murder || harry lewis

two

"i then refused to do anymore deals for the other guys, as i knew i'd end up in even more trouble, or be sent to jail or something." harry spoke, his face falling as he spoke the last part, "and now my dad's dead."

"oh, harry, i'm so sorry."

"it's alright. now, my question. why were you so steady with the gun?"

"let's get you cleaned up." i stalled, gently grabbing harry's clammy hand and pulling him to the bathroom.

"i'm fine."

"you're bleeding."

he sat on he counter and i stood between his legs, wiping away his blood, and gently holding his hair back.

the vibrant amber was such a beautiful contrast to his soft eyes, which i, yet again, found myself gazing into.

"oh, um," i mumbled, realising i'd been staring, "do you remember that story about the girl who was found next to her dead mother and a dead criminal, underground?"

"vaguely. but why does it matter? this isn't--"

"do you remember her name?"

"no." harry winced as i cleaned his cut in his cheek.

"she was called rose winters."

"rose wint--" harry started, stopping as his eyes widened and he looked at me. "that's you."

i nodded, "i was six. he killed my mother in front of me, then left for a moment and dropped his gun. when he returned, i shot him, like he had to her. i fell asleep on the floor, drenched in my mother's blood and woke up in my bed at home. you're the only person that knows i killed him." i mumbled.

"i'm so sorry, that's not fair on you at all."

"it's okay, um, are you alright?" i asked, motioning to his face that i'd finished cleaning.

"yes, thank you."

harry slipped his arms around my waist as he pulled me closer to him, hugging me. i snuggled my face into the crook of his neck, my arms around his shoulders as he held me, allowing my tears to slip down my cheeks, wetting his shirt.

i pulled away and harry leant his forehead on mine, a small smile on his lips, causing me to be unable to prevent one from forming on mine.

harry tilted his face and placed his lips on mine, his arms still around my waist as i cupped his cheeks.

"i've always wanted to do that."

"me too."

harry gave me one of his shirts to change into as he stripped down to his boxers, pulling me to lay next to him as we cuddled in his bed.

"i murdered someone today." i mumbled, it finally dawning on me, "but i'm not upset."

harry stayed quiet, but he pressed a gentle, understanding kiss to the top of my head as he turned his light off.

"goodnight, baby girl. sleep well."

"g'night."

"rose?"

"harry." i mumbled. it was one in the morning and the two of us were still awake.

"do you regret killing him? does it scare you that you pulled the trigger so easily?"

i thought about my answer for a moment, "no."

and when harry didn't scream at me for being psychopath, i snuggled my face into his neck.

"neither." he mumbled.

"when?"

"after he killed my dad, i killed him." harry spoke softly.

and when i didn't scream at harry for being a psychopath, he lay on his side, pulling my front to his, wrapping his arms around my waist.

"i love you."

"i think you love the idea of me."