Opposite worlds »punk h.s

Chapter 76

 

[Harry]

"Fuck, I'm-I'm sorry," I stutter in a whisper. "I'm so sorry Lucy."

"Harry, don't-don’t cry,” I hear her weak voice and my hands cling to her even more.

But it's too late, I'm crying like a fucking baby for Lucy.

Lucinda's fingers gently caress my not well formed curls and I bury my nose deeper into her wet hair. Why does her hair have to smell so fucking good? I think I will cry even more.

"Sorry," I repeated once again.

I would like to say the words and really get forgiveness but is literally impossible.

Now that I think I can't even remember the last time I cried, possibly it was when my dog died about 9 years ago. I definitely never cry because crying is to show weakness. I feel so embarrassed and exposed and I hate this. I don't want her to feel sorry for me; I don't need pity and less from Lucy.

Her arms around me it's relief but at the same time it's driving me crazy. It's a relief because it's Lucy but it drives me crazy because they are too thin for my taste. What the hell is going on with her? Plus I wonder if her fucking boyfriend Eric say anything about it. That fucker.

 I sob like a baby on her shoulder and the palms of my hands slide from her back to her ribs and Lucy whimpered. I pulled away quickly and she looked down. I know something is wrong.

"What happened?"

"Nothing," she hugs herself and doesn't dare to look at me.

"Does it hurt?" I tried to touch her ribs but Lucy crawled away from me. "Lucy," I warn while crawling towards her. Her back hits the wall and she places her shoe on my shoulder to stop me to come closer.

"I'm fine," she muttered.

She whimpered because her ribs hurt, she must have some bruise and I need to see it. I don't see the problem because I've already seen her shirtless, like one time in all those months.

"Let me—"

"No," she whispered firmly.

For a few seconds we stayed like this, my eyes roam over her ankle and through her leg and then to her face. Pink painted on her cheeks and lips parted but what catches my attention is the small wound on the end of her lower lip. Right, I have things to do.

"Go to the living room and I'll look for a first-aid kit or something to help with your wounds," I explain before getting up.

I wipe the tears with the back of my hand as I go to the bathroom. I search in the little furniture and there is just alcohol, a couple of band-aid and cotton. I make my way to the living room and she is sitting on the couch.

"I just have this; I hope it's enough,"

Lucy reaches her hand out to me and I frown. "I can help too."

I want to do it because she helped me several times when I was drunk and that crap.

"Come on," she said firmly and I'm incredibly surprised that she has not stuttered or hesitated once.

I pour alcohol on the cotton and handed it to her. Lucy is concentrated in her hands and she slides the cotton around her palms. She frowns a couple of times perhaps is for the alcohol burning on her scraped hands.

Her eyes are still red but she looks determined, more mature and less hesitant. I need to hear her stutter, I used to not like it at first but I learned to love and adore it.