This is a double update as per usual- Chapter 31 was uploaded before this so please make sure you read them in the correct order :)

♕Harley Anderson♕

I pull on a black denim skirt today, pairing it with a dark purple shirt that I tuck in. Instead of pulling on my usual boots, I pull on a pair of sandals.

"Should I be even more concerned given the fact that you're wearing open shoes and a skirt for a change?" Danté asks from behind me. Rolling my eyes after pulling my hair into a bun, I turn around to face him. He's lounging back in the bed, leaning his head against the pillow he's propped up so he can seemingly watch me get dressed. The stitches are visible with the sheets being draped just below his waistband line and I offer a smirk.

After the doctor got him stitched up last night, we returned home where Danté was out like a light. He won't need the stitches for longer than a week but if he fights tonight and hurts them, then it will be extended which is exactly what Danté needs to do today- speak to Xavier so that hopefully he can be let off the hook for a little while. I doubt it will happen but I try not to focus on that or else I won't be able to focus on what I need to do.

"Is it a problem that I'm wearing it?" I raise a brow and Danté smiles and I fall in love with him all over again. The way his hair is such a mess and his voice is so raspy and he's just so relaxed and... it just makes my heart thump harder.

"No." He shakes his head before his smile widens. "Want to know why?" He enquires and I narrow my eyes slightly at the mischievous tone to his words. Nodding, he beckons me forward with his hand and I walk to his side as if I am in a trance and he is the only one who can control me. When I'm right beside him, he sits up straighter as he extends his one arm- and leans on the other- to wrap a hand around the back of my thigh. He pulls me closer and leans back down, still pulling me towards him so that I'm forced to sit on top of him and straddle him. A twinkle in his eyes let's me know that he's aware of what he's doing when he rests both of his hands on either thigh where my skirt has risen.

"Because I can put you in very compromising positions." Danté answers his question, staring up at me in content. I'm about to respond when his hands slowly move further up my skirt and I'm swallowing hard. Somehow, I manage to give him a warning look.

"Two can play at that game, Danté." I murmur, my voice low as my mind still focuses on the fact that his hands are getting dangerously high, my skirt risen right up. He pauses for a second, a smirk twitching his lips.

"Then play. What are you waiting for?"

Sighing as I pull my shirt back off of my body, I say: "I'm going to be so late today."

"I don't care." Danté says against my lips as I lean forward. Our kiss isn't gentle from the start, but rather heated. Goodness, does this count as a quickie?

While our tongues do a dance, Danté's hands slowly tug down my thongs, pulling them off, and he twists us over so that he's hovering over me.

"Why exactly is this still on?" He asks, running a hand over the cup of my bra.

Breathlessly, I reply: "You tell me, considering the fact that my thongs are already off."

"Alright, let me fix it." He says and I arch my back, allowing him access to the clips so that he slips my bra off. When he chucks the material to the other side of the room, he grins. "Yeah, now I'm happy."

Attacking my neck, his hand slips between my thighs and I tug at his hair. Finding it unfair that I'm completely at his mercy, I push him back down and take my place above him once more. Grinding my hips against his, he groans.

"You like being on top huh?" He grunts and I smirk, pressing my hands on top of his chest.

"Are you complaining?"

"Fuck no." He laughs, voice thick with desire and I smile before leaning back down to kiss him again. Without much thought, I run my hands up and down his chest. However, when my fingers touch his stitches by accident and he lets out a hiss, I pull back to see his face scrunched up in pain.

"Shit, did I hurt you? I'm sorry. I didn't mean to, I just forgot that they were the-" I ramble before I'm cut off by Danté saying my name.

"It's fine." He says, offering me a smile although it's pained. "I guess having sex when I'm injured isn't the greatest idea."

Offering a sad smile, I push the hair that flopped onto his forehead, back. "It's okay. We'll make up for it another time."

Danté offers me a soft smile, forehead still slightly creased from the pain.

"For sure." He responds and I lean forward, pressing a kiss to him chastely before climbing off of him. I pull my underwear back up, straightening out my skirt while Danté seems utterly heartbroken that he didn't have his way with me.

"Now I'm going to have blue balls." He groans, dramatically covering his face with a pillow. A laugh escapes me as I lean down to pick up the bra. Clipping it around my waist, I pull it to the front and slip it on.

"Your sex life is very good, thank you very much. I'm sure you won't die of not getting rid of a boner for once in your life." I muse, slipping my shirt back on as well. Danté drops the pillow and gapes at me.

"That's not fair. Senior Danté is offended that you don't care about him." He exclaims, voice laced with hurt. I snort as I glance at myself in the mirror of the cupboard to make sure it doesn't look like I was just about to screw my boyfriend.

"More like Junior Danté." I mutter and Danté lets out a chuckle.

"That's not what you said the first time you saw it."

"Yeah, well, I didn't have much to compare it to."

"And you do now?"

"No." I smirk at him over my shoulder. "But I may have exaggerated it the first time for your sake... y'know, so you would have extra confidence."

"You are so lucky that my torso is burning up here or else I would have proven that I don't need extra confidence because I'm more than capable of making you feel good and I know it."

"Mmh-hmm." I hum under my breath, enjoying the way Danté is riled up over something not true. "Lucky me." I turn around and grin at him, blowing a kiss as I reach for my bag and start walking backwards out of the room.

"Don't think I'll forget to remind you about that the next time you're a shaking, moaning mess."

"It's exhaustion from pretending to enjoy it." I laugh before exiting the room with a smug smile on my face while Danté mutters something about me always wanting the last word under his breath.

****

By the time I arrive at the gang, Cyrus is already waiting for me in the parking lot by his Chevrolet. I'm surprised to see the cigarette hanging out of his mouth before he takes it between two fingers and takes a pull. When I approach him, he blows out a huge cloud of smoke.

"You're late," he mutters matter-of-factly before placing the cancer-giver back in his mouth as he slips his hands into his pockets.

Without any thought, I reach out to grab the cigarette and pull it out of his mouth before throwing it on the floor and squashing it with my shoe. His green eyes drop to where the cigarette is under my shoe before looking back up at me.

"I know." I respond to his previously obvious observation.

"Was that really necessary?" He asks incredulously and I roll my eyes.

"That's death in a damn stick,"

"We're all going to die anyway."

For a moment, I'm shocked at the cynical comment because I realise how Cyrus would not have said something like that back when we were kids. Hell, he never ever touched alcohol and cigarettes when he was teenager, too afraid of whether He'd be like our father. But Cyrus was always one to have hope- that's one of the reasons why he was my rock. Because I haven't been someone very good with hope. I don't experience bad things and look at the 'good side'. The ounce of hope that has always managed to keep my going was always so miniscule compared to that of Cyrus. Or, at least, it was considering the fact that that seems to have changed. He was the one who told me that there was life beyond the miserable house we were a prisoner to, he was the one who made it easy to smile through all the pain. It's no wonder he even went looking for mom in the first place when I had already accepted that she was gone and probably wouldn't have been returning- because he's always been a ray of sunshine. An optimist. But perhaps I'm not the only one who life has moulded into something unrecognizable.

"Wow, and here I thought that I was the pessimist." I reply dryly and Cyrus shrugs, although it seems tenser than I'm sure he meant it to be.

"It's got nothing to do with pessimism and everything to do with realism."

Rolling my eyes, I shake my head. "That is every pessimist's excuse."

Cyrus shrugs again, not offering a response before he gets up off of his car and glances at my one a little distance away. "So, whose car are we heading there in today?" He asks.

"Mine." I respond before walking to the car without checking if Cyrus is trailing behind me. After slipping into my seat, Cyrus is sliding into the one beside mine and I'm starting the car before pulling out of the parking lot.

"Where are we going?" I ask.

"The gym by the fighting ring. It's one of the least busiest ones." Nodding, I begin the drive there with knowledge of already knowing how to get there when I went to go watch Danté's fight.
"Should I be asking why you were late?" The blonde beside me asks after a moment silence. Frowning, I glance at him to see his eyes settled on my neck. Removing my eyes from the road for a split second and looking in the mirror, I take notice of the purple mark on my neck. I let out a grunt, the deep colour of the love-bite making it seem as fresh as it is.

"I don't question what you do with Persephone." I reply, turning right and then stopping at the robot.

"Well there wouldn't be much to say." He replies, a tinge of... something to his words that I can't quite pick out. In surprise, I glance at him before stepping back on the gas and lurching us forward.

"You guys haven't had sex? How long have you been together?" I say, genuinely surprised at this revelation. It's not that there's anything wrong with it- hell, I thought I'd die a virgin. But giving yourself like that physically to your partner creates a different type of intimacy that I'm glad I've had the pleasure of experiencing.

"No, we haven't." He replies. "Not that I'm going to bother returning that question to you."

I scowl at him.

"But we've been... together," he says the word like it's not quite the right word,  allowing me to think that maybe they're not really a couple but rather just two people in love that aren't in a relationship, "for five years. More or less."

"That's... really long." I murmur.

"It doesn't feel so long if you love the person though."

I think of Danté and I and smile, knowing that what Cyrus is saying is true but at the same time not because while being with the person you love makes it seem like you met just the other day, it also feels like each moment you spend with them is an eternity.

"Mmh-hmm." I hum.

Soon enough, we're pulling up outside the club and secret fighting ring. There isn't much activity considering the fact that it is still well into the day but there are a few customers going in and out of a bakery and then kids coming in and out of a toy shop, clutching whatever it is that they purchased to their chest. Who puts a toy shop and a club in the same shopping centre anyway? Shaking my head, I move my eyes to the doors with a sign reading 'inTense Training' above it.

"Come on." Cyrus says, climbing out of the car. I follow suit, grabbing my duffel bag from the backseat and following after him. My gym shirt clings tightly to me with my body already perspiring with the heat. Pushing the doors open, AC cooling hits me immediately along with the fresh smell of detergent and lemon. There's a man sitting behind a counter, sipping on a soda and proving that just because you work at a gym, doesn't mean you utilize it.

Cyrus doesn't say anything and the man doesn't even spare him a glance although his eyes do slide to me, interest clear on how he perks up. Pulling out a keycard, Cyrus swipes it over a machine at the door so that it unlocks and he pushes it open. This is where the gym really is. There's a section with punching bags hanging from the ceiling and then a whole section with equipment, including weights. There's two boxing rings and in the far corner is an open space with mats that can be put down up against the wall. There is nobody else here and I drop my bag on the floor when we walk to the empty section with a raised eyebrow.

"Why is there nobody here? Are you planning on killing me?"

I see that Cyrus wants to say something and I almost guess it's- shouldn't I be asking you that?

But he doesn't say it. Instead, he pulls a mat down, it hitting the floor with a 'smack' resonating throughout the room.

"No. But I like to workout in peace."

I watch as he places the mat in the middle of the empty space before he grabs his own duffle bag and gives me a smile. "I'm just going to go change. Then we'll start." He walks away without giving me a chance to respond and I let out a sigh when he is out of earshot.

I hope that this goes better than I'm expecting it to.

****

Cyrus and I don't do as much I thought we would in the three hours we end up together. He made me do weights, stretching, boxing. Only for an hour and a half did he go over fighting moves but it was all explaining, not us actually doing it. I pretend not to know anything although most of it is already knowledge to me from Danté. I often zone in and out, trying not to let the fact that my brother is teaching me how to fight send me into a downward spiral towards an anxiety attack.

It's strange, sitting beside Cyrus after I admitted I hate him. It's hard, more than anything- having to pretend my intentions are pure, that I'm not using him. It's hard not thinking of my father when my brother talks about how to throw a powerful punch and I wonder- did you learn that from our father? It's surreal, really. But in the worst way possible.

If Cyrus notices that my attention sways every now and then, he doesn't say anything and continues to talk in a gentle voice. Even when speaking of violence, he makes it sound like he's talking about the sky. It's both infuriating and comforting. But now that we called it a day and he's sliding out of the seat as I park the car outside of the gang, I don't know what to say. Thank you? See you tomorrow?

His green eyes meet mine and I know that we both have something to say. But I also know that neither of us are going to say it. Instead, he offers me a small smile and I try return the gesture. Shutting my door, he walks to the bar and I lean my head on the carseat for a moment, closing my eyes briefly.

When I open them again, I see Ramiro exiting the building. He glances at Cyrus who enters with the duffle bag over his shoulder before looking around the parking lot. Opening the door, I wave him over. Ramiro has a plain navy button up shirt on and a pair of black jeans that he rests his hands in. A fancy watch rests on his wrist, reflecting the light. His sleeves are rolled up to his elbows, revealing his sleeve and I notice a Phoenix in-between it.

"Hey, Harley." He greets, snapping me from my reverie of thoughts and I offer the first genuine smile since I left the apartment this morning.

"Hey Ramiro. Do you have any idea about whether or not Xavier let Danté off of the hook?"

Ramiro nods, squinting at me slightly from the rays of the sun. "Sí. He won't be on for fights for the next few nights but he still has to train. He's currently at the gym."

A breath I didn't realize I was holding leaves my mouth. Although I wish Danté could heal properly, I was expecting Xavier to give a straight 'no' so the relief is clear.

"Great. That's great." I smile and Ramiro offers a small smile before he looks back at the doors of the bar and then back at me.

"Would it be too nosey of me to ask what you're doing with your brother?"
Swallowing hard, I scratch my arm and open my mouth to respond before Ramiro continues: "Do you wanna come with me? I need to get a few things for the computer."

"I don't kn-"

"Come on, Harley." Ramiro says with a smile. "Take a moment to just loosen up. You don't have to worry about the gang every second of every day." He outstretches his hand for me and I glance down at it, chewing on my lip before giving in because he's right. His hand is rough compared to mine and definitely compared to Danté's. I remember how surprised I was that Danté's was not calloused from the steering wheel at first.

He leads me to his car and I climb into the passenger's seat after he unlocks it. Ramiro's car smells faintly of cinnamon and soap and I like how the leather of his chairs are worn, showing that this car has been used. That it has a story to tell.

When we're on the road, Ramiro turns down the Latin music that streams from the speakers before glancing at me. He drives with the same casualness as Danté but not with the same comfort.

"So?"

"I don't know if Lina told you but her and Enrique suggested that I get closer with Cyrus because I'll figure out things easier, given our relationship and what I have over him." I begin and Ramiro nods.

"She did. I'm assuming that you took them up on that?"

Nodding, I sigh.

"I thought you said you couldn't?" Ramiro says it more like a question than a statement and I run a hand through my hair. I regret not taking that shower at the gym- I would have, if I knew I would be doing this with Ramiro.

"I did. But then he approached me at the track and it just slipped out that I needed to learn how to fight and he offered to do it and I said okay and now I feel terrible because I've manipulated him." I say all in one, rushed breath.

"Harley." Ramiro says and I glance at him to see a tender look on his face. "Its okay. It's understandable why you're doing it."

Shaking my head, I look out the window. "I keep telling myself that, too. That I'm just trying to get out of this... but do I really have to be such a terrible person to do so?"

"What we do in order to survive doesn't define us, Harley." Ramiro responds and a small smile appears on my face as I shake my head.

"Yes. It does. I've been so angry at my brother but here I am using him- how am I any better?"

"You're willing to try and protect other people from this life, even if it means getting closer to your brother with... different intentions than he thinks. That manipulation isn't a part of you. It's just a mask." His voice holds so much conviction and yet I still struggle to believe him.

"But when will the mask slowly morph into who I am? How much longer till I can't take it off and I forget who I am underneath it?" My voice is a little strained, pained, I suppose. It wavers with all the emotions I try to hide. And yet, with Ramiro I'm not ashamed to feel human. He makes me feel like less of a lost cause, he makes me feel like there's hope for both Danté and I.

"You just took the mask off by talking to me with honesty." Ramiro looks back at the road after briefly glancing at me. "You're not such a terrible person like you think you are."

I almost believe him.

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