Guns and Mirrors

SEVENTEEN

♕Harley Anderson♕

I struggle to pull myself out of bed the next morning. With an aching body that doesn't want to function properly, I have to put a lot more effort into everything that I do. The pain that shoots up the length of my torso makes me wince, my breathing becoming ragged, before I stand up. With forced movements, I gingerly enter the bathroom. After running the shower and stripping the only thing I had on- which is a hoodie- I climb in. The hot water that runs out of the faucet makes me moan out in relief, it relaxing my taut muscles. The water turns a light red, the remnants of blood that Danté couldn't get off last night getting washed away, and I rest my head against the wall as I try calm down.

Isaac is still requesting my presence today but only in the afternoon, so I still have another five hours to work up the energy to look at my attackers in their faces. I don't know if I'll be able to do it but I do know that if there's anyone I'm really mad at it, it's Cyrus. He might've not being the one who beat me himself but the fact that he's Jack's right hand man and it's his boss that gave the girls the 'go for it'.... well, it just stings more than I care to admit. I get that it's part of the initiation but after everything I- we- have been through with our father, I thought he'd care enough to intervene for my sake. He really will always put the gang first.

My hand twists the faucet to turn the water off and after drying myself down and getting into a fresh hoodie, I leave my hair down to dry and enter the kitchen. Danté is leaning against the countertop and applying ice to his knuckles, making me suspicious. He had left earlier this morning, telling me he wouldn't be gone long, and now he's back after obviously hurting someone and I know for a fact it's not from practicing with Xavier.

"Who'd you beat up?" I ask as I enter and Danté looks up immediately, eyes scanning my appearance as he places the ice down. When he remembers I asked him a question, he shakes his head.

"It doesn't matter."

I roll my eyes. "Yes it does." I say as I reach him and take a seat at a barstool. He sighs.

"No, what matters is you. How are you feeling?" Danté stresses stubbornly, reaching out to cup my cheek and I press further into his touch.

"I'm fine. Just very sore." Comes my honest reply and he nods before I reach for his waist and pull him towards me. My hand rests on the back of his neck as he comes to stand between my legs. "Thank you for looking after me. I love you."

Danté nods, a slight frown on his face, as I pull him in for a kiss. I do it lightly at first before I press harder. Danté deepens the kiss, pulling me towards him. However, the bruises on my breasts make them extra tender, so much so that the pain makes my vision go hazy. Sensing my discomfort, Danté pulls away and looks down at me.

"Are you okay? Did I hurt you?"

I let out a shaky breath. "It's fine. My boobs... just really fucking hurt." Danté's eyebrows scrunch together in concern and I rest a hand on his bicep. "Hey, I'm okay."

His eyes meet mine, a look of doubt crossing over them temporarily, before he reluctantly nods. Danté slips out of my embrace and I immediately miss his warmth.

"Are you hungry?"

I nod, my stomach grumbling as proof and Danté rummages through the cupboards.

"How about I make pancakes?" He suggests and I raise an eyebrow.

"Pancakes? Wow. I don't think you've ever made them for me."

Danté chuckles. "Yeah, well, I didn't think it was necessary considering how much you love waffles."