SINS (Completed)

NIGHT CHANGES

I tread my fingers lightly over Hardin's scalp, smoothening out his hair and relishing the feel of the soft touch. He lies on his stomach, his face in my lap and his arms thrown around my midsection, breathing the first few light breaths of a juvenile sleep.

All this while, the years he had spent making himself into the unfeeling, strong headed man who stands up for himself, for his baby sister-

today as he walked down the steps of the court, cameras flashing all over and media firing questions that further churned his wounds, probably he has successfully become one.

It's a dawn of a new age, a new Hardin.

Even the smallest of pains inevitably changes people, and then this- this was one of a kind and drastically huge.

The loss of this case would have hurt- but it doesn't mean that the victory wouldn't. Avoiding the hurt was never an option for him, and all we could hope was to choose a lesser pain.

I don't know what kind of a Hardin Scott I'll meet tomorrow morning, but I know he'll be different, having changes that will manifest themselves in time.

My legs turn numb and cold, my throat parched in thirst. So after making sure that he's fast asleep, I carefully lift his head and slide out, resting it back on the mattress of his bed.

He frowns softy, before descending back into sleep, too exhausted to wake.

I stand by the bedside, about to go downstairs for some water, but before I do- I kneel by the edge, to look at his sleeping form, his cuffs undone and his shirt riding up to show a little bit of his chiselled waist.

His face is flushed and glistening with the trace of all the tears he has shed since the last hour. His hair falls over his forehead fanning his closed eyelids, and along his earlobe, looking a mix of black and glowing brown.

His long eyelashes rest peacefully against the white of his skin and his lips, turned pink due to sleep are parted in gentle breathing.

I blink heavily, my heart throbbing with a strange blend of awe and melancholy. Hardin is sleeping, and I'm living the dream as I gaze at him in the silence of the night, undisturbed.

I smile sadly and kiss his eyebrow lightly, before I walk out his room, descending the stairs.

I move into the kitchen to grab a glass of water, when I notice Trevor sitting alone at the dining table with a glass of some liquor.

My feet take me towards him without another thought and when he catches me standing before him, he keeps his glass on the table, looking up at me.

"How is he?" He asks tiredly.

I take the chair beside him, resting my arms on the tabletop.

"Dealing," I reply truthfully. "How's Brit?"

She was the worst hit. No matter how insistent Hardin was that she not be involved in the proceedings, it was illogical and practically impossible.

The case involved an offense against herself- and a statement from her was mandatory.

She had broken down disastrously the day Hardin told her that it was their father, a week ago and she had turned catatonic.

Today, as she testified against that father from behind that witness box, Hardin's eyes didn't blink for a second in fear of what eventually did happen nevertheless.