FAULT [H.S]

09

𝗝𝘂𝗻𝗲 𝟮𝟳𝘁𝗵
12:08 AM

I cross my legs in the passenger side of Harry's mustang. Fiddling with my hands, I look over to the sight of Harry's swollen eye once again. He wipes his eye with his sleeve on his right arm.

I feel awful.

The man's blue eyes flash into my mind. I can still smell the liquor on his breath, and the rage in his voice. I notice the bruise on my wrist, and a wave of nausea floods over me.

I remember the man's head smacking to the ground after Harry threw his last punch. I pulled him back, begging him to stop and get in the car. Harry would have killed him if he did any more of it.

Thinking about seeing Harry get hit made my stomach turn. I wish I didn't sit at that bar. I should have just sat in Harry's car while he smoked.

Harry is driving somewhat normal, which is different. He usually speeds like crazy. He must be hurting to be driving so cautiously.

We are almost to our street, and I'm still figuring out what to say. The windows are rolled down, and the breeze has made my hair fly everywhere. Harry closes his eyes for a split second and takes a deep breath.

He hasn't spoken since we got into the car. I take my purse off of the car floor and start pulling things out. I had nothing for him to dab his cuts with.

Harry turns onto our street. Anxiety fills my chest when the idea of what I'm going to say fills my mind. He starts to slow down the car.

"Pull up to mine." I say.

He turns his face to look at me, before accelerating into my driveway. He shifts the gear into park. I wrap my left hand gently on his forearm.

"Come inside. I can clean it up." I look up at his face to see his gaze meet mine.

Harry's expression was one I hadn't seen yet. He still looked infuriated, but somewhat content. His eyes were dull, and I could tell he was so tired from the fight.

He nods, and I let go of his arm before opening the car door. We walk around his car, and I struggle finding my keys in my purse. I walk up my front steps onto the porch ahead of Harry. I finally grab onto my keys and pull them out.

My hands are still shaking, trying to fit the key into the lock of the door. I hear Harry step up the stairs behind me. He grazes his left hand on my lower back.

"Let me do it." He mutters while grabbing the keys from my hand. I step back for him to open the door easily. The silence of my house comforts me.

I step in first, taking off my jacket. Harry closes the door behind me; the sound of the cicadas disappear. I drag my hand against the wall, trying to find the light switch. After turning all the lights on, I walk past the couch and throw my purse onto it.

"Go sit in there." I say, pointing at the dining room table.

I walk into the kitchen, taking a clean rag out of the basket. I wet it at the sink, and pull out the bottom drawer. I grab my mom's first aid kit and walk back into the dining room.

Harry sits at the end seat. His hair is a mess, and he seems to be dozed off. He licks his lips as he stares onto the floor. I pull the chair beside him out, and drag it next to him. I take the wet rag and put it up to his face. I lightly dab it onto his eye.

"Are you okay?" I ask as I longingly look at him.

I've never been this close to his face before. His features are rugged and quite frankly, beautiful. His eye has swollen up half of his face, but he's still amazingly attractive. His eyes glisten in the lowlight of the chandelier. His skin is still dewed with sweat. The curve of his lip is tempting enough to kiss him.