I ran to his door and yanked it open, wedging myself between it and his car, mind and body in full-fledged panic.  My jaw dropped open at the closer sight of him.  His face was covered in blood, clearly pouring from the deep cuts present on his lower lip and eyebrow.  Dark purple bruises were already forming on his handsome face along his sharp jaw, cheekbones, and eye sockets on both sides of his face.  His hair was matted with blood he must have smeared off his face, clumping together around his temple. 

My eyes searched his face, completely at a loss for words as he stared with a hollow expression at his windshield, jaw slack, fingers dangling loosely around the steering wheel.  I felt bile rising in the back of my throat, panic in my stomach becoming unbearable as my chest tightened painfully. 

“Harry, what happened?” I finally managed to choke out, my voice sounding feeble in shock.  He didn’t say anything and continued his dead stare straight ahead, blinking only once, not acknowledging me.  I gave him a few more seconds to decide to answer me before I repeated myself. 

“Harry, babe, what happened?” I felt my throat tightening up and tears springing to my eyes as I choked back a sob.  No reaction.  Tears spilled over my lids as I let out a strange choking sound.  “Harry, please look at me.”

Hearing me sob seemed to jolt Harry out of whatever trance he had been in.  Blinking twice, he turned slowly to look at me, eyes burning a bluish-green color I hadn’t seen before, a result of the contrasting red of the blood surrounding his eyes.  Air whooshed out of me as I exhaled forcefully and my hands clutched at his arm resting on his leg, grateful he had finally responded.  His eyes focused intently on mine, squinting slightly, eyebrows furrowed.

“Joey,” was all he said.  His voice was gravelly, different from the usual roughness it held after he slept.  This tone sent a chill down to my bones; this was a tone empty, hollow.  It was the tone of defeat. 

I desperately wanted to reach up and touch him, but I stopped myself, leaving my hands floating in the air in front of us; he had to be sore from whatever had happened to him and the last thing I wanted to do was cause him more pain.  I prayed it wasn’t what I was thinking.  If it was, I would never be able to forgive myself.  Angry with myself for crying when he was clearly the one in need, I hastily wiped the tears from my eyes before grabbing his hand again.

“Harry, please, let’s go inside and fix you up,” I begged, desperate for some reason to get him inside.  Just to get him to move, really.  His eyes continued to dart back and forth between mine, intense expression still laden on his face. 

“Come on, babe, please,” I said again, massaging his fingers between my hands as I held his eye contact, refusing to let the tears return.  I could feel dry blood crusted across his knuckles.  Finally, finally, he nodded slowly before turning back to face the front of the car, leaning forward and pulling the keys from the ignition.  He was unable to hide his wince as he did so, though he tried valiantly.  Leaning back, he cautiously swung his legs to dangle out of his SUV, jaw tightening in his attempts to hide his discomfort. 

He still held onto my hands, but I was afraid to touch him anywhere else, not sure where he was all hurt.  Taking a deep breath, he heaved himself off the seat, landing harshly with a sharp exhale through his nose, nostrils flaring and jaw clenching again.  He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, gathering himself before he spoke.

“Joey, could you help me, please?” he said, trying his best to sound calm and not alarm me any further.  He looked at me, smoothing the expressions of pain and anger from his features as he gingerly lifted his arm.  I quickly nodded and stepped forward to fill the space as he rest his arm across my shoulders, leaning on me slightly.  Gingerly, I wrapped my around his waist, setting it down as softly as possible so as not to jostle him. 

Once we had his weight supported, we took small slow steps away from his car.  I kicked the door shut as he locked it with the remote in his hand.  After a few tender steps, he straightened up a little, leaning less on me, determined to carry his own weight into the house.  I didn’t move from his side, however, refusing to let him try and navigate alone.  We made it up the steps of the porch with a few winces, but Harry didn’t pause.  Once we entered his house, it occurred to me that I should take him to his room to clean him up, sure he wouldn’t want to lay on an uncomfortable counter top or still couch. 

“Can you make it up the stairs?” I asked, hoping he would answer honestly.  He exhaled through his nose again as he stared at the steps in front of us.

“Yes,” he said evenly, determination set on his face.  With that, he started walking toward the stairs, barely leaning on me now but limping a little.  I kept my arm wrapped around him just in case.  It was torturous watching him suffer as he moved his tall body up the steps, each one seeming to cause him more and more pain.  I was about to make him stop and rest a moment when he finished the last three stairs in a sudden burst of speed, desperate to make it to the top.  I guided him to his room where I made sit on the edge of his bed, feet planted firmly on the floor.  Kneeling down in front of him, I took his hands and pressed the back of it to my lips, eyes searching his own.

“Harry,” I mumbled against his skin.  “Baby what happened?”  I could feel the heat of tears pricking at my eyes again, my throat closing in on itself.  No! I tried to choke them back, only half successful.  He just looked at me- sadness, pain, and embarrassment all clearly present in his eyes.

“Harry, please say something,” I said urgently, running my fingers down the back of his hand as I still held his skin to my lips. 

“I got jumped,” he said slowly, deep voice resonating in my chest.  I sucked in a harsh breath as a sob escaped my throat, fighting furiously to hold back my tears.

“Where?” I asked.  One question at a time- that was how I was going to get this out of him.

“Behind the grocery store,” he said. His voice was dull, monotone.  Completely devoid of emotion.

“Who did it, Harry?” I asked, terrified he would confirm what I had been thinking.  Colt.  If it was Colt, then it was all my fault. 

He didn’t say anything, just stared into my eyes sadly.

“Harry, who?” I said again, more urgently, the burning in my throat stealing any conviction I may have held.  My voice was pitiful, pathetic.  He inhaled slowly as he lifted his eyes from mine, tilting his head back to look over my head, not saying anything.

“No, no, no, Harry… it was Colt, wasn’t it?” I choked out, tears finally escaping my eyes and trailing slowly down my cheeks.  His silence was enough to confirm my statement.  “Oh god, Harry, baby, I am so sorry, this is all my fault!”  The tears were running full force now.

My last words finally made him speak, snapping his eyes back to my own. “No, Joey, none of this is your fault,” he reassured, lifting his hands to cup around my face, thumbs swiping at the tears that trailed down my cheeks.  Soothing me when he was the one who had just gotten the shit kicked out of him.  “Shh, babe, I’m fine.”

“Ha-Harry!  You’re covered in blood! Of course it’s my fault!  And it was my stupid ex-boyfriend that did it!”  I said hysterically, covering his hands on my face with my own.  I took a deep breath, trying to calm myself down.   I needed to be the strong one right now to take care of him and I was absolutely falling apart.

He shook his head urgently, eyes heavily pained as he repeated his shushing, trying to calm me down.  “Joey, I’m only going to say this once more, so you need to hear me, okay?” he said firmly. 

“Oh my god this is all my fault,” I said as I choked out another sob and squeezed my eyes shut, barely hearing what he had said to me as my mind began to whir in guilt.  His thumbs continued to trace back and forth across my cheeks.  I pulled his right one off my face and brought it around to my lips, placing a kiss on his palm.  Sniffling, I opened my eyes again to look at him.

“Joey, are you listening?” he said, leaning down so his face was inches from mine, pulling my attention back to him, wincing slightly in the hunched position before composing himself again.

“Yes,” I said, sniffling, determined to stop this silly, selfish crying immediately. 

“None of this was your fault, Joey, none of it.  I don’t want you to even think that ever again,” he said firmly as he stared intently into my eyes.  I inhaled heavily as I looked up at him.  How could he say that?  Everything about this situation was so clearly my fault I couldn’t even get myself to agree to what he said.  “Joey,” he said again, more gently this time.  “This was not your fault.”

My eyes darted around the various injuries to his beautiful face, the dried blood that had flowed from his wounds.  Seeing these afflictions caused my heart to sink, my stomach to clench, and I felt as if I had the same wounds plastered across my face.  It hurt me intensely to see him hurt.  I still hadn’t answered him.

“Joey I want you to say it,” he instructed.

“It wasn’t… it’s not…” Inhale. Exhale. “It’s not my fault.”  Swallow.  Sniffle.  He looked immensely relieved as I uttered the words, leaning forward to press an extremely light kiss to my forehead before leaning back into his upright position. 

“Thank you,” he said, sighing and squeezing his eyes shut.  He had to be in a decent amount of pain considering how he was acting now that I had agreed to his demands.