on my hands to deal with. Figuring out my life was fucking hard enough. "Hey! Stop, stop, stop. H, come on, you have to stop." I leapt forward quickly, my hands pulling at his bare shoulders.

Harry didn't even flinch, he didn't try to turn his head at the sound of my voice. He just kept laying hit, after hit, after hit. God help me. I knelt down on the grass, the only light source coming from the glow of the pool and it's perimeter. "H! Come on! You've got to let go." I tried harder, laying a hand on his cheek gently, in comparison to the hard throws he was giving.

He turned to me as soon as my skin touched his, "I'm gonna fuckin' kill him, Mae." He spat, his green eyes pouring into mine like he truly didn't care, as if he were trying to plead with me to let him keep going. "Don't be an idiot Harry." I watched him with doe eyes, and he hadn't even realised he'd stopped, he'd just kept watching me as if he were letting the crossover happen.

I hadn't realised my slight lapse in judgment until I remembered all eyes were trained on us and here I was, Evie's little sister, laying a gentle hand on her sisters bestfriend's cheek. Like that was normal. I quickly removed it, scooting back up onto my feet. Harry seemed to understand the situation as well, he tore his eyes away from mine— eyes softer now than they had been before. Very convenient. He rose from being hunched down, hands completely bruised and knuckles split.

"You," Harry bellowed out, pointing towards the boy in navy shorts, "take your ass, and his ass, and get the fuck away from here. The reason you came here? I don't want any fuckin' part of it, and you tell them that too." He wiped his hands on the sides of his shorts as he sniffed.

I didn't know what on earth he was talking about. What did it all mean? And who was he referring to? All rhetorical questions that flashed through my mind as almost everyone watched the two men— one bloodied, one not— haul themselves further and further away until the screech of their car sounded.

The sharp pain resurfaced in my hand again and I clasped it to my chest in frustration. Punching really fucking hurt, who knew? I tried to shake it out, stretch it out, plead for it to feel fine. Though nothing helped. And it seemed as though now Harry and I had matching reminders.