Coalescence ➳ H.S.

Eighteen: Happy

Clarine's POV

Harry stood, at the least, a few feet away from me at all times. Even when I told him to come closer, he would shuffle forward a few inches and stop, as if he were afraid to pop the bubble I had created for myself. That bubble didn't exist with him; I just wanted him to be so much closer than he was, both literally and figuratively.

In truth, I hadn't stopped thinking of him. It wasn't something I was proud of, for I promised myself I wouldn't succumb to the lowliness of a man, especially one that had the audacity to hit me, but I knew deep down that he had a reason. I didn't want to believe that reason, but there was one, and I was sure of it.

Hyacinth was the only one that noticed something wrong about 'Trevor' leaving (I said something about him having some personal problem that he needed to tend to). She didn't question me crying on the plane back, but I knew that she knew something was off. She sat there and held my hand, as a good, older-by-ten-minutes sister would. I missed him and didn't have the heart to admit it to myself.

Now, as he stood by the sink with his blanket cocooned around him and I was sitting at the edge of the bathtub (a rather large, freestanding tub—the kind with the lion paws at the bottom), I felt a certain degree of safety with him back within my reach. I didn't believe in possessions, but it'd would've been nice to really call him my own. The tap filled the bath with warm water—almost hot, but not quite, just the way my mom used to prepare my baths—about midway before I peeled my shirt off and made my way over to set it on the counter. Harry sighed and averted his eyes from me after seeing the bruises that had been left on my skin by the men previously.

"If you hadn't killed them, I would've," he said in a quiet, resentful tone. "I would've found out who they were and I wouldn't have let them get away."

"I killed them because I had to, not because I wanted to. It was honestly the worst feeling, pulling that trigger at something other than a target. 'People aren't targets', that's what they used to say at police school, but they still train you to shoot at those little bulls-eye things until sooner or later, your enemy becomes just another bulls-eye for you to hit. Straight in the center, right between the eyes."

His eyes, now a softer shade of green that they had been, met mine and looked as if they were asking 'What the hell does that have to do with anything?'

"I know what they did was disgusting. It was so, so wrong, but I don't want you to hurt anybody for my sake. I can fight my own battles, Harry."

"I don't want you to fight them alone," he admitted. He coughed again, spitting into the sink and rinsing his mouth before meeting my gaze. "I don't ever want you to be alone, you know? It's not a nice feeling—"

"Harry—"

"—and I want you to know that you won't ever be alone. Not when you have me. Okay?"

"Okay," I whispered. His arms twitched for a moment, wanting to extend out and embrace me but forcing himself not to. I decided I'd make the first move for once in my life. I hugged him, grasping him tightly and taking in the scent of him as I pressed my cheek to his chest. I heard an unsteady beating underneath and fear plagued my head. However, biting my tongue was the least I could do after the absence of his arms reciprocating my actions. "Hug me back."

"Have I earned your trust back so soon?" he smirked.

I shrugged and stepped back, holding onto his hands. "I don't know...d'you wanna find out?"

"Do you know how cruel it is to tease a sick man?"

"I'm not teasing," I smiled, pouring bubble bath into the tub promptly after, then turned off the tap, the tub now filled three quarters of the way and topped with a sea of foam.