Trevor should have stayed on his couch, should have ignored the knocking at his door. But curiousity is a killer, as he was about to find out. The door wasn't even an inch open before it came back to hit him in the face, forcing him to reel back in shock. There was barely time for him to register who he'd let in before he was violently shoved against the nearest wall.
"You really ought to buy a chain latch"
"Hey man, come on – I don't want trouble"
"Really? That's interesting, because neither did Mike"
The next twenty minutes were a gradual process that alternated between Trevor being beaten, and Trevor being thrown against various pieces of furniture. At one point he hit the edge of a countertop so hard Harvey could have sworn he heard his nose crack. Blood streaming down his face from various wounds, Trevor had long since given up trying to fight back. Hoisting him up off the ground as he crouched down close, his voice barely above a venomous whisper.
"Now, I want you to pay close attention, you piece of shit. You come anyone near Mike, you so much as show your face within 10 miles of my firm, and I'll – look at me, look at me – I'll be back here, and don't think for one second I'll hesitate in ripping your Goddamned head off." Clenching Trevor's face in his fingers, he gripped down hard, and leant in a little closer.
"Am I clear?" He could only nod, his ability to speak severely hindered by Harvey's fingers digging into his cheeks, and the fact his mouth felt like it was filling with blood. Once he was sure his message had been received, Harvey roughly released Trevor's face from his grasp, and straightened up, leaving the apartment without another word. He considered threatening him, telling him something awful would befall him should he tell anyone what had happened. But he knew he didn't have to; Trevor was smart enough to know when he was beaten.
Or at least, he would know how to now.
Once he got back to the hospital, Harvey detoured into the mens bathroom to clean himself up as best he could. Carefully, he washed his hands of the blood and mess, the hot water and soap stinging the cuts that danced across his knuckles. He knew Mike would notice them without much trouble – either them or the blood that had seeped onto his cuffs. Well either way, he had some apologizing to do – not that he liked entertaining the idea of apologizing for what he did to Trevor. Splashing some water onto his face, he took a deep breath and palmed away the excess droplets from his jaw. This was going to be a long evening…
When he finally returned to Mike's room, he found him sat up in bed, various magazines and newspapers carpeting the duvet like a paper quilt.
"Doing some homework?" Looking up as if startled, when Mike realized who it was his expression turned from surprised to unimpressed, and soon his attention was back on the magazine in front of him. That was expected…approaching the bed, Harvey went to pull the article away from his lap, though Mike quickly pulled it back.
"I'm trying to read…"
"On what? The latest fall fashion of 2012 compared to-"
"It's for my memory." The sharpness of Mikes tone prompted Harvey to clear the space where he'd been sat earlier that day.
"You've only been out of surgery a few hours – your memory won't come back straight away-"
"Can't hurt to practice." This time when Harvey closed the magazine, Mike didn't bother trying to stop him. Instead he just looked out of the window, trying his best – and failing miserably –to be mad.
"…I'm sorry. I shouldn't have left earlier." Harvey had reached out to turn Mikes face back towards him, but the wounds didn't go unnoticed.
"I'm not pissed that you left, I'm not thirteen. I'm just mad that- what happened to your hands?"
"Nothing, I'm fine-"
"Yeah, I see that – what did you do?" Harvey just glanced down briefly, answering Mikes question regardless of the fact he never needed to ask it in the first place.
"…You shouldn't have gone down to his level"
"I had to do something-"
"No, you didn't." Finally Harvey looked up, and saw Mike looking straight back at him, eyes alight with a disappointed kind of anger.
"I didn't need you to run to my defence, Harvey. What if he reports you?"
"He won't"
"How do you know?"
"Because I know. Mike, I'm sorry – but I don't regret what I did."
"You should. You're better than that, better than him."
"I'm glad you noticed…" Testing the waters with a tentative smirk, eventually Mike lost the angry look. As annoying as it was, Harvey's smile was contagious. He was still annoyed, but as he pulled one of his hands into his lap, upon closer inspection the wounds really did look sore. Being as gentle as he could, he brought the hand up and folded the fingers in, lightly kissing his knuckles.
"Does this mean I'm forgiven?"
"No…it means you need to get your hands looked at…" Shifting a little closer, Harvey's smile softened as he pressed his forehead to Mikes.
"What do you want me to do to make it up to you?" After a minute of consideration and teasing kisses, Mike smirked.
"You can make up for not being here when I woke up"
"What did you have in mind exactly?"
"Not sure yet…get rid of the magazines, and we'll talk."