Rupture // h.s au

20. "Feeling is for the weak."

Autumn

I was mad. I didn't know why, but I was furious. I was mad when I left that bathroom, knowing that he could barely keep himself upright, but was unable to fight him off any longer. I was mad when I laughed at his stupid joke, after I caused us both to fall into a tangled mess on the floor. I was mad when he still didn't know why I was mad, and had the audacity to ask. I managed to remain mad when we woke up the next morning; him, in apparent ache, and irritation, and myself, sore all over, due to the rather uncomfortable chair I had to lay in.

He had slept shirtless, I noticed, probably since putting a shirt on was too much effort, and I was somehow mad at him for that, because he had one fucking perfect figure, and it made me mad. I was still mad when he reluctantly asked me if I wanted to go on a patrol with him, to which, I nonchalantly agreed.

I had helped him put on his usual black shirt, not a word spoken between us, as he jumped into his pants, with great difficulty. He had thrown me a white, sleeveless, shirt, and a pair of clean shorts. I had changed into them, brushing my hair with a comb that I found in the bathroom, before walking out, announcing that I was ready to go. He had taken a black piece of cloth in hand, and somehow, managed to turn it into one of his bandanas, before walking out of the room, his eyes never once meeting my own, which I was utterly grateful for.

He was mad as well, obviously, since his perfectly created jaw was clenched, his eyebrows set into an undeniable frown, as he hung his head high, his chin up, in great pride. I noticed him limping slightly, but chose to let it go, since I was in no way willing to initiate a conversation with him. I was mad for fucks sake. People smiled at him, bowing their heads slightly, to which he'd smile back, before rolling his eyes, at their over-the-top action of respect. He didn't enjoy this as much as he should have, I noticed.

We passed the clinic, to find their doctor; Dick, or Slick, or whatever, standing, with his arms behind his back, smiling fondly at the wide scenery ahead of him.

" Oh, Harry, are you alright? I've been told you were injured yesterday." The doctor walked towards us, laying a hand onto Harry's healthy shoulder.

" I'm fine. It isn't as bad it looks." He lied, with a gracious smile on his lips.

" Who stitched you up? Why didn't you come to me?"

" It wasn't worth it, it's not a big deal, honestly." He chose to ignore the first question, which I was grateful for, since I didn't want it to come out, that I helped my target, who was also, the biggest threat to my people.

" A dislocated shoulder, huh? And a nose, anything else?"

" No, all is well." All through the conversation, the doctor completely disregarded my presence, and I found myself watching Harry's reactions from the corners of my eyes. He carried himself powerfully, proudly, but never unfairly, I had to give him that.

" Louis brought me the supplies, so if you need anything for the pain, let me know."

" No, it's manageable." He lied again, since I knew that he barely managed to sleep through it last night. The doctor gave him a small nod, before allowing us to walk past him. Harry started walking again, this time, hiding his limp a bit better, probably as to not prove the doctor's assumptions correct. I smiled knowingly, shaking my head to myself, as I followed his quickened footsteps.

" What are you smiling about?" He questioned, his firm eyes looking straight ahead.

" None of your business." I coldly offered, my eyes imitating his. He tilted his head to the side briefly, before looking forward, his cheeks flushing with color, presumably in rage.