Blood…
It had been all over her hands as his limp body lay cradled in her arms.
Blood…
It had stained his black attire, seething through the fabric of his torn jacket and the matching shirt that lay underneath.
Blood…
Its metallic scent was the only thing she could smell – a wave of misery and guilt that filled the area around her and made her sick to her stomach.
Blood…
Its redness was the one color her eyes could make out, the surrounding world drenched in the monotonic shades of irrelevancy.
Blood…
Its haunting imprint lingered like a cancer across her fingertips and palms, even when paramedics who had been called into the area rushed into the hollow, post-apocalyptic stadium a few minutes afterwards, carrying his unconscious, paled figure out of the building on a stretcher.
Blood…
The sight of it never left her as she climbed onto the back of the paramedics' truck, sitting beside the stretcher that he laid upon, refusing to leave his side, tears pouring from her eyes.
Blood…
She could see it leak from the large wound on his back as the paramedics attempted to bandage it in the jumpy, speeding truck – to help stop the bleeding until they could reach the nearby hospital.
Blood…
Blood.
His blood.
Harley's blood.
Soledad buried her head in her hands as she waited outside of the emergency room, the world around her that was the hallways of the city's hospital oxymoronically calm in such a situation that was pure disaster in her eyes. Other nurses occupied the halls, but apart from their occasional scurry to another ER or to the elevators to reach the lower rooms where soon-to-be-mothers were in the midst of labor, their pain nowhere near the extreme anguish that deluged every bowel in Soledad's chest, the area remained uneventful. She wanted to cry her eyes out until there was nothing left to shed, but at the same time she wanted to force herself to hold it in, not wanting to make a scene in front of the hospital's employees who were oblivious to the contrition emanating from her body, driving the sense of emotional strength around her to wither away like a neglected rose.
However, she couldn't help the tears that poured from her eyes – droplets of water that signified her worry, sympathy, compassion, and the wish that this never happened. She hadn't been able to comprehend what was transpiring around the time the accident occurred – the one that put both her and Harley in a fatal position – and she hated herself for it; she was unable to dodge all of the metallic fragments that had been shooting down from the contest stadium's broken foundation beam, and Harley was the one to push her out of the way – to ensure her safety out of the cost of his own.
Every time she thought of the red liquid that poured from the amethyst-haired man's back, she wanted to cry harder. She had felt his body go limp in her arms, unresponsive to her pleads to see his eyes that made her feel so comforted, so secure, so worried for, so cared about. He had risked his life to save hers, and out of what purpose? Friendship?
Friendship, she thought with another tearful gasp, wasn't worth it.
She wasn't worth it.
As she sat right outside the emergency room, the air around her repugnantly serene while she could only imagine that the world behind the doors in front of her was the exact opposite, she felt her muscles go weak at the thought of it all. She saw Harley as a priceless friend, which explained why she didn't want to see him hurt – why she wanted to know if he would be okay; if she would be able to see those deep pools of metallic blue-green ever again.
But…when she rose her head, face red, tears hot across her skin as they stung on the borderlines of her sunken eyes, the chilling sensation of realization poked itself up from the burning eruption that engulfed her stomach.
No…this was more than not wanting to see him hurt, not wanting to see him be in such a position, and the need to know that he would get out of this…
She couldn't stand the thought of losing him.
She couldn't stand the idea of not seeing him again.
It was like she was being separated from the drug that helped her feel. He had affected her so much when she first came to Slateport, and he still did. His mark was still there – the empty spot inside her heart she didn't even know existed was the very spot he had grown to fill. If she lost him…if this was the end and he was gone…
She couldn't explain why; she couldn't explain these emotions.
She just…wanted to be with him.
She wanted to be by his side.
She wanted to be in his arms – his warm, securing hold that made her feel at home no matter where they were.
More tears fell from her eyes.
"Soledad!"
The pink-red-haired woman choked out a confined breath, turning her scarlet eyes to the horrified countenances of May and Drew as they rushed down the hall and in her direction, having originally stayed behind at the contest to see if there had been anymore casualties amongst the accident. Soledad didn't bother to emit any sounds apart from whimpers, Drew halting when he came by her side, sounding out of breath, May not far behind. The chartreuse-haired teen shot a look of concern towards the doors of the emergency room, finding the silence around them more apprehensive than if it had been filled with eventfulness, and Soledad thought no different. Slowly he stumbled back, stopping when his back lined up against the wall - where he then slid down to the tiled ground, voice as light as the pale hue of his skin. "I...I can't believe this is happening..."
Meanwhile, May said nothing as she sat down beside Soledad, turning her eyes to her, sapphire orbs deep with sympathy. She raised a gloved hand to place it on her shoulder and assure her the best, but ceased in doing so when the pink-red-haired woman pulled away, not wanting to be met with pity. She had been the one to call the Brave Rush formation despite its lingering faults; she had been the one who commanded it regardless of her doubts; she had been the one to justify that they use it although her conscious had told her otherwise.
She had been the one to put Harley in this position.
Fresh tears began to pour from her eyes, more guilt filling her chest – if that was even possible anymore.
May sniffed herself as she wrapped her arms around Soledad's structure, holding on for support. Soledad failed to acknowledge the teen, thoughts dominating her mind; she still didn't flinch even when Drew got up and sat by her other side, arm snaking its way around her shoulder, pulling her closer to him. She remembered hearing him say countless of times that he wouldn't care less if Harley died one day, and such a thing explained the Spartanic veil that now covered his face – his attempt at being the valorous and strong sovereign in a moment of despondency. However, not even he could remain consistent with it; his eyebrows loosened just as fast as they had furrowed, all serious emotion melting away into nothingness.
Silence ruled the air. The only thing that mattered were the emergency doors in front of them – a gateway of manmade material that separated them from Harley. It was a borderline Soledad wasn't allowed to cross until the doctors said otherwise, and she unbearably had to comply.
She didn't know how many minutes had already passed since Harley had been brought into the hospital, nor did she know how many had elapsed afterwards. Hours could've gone by as she, May, and Drew sat on the bench right outside of the emergency room, waiting for something to happen – and hoping that it would be positive. The pink-red-haired woman was too preoccupied with her thoughts to pay attention to time, fear of horrific conclusions running laps around her mind while the conflicting hope for a good outcome raced alongside it. As moments grew evanescent, she could only cope with the urge to burst into the room and see Harley herself instead of having to wait outside for another antagonizing period. She just wanted to know if he was okay, because…if he wasn't-
The doors of the emergency room suddenly opened.
Soledad jumped to her feet, May and Drew mimicking, watching a young doctor emerge from the doors, the pale complexion of his skin so obviously used to tragic conclusions that it seemed permanent - and thus Soledad wasn't sure if she was supposed to judge Harley's condition based on that. Her hot tears were still lingering among her face, her breath trapped in her throat. May and Drew also displayed worry, but nowhere near as much.
Aware that they were friends with his patient, the doctor met Soledad's gaze, azure clashing with verdigris, the Lucario assistant that stood by his side keeping the usual countenance of seriousness its species was known to have. For a split second silence still dominated the smothering atmosphere around them, time slowing down, nearly stopping altogether, and Soledad felt her hopes dim at the fact that Harley's outcome had been put into the hands of a man who appeared younger than her; his lines of age were hidden away by the built structure of his face, burgundy locks framing his dimmed visage, the usual doctor attire that covered his body not hiding away the thinness of it. He didn't look sick, but he didn't look healthy either. Soledad eventually stepped forward, her stomach burning with tension, and she longed for an articulation of some sort to emit from the doctor's mouth. When nothing came out and the doctor only stared into her eyes with a darkened, businesslike look, she feared the worst, nearly stumbling back at the mental thought of it.
No…she whimpered to herself…please no…
She buried her face in her hands again.
"Your friend is very lucky."
Her head shot up as the doctor finally spoke, and before she could even begin to comprehend his words he had put on a warm smile that shattered away his prior semblance, his Lucario agreeing with a smirk and a matching growl.
"Wha…what?" she whispered.
"Your friend's going to be okay," the doctor continued, color coming back to his face as if his whole dimmed appearance from before had only been a pranking façade. He raised the clipboard in his hands – obviously Harley's medical records and further health status, and he scanned his brightened eyes over the contents listed. "Considering what happened and what you told me," he added, mentally thinking over the accident at the contest hall stadium, which had spread throughout the news like an epidemic disease in a highly populated city, "when he pushed you out of the way of the fragment, he was far enough to the side so that the spear didn't impale him – because…you know…that would've been very bad. Instead" - he raised the clipboard, using his finger to draw an imaginary line across it as if it was Harley's back and he was mimicking the metallic fragment - "the spear cut across his back, and though it was a long gash it actually wasn't that deep, so it didn't puncture anything major." He pulled the clipboard back down. "He lost quite some blood, though, but the paramedics were able to get him here on time before he lost too much. He's already had his tetanus shot, so there's no worry there either.
"To make a long story short…" the doctor finished with a chuckle. "I'd be jumping for joy if I were you."
Half of Soledad couldn't believe what the doctor was telling her; the other half really was jumping for joy on the inside and thanking Arceus for the miracle. Needless to say, the pink-red-haired woman was ready to lunge forward and kiss the doctor just for the heck of it, but she held herself back and confined it all into a simple grin. Meanwhile, May suddenly cheered, causing Drew to jump and nearly tumble over, which was why he was now glaring at her. Of course, he soon let out a sigh, and if it was out of the fact that he really was eased to see that no one had died today Soledad couldn't tell. However, she didn't really care at the moment, instead forgetting to breath as she quickly questioned: "Can…can we see him?"
The doctor scratched his chin, exchanging a bright look with his Lucario. "Well," he began, crossing his arms, "I suppose you can. We've stitched up his cut and gave him some medicine to help him sleep, because to be safe we've decided to keep him overnight for observation. If he's doing better in the morning, I'll give him a prescription for painkillers, and I'm pretty sure we'll be able to send him home then.
"Anyway…he's probably going to be sleeping, but you can still see him if you want."
Soledad nodded, just wanting to be able to confirm that what the doctor was saying was the truth – that Harley really was going to be okay; that this wasn't a dream while in the real world she was dressed in black, standing in front of a tombstone with his name engraved on it. She contemplated on pinching herself to make sure this was real, but decided not to when she felt May grasp her shoulder, Drew only smirking, both teens relieved for Harley's outcome. To Soledad, though, his survival was so much more, and as she reminded herself of this – of the emotions she couldn't explain – she didn't know if she should frown or smile.
Because…slowly…they were starting to sound logical. Being in a situation where the chance of never seeing him again had been possible…her feelings had finally grown to make sense.
And it all pointed to one conclusion - a conclusion she quickly shook away from her head, because it couldn't possibly be true.
It couldn't!
…could it?
The room in which Harley had been placed in after the doctors finished stitching him up (and making sure he was okay in every other genre of medical attributes associated with incision from a metallic object) carried a stereotypical sense of assurance. Soledad quietly walked in as the doctor and his trusty Lucario led the way, showing her her partner as he laid on the white hospital bed, sleeping, his stillness reflecting comfort of some sort despite that his furrowed brows hinted the pain pulsating throughout his body from his back wound. She wanted to grimace at the thought, more guilt flushing through her at the idea that he was only suffering in such a manner due to her ignorance, which had led her Pokemon towards performing the Brave Rush formation despite her hunch that something bad was going to happen.
She felt like she had been the one to put him into this position and for that she wanted to collapse into tears again regardless that he was going to come out of it okay. Just the mere thought that she was partially involved in his injury was clenching her fists until her nails impaled her palms, and she wanted nothing but to apologize for what had happened – and thank him for what he had done; everything.
However, she held it in as she walked over to his bedside, examining his facial expression as he slept. She wanted to reach out and cover his visible hand with her own – provide warmth and support of some sort – but instead only sighed as May and Drew stood close, the doctor and his Lucario nodding to one another before departing without a sound. Soledad scanned her gaze over Harley's face.
Arceus...even in a moment like this he's still handsome, she thought, her need to see his eyes again beginning to overwhelm her urge to avoid showing affection towards him while May and Drew were around. She had begun not to care, though she didn't want to raise new questions in the two teens.
Suddenly, two Pokeballs on Harley's belt, which Soledad had taken off of him and kept with her while he was being brought to the emergency room, burst open, revealing Cacturne and Garchomp, who whimpered their names at the sight of their master. Cacturne rushed to his side, Garchomp mimicking, glossy eyes shattering away her sense of firmness. She didn't shoot a glare at Drew, too preoccupied with worries for Harley to even notice that the chartreuse-haired teen was present in the room.
Soon enough, it wasn't long before Pidgeot freed herself as well from the Pokeball in Soledad's pocket, chirping weakly at the fact that the Brave Rush formation had plummeted into a holocaustic tragedy involving Harley's injury. Soledad understood why – the bird had been the one to falter from dizziness, after all. However, at the same time, Soledad felt guiltier than Pidgeot did, because whereas Pidgeot had no control over whether she stumbled from vertigo or not, Soledad had had the ability to control the use of the Brave Rush. She could've said no towards using it - she could've followed her gut, but she didn't, too obsessed with winning the contest to back out. They should've backed out. They shouldn't have done it.
It was all her fault.
Fresh tears prepared themselves to pour from her eyes, as if her sadness hadn't depleted at all, and she could feel May and Drew's concerned gazes lock onto her.
"Sol…Soledad?"
Her head shot up towards the sound of the weak, but familiar voice, and her gaze then met the metallic blue-green one she had been longing to see.
"H-Harley…" she choked out, watching as the man awoke with a groan. She felt her spirit lighten, her urge to lunge forward and pull him into a hug nearly overpowering her. Of course, she kept her distance, knowing that he was fragile right now and swift movements would be bad for his back wound. She sniffed, putting on a supporting smile through her damp eyes that Harley didn't notice until his gaze sailed itself over the other occupants of the room – Cacturne, Pidgeot, Garchomp, and May and Drew.
To Soledad's surprise, Drew was the first to step forward, voice lacking emotion. "How you feeling?"
"Like crap," Harley answered, his tone still quiet with fatigue. If it was from either his injuries or the medication the doctor had given him, Soledad didn't know. She didn't care, though; she was just happy that he was at least partially awake and was able to put on that warm smile that made her stomach flutter when he saw Cacturne jump for joy. It was obvious Garchomp wanted to do the same, but she held back, afraid of showing too much tenderness. Meanwhile, Pidgeot chirped, smiling.
The amethyst-haired coordinator leaned forward slightly, grunting as pain flushed through him. Soledad was about to protest that he lay back down when he reached his arm backward, hand working its way past his hospital shirt, and grimaced upon feeling the rough sutures that fused his once-open skin together along his back. "Geez…" he groaned, returning his hand to his side. "What happened exactly? I don't remember much, but...Arceus damn! My back is killing me!"
Soledad frowned before telling him the events from his fainting all the way up to the present.
"Wow…I guess I really did take a hit back there," Harley hummed, though he then chuckled, adding, "But that's alright." He turned his warm eyes to Soledad, grinning. "As long as you're okay...you're okay, right?"
The pink-red-haired woman couldn't help but smile, nodding slightly.
Meanwhile, Harley redirected his attention to May and Drew. "Was anyone else hurt?"
"Nope," Drew answered, crossing his arms, his usual semblance of seriousness back to haunt his reptilian eyes as they fixated themselves on Harley. (Soledad frowned; the chartreuse-haired teen's disliking towards the man hadn't taken long to return.) "Everyone else was able to make it out of the arena in time before the beam began to shatter."
"Well…who won the match then?"
Drew's mouth fell open, shocked that Harley was considering the outcome of their battle important at a time like this. However, choosing not to state his opinions, he pushed it aside. "Usually when an accident happens during a contest battle and a winner wasn't announced beforehand, it's considered a tie."
"A tie?" Harley repeated, eyebrow slightly arching as the ends of his lips twitched downward. "That was a lot of hype for nothing…"
"I'm not sure," Drew said with a shrug. "The whole stadium is a mess, though." Turning his emerald eyes to examine Soledad's figure, he sighed and finished with: "I don't think any of that matters right now."
Harley grunted, obviously not taking his condition as seriously as the others were, which made Soledad want to scold him and then tell him never to do something like that again – never to put his life in harm's way for her, because she wasn't worth it. Because if she lost him…she didn't even want to think about it. She sniffed again and Harley turned his eyes to her, displaying more worry for her than she was for him. "Sol?" he cooed, placing his hand over hers, and the warmth from it shot up her arm and filled her chest like rising water in a confined room. She could feel her heartbeat quicken, and the possible conclusion in which her recent emotions led up to came back to remind her of their existence – of that empty hole in her heart Harley had grown to fill. She had felt herself shatter when the metallic fragment sliced across his back, and the pain only grew for when he was in the emergency room and she was outside, unaware of what was going on, thinking that the worst was in pending to come. It was a miracle to see that he had come out of it - but though she was happy, she still felt guilty at the idea that her need to use the Brave Rush formation had sent them both down this pathway to begin with.
"Sol," Harley called, squeezing her hand, his tone still light from weakness and the sleeping pills that were slowly coming back to dominate him. Then again, the concern in his voice was as evident as daylight and it made Soledad's stomach flutter with affection to the extent where she couldn't control her fingers as they snaked in-between his, locking their hands together in a warm, supporting embrace. She looked up to display a relieved smile, then noticing that he was staring at their intertwined hands with startled eyes, a faint blush covering his face.
As Cacturne watched the scene with a suspicious gaze, Drew felt a pang of sadness strike his figure yet again and he quickly hid his disheartenment behind his long bangs. "I…uh…I think we should go," he instructed, already pivoting around to head towards the door, hands stuffed in his pockets. May arched an eyebrow towards Drew's sudden urge to leave, but eventually shrugged and turned to Harley.
"You get better," she ordered with a tone of firmness, reaching a gloved hand forward to pat the amethyst-haired coordinator on the shin, "'kay?"
Harley chuckled. "'Kay."
May grinned before turning around and heading towards Drew as he stood by the door. "We'll see you later," he muttered before he departed out the room, May right behind him, leaving Soledad and Harley alone with their Pokemon.
"You should head back, too," Harley pointed out as he turned his eyes to Soledad. "It's been a long day." He let out another chuckle. "A really long day."
Soledad remained silent, mentally considering his suggestion to be blasphemy. She couldn't leave him! She didn't want to leave him… "Harley, I-"
"Sol," he interrupted, his tone warnlike, and Soledad took a step back. His lips then curled into a smirk, eyes glowing with superiority, and she wanted nothing but to embrace him right now. She couldn't hug him, though – not in the state he was in, and yet again she was afraid that if she did wrap her arms around him she would never let go. She had almost lost him that day and the mere idea of such a thing made her want to stick to him like a child with separation anxiety. "Sol," Harley murmured again, snapping her away from her thoughts, verdigris meeting metallic blue-green. "Go back to the apartment and get some rest."
She opened her mouth to retort, but only closed it when she mentally reminded herself that he wasn't going to let her stay with him when she had better options. She sighed in defeat.
Harley, catching this, chuckled once again. "You got my keys, right?"
Soledad nodded.
"Good," he replied. "Now, go sleep. I'll be fine here. I'm getting out tomorrow anyway."
She gave his hand one last squeeze of support before gesturing Garchomp, Cacturne, and Pidgeot to follow her. They complied with chirps, wishing Harley a good night's rest in their own language while heading out the door. Meanwhile, Soledad hesitated towards leaving, but forced herself to do so, shutting the door softly behind her, then meeting their Pokemons' gazes. Cacturne had a look of contemplation hovering over his, while Pidgeot and Garchomp still carried dimmed eyes for their failed Brave Rush that had gotten Harley hurt and messed up the contest hall stadium. Soledad wanted to assure them that it wasn't their fault – that it was just an accident, but as they began to walk down the quiet halls of the Slateport City Hospital, she found herself silenced with guilt as well.
Morning came too slowly to Soledad, who had been up half the night trying to sort out the whole mess in front of her. As soon as the clock struck seven AM, she rushed down to the hospital, ignoring the small amount of news teams that were attempting to interview her about the contest incident. The stadium had been damaged because of the Brave Rush, and whether such a thing hurt her reputation or not, Harley was the only source of importance in her life at the moment.
She didn't see May or Drew when she reached Harley's room. She didn't know where they were, nor did their location interest her then. Instead, she was too preoccupied with watching the doctor check Harley to see if he was okay. He appeared to be better, a lot more awake than he was last night, and though his back still hurt tremendously the doctor prescribed a painkiller medication as he said he would do, then assisting the amethyst-haired coordinator in retrieving his things and checking out of the hospital. He was still somewhat weak when he and Soledad headed back to his apartment, and the sky seemed to match his mood – it was gray with compacting clouds, the sun concealed away behind their puffy midst, and the air had grown colder than usual. Past the city's natural scent of sea salt, it was evident through the dampness of the air that a storm was coming.
Soledad and Harley quickened their pace.
"So…the contest hall isn't going to sue us for breaking their building?" the amethyst-haired coordinator asked with a chuckle as he and Soledad stumbled through the front door of his apartment. She glanced at him, examining the black attire he usually wore since the hospital had given him back his clothes (apart from his leather jacket, which had been torn when the metal spear sliced across his back). She had fetched him another short-sleeved black shirt to replace the one ripped, so with it and his matching belt and jeans in which the baggy ends covered over the ends of his biker boots he appeared casual.
Moving her eyes to his face, she muttered, "You know they don't consider that kind of stuff as crimes. They expect to see it every day."
"Yeah, yeah," Harley sighed. "Though, you think with the power Pokemon can have, they'd make the walls, like, attack-proof or something."
"That's easier said than done." Soledad met his eyes, and he shrugged the thought away. She hoped they hadn't caused too much trouble, furrowing her brows at the mental image of how much damage really had been done to the stadium, as well as to their reputation. Then again, she didn't really care about either - something much more worse had nearly come from it all.
Harley made his way into the kitchen, glancing at the pills in the bottle he had gotten from the pharmacy before taking out some water and swallowing two of the white tablets. He hoped with a groan that they would work – the pain in his back was beginning to get unbearable, which caused Soledad's guilt from before to rise within her chest once again. She watched him as he sat down on the couch, grimacing at the pressure accidentally pushed against his stitched scar. She approached him, disheartenment covering her features.
"Can I look at it?" she asked, tone light. Harley quirked his eyebrow, but, further examining the hurt in her eyes, could only shrug as he turned around and lifted up his shirt until the scar was fully revealed.
She felt her breath get trapped in her throat as she gazed at the torn skin that had been sewn together with black sutures. The flesh itself was bloody-appearing and looked more painful than gruesome - and its goriness seemed hard to beat. She felt her own skin pale at the sight, tears coming back to form on the edges of her eyes.
"Is it really gross-looking?" Harley asked, pivoting his head slightly so he could glance at her out of the corner of his eye. However, when no response came, he dropped the ends of his shirt and turned around, eyes widening when he noticed that Soledad was near tears. "Soledad? What's wrong?" he gasped and she only shook her head, trying to hold it all back. However, her effort to conceal away her depression was no use, as Harley saw right past it and therefore quickly pulled her into an embrace, her head lying against his chest as he rested his on top of hers. As they stood up, he rocked their bodies in a soothing manner. "Sol…" he cooed into her ear, his tone sounding worried. "Please tell me what's wrong."
Soledad's shoulders shook and she was struggling to avoid breaking out into tearful gasps. This time, even in his warm, securing hold – the hold she wanted nothing else but to be in – she didn't feel comforted, because a day ago she had a chance of losing him…and all because of her. She shouldn't have commanded the Brave Rush during their battle with May and Drew. She should've followed her hunch and improvised that they use something else. Sure they might've lost if they did such a thing, but she already had the most important thing in the world right now – the amethyst-haired man holding her in his arms; the one place she truly felt at home.
"I'm sorry…" she whispered against his chest and his arms tightened around her.
"For what?" he asked.
She clenched her hand against his chest, a fistful of his black shirt crumpling up in her palm. She just wanted to feel him – to sense that he was really there and that this wasn't a dream; that she really hadn't lost him. The material felt real, his body heat circulating throughout its weaved fibers, though she only sniffed in response. "For what happened," she answered, her voice barely escaping her mouth as tears threatened to pour down her face, his heartbeat sailing through her ears as she kept her body cocooned in his.
She could feel his muscles relax slightly, as if awed, though they quickly stiffened again when he pulled her closer. "It was an accident," he replied, his breath hot against her neck. "Accidents happen."
Soledad remained unconvinced. "But…your back…"
"…I would die for you if I had to."
Her breathing stopped at his words, which had come out of his lips as if he was in a confessional trance. She wanted to ask why he thought in such a manner – why he had put himself in harm's way to save her, but before she could do so, he had pulled away, took her face in his hands, and used his thumbs to wipe away the stray tears that had liberated themselves from her gaze. She felt her heart flutter among the act, noticing how close they were – like the time she had first come to his apartment and after being knocked down by an affectionate Cacturne he had helped her up, bringing them incredibly close in the process; so close she could define the life in his eyes.
Her gaze examined his face – the matureness of it – and she struggled to breathe as an urge from the aforementioned moment came back to her, the scene replaying itself out.
She wanted nothing but to kiss him right now.
She wanted to feel his lips on her own; experience the warmth and softness she had learned they contained for when he had kissed her hand during the contest. She wanted to taste him – to feel the silky complexion of his skin beneath the tip of her tongue. She wanted to lean in and bring her mouth up to his…
Harley's respiration soon stopped as well, his eyes flickering to her lips before returning to her gaze. A look of longing then crossed his face.
Moments passed, and neither of them did anything. Breaths remained confined, muscles stayed still, and heartbeats quickened to hearable extents.
However, Soledad soon blinked, realizing what was happening, and stumbled out of the imaginary bubble they had formed. At the same time, Harley shook away his own trance, glancing around as if he was attempting to remember where he was. Soledad snapped her widened gaze away from him, trying to comprehend the emotions that were running through her body. Harley, on the other hand, returned his eyes to her, and she could feel them bear into her back, shooting trails of imaginary frost up her spine. She shivered, wrapping her arms around herself, attempting to preserve heat and whatever control over her feelings she had left.
She could hear Harley sigh behind her and she slowly turned to glance at him. His eyes were dark, somewhat gothic, and he met her gaze in a split second, causing her to jump. However, he displayed no change of emotion, keeping on a poker face. "I…" he began, sighing once again, as if...disappointed. "I'm starting to feel tired from those pills…I'm gonna go take a nap."
And, without another word, he pivoted around, heading towards his bedroom. As the door shut behind him, Soledad let out her confined breaths, walking over to the couch, sitting down, and then burying her face in her hands. This time, though, it wasn't out of guilt for the Brave Rush accident – but rather the fact that her feelings…her emotions…they were all making sense.
Her emotions were sorting themselves out to her inch-by-inch and as she grew asthmatic in disbelief, her body began to control itself, forcing her up and moving her towards the door that led into Harley's bedroom. There, she softly turned the knob and entered the lightened room, gazing at Harley as he slept on top of the bed, still wearing his black attire. Her eyes deepened and she quietly walked over to his bedside, his soft snores signifying that he had already fallen asleep.
She gazed at his amazing figure, her breathing stopping once again.
She finally understood her emotions.
The reasons why she wanted to be with him.
The reasons why she felt so guilty upon seeing him hurt.
The reasons why she felt at home in his arms.
She reached forward, grabbing his hand – gently, so she wouldn't wake him – and slowly snaked her fingers in-between his as she had done before, feeling the warmth of his palm engulf hers. Then, casting another look of yearning towards his sleeping face, she lifted his hand up towards her mouth, softly pressing each of his fingertips to her lips, breathing in his scent, tasting his skin. When done, she laid his hand back down by his side and quietly left the room, shutting the door behind her, her expression showing a mixture of wanting and bewilderment as her respiration quickened.
May Maple had been right all along.
Without comprehending her actions, Soledad opened the front door and left the apartment, walking down the hallways in an attempt to get away from the truth she could no longer deny:
She was in love with Harley Davidson.
