We had arrived in Harry's apartment. I didn't even know he had an apartment. I just assumed that he always stayed with Liam.
His apartment was super modern. Just like Liam's place Harry's place looked untouched. A white sheets were over nearly every piece of furniture my eyes laid on. I slowly helped him sit on one of the couch's that had been so unoccupied that there were dust on it.
"Where's Liam?" I asked while pulling my hair into a bun. I switched on a couple lights around the living room so I could properly examine his injury. I didn't know how to treat but so I hoped he knew. Surely he's gotten ones like this before.
"He's somewhere." He murmured. I rolled my eyes at the lack of information. "Go to the bathroom and look in the cabinet, there should be a first aid box inside." He slowly touched the glass shard and closed his eyes. He looked like he was ready to pull it out. I grimaced and quickly raced away in search of the bathroom. I sure as hell didn't want to see that glass coming out of his body. The thought of it just makes me sick.
I opened a random door to see it was a bedroom. My eyes scanned it taking everything in. The place looked untouched just like everything else in this apartment. I noticed that there was another door inside so I quickly raced towards it and pulled it open.
I sighed in relief when my eyes met with the beautiful marble bathroom. This place screamed luxury. Why didn't Harry live here? I pulled open the cabinet door underneath the sink. There were fresh towels, spare toothbrushes and heaps of different branded shampoos and body washes. I pushed and spotted the first aid kit Harry was talking about.
"Olivia! Hurry up!" I heard Harry's voice call out. I reached in and quickly grabbed the box and jogged back out of the room into the living room.
My eyes landed on the glass shard that was carelessly tossed onto the table in front of Harry. His hands were pressed against his side over the shirt he was wearing to stop himself from bleeding out. I placed the first aid kit box in front of him in a hurry.
"Open it." He groaned and I unclipped the sides and flicked it open. Inside there we gauze pads, thread, needles, bottles filled with clear liquid and bandaids. "Hand me that cloth there with the alcohol bottle." I reached in and swiped up what he needed. I watched as he took his hands from the bloody shit and unscrewed the small alcohol bottle. He tipped it onto the cloth.
"Fuck. I can't. Can you?" He asked. His eyes were pleading and despite the fact I really didn't want to I found myself nodding and taking the items off his hand. I slowly lifted the bloody shirt and instantly blood started to run down from the large slash across the side.
Harry's hands were resting on top of his head and upon further examination he was fisting his curls. His eyes were screwed shut, bracing himself for the intense pain he was about to feel. I inhaled before gently pressing the alcohol dipped cloth to his side.
"Fuck!" He screamed and flinched away from my hold. But I grabbed his knee to support myself and pressed the cloth further to his cut to clean it throughly.
"You seem like you haven't been through his.." I whispered as I continued to clean his wound.
"I always get one of the med guys to help when something like this happens. But it's pretty rare I get hurt." He stumbled out.
"Why? You scared of wounds?" I asked. I pulled the cloth away and started to look inside the box for the thread and needle. He needed stitches. That gaps at his side had to be forced shut otherwise it would take forever to heal and I could tell Harry wasn't great with wounds taking forever to heal.
"Yes."
I grabbed the thread and needle and quickly inserted the thread into the small hole on top of the needle. "Then it's pretty silly for you to have a career in this field." I mumbled pressing the thread onto his skin. He flinched and refrained from screaming out and I drew the needle through and started to stitch his wound up.
"It's only the blood. The rest is fine." He groaned. His hands reached the white sheet that was draped over the dusty couch and he fisted it tightly and kept groaning in pain. "I hate blood.. ever since my mum.."
His mum?
I continued my actions nearly reaching the end of his wound. "Why? What did your mum do?" I asked softly. I looked into the first aid kit and grabbed the silver scissors and gently cut the spare thread away and pulled the needle out. I dropped it onto the table and started to rummage through the kit for a gauze pad.
"She killed herself when I was five."
My actions froze. I looked at him to see that he was really calm saying something like that. It didn't even seem to faze him. I frowned. "Harry that's really serious.."
He shrugged. I turned back and grabbed the gauze pad and peeled it open from the packet and gently placed it over his stitches. "I saw the blood. Because she had slit her throat you see." He paused. "Her being dead didn't really impact me. It was just the rough way she killed herself.. why not pop some pills ya know? Why do you have to leave your kid to discover you laying on blood?" My frown deepened at his explanation. He was so calm and okay with telling it. Even suggesting other ways that suited him more about suicide. I felt a shiver run down my spine as I pulled away from him after I had finished fixing him up.
"All done." I forced a smile ignoring what he just said. It was too gruesome to continue this conversation. Especially at the fact he was so calm.
It's his mother for Christ's sakes. And he was five? why does he act like he's not affected when clearly he is. He can't stand blood because of his mother.. so he's saying she should've popped pills instead.
He stared down at my finished work and nodded in satisfaction. "Thanks. Looks exactly like how my med guy does it."
I stood up along with him and watched as he reached down to pick the bloody shirt that had prevented him from bleeding out. He crossed me and then picked the glass shard he had carelessly thrown onto the table with the shirt so he doesn't cut himself.
"So is Liam going to be coming here?" I asked following him into the open spaced kitchen. This apartment was really beautiful, I just couldn't get over the architecture of it. I really liked the modern and sleeked look of everything. There wasn't a lot of objects cluttering around the place. Everything was just minimalistic and modern.
Like I had reminded him of Liam, he pulled his phone out from his pocket after he disposed the bloody shirt and glass shard into a metal bin that opened by itself after it censored someone was in front of it. I stared at it impressed.
"Hey man." Harry mumbled into the phone to most likely Liam. "I'm at my place with Olivia. Where are you?" He asked as he walked past me back to the living room. I followed suit and sat beside him on the couch.
"Oh shit man.." Harry suddenly sat up front. His long hairs reached up to his hair and he raked through them in stress. I watched as he bit his lip. He seemed to do that quite a lot. From nervousness or while he was teasing me. "Okay. Of course man. I'll see you soon." He pulled the phone away from his ear and chucked it beside him.
"What's going on?"
Harry's green eyes met mine. "Liam's going away for a while.. on.. business?" He mumbled the last part unsure. He was being secretive of what exactly business was Liam was attending. "So you're going to be staying here til then."
"So who shot at us?" I asked folding my arms across my chest. He really wasn't giving me much.
"Um.." he scratched his neck while staring at me. I could tell he was debating whether or not he should tell me. "You remember Ambasso?" I froze at his words before finally nodding. "Well because I killed him his gang is a little pissed at me."
"A little? That guy nearly shot us."
He nodded. "I killed their leader. We're really lucky we got out of there." His fingers rubbed his eyes and he pulled away with a stressed out look. "Listen Liv, I'm going to have to lay low for awhile and so will you. I'm the only man here protecting you so I don't want any hateful feelings between us.. so I'm going to apologise again for the way I treated you back in the theatre."
He was apologising again. He's apologised twice to me now so I knew he felt really bad about what he did. I sighed and nodded. "All is forgiven." I gave him a soft smile and in return he gave me one back.
