Harry hums to himself as he roams the aisles looking for any necessary food item that they might need. Annabel pretty much used all of the food in the house, but he told her to sit at home and finish her book while he went out to get groceries.

She didn't put up much of a protest and left him with a kiss and a smack to the ass. He hates it when she does that and she knows it, so she does it every chance that she gets. But that's alright because he likes to piss her off too and it works for them.

He's been there for a half an hour already, but he can't help that the closest store is a Wal-Mart and it's always impossibly crowded. Annabel won't mind, he just doesn't like leaving her alone in the house sometimes. The cops have stopped watching them after seeing that they really are boring ass people, and that worries him because he knows that a lot of people in the town don't like them and are convinced that they killed Madison.

People are unpredictable and he knows that better than anyone. That's what worries him. But he knows that Annabel can take care of herself if there's only one person, so it isn't as worrisome as it could be.

She's been so good to him lately and so sweet and he finds himself in the gardening section, looking at the different types of flowers and wondering which ones she doesn't have and which ones she'll like. Unfortunately, it takes him a while and another thirty minutes pass as he inspects each plants petals and shape.

By the time that he actually leaves he's gotten a ton of food, a pot of flowers, and a book that he thinks Annabel will like. All in all, he's spent about an hour and a half in the store and he's more than ready to go home to his Annabel.

He's gotten all of the bags in the trunk and he's grabbing the flowers when a large number of footfalls behind him catches his attention. It's not going to be good and he knows it, there's that undeniable feeling in his chest and he just hopes that they won't ruin the flowers.

"Feeling safe tonight, Styles?"

Harry sets the flowers in the trunk before he turns around, "Not particularly, no."

That wasn't the answer that any of the seven men were expecting, but it doesn't make Harry feel any better about what's about to happen because he knows that they're still going to jump him and beat the shit out of him. Madison's two brothers, Stephen and Alex, are there and they've brought five of their friends.

"Good, because you're not."

Harry doesn't respond and all five men take the moment to really get him. Fists fly everywhere and he's not really sure who's hitting what because it feels like he's being hit by a semi-truck. He doesn't fight back though because he knows that there isn't any way that he'll win.

The men kick him and beat him until he can hardly breathe and all he can taste is blood. By the time that they're finished, he's sure that he's got a few broken ribs, a broken nose, and probably a concussion. And he definitely needs some stitches. Scratch that, a lot of stiches.

Someone decided to spit on him and everyone else followed before they left him there, bleeding and lying in the parking lot.

Plenty of people saw, it was hard not to, and they didn't do anything because they were scared. Some of them knew the men beating him and some of them knew why he was being beaten so badly. No one called the cops because everyone thought someone else would and because most of them thought he deserved it.

He lays there for a good while trying to catch his breath and better gauge his injuries now that all of the punching and kicking had stopped. Everyone carries on as if this-seeing a man on the ground, bleeding-is normal.

Eventually, he manages to pick himself up and collect himself enough to shut his drunk and get in the car. He sits there, breathing and staring at the nearly empty parking lot for a long time before he clears his busted head and starts the car.

When he makes it home, he hauls himself out of the vehicle, forces the trunk open with trembling hands, and picks up the flowers and a few bags.

Annabel is in the living room watching some sort of tattoo show on the television. She practically runs to him the moment that he opens the door.

Harry offers her a weak smile as he holds out the flowers he bought for her, "I'm sorry about the blood on the flowers."

She smiles, but it isn't one of the smiles that he adores and the look in her eyes is killing him.

"It'll come out when they grow. Thank you, they're beautiful."

Annabel takes the flowers from his shaking hands and leads him to the kitchen so he can put the rest of the bags down and so she can get a good look at how injured he is. She's heartbroken the moment that he steps into the fluorescent lights with squinted eyes.

Her hand is on his cheek before and he tries to convince her that it can wait because he has food that should've been in the fridge hours ago. "There's frozen stuff in the car."

Annabel nods, but the despair in her eyes doesn't go away. "Okay. I'll take care of it. Will you go upstairs and wait for me in the bathroom?"

Harry nods even though he doesn't want to make her put everything away by herself. But he's too battered and bruised to do much else and he might collapse if he stands for much longer.

She drops her hand and heads outside to take care of the groceries while he trudges up the stairs and tries not to fall. He makes it upstairs and closes the lid of the toilet so he can sit while he waits for her to come upstairs.

Annabel's always been terribly good at taking care of him and he hates it because he should be the one taking care of her, instead he nearly slits her throat or her wrists every time they have sex. It's gotten better since the last time, but it's still something that he struggles with.

He doesn't sit there for very long, or he doesn't feel like he does, anyway, before Annabel walks into the bathroom with a washcloth and eyes filled with concern.

She helps him take his shirt and his pants off. He doesn't want her to see how badly he's hurt, but he knows that she needs to and that she'll help as much as she can because hospitals are always a last resort for them.

The look on her face makes it feel ten times worse for him.

Annabel wets the washcloth and starts cleaning the blood from his face as gently as she can, her lips in a deep frown.

"Who did this to you?"

He's silent for a long time. Annabel pulls the washcloth from his face and stares at him until he gives her an answer.

Harry sighs, "Madison's brothers and three of their friends."

She continues to clean his wounds without a word and he adds, "I deserved it."

Annabel washes the blood out of the material and leaves the cloth on the sink to dry. He probably should've had stiches in his lip and on his temple, but the wounds have stopped bleeding now and she doesn't think that he desperately needs them. He'd argue with her about it anyway, so she doesn't mention it.

She lightly traces the bruises forming around his ribs and on his stomach and she won't look him in the eye because she hates seeing him like this. He's right, he did deserve it, but it still wasn't something that she wanted to happen.

Harry winces a little each time she touches a particularly sore spot and he decides to lighten the mood a bit he jokes, "I guess you wear the pants in this relationship since you're always taking care of me."

Annabel smiles, her hand on his cheek once again. "I don't like wearing pants."

He laughs softly, "Me either."

There's something about the way that she's looking at him with that smile and those slightly glossy eyes that draws him in. He needs her comfort more than anything and it doesn't matter how hurt he is, she'll always be the best remedy.

Gently, he pulls her down so that she's on her lap and he kisses her softly. It hurts his lip, but he ignores it and adds a little more pressure to tell her what he wants.

Annabel closes her eyes and kisses him back like her lips are made of feathers. She's pulling away slightly, but only because she wants to say something.

"You're hurt. It won't help."

Harry opens his eyes and stares into hers for a moment. Her lips part slightly as she waits for his response, not really sure what to expect.

"It'll help other things."

She searches his eyes for a moment before relenting and nodding to let him know that she's alright with it as long as he is.

He kisses her once more before standing up and leading her to the bed. He's incredibly careful as he lays her down on the bed and climbing up the bed to hover over her. Annabel gets lost in his touch long before he gets lost in hers, his slow and almost languid kisses bringing her further into his embrace.

Harry's got her clothes and his boxers off after what feels like forever and she's practically aching to have him where she wants him the most. They've taken things slowly before, but never like this and the need is almost overwhelming.

Annabel whines as he presses himself against her, teasing her by only running his length along her and kissing her neck. She pulls him a little closer so he'll get on with it already, but he's in no mood to rush and he's going to take his time tonight.

She nearly gasps when his tip brushes her clitoris and he repeats the action three more times because he likes the way that she sounds.

Annabel's nearly begging him in soft whimpers and he finally gives in, pushing into her slowly and moaning himself. His movements are very gradual and deliberate and Annabel is clinging to him like he's going to disappear in the next moment.

Harry peppers her skin with kisses and ignores the pain radiating in random parts of his body, focusing on the pleasure that he gets from making love to her and that he's giving her in return. Annabel says his name every now and again, soft whines and whimpers following the space in between.

She's being rather quiet tonight and he likes it more than he thought he would. It's nice to see the pleasure written on her face instead of hearing most of it verbally. It means that she's completely wracked with bliss and that he's treating her as best as he possibly can.

He's already close, but he waits for her to finish first because it's always been about her first. Annabel's eyes practically roll to the back of her head and her arms grip him like metal clamps as he pushes her further and further into a heavenly abyss of pleasure.

He follows a little after and practically collapses on her the second that he's done. She doesn't mind though, he's hurt and she understands. Sure, he's a little heavy, but it's not a big deal to her because he isn't crushing her or anything.

After a moment or two, he collects his strength and pushes off of the mattress so that he's lying beside her. She's about to ask if he's alright, but he stops her by pulling her close to him and hiding his face in the soft skin of her shoulder.

His grip is a little tight for cuddles and she can feel warm tears splashing against her skin.

She holds him in return and doesn't question his tears. It's rare for him to cry and she knows that it won't help to mention it. She hates it though because it's a side he rarely ever shows and it tells her that he's afraid and that he's incredibly vulnerable.

Harry's voice is like silk against her shoulder, "Do you love me?"

They haven't explicitly said that they love each other yet, and they really weren't ever planning to because it would make things so much more tangible and complicated, but there's something about the way that he asked that leads her to believe he needs to hear it to keep hold of whatever shred of sanity that he has left.

"Of course I do, Harry."

She can feel the tears hit her skin more frequently now and she feels so awful to know that he's feeling bad enough to cry in front of her.

Harry holds her a little tighter, "Please don't let me take you away."