Bad Blood (h.s.)

Part Twenty-Three

Part Twenty-Three

My footsteps echo in the dark hallway as I walk to Harry's warm-up room. I grip my pockets tightly, fearing I could rip them open, leaving my jacket pocket-less. I hear the faint echo of Paul's steps behind me, but it soon fades once I come up on Harry's door. My fingers grip the cold metal doorknob, my heart beating faster than normal at the anticipation of Harry's appearance.

I turn the knob and walk in, the room pitch black and barely anything is visible. I can make out Harry's faint figure on the bench, his head hanging low but soon rising after the door closes, slamming shut. I walk towards him slowly, unsure of how to handle this situation.

"Come here," he whispers, opening his arms, his features wincing. My hands grip his and pull his arms down, not wishing to see him in pain.

"Beth, I need you to come here," he breathes, pulling me close, forcing my legs to straddle his and my body to come on his slightly. I try not to put any weight onto him, my grief for seeing him hurt not with-standing the pain I see him in now.

"Sit on my lap, it's okay."

I do so and he wraps his arms around me, placing one hand on the back of my head and leaning it into his neck. He breathes me in and holds me close, my arms wrapping around his sweaty torso and holding him to me.

"A-Are you hurt?"

My whisper comes out more strained than I imagined, pain woven into my words unknowingly. He brings his head off mine, allowing my head to move up and face him, my vision seeing Harry's face completely now. Nothing was substantial, his cheeks slightly swollen and his left eye a little puffy. His nose looked fine and his lip was split. I run my thumb over his lips, checking for his teeth which all seem to be there. I run my finger along his nose and bring both hands up, gently brushing under his eye. My focus darts back to his nose, awestruck at how it doesn't look out of place.

"I'm fine baby."

I look in his eyes, gleaming in his hope, but my vision darts to his chest, a significant bruise forming just under his left swallow. My hand glides over it, a shiver sent through his body and my hand moves to his neck. I bring my thumb and forefinger to his chin, observing that he can still move it. At the obvious movement I see his good mobility. I grip his shoulders and a deep moan is elicited from his lips.

"That's sore but it felt really good."

His face turns back to face mine and he smiles, all pearly whites on display and my worry blows out of my body, wrapping my arms around his neck and holding him close to me. He responds by grabbing my waist and wrapping his arms around me.

"I was so worried," I breathe, his sweaty curls touching my lips.

"I wouldn't be. Especially against him. I was honestly more worried about you."

I smile and he holds me close, unwanting to let me go. He is impeccable; strong and capable of things I never thought a boy could do.

"Knocked him down first round, suffered a few punches and hits the second, and whipped his sorry ass the third. All in all, an undefeated match."

My lips curve more, my smile showing my teeth, feeling a great sense of happiness and joy.

"And I did it all for you," he whispers, the last words adding more of a beautiful way of speaking, his heartfelt words coming to me as touching syllables of pure care and compassion.

I raise my head and look down at him, my height slightly higher due to our position.

"You're amazing," I whisper, kissing his forehead. He chuckles and keeps me close.