Page 5

H arlow wrapped his arm tighter around Foxx when the man started to wail after losing hold of Charity’s hand. While he definitely didn’t understand most of the shit he could feel, Harlow could say that he had hated doing what he’d just done.

But what else was he supposed to do when the vampire had started to sway?! Foxx had been impossibly trying to bring her back, and was obviously using up his own damn energy to do it.

“I’m sorry,” he rasped weakly as the man continued to scream. Each pain-filled cry had his insides twisting, the already unwieldy ball of rage inside him rapidly growing, while his limbs started to feel heavy with this overwhelming feeling of helplessness.

Harlow never wanted to hear this sound again… He’d heard it once before, when the priest had been praying over the man… Yet, it wasn’t exactly the same as what he’d heard back then… It was worse. Because this wasn’t fear, this was…despair, or maybe pain…

Whatever it was, it had triggered this strange ache in his chest that seemed to force his heart to beat faster.

“I’m sorry,” Harlow uselessly repeated.

He swallowed hard as a tremble that he couldn’t explain started making its way through his body. The unknown ache in his chest grew as Harlow’s gaze flicked down to Charity.

Her face was pale and bloody, but the woman’s smile was still in place. She looked peaceful. Too peaceful, when he was sitting there feeling completely lost, while his anger violently twisted inside him with no place to go, in a situation where none of it was helpful.

What…was he supposed to do? As much as Wes had convinced him that he could in fact feel, there was one thing that had remained unchanged. Sadness was not something he could experience.

Harlow felt this sense of déjà vu. Awkward… He felt so awkward and unsure, just as he had when faced with Elowen’s grief over Gabe. Yet, this was ten times worse, as his body was reacting in ways he couldn’t control or understand. Because while all he felt over Charity’s death was anger, just as he had over Gabe’s, Foxx’s grief brought on so much more than the anger that Elowen’s had caused. In fact, he felt too much. Rage, Harlow could control that, everything else though…

The truth was that Harlow really had wanted to help Elowen. Part of it, of course, had been to see if he was really the unfeeling psychopath he’d always assumed he was.

Another part of him just had the urge—one he couldn’t explain—to help her. So Harlow had tried to fake all he could, tried to feel something…and he’d failed. He hadn’t been able to understand what she’d been feeling. To the point that he’d constantly said the wrong thing, causing her to lash out at him, which she’d done with increasing frequency in the weeks before he left.

Harlow had tried until it had gotten to a point where he realized that if he had stayed, it would hurt her more than leaving. So he left, and she had quickly become someone his brain no longer saw as his . Before her, the only time that had happened was when the people in question had died.

Harlow collected people, and sometimes those people left his collection…but Foxx was different from everyone before. It felt different when he called the vampire his, or when the man was hurting. All of it was different!

He couldn’t walk away! The very notion that Foxx would be out of his sight for any extended period of time made any rage he’d felt up to this moment pale in comparison.

But how the fuck was he supposed to help Foxx when he couldn’t feel any of it?!

He grimaced as the ache grew, the trembling becoming stronger .

“Foxx…” he said, his voice cracking. The vampire didn’t respond, though the wails softened slightly, making him think the man had at least heard him.

Glancing up, Harlow flinched when he met Tony’s gaze. Tears were trailing down the man’s face, but the human was eyeing him like he’d never seen him before, looking like he wanted to say something.

Harlow quickly decided to ignore it, as he really didn’t want to deal with Tony’s questions about his newly developed, fucked up emotional responses, on top of actually dealing with those fucked up, new emotional responses. It's not like he could explain shit anyway. Well, ‘ignore’ as in glare until the man looked away.

Harlow’s eyes narrowed when Tony’s brow rose, but the fucker didn’t look away. Ugh—whatever.

Not really seeing him, but still staring Tony dead in the eyes—as he’d be damned if he looked away first—Harlow cleared his throat.

Gently, he began to run a hand over Foxx’s black curls, while slowly saying, “Foxx, you know me. I’m pretty fucking helpless in these situations. I never know what to say or do, mainly as I usually feel too many things I can’t pin down.

“What I can say…is that I am sorry. I’m sorry I made you let go. I’m sorry that it didn’t work. I’m sorry that what you were trying to do wasn’t working. And I’m sorry she’s gone. To you, I can admit that. I can even own up to the fact that I, even with how little I’m able to feel when it comes to regret for my actions, feel bad for making you stop.

“But there is one thing I can’t do—” He quickly corrected himself. “—no, won’t do. And that’s sit back and let you hurt yourself.”

“I WASN’T!” Foxx screamed as he shoved at him. Harlow didn’t let go though. He continued holding the vampire in his lap, just letting the man angrily shove at him as he met the vampire’s tear flooded eyes.

“You were,” he said without any emotions. Not because he felt nothing, but because he felt too much. Unfortunately, a lot of the too much was rage.

Foxx shook his head as more tears trailed down his cheeks. “I wasn’t,” the man repeated softly this time, while starting to lightly smack Harlow’s chest with his fists. “Why…” Foxx hiccupped. “Why did—ah. Why d-did you do that?!”

Foxx stared at the blank expression on Harlow’s face, and found he wanted to hurt him as much as he was hurting right now. And right now, it felt as if his heart was being twisted and pulled apart.

“ANSWER ME!” he shrieked, his hand rising without thought to strike the man, but he stopped short, hovering right above the dhampir’s face.

What am I doing…?

Harlow smiled, the expression gentler than he deserved at the moment. “You can hit me if it’ll make you feel better.”

His hand started to shake as he sobbed, “I-I’m s-sorry—ah.” The trembling worsened as he lightly cupped the man’s cheek. “I-I’m sorry.”

How could he?! Harlow hadn’t… The man hadn’t been lying… Foxx had, though.

Harlow leaned into his touch, his hand covering Foxx’s. “Foxx, as far as I’m concerned, you are free to hit, stab, and even shoot me. Set me on fire, or make me bleed. Whatever your twisted little heart desires or needs to make you feel better, I’m fine with it. I can handle it. Fuck, I’ll even smile as you do it. But don’t ever ask me to let you hurt yourself. Because I won’t. I will warn you now, I’m not sure what I’ll do if you trigger my paranoia on this. I can’t say for sure I won’t lock you away.”

Foxx knew he shouldn’t smile at such a red flag, but he did, even as tears continued to trail down his face. “Harlow… I don’t…I don’t want to h-hurt you. I know I threaten sometimes, but if I—” When he hiccupped, he forced himself to take a deep breath before continuing. “If I ever did that in anger, it would just mean things have gone h-horribly wrong between us. You don’t deserve to be…abused. I don’t want to be like that. I-I love you. It would hurt me too if I did that, you know that, right? Hurting you would hurt me too, Harlow. I hate when you talk like y-you don’t matter.”