Harry's temples are far beyond bruised from how hard he's been pressing them in with his fingers. He's been thinking too much for the past few hours. Pressing hard on his temples, thinking; pressing hard on his temples, thinking. His lips are still tingling and he feels guilty for what happened hours ago.

He can't remember the last time he felt guilty, so he knows this is bad. Knows this won't end well. Because he's stupid.

He takes a breath and watches a man emerge from behind one of the parked cars against the moist wall of the closed off alley. His windshield is (finally) clean and his nails are cut properly so they won't distract him. But none of this means anything because Astraya is still in his head and that's distraction enough.

He feels like he needs to explain himself to her. Tell her that being his distraction isn't all that bad. It means he doesn't think about his mother or his shit father. It means he doesn't have flashbacks of the same car accident or flashbacks of the same fights. It means it's her. It's all her and it's been going so smoothly up until last night.

The man walks to the front of the parked SUV and crosses his arms. The subtle arch of his nose and familiar dip of his shoulders lets him know it's Uriah.

Harry leaves his car almost immediately and fixes his hair to cover his temples. He runs his right hand through the front of it so the strands shield the dead look inside of his eyes.

Deep down he knows this won't end well. This has all been the calm before the storm and something is bound to go wrong. Maybe not tonight or tomorrow, but he feels like there's a disaster creeping up on him.

"She didn't come tonight, I see."

Harry snaps out of his thoughts quickly. Embarrassed for getting lost in them in the first place. He squints his eyes at Uriah and nods with vague interest, his mind almost drifting off entirely to Astraya. "This isn't her fight."

"Yeah." The other man rubs the back of his neck and looks up at one of the broken lampposts. "What is it you're fighting for again?"

"You know what I want."

He smiles sickly. "That key, eh? All of this for a lousy key?"

Harry takes a small breath and tightens his hands into fists. His patience is wearing thin and it's only been two minutes of standing here.

"What are you going to do when you get it? Do you think you have the balls to kill-"

"Why don't you give it to me first and then find out?"

Uriah laughs. His blown eyes and red cheeks let Harry know he's either high or drunk. "It's not up to me," he teases. "I'm just the guy whose shitty sister you're fucking."

Something goes off inside his head and it feels a lot like the snap of a bone ringing in his ears. His fist flies to the side of Uriah's face. He pulls back to deliver another one, and this time Uriah falls to his knees in front of him. He laughs again, quietly this time, and Harry goes at it another three times until he thinks he got the message across.

He looks down and pauses.

Uriah smiles through the blood, white teeth stained in red. His tongue darts out to lick the scarlet liquid, and Harry grimaces. His stare is blank as he tightens his grip on Astraya's brother's -Astraya's brother's- shirt.

"Do it," the younger man urges, blood trickling down his chin. There's a thick trail of it on Harry's knuckles. "Kill me and tell her."

Harry closes his eyes and realizes he's just been caught in a challenge. This meet-up was to test him; see if he'd really hold himself back for her.

And he doesn't know if he would or wouldn't until Uriah's mocking laugh cuts through his thoughts with a reminder of who he is.

The gun in his waistband is removed and shot within seconds, and he takes his hands off the man to watch him fall.

He groans in pain while clutching his shattered left knee cap. It takes him a while, but he composes himself slightly; just enough to be able to hold Harry's gaze with a wicked, taunting smile that makes him want to shoot him right through the heart. "You know..." he moans a little before continuing, "she doesn't trust you like you want her to."

"I don't care." And he does. Won't admit it, but he does.

"You do." He moves and sucks his teeth. "You're weak just like your father said you were. And that's what's going to get you killed. All of the trust you put in people who don't give a shit about you."

Harry stomps down on Uriah's wounded knee with his boot, pressing down hard until he hears him scream. Until he feels his body writhing in pain. "You can go fuck yourself. And I want that key so I can tell my father the same."

The response he gets is a guttural laugh. Goosebumps rise on his skin as he backs up from the sadist under his weight, dropping his head toward the cement. He stands there for a few seconds before backing up to return to his car.

◦

"Where is she?"

Liam's leaning against one of the walls in the kitchen. His arms are folded over his chest and there's a half eaten apple on the countertop.

Harry raises his eyebrows and asks the question again, this time raising his voice. "Well?"

"Upstairs, I don't know. Why?"

The tone in Liam's voice doesn't work well with him. "None of your business." He turns to walk out of the kitchen, turning the next corner to climb up a flight of stairs.

The first place he goes to is the bedroom. He cringes when he sees his pillow and blankets strewn on the floor in one heap, and then follows the sound of a running faucet into the bathroom. The door is already wide open and he looks over his shoulders twice before looking at Astraya as she lies in the tub with the water filled to the brim.

"Hi," she hums in a dull tone without opening her eyes.

He checks behind him one last time before stepping inside and shutting the door, moving his wide eyes to her. "Why'd you leave the door open?"

She slouches and lowers herself further into the water, cupping some of it and soaking her already wet hair. She opens her eyes and he notices how red they are. It's when she finally talks in a complete sentence that he hears how raw her voice is. "I feel like I'm going to die," she admits quietly. The confession just barely reaches him. "I don't want to think about it, but I feel it."

Harry watches the ripples in the water and the small amount that begins to spill past the porcelain tub as she shifts slowly. He goes down on his knees and looks at her until she finally catches his gaze. "Don't say that."

She flinches back as his hand comes up to push her hair away from her eyes.

There's a moment where he swears it looks like she's scared of him, and he has to stop moving so he can test the boundaries. When she says nothing, he sits with his back against the tub. "Do you trust me, Astraya?"

"I don't know."

"Yes you do." He turns his neck to look at her over his shoulder, blinking down at where she is. "I want you to tell me the truth."

"I don't know you."

He pretends his chest doesn't burn. Just closes his eyes and then pushes his hair back. When he reopens them he sees that her eyes have softened. It takes everything in him not to get defensive. Harry's not easy to read and he doesn't like the thought of being an open book.

She reaches out for him with her wet hands, and then he feels her fingers brush his hairline to then ghost over the skin under it. "What did you do?"

He's dumbfounded. Her hand pushes most of his hair out of his face so she can get a better look at him. "What are you talking about?"

"This bruise." She presses the pad of her thumb against his right temple and Harry captures her wrist in his hand to push her away.

"I need to apologize." Some of the water from her hand trails down his arm and into the sleeve of his shirt. "For last night. I didn't mean it in the way it came across. About you being a distraction."

She wriggles her hand from his grasp and points at the towel on the closed toilet lid. He's quick to grab it and stand up, unfolding the cotton and shielding his eyes from her naked body despite having already seen most of it. "I don't care how you meant it." She side steps him and into the towel to wrap it around her body evenly, going over to pick up a set of pajamas.

He already knows she's planning on leaving. Probably planning on locking herself inside her bedroom. But he feels like there's something else he has to tell her. There's something waiting to get off his chest but it just won't come to him. All he can remember is Uriah. Uriah standing before him and then kneeling at his feet. Spitting up blood and clutching his leg. Laughing. "I almost killed your brother today."

This makes her stop moving with her right hand hovering over the doorknob. Drops of water are falling off the ends of her hair and onto the floor. She turns around slowly and Harry steps up to her. He's surprised when she doesn't back up from how close they are.

"I shot him in the leg and I was going to go for his chest next."

Her breath fans over his open lips and her gaze stays locked on his. "Why are you telling me this?"

"Because you're why he didn't die."

"No I'm not."

Their lips are touching now. Feather-light, but he can still feel her. "I like you," he whispers.

Her hand turns the knob but she doesn't push the door yet. There's this look in her eyes that he really can't read, and it really bothers him the longer they stand in this small space. She opens her mouth hesitantly. "I don't believe you."

"What will it take to change your mind?"

She bites her bottom lip like she's keeping herself from saying something.

"Anything," he reassures her softly, ignoring the way she pushes gently on the door so it opens up a crack. "I want you to know you can trust me."

"Your mother."

Harry backs up and slips on the water on the floor.

"Can you tell me about her?" She asks the question slowly after he's composed himself, planted both feet on the floor; shoulders' width apart. "About why you dream about her?"

He looks down at her with accusing eyes because he can't do that. He's never done that before. Only a hand full of people know about her, and only two people know the truth of that story. She's a stranger and he can't be that open. "Astraya," he breathes out. "I can't do that. I can't..."

She nods when he stars fumbling over his words, and he thinks she's definitely mad at him now. Thinks she thinks he isn't serious when he says the word trust; a word he's never thrown around before. But she meets his eyes with a soft, somber look. "Then don't."

She walks out of the bathroom and leaves him standing in front of the full, body-length mirror.

(A/n: It's been a while since I last updated so I'll post chapter 13 in a few hours after it's been proofread.

I also want to thank each and every one of you for reading. It really does mean a lot to me, even if you don't vote or comment. Thank you so much for reading this story.)