Elena

It took hours for Harry to completely calm down. He hasn't spoken since he said what I assume was his brother's name, shutting himself into his own private world, refusing to talk to me or even look at me. I managed to talk him into at least coming into my room, not wanting to leave him alone or let him having to face the memories of his brother in his flat.

I cleaned his bloodied hands and bandaged them carefully, getting absolutely no reaction from him. Every time I look at him, it feels as if someone has punched me in the gut. His usually bright green eyes seem dull and cold, bloodshot from crying, his lips dry as he stares at nothing in particular.

"Harry?" I ask gently as he sits on the edge of my bed, shoulders slumped and muscles unmoving. My hand comes up to brush his curls aside, my fingertips sliding from his eyebrow down to his jaw. "Would you lie down? Or maybe take a shower?"

I'm completely prepared for him to snap and shout at me, I know what to expect in these situations and I most certainly won't back down.  He needs help right now, despite being like this, I know he needs it. A solid minute passes without him saying anything and staring at nothing, all the while my fingers are soothingly running over his face.  He finally looks down at once, bending down to untie his trainers. I stand up and step away, giving him the space he needs.

"I'm going to shower, okay? I'll be with you soon," I tell him once he lies down, a cover over his body, eyelids closed as he breathes slowly and deeply. I observe him for some time and it appears he has fallen asleep, making me sigh in relief quietly. I feel nothing but sadness when I see him like this, broken and tormented, wishing I could do anything to take it all away.

I walk into the bathroom to take a shower and brush my teeth, not wanting for him to be alone for too long.  After I'm done, I return to the bedroom in nothing but a thin bathrobe, wanting to get dressed as quickly as possible and make sure he's still asleep and okay.  My eyes open wide and heart skips a beat when I see an empty space where Harry was lying, eyes frantically searching for him.

He's sitting with his back pressed against the wall, his knees pulled to his chest, hands clutching his head as he breathes heavily, shaking his head and mumbling something incoherent under his breath. I slightly panic seeing him like this, but at the same time I'm relieved he didn't leave, especially in a state like this where he is capable of not only injuring someone else, but himself.  I slowly and carefully approach him, crouching in front of him, my palm cautiously pressing on top of his knee, making him flinch.

His wild eyes look at me, no trace of recognition in them, making my heart rate quicker than normal, knowing what is about to happen, my chest working fast.  He jolts up suddenly as he stares at me with pure rage and hatred, making me stumble backwards as he takes a few threatening steps toward me.  I quickly scramble to my feet, taking a gulp, my eyes silently begging him to snap out of it. No, not this again.

"Harry, it's me," I say cautiously, but make no attempt to approach him because it might seem like an attack to him.

He abruptly lunges at me, tightly gripping my shoulders painfully and pushing me aside, making my body collide with the hard wall, jolts of pain immediately washing over me. I let out a quiet grunt, determined not to return any punches, believing he's going to snap out of it any second now. "Harry, please," I say louder, hoping it'll have an effect on him. "Don't do this."

But he doesn't react, seeing who knows what as he fists his hand, swinging it at me as I quickly bend and avoid the punch, wanting to move to the other side of the room. Unfortunately, his fingers painfully dig into my arm and pull me back toward him, twisting it at my back to disable me from moving. His other arm wraps around my neck in a headlock as he presses me into him, my back to his chest as he begins applying pressure on my windpipe, my free hand trying to loosen his grip.

Tears quickly fill my eyes and I realise I'll have to hurt him, my lungs soon struggling to get some air, my lips parted as almost unbearable pain shoots through my arm where he's twisting it in a painful angle.  I give up trying to remove his arm and use my free arm to harshly elbow him in the gut, his grip faltering as a groan rumbles from his chest, my instincts kicking in and making me turn and jam my elbow into his jaw, his head swivelling to the side from the impact, his palm coming up to cover the wound. Unfortunately, he doesn't pass out.

"Harry, snap out of it!" I try once again, seeing my moves have only pissed him off further as his menacing eyes stare at me, my hands defensively placed in front of me. "Please, don't," I beg, my words a silent whisper as I take a step back, remembering my promise to him.

"I want you to fight if that happens again, I don't want you to hold back because of me."

"Harry-"

"Promise me," he pressed. "Promise me you'll stop me no matter what if it happens again."

I was silent for a few moments before letting out a sigh. "I promise."

But I don't want to fight him, I can't. Just the mere thought brings the bile into my throat, a shaky breath being expelled from my mouth. "Harry-"

This time, he takes me by surprise and does punch me, making my head turn sharply as the spot of the impact throbs with pain, but I don't react. My eyes glance at my bed where I keep my knife, a rational part of me screaming at me to run and use it to defend myself while the other one is preventing me from moving, hoping he'll snap out of it. He has to.

"Harry, I'm begging you." My lips tremble slightly as I try to hold back any tears, refusing to break now that he needs me to help him the most. There is still no recognition in his eyes, his whole demeanour showing me he's ready to kill me. "No!" I shout as he once again lunges at me, making me jump aside to avoid the attack, my legs carrying me toward my bed.

I jump on it and frantically throw away the pillows, grabbing my knife with shaky hands just as his fingers grab my hair and tug at the strands harshly, a yelp in pain leaving my mouth. He drags me backwards and throws me onto my back while I grip my knife, his hands coming up to my neck, gripping tightly as his eyes look into mine, his body weight pinning me onto the bed.

I can either let him kill me or do one thing I can to save myself. When the lack of air gets unbearable, my survival instincts take over and I muster enough strength to flip us over, our bodies falling onto the floor, him being the one to take the hit as he lies on his back, seemingly shocked by my sudden action.  I'm breathing shakily as I hold his chest with one hand, pressing the blade of the knife to his throat while I stare into his eyes, a heavy lump forming in my throat, my hands shaking from shock and adrenaline coursing through me.

"Please I don't want to do this, don't- don't make me do this, please," I mumble as I let out a sob, unable to hold back my tears anymore.

He keeps struggling under my grip, painfully gripping me wherever he can to throw me off him. I shake my head as hot tears spill from my eyes, knowing if he doesn't snap out of it, he will kill me. "I love you, please," I barely whisper, him not registering my words at all.

I can't do it. I remove the blade from his throat and he immediately seizes the opportunity to throw me off him, my body rolling away until I'm lying on my back. Now he's the one to get ahold of the knife and press it to my throat, the blade slowly cutting my skin as my palms gently cup his cheeks, forcing him to look into my eyes. "It will be okay."

He suddenly stills and his muscles grow tense, removing some of the pressure off my neck as he stares at me with furrowed eyebrows, the angry expression fading. Slowly, his eyes glance at the knife in his hand and back at me, his mouth parting in shock, his head shaking as if he can't believe what's happening. When his blurry green eyes finally meet mine again, I know I have him back.

He climbs off me, dropping the knife and it clatters on the floor. "No no no. . ." he frantically glances around him before his eyes settle on me and he drops down to his knees, observing me as he takes deep shaky breaths. "What did I do- no, I'm so sorry. . ."

My chest is heaving, skin covered in slight perspiration as I clumsily kneel up, my arms coming up to wind around his shoulders, tentatively pulling him toward me, wanting to comfort him in any way I can, comfort both of us.  I feel his strong arms lock around my waist, firmly pressing me into him as his face hides into the crook of my neck, feeling his tears wet my skin.  I don't know for how long we stay like that, embraced silently as we slowly relax and calm down, finding comfort in each other.

He pulls away, glossy green eyes searching my face as his palms clasp my cheeks. "Please forgive me," he says silently, his thumb brushing over the reddened, swollen area where I was punched, making me wince slightly and he closes his eyes as if he doesn't want to see it.

"It wasn't your fault, Harry," I attempt to assure him. "Open your eyes."

Harry shakes his head and holds my face firmer, pulling it toward his, our foreheads pressing together as he breathes deeply. "I'm so sorry, I could've. . ." he pauses. "As long as you're alright. Tell me you're alright, please I need to hear it."

"I'm alright, see?" He opens his eyes reluctantly, seeing a small smile on my face. "I'm tough, don't worry."

"I know you are." His lips press onto the heated skin of my forehead, lingering there for a few moments. "Let's get you fixed up." He stands up, pulling me up with him, any trace of vulnerability masked with a determined expression, letting me know he wants to focus on anything else but talking about what has happened minutes ago.

He tugs at my hand and leads me into the bathroom with him, his eyes settling on the antiseptic and the supplies I've gathered from the infirmary and used to clean his wounds. "Sit up please," he demands softly, nodding toward a counter beside the sink.

I silently comply, my legs hanging over the edge of the counter as he prepares everything to clean my wounds, not that I have many. Besides the bruise forming on my cheek, the only bleeding wound I have is the one at the base of my neck where the blade has cut my skin. Luckily, I don't think it's very deep so stitches won't be needed.

Harry turns to me, his pale green eyes avoiding mine as he brings a cotton ball toward my wound, beginning to cleanse it, a stinging sensation making me hiss inaudibly, the result of the antiseptic. He's very focused and careful, his eyebrows pulled in a small pout, his free hand unconsciously holding my shoulder. When he's done, he covers the wound with a plaster, still refusing to look at me.

When he makes a move to get away from me, my fingers wrap around his wrist to halt his movements, making him glance at me with slightly widened eyes, immediately casting his gaze down. It breaks my heart to see him like this, my palms gently holding his cheeks, thumbs gliding over the curves of his cheekbones. "Please, look at me. Harry, it's okay, I'm okay."

His jaw tightens and he frowns, his pained gaze finally settling on mine. He steps closer, his hands gripping the edges of the counter on each side of my body, a heavy sigh escaping his mouth. "I hurt you. . . I did this." His index finger slowly traces the covered wound on my neck before he raises his ring clad fingers to gently brush them down my bruised cheek. "What have I become? Nothing but a monster. . ."

Now is my turn to frown and shake my head, my gaze firm, in vast contrast to his vulnerable one. "No. I'll repeat is as many times as it's needed. It wasn't your fault, Harry, if you could control it, you would never have done those things. I don't see you as a monster and neither does anyone else. I'll help you fight your guilt whenever I'm around and make sure to remind you you're strong and you're a fighter. Is that clear?"

He gives me the tiniest of nods and leans impossibly close to me, his lips brushing against mine. "I need you, Elena."

"I'm right here," I whisper and feel his hands on my waist, pulling me closer toward the edge until he's standing between my legs, our faces still close.

My arms sneak around his shoulders, bending in elbows as I rest them over the tops of his shoulders, my fingers threading through the soft locks on the back of his neck.  His fingers begin fumbling with the knot tying the folds of my bathrobe as his lips connect softly with mine. I place my palm on the back of his head, deciding to press our joined lips more firmly together, my moves passionate and almost urgent.

As he undoes the knot, the folds reveal my bare body, making me shiver as the slightly chilly air makes goosebumps appear all over my skin. He breaks the kiss, his intense gaze taking in every part of me. My body soon feels like it's on fire from the heat radiating in the air between us, especially when his warm palms grip my thighs, sending jolts through my body from the contact, loving the electrifying feeling it gives me. My hands eagerly roam his body, palms sliding over his back, strong, defined chest, biceps, feeling every part of him available to me.

His palms suddenly move upward, feeling my sides in a sensual manner before cupping my breasts and giving them a squeeze, his thumbs circling my pebbled nipples, a sharp breath being sucked through my teeth.  My hands grasp his head and pull him down, my fingers roughly tangling into his soft locks as my teeth sink into his lower lip and tug at his cold lip ring, making him groan, his touch on me intensifying.  He suddenly stops his movements, a slight disappointment coursing through me at the lack of contact, my questioning gaze being directed at him.

"Shit we- we don't have. . ." he pants, clearly frustrated with the turn of events.

"Remember when I told you I'll take care of it?" I ask quietly, a tiny smile curving my lips. "Well, I did," I admit, remembering going to Ethan to put me on birth control for extra measure.

He sighs in relief, attaching his lips to mine with the same hungry passion, but moving them in a slower yet intense pace, savouring each moment. One of his palms cups my centre, making me moan into his mouth, the tips of his fingers feeling my already wet entrance, making me tightly grip the fabric of his shirt.  When he removes his hand, I almost groan at yet another disruption, but when I notice his hands working with the bands of his sweatpants and boxers, I get the message, taking the opportunity to catch my breath.  He pulls them down enough to free himself, my eyes managing to catch a sight of his hardened length. 

His palms abruptly spread my legs further apart and he wastes no time to push himself into me fully, his lips close to my ear where I feel him exhale heavily in relief against my skin, one of his hands finding my thigh while the other one presses to my lower back.  A breath gets caught in my throat as he fills me and I feel a slight burn as his size stretches me, marvelling in the amazing feeling, resting my forehead on top of his shoulder, my lips slightly agape. 

Our chests are pressed together, my fists firmly gripping the back of his shirt, just below his neck. His fingertips dig into my flesh as he pulls out of me slightly then pushes back in, slowly repeating the process and finding a perfect yet urgent rhythm, pressing me firmly against him as if I might fade away, my breasts against his clothed chest.  My palms are firmly clenched around his flexed biceps, my hips moving every time he rocks into me, every now and then a moan in pleasure coming from me, my desire for him coursing through me.

"I need you," he repeats between his quick pants, his eyes looking straight into mine, making this more intimate than it already is.

My heart does a flip at his words, a feeling of contentment flowing through me, mixed with strong adoration I feel for him. I love you, I think to myself. I need you too.

Our bodies mould together as we move, perspiration sliding down our skin, sharp, heated breaths filling the air between us.  Our eyes lock for a fleeting moment before my mouth eagerly covers his, my tongue slipping effortlessly inside his mouth, running along his, causing him to tighten his grip on me.  I can feel his need in the way he kisses me and touches me, in the way my name falls from his lips, in the way he looks at me.

He starts pushing into me more urgently and intensely, driving himself deeper and deeper with each thrust, the overwhelming friction and the pleasure I'm feeling making any coherent thoughts fade away, my only focus on Harry and this moment.  My head leans back as he hits the right spot inside me, a sharp gasp leaving my mouth as the result, one of my hands laying flat behind me on the cold surface of the counter while the other one is placed on his shoulder for better balance.

"Fuck," he breathes, eyebrows dipped low and teeth grabbing his lower lip, his cheeks flushed.

He brings his lips to my neck and sucks the skin, his warm tongue flattening over the area as he moves to another spot.  He slowly makes a wet trail to my shoulder, nipping at the skin there as his hands grip my backside tightly, thrusting relentlessly and hitting a new angle, losing himself into me and releasing all the tension he is feeling.  The pressure in my stomach is growing with each second, my legs wrapped tightly around his hips as his pace grows faster and faster, my body reeling with pleasure. 

My muscles suddenly tense and he pulls himself almost completely out of me before slamming back with such intensity, it sends me right over the edge, the pressure in my stomach bursting, my loud moan filling the air.  He gives a few more slow yet deep thrusts before a deep groan rumbles from his chest, vibrating against his throat as he rides out his end as well.  His lips find mine, moving effortlessly for a few moments before he pulls away, his breathing heavy, matching my own, sweat trickling down our bodies.

We give ourselves some time to compose ourselves before he pulls out, his hands gripping my waist as he lifts me off the counter, my bare feet touching the cold tiles, head slightly dizzy.  I watch as he quickly removes the articles of clothing covering his body, placing his hands on my shoulders, brushing my bathrobe and letting it slide down my arms and onto the floor.  His eyes look intensely into mine before he takes my hand, leading us into the shower stall.

I wait as he adjusts the temperature of the water, wincing slightly as it pours over my body, relieved to feel it's warm and cosy, just what I need.  I feel his scrutinising gaze on me, my eyes lifting to meet with his only for him to close them instantly, tilting his head back as water slides down his face, a pained grimace forming on his beautiful face.

I lift my hand, my palm pressing to the nape of his neck, thumb stroking the smooth skin below his ear, my eyes worriedly scanning his expression. He hums softly in appreciation and his eyes open, his palm pressing against the top of my hand. His free hand takes my other one, raising it toward his other cheek, my fingertips gingerly brushing over his jawline, a quiet hiss leaving his mouth.

"You fought, I see," he finally speaks, his tone slightly scratchy. 

My eyes drop to a forming bruise on his jaw. "I'm s-"

"No," Harry cuts me off. "Don't be. I asked you to do it, I'm glad you did. I just hope it won't ever come to this again. What if one day I won't snap out of it on time? Just when I thought I'm getting better, this happens. Shit!" He slams his palm against the tiles in frustration.

"All of us have a wild side, Harry, some are just better at controlling it than the others," I say. "I'll help you with yours."

He stares at me for a while, taking in my features before the corners of his lips tilt upward in a smirk. "You know, when you let your wild side to take over, you sure can throw a punch. It would be fun to have a real duel with you one day."

"Hmm, I would fight you, but I care about you too much to hurt you," I say tauntingly, tilting my head aside, letting my hands drop to my sides. 

"Only if I let you, Tiger," he tells me, a playful glint in his eyes. My shoulders sag in relief as I notice he seems to be completely fine now, the earlier events left behind us and forgotten. 

His arms lock around my waist and he brings me closer to him, our bare bodies pressing against one another tightly, chest to chest.  I wrap my arms around his shoulders, leaning my chin on his shoulder as water pours down on us, washing away any remaining stress and worries.  He mumbles something against my hair, his words too silent for me to grasp them, perhaps a silent promise or a plea, I'm not sure. 

His hands slowly slide over the jagged scars on my back, fingertips outlining their shapes, making me tense. "I'm sorry. . ." he says quietly.

I only press myself tighter against him, closing my eyes. As I revel in the feeling of his arms around me, I'm certain I don't want to live without it anymore.  I'll make sure of it, no matter the cost. My past promises and plans are all pushed aside, my newly made decision changing the course of my future from this moment.  Everything changes now and I'm not fighting for just my brother and me anymore. I'm fighting for Harry.