Bad Blood (h.s.)

Part Four

Part Four

The doorbell rings and I get up from the warm confines of my bed. I throw on a zip-up hoodie and walk out to the foyer, opening the door and seeing a tired looking Harry. His eyes are puffy and his busted lips still looks sore.

"Are you okay?" he asks, concern filled his voice.

"Yes, I just wanted to ask you something."

He nods and I close the door behind him. He's wearing some joggers and a black hoodie, the hood blocking my view from his chestnut curls.

"Just, over the phone, it sounded like you were in trouble. You sounded scared."

I shake my head and lead him inside. I offer him tea and he accepts, my hands fumbling with the kettle and placing it on the stove.

"I don't know why I called you actually," I say, brushing my hair back and grabbing mugs from the cabinet.

"I am glad you did because I need to talk to you."

I turn and place the mugs on the counter and he walks closer to me.

"Beth, can you look at me?" I do so and he stares into my eyes. I momentarily forget how to breathe when his hands wrap around my wrists, pulling the purple fabric covered arms to his chest. My hands rest on his shoulders and his head leans down.

"Why won't you let me in?" he asks, lips moving slowly as he keeps his focus on mine, whereas mine is on his neck and lips. His veins in his neck relaxed, unlike earlier. My heart seems to be taking a toll on all of this. He keeps going back and forth between aggressive and caring. He is bipolar and I don't know how to deal with this.

"Because you won't let me in," I whisper, looking up into his eyes. He strongly holds my wrists, but soon fades into nothing. His hands loosen, sliding up, gripping my hands in his and slowly wrapping them around mine. His attempt to go slow is dramatically enhanced as he moves, delicately lacing each finger between mine. I watch him focus on our hands, my gaze soon on them as well. I couldn't help but let this feel right. I felt the gesture was to show that he is trying so hard to do this, not only for me but for himself. I need to know the story behind his eyes, the wonder from his mind.

He places a kiss to each of my fingers, touching them with care, moving his split lip over each tiny length of my fingers. He concentrates on being gentle, knowing the last time he was rough I ran. Just give him a chance.

His eyelashes flutter against his cheeks and they eventually close, as he releases his lips from my hand. He keeps my hands engulfed by his, trying everything in his heart not to hurt me.

"I am taking you out tomorrow. On a real date," he whispers, pulling my body closer to his own. My hands are released and arms are wrapped around my body, holding me to his muscular, musky scented body. I want to know what runs through his mind; the caution he holds around me indescribable and the time he spends watching me is filled with joy on his features.

With what Ruth said to me, I can't help but let myself think that I could be the one to keep him grounded. His hardships in life and the pain he endures can all go away with me. I could only help if he lets me in, let me know him like no one else. But that would require me to do the same to him.

His head moves into my neck and I bring his hood off his head, brushing my hand through his hair. I just wish I could stay here, inhaling his scent that makes me feel safe. I let my thumb carelessly caress the back of his head, my hand wrapping around his curls.