His eyes trace the way your eyes are weakly fluttering and to the way you can hardly hold yourself up, his hands immediately reaching for you as he slides his palms under your arms. He draws you to his chest as he slowly slides you out of the backseat of the car, his anger returning even hotter.
If he had known it was you in the backseat the whole time he would have had their bodies dumped in one of the dumpsters behind the bar with no mercy shown.
He guides your hands around his neck as he carries you bridal style, walking back across the street to his bike as he gazes down at your face, flushed and warm, your eyes hardly blinking. The only sounds he can hear from you are mumbled unintelligible words, that he eases down with some hushed shushing noises between his lips.
He holds you close with one arm as the other reaches for the motorcycle helmet, placing it over your head as he pats it, making sure it was all the way on. He flips the visor down as your hands tighten around his neck, the shifting movements causing you to slip slightly. He settles onto the bike, guiding your legs to straddle him as one of his hands spread wide over your lower back, keeping you stablized.
"Fuckin bastards. I've got you, don't worry," he says uncharacteristically soft, his hand sliding up to your upper back as he guides you closer, starting up his bike as you weakly hold onto him. He uses one hand to get the engine purring, the other wrapped tightly around your fraile midsection.
"Hold on tight," he says over the sound of his bike, knowing you were out of it and probably not aware enough to understand, but he reassures you anyways. The position of you on his lap makes it hard to steer the bike as he pulls away from the curb, the little jerk sending you closer into his chest as his fingers curl tighter around your side, his focus set on getting you back to base.
The stands of your hair tickle his neck as the wind pushes it back towards him, the soft locks spilling from the helmet getting slightly tangled at the ends. He slides his hand from your back to cup the back of the helmet, keeping your head close to his chest as he easily maneuvers around cars on the street.
The anger he felt earlier at his friends remark of you leaving with some guy now burns out into the feeling of guilt and shame, as he always seems to catch himself judging you for things that are completely normal for a pretty, young girl who was recently single.
His jaw clenches as he fights the thoughts away, instead slowly pulling into his parking spot as he turns off his bike, his hands slowly wrapping around you as he sits there for a moment. He knew in the morning when you had your wits about you again it'd go back to the animosity between he and you, but the feeling of having you in his arms if even for a moment has his racing thoughts slowing down, his heart rate matching your slower one.
His hands soothingly run along your back, the soft stirring of your body under his touch making his eyes close momentarily, his lips parting to release a soft sigh.
"I'm sorry. For everything," he mumbles, his hands slowly taking the helmet off your head to see your eyes closed, head resting against his shoulder.
He sighs again as he carefully gets off the bike, his hands sliding under your ass to carry you, his footsteps even and quiet as he makes his way down to the living quarters, deciding to bring you to his room in case you needed anything.
The second he has the door shut the comforting darkness has his eyes cast to you in his arms, the moonlight highlighting your soft features. You look like the days before he had hurt you; innocent and sweet, a vibrant soul spreading the very warmth he had taken from you.
Now all he saw was the darkness that had managed to thread around the very streams of light inside of you, dimming them under the bitter taste of heartbreak and animosity. He had thought staying away from you would protect you further but he wasn't sure anymore.
