"If our love is tradegy, why are you my remedy?
If our love's insanity, why are you my clarity?" -Clarity; Zedd (feat. Foxes)
In my world, Harry is a split persona of Tom's, he comes out when he wants and kills as he pleases. Or, he does until they meet Clay Miller.
By all means, Clay Miller should have run as fast and as far as he could when he met Tom Hanniger. He had just lost his sister to a serial killer- oh god, Whitney- and now he was face-to-face with another. But, Tom had never struck terror into him. No, he put Clay to ease, calming his frayed nerves and putting all his fears to rest.
After all, who better to protect you than a serial killer?
"Clay?" Tom's voice broke into Clay's thoughts, causing him to look up.
"Yeah?" he offered a hesitant smile.
Tom frowned and sat beside him. "What's wrong?" he asked attentively, green eyes searching for what caused his boyfriend to be so on edge.
"Nothing," Clay responded quickly, hazel eyes darting away.
"Clay." Tom waited for him to look at him. When he did, albeit reluctantly, Tom gently grasped his hand. "What's wrong?"
Clay shook his head. "Nothing!" he insisted.
Tom shifted closer to him as he murmured, "You're a horrible liar, baby. C'mon, what's wrong."
He sighed and looked down. "It's just-"
"Just...?"
"Why do we work?" The words spilled out of Clay without his consent. "Why do we work so well together?"
"What do you mean?" Tom asked, carefully.
Clay pulled away. "I just- why do we keep each other sane?" his voice was small, half afraid he was going to make Tom angry or worse, bring Harry out.
Tom pursed his lips as understanding shone in his eyes and recaptured Clay's hand. "We work well together because we've both survived some pretty extreme shit." Gently, he cupped Clay's face and lowered his voice, asking, "Why's it bother you?"
He shrugged and tried to pull away again, wishing he had never started this line of thought.
Tom refused to release him, his voice firm as he demanded, "Clay?"
"I shouldn't be in love with you!" he blurted out, cringing when he realized what he had just said.
He blinked, surprised at the change in topic and opened his mouth to reply only to get cut off by Clay rambling, "I mean, a serial killer killed my sister and now I'm sleeping with another one. It's-"
Tom's eyes narrowed, his grip on Clay tightening. "'It's'?"
With a worried look on his face, Clay finished softly, "It's not right."
They sat in a tense silence, Tom staring at Clay, who kept his eyes on his hands.
Tom sat up, fingers curling to grip an invisible pick axe, voice deeper as he calmly questioned, "'Not right'?"
Clay looked up and froze when he realized why Tom sounded different.
"I-Harry-" Tom- no, not Tom, Harry raised his hand to tangle his fingers in Clay's hair.
He asked softly, "Why's it wrong, Clay."
He looked down and whispered reluctantly, "I should hate you." He braced himself for whatever came next; he was never really sure what Harry would do.
He was surprised though when he chuckled, leaning back to rest against the arm of the couch. He pulled Clay with him, drawing him to rest between his legs and on his chest.
"Should you?" he questioned, his voice a mere murmur.
Biting his lip, Clay buried his face in Harry's neck. He hadn't expected comfort from Harry- it was the last thing he'd expect from the killer side of Tom.
He answered hesitantly, "Yes?"
Harry hummed and tilted his head to the side, carding his fingers through the hair tickling his neck. "You know I'd never hurt you, Clay."
Clay didn't know that, was never sure when it came to Harry.
His hesitation gave his answer and Harry sighed, tightening his grip on his lover. His dammit.
He raised his fingers to gently press them on Clay's pulse point. "Your heart beats in tandem with ours, Clay. You let me carve his name into your flesh," he moved his hand to press against Clay's heart, where the name Tom Hanniger was carved, a permanent mark made early on in their relationship. "I would never hurt you. Tom would never hurt you. You're ours."
"I know," Clay hastily replied, fingers gripping Harry-Tom-Harry's shirt. He thought of the men and women Harry had killed, just for looking at Clay in a way he didn't like. "You've proven that before."
"Then what are you so scared of?" It was no longer Harry's voice that questioned him.
He shrugged. "I just... I'm not so much afraid as I am... worried."
"About?"
"The fact that my serial killer boyfriend is the only thing keeping me sane?" his voice was dry. He reburied his face in Tom's neck.
Tom laughed lightly. "If it makes you feel any better, my super hot ultimate survivor boyfriend is the only thing stopping Harry from killing anyone and everyone that crosses my path."
Clay let out a startled laugh. "Guess that does make me feel better."
Tom pressed a kiss to Clay's forehead. "Good. Now," he sat up, bring Clay with him. "Let's grab something to eat."
Clay nodded and shifted to stand, only to be stopped by being brought into a deep kiss by Tom. When they broke apart, Tom muttered, "I'll go get it. That waiter is way to handsy for you to be near."
A blush spread across Clay's cheeks as he protested, "Not my fault!"
"'Course not," Tom grinned. "You're just too hot for your own good."
He rolled his eyes and pushed his idiot boyfriend away. "Go get food, you dork."
Tom ducked in to kiss Clay still red cheek before standing and leaving.
Clay smiled to himself and silently admitted that having a serial killer boyfriend may be a bad thing, but having one like Tom Hanniger wasn't all that bad.
"Don't forget the fries, Tom!"
Random story that came from wanting school to be over.
Let me know what you thought!