The Bad Boy

Chapter 85

Stephanie's P.O.V.

Niall lost the bet. The door to the place opens and Harry stalks out. He has a busted lip, a black eye, his arms are scraped and his knuckles are dripping blood. I glance behind him and see the guy laying on the ground another person kneeling over him. He's unconscious.

"Steph...." Harry starts to say.

"Just get in the car Harry." I say.

He goes around to the drivers side and hops in. Niall piles in the back with Louis who came out a few moments after Harry. I climb in the passenger seat. Harry and I are quiet the whole way home but Louis, and Niall make quiet small talk. I don't know what to do. I can't seem to stay mad at Harry when he's hurt but he did something bad and he deserves it and I have no idea what to do anymore! Before I met Harry I had every second of every day of my life planned out. After I met him it all went to hell. I started doing crazy things, got into a huge fight with my parents.... I just don't even know anymore. I knew everything before I met him and now I know absolutely nothing.

We pull into the apartment parking lot and climb the stairs to the apartment. Ally is sitting on the floor playing with Lilly and Ella. Niall and Louis flop onto the couch continuing their ongoing discussion of which breakfast cereal is better, (Niall: Lucky Charms, Louis: Cinnamon Toast Crunch), and Harry stalks into his room.

I follow him, closing the door behind me.

"What the hell Harry?" I ask, crossing my arms.

"What do you mean what the hell?" He asks, pulling off his t-shirt which has a little blood on it and throwing it into the corner.

"You left Ally and I alone at the park with two toddlers, that's what the hell!" I say./

"We were coming back!" Harry protests.

"Excuses excuses. You left us without a car! What if Lilly or Ella had gotten hurt, how would we have gotten to a hospital?!" I yelp. Harry sits down on the bed, still shirtless, and runs his hands over his face, wincing when he hits a sore spot.

"Yeah. I know." Harry sighs.

I huff. I know he's not going to apologize, he never does and he never will. But I'm going to forgive him because he's in a lot of pain, and he looks like a hurt little puppy dog.

"Come in the bathroom." I sigh.

He follows me into the bathroom, sitting down on the toilet seat. I run some warm water through the faucet and then grab his hand. The bathroom is so small and his arms are so long that I can put his hand under the water and he doesn't even have to get up.

He winces as the water swirls red down the drain. When the water is finally clear after running over his hand, I set it down on the counter and run a wash cloth under the warm water. I move over and tilt Harry's head up towards the light. I dab at his busted lip, staining the white cloth with red spots. Then I mop off his cuts.

"Do you want a band aid?" I ask.

"F*** no." Harry says. "I'm fine."

"You sure as hell don't look it. And I wouldn't want you to scare the kids." I say, tilting his head towards the mirror. He, for the first time, notices the black eye and busted lip and bruises and cuts and how scary it looks.

"Will it make you happy to put on a band aid?" Harry asks.

"Nothing's going to make me happy right now, but it will help you heal faster." I reply.