"I loved her not for the way she danced with my angels, but for the way the sound of her name could silence my demons." {Christopher Poindexter}


15. T W E L V E

Copyright © 2014 Izzy Saphira


She bent over his side, putting a hand to his back comfortingly as he continued to release the contents of his stomach. His body continued to wrench as he leaned over the toilet, throwing up violently.



“Harry, Harry…” Elsah fretted, her eyebrows drawn together in concern.



When he finally calmed down, he took deep breaths, trying to calm himself.



“Fuck,” he cursed, standing up straight and turning to the sink.



“Are you okay?” Elsah asked softly, unsure of what was wrong with him again. “How are you feeling?’



“I don’t know. I feel so...weird.” He answered her, and turned on the faucet of the sink. He used one of his large hands to cup and collect water in it, and brought it up to his mouth so that he could rinse. Elsah watched as he swished the water in his mouth, and spit it out.



He grimaced in disgust at the acrid taste at the back of his throat, and then rinsed once again to try to rid himself of it.



“It could be the sandwiches?” Elsah hypothesized, running her hand up and down Harry’s back as he once again spit out the water from his mouth, and then turned off the faucet of the sink.



“I don’t know, I don’t think so.” He responded honestly, turning to wipe his hands with the towel. “I feel just like yesterday, and the day before.”


Elsah put the back of her hand to his forehead, flinching at the searing skin. “You have a fever again.”



He nodded, leaning against the counter of the sink, closing his eyes and taking deep breaths. “I…” he trailed off momentarily. “I think it’s the same sickness again. From whatever I caught before.” He coughed.



Just as Elsah was about to speak up, Harry jolted, brushing past her and leaning over the toilet once again.



And then, like before, he began to throw up violently. Except this time, there was nothing to throw up - just bile, and nothing else.



His body shook with tremors, and even when his stomach stopped wrenching, he hands were still shaky. Quickly, he flushed down the contents of the toilet, and stood up once again, walking to the sink and turning on the faucet.



“I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” his voice came out gravelly as he brought a hand full of water up to his mouth.



And once again, he rinsed out his mouth, and shut off the faucet when he was done so.



Elsah let out an exasperated breath, shaking her head. She knew what she had to do - it was the only thing she was capable of doing when it came to helping Harry.



“Sit up on the counter, Harry.” She ordered softly, tapping the vinyl covering of the counter. “I’m going to go get damp towels again.”



He nodded in an almost dazed manner, and then ran a hand through his hair before climbing up and sitting on the counter, his back towards the mirror.



He let out an anguished breath, and tried to stop his hands from shaking so violently by closing them into tight fists.



When Elsah came back, he looked up at her, his green eyes several shades darker, his skin red and aflame.



Elsah carefully set down the small case of the platinum knife she owned onto the counter, along with a small stack of towels. Harry watched her carefully, silently, and even though he was sick, his viridian eyes were still as observant as ever.



“What are you doing?” He whispered hoarsely. 



She let out a breath, choosing her words carefully. “We need to cool down your fever, first of all.”



He nodded, and then leaned his head back against the mirror for a moment, before looking back to the small black case on the counter.



“What’s that?” he asked softly, his breaths becoming more shallow as he continued to grimace in discomfort.



At first, she didn’t answer him. She didn’t want to answer him, thinking that he might try to stop her. So instead, she grabbed one of the towels, turned on the cold water of the faucet, and stuck the cloth underneath the steady stream of water, completely soaking it with the icy water.



“Harry, you have to take off your sweater and jeans - it’s much too hot. Can you change into something else?” She asked, completely dodging his original question.



That wasn’t something that went unnoticed by Harry, who was unreasonably attentive. But he went along with her question, pretending to forget about the he had asked originally.



He stood up carefully off the counter, nodding. His fingers fumbled with the button and zipper of his jeans, slipping out of them, and kicking them off to the side before he began to remove his thick sweater.



Sweat plastered his deviating curls to forehead and his neck, his face burning hot as he pulled the sweater up and over his head. He threw that to the side as well, before sitting back up on the counter, disregarding the fact that she’d asked him to change into something else, rather than staying in just his dark boxer brief shorts, shirtless.



Elsah couldn’t help but run her eyes over his tanned skin, over the tattoos that he had, and over the countless scars on his body from the accident a few days earlier.



It wasn’t an accident, really. Blood Dealers had attacked him, and drained him to the point where he was almost dead. And Elsah still couldn’t figure out why they’d do that, knowing he was human.



His blood was practically worthless, unless it came to saving human lives. But even then, human doctors would much rather have access to Half and angel blood, because the healing properties the plasma they held were hundreds of times superior to just mediocre human blood. There was no risk in mismatching blood types, there was no risk of contamination, and there was no risk of the immune system rejecting the transfusion of Half and angel blood.



She carefully placed the first damp towel over his shoulder, and began wetting the other towels. She placed another one to his other shoulder, to his bare, muscular legs, to his chest, and one on top of his head. All the while she worked, Harry watched her quietly, taking in shallow breaths as he tried to calm the pain he felt from within him.



As she finished placing the last towel onto him, she looked up into his darkened green eyes, “How are you doing now? Do you feel a bit better?”



He shook his head, biting down on his lip. “I’m trying not to be sick again, I’m trying to hold it in.” He gasped.



Elsah bit down on her lower lip, shaking her head, and looking away. She knew what the one thing that would help was, but she also knew that she’d given too much of it the past few days, and that it would be dangerous for her.



But then again, she was feeling much better after she had eaten the sandwich and had soda with Harry. She didn’t feel drained anymore, she didn’t feel exhausted and tired. She felt healthy again, like she had all the blood in the world rushing through her veins.



“I’ll be right back,” Elsah said quietly, leaving Harry in the bathroom to retrieve the vial Louis had given her yesterday. It was stored in the refrigerator, with still left with two ounces of her blood.



When she brought it back, and stepped into the bathroom, Harry had the platinum knife in his hands, examining it in some sort of awe.



His eyes flicked up to Elsah, who had froze in her tracks.



“Is this platinum?” He asked her quietly, playing with the knife in between his fingers.



She swallowed, shaking her head to snap out of her temporary surprise, and then nodded. “Yeah, it is.”



He slowly nodded, his eyes flicking back to the sapphire-embedded knife. Slowly, he set down the knife back onto the counter, looking back at Elsah, who approached him carefully. “Why do you have it?”



She paused for a moment, and set down the small vial of blood onto the counter, along with the pouch of tools Louis had left behind. Before she answered, she thought about her answer, trying to choose her words carefully. “In case of anything.”



“Wait, is it true that platinum is the only metal that can pierce through Half and angel skin?” He asked her, raising an eyebrow in a façade of confusion. Of course, like always, he already knew the answer to his own question.



She nodded slowly, wondering of what importance this had to him. “Yes, that’s correct.”



He watched her carefully as she unzipped the small pouch, pulling out a thin needle and a clear, plastic tube.



“What are you doing?” he asked hoarsely, resting his head back against the mirror again, and groaning. Even more sweat had accumulated on his tanned skin, the fever taking a great toll on him.



“I’m going to inject you with the remainder of the blood from yesterday,” she said calmly, her eyes focused on connecting the small needle to the tube.



He didn’t reply immediately, keeping his eyes closed, and concentrating on his breaths. Finally, he spoke up, eyeing the small vial that sat on the counter. “How much is in there?”


“There’s only two ounces left from yesterday.” She replied to him, glancing to his attractive body. Even though he was sick, and covered in sweat, something about him lured her in, captivating her.



“Will that be enough?” he asked, before grimacing in pain and cursing, “fucking hell. I feel like shit.”



“It might be,” Elsah flinched at his profane language again, and before she could stop herself, she asked him a question of her own. “Why do you curse so much?”



He cracked a grin despite the pain he was in, his amusement at her question preponderating his discomfort. “Why don’t you curse?” he shot back in a brusque manner, a smirk on his lips.



She regretted her intrepid question, wondering how she had decided to be so bold and outright ask him about it. “Sorry,” she apologized, “pretend I never said anything - I didn’t mean to be rude.” Besides, it was none of her business, and she had no say in what colorful words he decided to use.



She pulled at his arm, stretching it out so that the underside of his elbow was exposed to her.



“No hard feelings, Els.” The amused smirk still remained on his lips even through his misery as he watched Elsah begin to work on his arm. “But I’m not sorry,” he replied, raising an eyebrow, “why don’t you curse? It’s not a big deal.”


She bit down on her lip, unsure of what to say. “I just don’t.”



And even though his fever was still rising, and he felt nauseated, he still managed to let out a laugh. “You’re too good for me, Elsah. You won’t even say ‘crap’, or ‘shit’?”



Elsah shifted on her feet uncomfortably, not meeting Harry’s green eyes.



“No,” she answered in a small voice, embarrassed. She reached out again for Harry’s arm, resting it on his own leg so that she could figure out exactly how to inject him with the remaining blood.



He let out an entertained laugh, and then coughed for a bit, before laughing again. Harry pulled his arm away from her, and then grinned at her. “Say it. Say ‘shit’.”



She looked up at him in disbelief, trying to reach for his arm again. “No.”



He raised an eyebrow, and pulled his arm even further away from her, still smirking. “Say ‘shit’, Elsah. It’s not a big deal. I won’t give you my arm unless you say it.”



“Harry!” she let out a frustrated sound, shaking her head. “No. Just give me your arm? You’re sick, and I don’t want you to pass out like you did last time!”



“C’mon, Els,” he urged her, still smiling through the pain, fully entertained, “just say it.”



Elsah rolled her eyes at him, shaking her head, “no way. Give me your arm, Harry? Please?”



He shook his head, removing one of the damp towels from his shoulders, “not unless you say it,” he coughed.



Harry,” she whined, “give me your arm! You’re going to get sicker!”



Elsah,” he imitated her tone, “just say it!”



Elsah let out a frustrated sigh, feeling torn between what Harry had asked of her and not upsetting him, and by the moral standards she lived by.



But because Elsah had an ascetic personality, she often denied herself what she wanted, and put others before her. She did what others wanted her to do, before she did what she wanted to.



And so finally, she let out a defeated sigh, closing her eyes and bracing herself for the profanity that was to roll off her tongue. “Fine, Harry.”



He raised an eyebrow once again, leaning towards her as he sat on the counter, waiting, his stupid, attractive smirk still playing on his lips.



“I’m not getting any healthier as we wait,” he teased her, his green eyes lit with amusement.



Shit,” Elsah mumbled, so low that she could barely even hear herself.



Harry leaned closer to her, his dimples showing as he smirked, “what was that? I honestly didn’t hear it. Speak up, Elsah.”


She wanted to glare at him for being so pushy, but that wasn’t in her nature. She was considerate, and she didn’t want to hurt his feelings, or offend him, so she just grimaced.



“Shit.” She whispered a bit louder, but the volume of her voice was still low. Her cheeks burned red with bashfulness.



“C’mon, Elsah!” Harry laughed, “just a little bit louder?”



Terribly annoyed and embarrassed, Elsah finally spoke up, “Shit shit shit shit shit!”



His pink, kissable lips parted in surprise, and then he laughed, not expecting her to go all out and yell it repeatedly. And although Elsah was annoyed, she couldn’t help but find his laugh pleasant in some way.



“Well,” he smiled at her, stretching his arm out to her, pulling her close to him against the counter, “I must say, you sound absolutely fucking hot when you curse.”



And even though once again she flinched at his words, she couldn’t help but feel most of her annoyance dissolve, strangely liking his compliment.  Two fingers came under her chin, turning her face to him.



“And I would kiss you right now,” he smiled at her, this time, a more genuine, sincere, smile, “but, my breath probably smells like shit.”



She pulled away, trying to fight the smile on her lips at Harry’s teasing. “Let me see your arm,” she said, this time, more sternly.



“Yes ma’am.” Harry replied obediently, but he was still smiling, despite how sick he was, how red he was, how hot his skin was, and how much sweat had gathered at his forehead.


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