To be given a chance - (BxB)

Chapter seven - In his time of need

Harry's feet scuff against the beige vinyl flooring as we enter through the door to my office. He sticks close to my side, like glue on paper; waiting on my every move, never taking the first step. He hasn't said a word since we left the kitchen, he makes an occasional sniffle but that's as far as it goes for noises. His once bright apple green eyes, are now nothing but disconsolate forests of dull green. The way he cradles his hand, the pained expression on his face despite the look in his eyes. Keeping my hand on his left shoulder I lead him over to the bed, and signal for him to sit down.

After settling him on the edge of the bed, I make my way over and retrieve some bandages and antiseptic wipes from the medicine cabinet at the other side of the room. I hear a few soft cries coming from him which break my heart. Taking a glance at the clock I sigh; it's barely even eight o'clock. Marie won't be in until twelve, so for now I'm on my own. Meaning I will have to look after Harry and thirty other people all on my tod.

I grimace as I get a whiff on myself; coffee, sweat and the faint smell of 'Bold - sparkling bloom and yellow poppy' washing powder. I'm surprised Harry still wants to be so close to me considering I smell like someone just threw up and sprinkled mint flavoured tic-tacs all over. Then again, I have smelled worse.

As I make my way back over to the curly haired stranger, I notice him shift uncomfortably, tugging at the hem of his new shirt; awkwardly swinging his legs back and forth like a child. In many ways, this morning hasn't exactly went the way I would have expected. I grab the chair by my desk and sit in front of Harry, placing the bandages and wipes on the bed beside him. I mean, the way Harry had woken up... it's understandable, of course, it's no wonder he had a little break down this morning; unfamiliar surroundings, especially waking up in a bed... maybe he didn't know how he got there.

Last night had been tough alone, so when he had nodded off on the chair I couldn't let him stay there all night, that's just cruel. His head lulling uncomfortably over the side, arm draped across the hard plastic armrests. I'm not saying it's bad, just that he came here for food, comfort and sleep. I'm not justifying myself because I carried him to bed and tucked him in last night, or the fact that I smiled at the way his arms subconsciously wrapped themselves around my shoulders as I scooped him up. Just that, sometimes people need to know how much you care, and I cared enough for him to do that...

"I... um, I need to see your hand..." I say, Harry avoids my eyes, looking anywhere but my face; it makes me feel like I've just been hit in the gut. I understand that he is still in shock from the whole 'smashing the mug' thing, but the fact that he won't look at me, makes me wonder what I did wrong.
He cups his hand closer into himself, blood dripping from his hand and onto the grey material. Tears streak his already pink cheeks, swollen eyes not daring to take there stare from the bandages beside him.

Gently, I take my hand and place it on his, he tenses a little and then relaxes when he understands that I won't hurt him. I offer him a smile as he stretches out his hand, allowing me to examine the cut across his palm; he glances but quickly turns his head again, cheeks redder than before. Am I making him uncomfortable? That's the last thing I want to do.

Swallowing awkwardly, I concentrate on the wound. It's hard to tell how deep it is due to the blood that keeps flowing from it. Taking one of the antiseptic wipes from the small packaging, I begin dabbing at the wound; stopping immediately when I hear a pained-staken squeal, and Harry pulls his hand back.

"S-sorry, I-I... It'll sting, just tell me to stop whenever you want, okay?" I fumble with the wipe and accidentally drop it onto the floor. I didn't know cleaning and dressing a wound would be this hard... My hands are shaking right now. The fact that I've just hurt him there makes me feel absolutely terrible. "I'm really sorry, I should have said that at first." I'm such an idiot. He's probably not going to let me finish now. Not after that.