I couldn’t think of a single thing to say that could possibly do justice to the breathtaking song I had just heard.  His eyes held mine as I pushed myself off his bed and closed the short distance between us, holding his face between my hands and pressing my lips to his. 

He let out a soft sigh before responding.  Our lips moved slowly against each other’s, but I could feel every ounce of meaning flowing between us; I wanted him to feel what I couldn’t put into words.  I wanted to placate his fears of being left, being abandoned; there was no way I would ever leave this incredible boy. 

He pulled back a few inches, setting the guitar down next to him before grabbing my hand and pulling me into his lap.  My legs dangled off to the side of his hip as my arms wrapped themselves around his neck.  Gingerly, he put one of his hands on my thigh, barely above my knee, as his other arm wrapped around my waist. 

Once I was settled, I leaned in to kiss him again, brushing my lips softly against his before he pulled me in closer, deepening the kiss.  I ran my fingers across his sharp jaw as his tongue swiped along my bottom lip in a tantalizingly slow movement, making me shiver slightly.  I might have been my imagination, but I thought I felt him smirk just the slightest.  Giggling, I pulled back and gave him a quick peck before leaning my forehead against his.  His fingers traced softly back and forth against my skin as his eyes focused on my lips.

“That was amazing, Harry,” I said quietly.  The corner of his mouth tugged up.

“You liked it?” he asked, voice impossibly deep.

“I loved it,” I replied, letting my fingers run across his cheekbone now.  “I can’t believe you wrote it.”

“Yeah… um, I dunno,” he said softly, shrugging modestly and grinning sheepishly.  “I’m glad you liked it.”

“When did you write it?” I asked.

“Um… recently,” he said mysteriously.  Huh. Recently.  What did that mean?  Could it possibly be that he wrote it because of me?  It seemed pretty cocky to assume so, but if I had a feeling it was.  If I had even a sliver of the talent at song writing he had, surely my song would express the same emotion.  I felt that strongly, so I suppose it was possible that he did, too, despite how confused I still was about everything. 

I smiled at him and gave him another quick kiss.  “Recently, huh?”

“Yeah… I was, erm, inspired you could say,” he said, eyes connecting with mine, smile on his face shining through. 

He had basically just admitted the song was about me, which meant two very important things: he had, on some level, similar feelings to my own.  It also meant, however, that he was clearly very afraid of everything coming to an end and being alone.  He was afraid of losing… me. 

“Harry I’m not going anywhere,” I told him, ducking my head to force him to look at me.  His expression was loaded as he met my gaze- eyebrows pulled together, eyes intense, lips pressed together firmly.  I noticed his breathing had gotten shallower as well.  He paused a few seconds before speaking.

 “You’re not?” he asked.  His hand squeezed my thigh tightly as he held me.

“No, I told you I’d stay, didn’t I?” I said, smiling softly at him.

“You did,” he said, grinning shyly.  “Always?”

“Always,” I said, full blown grin now plastered across my face before leaning down to kiss him again.  My hands came up to cup his face as his lips parted quickly, allowing my tongue to push against his.  He tightened his grip on me and pulled me even closer to him. 

Our kiss was quickly becoming more heated when I shifted slightly in his lap and he winced.  I pulled back immediately, almost forgetting about the damage that had been inflicted on his body only the night before.

“Oh, god, I’m so sorry,” I said, anxious that I had hurt him.

“It’s fine, Joey, really. I forgot those were even there,” he said, chuckling slightly before glancing down at his torso.  His eyes took in the various shades of blue and purple, a frown creasing across his face. “Yikes.”

I also looked down his body, where I was once again surprised by the definition of his abdominal muscles.  Never would I have ever guessed that his body was in such athletic shape.  Despite the angry bruises and cuts, he was still incredibly beautiful. 

I sighed as I lightly ran my fingers down his torso.  Even though he had said multiple times that this wasn’t my fault, I couldn’t shake the unwavering guilt that was eating away at me.  He might not blame me, but I knew better.  This was my fault.  I am to blame. 

“Harry…. “ I started.  He needed to know how awful I felt.

“Joey, please stop.  I’ve told you it’s not your fault,” he looked at me sternly.  “I don’t want to hear that from you again.”

I exhaled sharply.  He refused to let me take the blame that was clearly mine.  “Fine.  It wasn’t my fault,” I said sarcastically.  “But let’s just say, that if it was, I would say how incredibly sorry I am that I got you into this.  I would say that I never wanted or dreamed that this would happen.  I would say that I will do anything I possibly can to make sure it never happens again.  And I would say that I’m going to kick the shit out of Colt the instant I see him.” 

I could feel my blood pressure rising just thinking about it.  Colt.  I wanted to punch him in his stupid, pretty face, kick him in the groin, elbow him in the throat.  Anything, really, in order to inflict as much pain as he did to Harry, if not more. 

Harry just chuckled.  Once again, his persistence to take this lightly grated on me.  “Okay, babe, okay.  I’d love to see that,” he said, smiling at me.  I just frowned at him.  He still would not accept that this was my fault.  He shifted to put his hand on my cheek and tug his thumb across my lips, smoothing out the frown.  “Smile, babe,” he said quietly.

“No,” I said stubbornly. 

“Smile, Joey,” he repeated, his thumb now running along my jaw before his fingers wound themselves into my hair.

“No,” I repeated, suppressing the smile that was trying to fight through.  He was so cute. 

“Please?” he asked, leaning forward to press a kiss to my jaw.  I could feel myself cracking.

I shook my head slowly, looking him in the eye as he leaned forward again, landing another kiss on my neck.  “Yes,” he mumbled against my skin, causing me to shiver again.  His lips moved slowly up from my neck, leaving a trail of kisses on their way.  The heat from his mouth worked up my neck, along my jaw, and to the corner of my mouth before he pulled back, hovering an inch away from my lips.  “Yes.”

I couldn’t hold back anymore; a soft smile pulled across my lips as I felt his breath tickle across my skin. 

“There you go,” he mumbled before closing the small space and pressing his lips to mine again.  Where he learned to pull a stunt like that, I had no idea, but that didn’t stop me from enjoying it immensely.  Every little thing he did made my heart pound in my chest, every moment of contact set my skin on fire, and every look we shared was permanently burned into my brain. 

With a final peck against my lips, he pulled back and grinned at me.  If I didn’t know any better, I’d say he looked smug.  I wasn’t exactly sure when my Harry had started to smirk and look smug, but I loved it.  He had come so far from the shy, quiet, nervous boy I had met, yet was still just as sweet and genuine as ever. 

I shifted off his lap, coming to stand in front between his legs.  Grabbing both of his hands in each of mine, I tugged him to stand up with me, separated by only a few inches.  It was only then that I noticed he was still only wearing his boxers, which surprised me.  I smirked at him, which he ignored as he wove our fingers together between us. 

“As much as I hate to, I should probably go explain myself to my mother,” I giggled, tilting my head back to look at him.

He grimaced. “Will you get in trouble?”

I shrugged. “I don’t know… depends what I tell her, I suppose.”

“You’re not going to tell her what happened?” he asked, confused.  The concept of lying to your mother was foreign to him. 

“I didn’t know if you wanted me to,” I said honestly.  He had no to reason to be embarrassed about it, but I still wanted the decision of if I told her or not to be made by him.  He considered what I had just said.

“Well she’ll probably see it, won’t she?” he asked, referring to the damage on his face.

“Probably,” I admitted before another thought occurred to me.  “What will your mom say? And where is she, by the way?” I had been so wrapped up in helping Harry that I hadn’t even noticed we had been home alone. 

“Work convention, I think,” he said, shrugging.  “She won’t be home for a few days so she probably won’t even know.”

“Oh,” was all I could think to say.  “That’s good, I suppose.”

“Would you mind not telling your mom?  It’s just a lot to explain,” he said, blush creeping across his face.  He was embarrassed, and it broke my heart.  While I wanted to tell him he had nothing to be embarrassed about and that my mom wouldn’t look at him any differently, I would respect his wishes.

“Of course not.  I won’t say anything,” I told him, smiling sadly.  He pulled our hands up level with our shoulders, fingers straightening out so our palms pressed together. 

“Thanks,” he said, grinning.  His hands pulled back before clapping them against mine a few times, like he was high fiving me.  I giggled.

“I’ll just tell her we fell asleep watching a movie or something.”

“Perfect,” he smiled. 

“Walk me out?” I asked, leaning my hands against the soft skin of his stomach as his came down on my hips.  He nodded at me.

“Erm… let me put some pants on quick,” he said, blushing as he finally seemed to realize he was basically naked. 

“Oh don’t do that on my account,” I giggled as he shot me a reproachful look before crossing the room to pull a pair of gray sweats out of his dresser and tugging them on.  I grabbed my purse from off the floor as he did so then waited.  He straightened up and crossed back over to me, throwing an arm around my neck and tugging me to him so he could press a quick kiss to my temple before releasing me. 

“Ready?” he asked.

“Yep,” I said, grinning from his casual, unusual show of affection.  I followed him out his room and down the stairs, putting on my shoes that I had hastily kicked off last night. 

“What are you doing tonight?” he asked.

“Umm, nothing,” I said, searching my brain for any standing plans but finding none.  “Why?”

“Want to watch the game with me?” he asked, grinning.  “If you like sports, that is…” he trailed off, slight look of confusion sweeping across his face as he realized he had no idea if I did or not.  This was another example of not knowing tiny details but still feeling like we knew each other so completely.

I grinned.  “Yes, I would love to.”  I didn’t know what game he was referring to, but all I cared about was that if it allowed me to spend more time with Harry, I was all for it.  “What game?”

He laughed at my quick response despite knowing no details.  “The Packers game.  Football,” he clarified.

“I know the Packers are football, you goof.  I used to watch football all the time with my dad.  I’m a pro,” I said cockily.  It was true- I was pretty proud of my knowledge of the game that I had learned from my father when he used to be around more often.  “I don’t agree with your choice of team, however,” I teased.

“But you’ll still watch it with me, right?” he asked smiling.

“Of course.  Want to come over to watch?” I asked. He hesitated, so I added, “My mom won’t be home, it’s her scrapbook night with her coworkers.”

“Sure, I’ll be there around seven,” he chuckled.

“It’s a date,” I grinned, stepping into him to wrap my arms around him.  He hugged me goodbye, careful not to squeeze too tight against his damaged body. 

“I’ll see you later,” he said, loosening his grip on me and giving me a peck on the lips.

“Okay,” I smiled.  “Bye, Harry.”

“Byeee,” he said as I opened the door to leave, throwing one last glowing smile his way before turning to walk home.

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