After (Larry Version)

~*Chapter 85*~

I scramble backward with my hands as Harry lifts Dan's head, his hands still wrapped around his neck, and slams it down into the grass. For a second I wonder if Harry would have done the same if were on the concrete porch or near the fire pit stones, and I feel like my answer comes in the form of Harry raising one fist high and slamming it into Dan's jaw.
"Harry!" I scream and climb to my feet. Everyone else just stares, Jace seeming amused and even Ronnie

"Stop him!" I beg, but Jace shakes his head as Harry's fist connects again to Dan's already bloody face.
"This has been coming for a while let them hash it out." He smirks at me. "Want a drink?"
"What? No, I don't want a drink! What the hell is wrong with you!" I yell.
A crowd has now gathered around and people are cheering on the fight. I have yet to see Dan hit Harry, for which I'm glad, but I definitely want Harry to stop hurting Dan. I'm too afraid to try to stop him myself, so when Zayn appears in the yard, I yell for him. His eyes find me immediately and he jogs over.
"Stop him, please!" I yell. Everyone seems excited about this except me. If Harry keeps hitting him, he will kill him. I know it.

Zayn gives me a quick nod and takes a few steps over to Harry. He wraps his fist into Harry's shirt and pulls him backward. Harry is caught off guard, so he's easily separated from Dan's prone body. Enraged, Harry takes a swing at Zayn, but Zayn dodges his fist and puts both of his hands on Harry's shoulders. He says something to Harry that I can't make out and then nods his head toward me. Harry's eyes are blazing, his knuckles bloody and his shirt ripped from Zayn's grip. His chest is pumping up and down rapidly, like he's a wild animal after a kill. I don't make a move to walk toward him, I know how angry he is at me. I can tell. I am not afraid of Harry the way I probably should be. Even though I just witnessed him completely losing his temper in the worst way possible, I know that he would never physically hurt me.

With the excitement winding down, almost everyone begins to move back inside the house. Dan's crumpled body lies on the ground and Jace leans down to help him up. He stumbles to his feet and lifts his shirt up to wipe his bloody face off, spitting out a mixture of blood and saliva that makes me look away.
Harry's head turns to look where Dan is and he tries to take a step toward him. Zayn holds Harry tight to stop him.
"Fuck you, Styles!" Dan yells. Jace steps between them. Oh, now he wants to do something. "Just wait until your little—" Dan shouts.
"Shut the fuck up," Jace snaps and Dan's mouth closes.
Dan looks at me and I take a step back. I wonder what Jace meant by this has been coming for a while.Hardin and Dan seemed fine together a few minutes ago."

"Go inside!" Hardin yells, and I immediately know that he is talking to me.
I decide to listen to him, for once, and turn around and run into the house. I know that everyone is staring at me but I don't care. I push my way through the crowded house and rush up to Harry's room. I must have forgotten to lock it when I left, and, to add to my horror, there is a big red spot on the carpet. Someone must have stumbled in here and spilled a drink on the tan carpet. Great. I hurry to the bathroom and grab a towel and turn the sink on. I lock Harry's door once I step inside and furiously wipe the stain, but the water only spreads the spot and makes it much worse. The door clicks and I try to stand before he enters.

"What the hell are you doing?" His eyes move to the towel in my hand then to the spot on the floor.
"Someone... I forgot to lock the door when I went downstairs," I say and look at him. His nostrils flare and he takes a deep breath. "I'm sorry," I say.
The anger is radiating off him and I can't even be angry with him because all of this is my fault. If I would have just listened to him and stayed in the room, none of this would have happened.

He runs his hands over his face in frustration and I take a step toward him. His fingers are busted and bloody, reminding me of his fight at the stadium. He surprises me by grabbing the towel from my hands and I reflexively jump back a little. His eyes flash with confusion and he tilts his head slightly as he uses the nonstained portion of the towel to wipe his knuckles off.
I expected him to barge through the door and break things while screaming at me,instead I am granted with his silence, which turns out to be much worse.
"Could you please say something?" I beg.