34. Say Something

Harlow paced back and forth in front of Wes, trying to keep calm. It wasn't working. He felt just as enraged as he had when he walked out the night before. And it…didn't feel normal. He didn't feel normal. His rage felt different than it ever had before. More volatile than usual.

"I can't…calm down."

"Well, killing Iggy isn't going to fix the problem."

Harlow scoffed. "Wanna bet?"

"If you actually wanted him dead, he already would be, wouldn't he?"

"No. No, I"m pretty sure I do actually want him dead. But, here's a clue, you can't just off some fucker without planning it, if you want to avoid prison time."

Which he did. Though, depending on what prison he ended up at, he could then take out some of those priests…but the fact would still remain that he'd be in prison. And if killing Iggy hadn't gotten him on death row, he likely would eventually end up there. Because there would be an endless amount of people, guards, and other inmates, who would no doubt try to touch him, and then he'd have to kill them. Regardless of it being sexual or not. Because being locked in a box with people constantly fucking touching him with their filthy, disgusting?—

He shuddered. Harlow was not inmate material.

Wes sighed. "Killing him won't get you what you want."

He stopped pacing and faced him. "And what exactly do I want, doc?"

"Foxx."

Harlow rolled his eyes. "I already have Foxx. He's mine."

"Yours, but going to go on a date with someone else?"

He growled and went back to pacing.

"Harlow, I've been trying to avoid being blunt about the subject, but…I feel we are at a point where it would be safer for everyone involved if I just come out and say it. In my professional opinion, you feel something for Foxx."

He stopped again, eyeing Wes as if he had two heads. "I, what?"

"You are protective. You worry about him…and the idea of someone else touching him makes you murderous. You are attached. Whether that attachment is healthy remains to be seen."

"Look, I know I'm attached. I'm not quite that dense to not have realized that. But I can't have feelings…I don't think I'm…"

"Capable?"

"Yes…"

"You are. Like most disorders, ASPD is a spectrum. But even those on the severe end can form attachments, and as for feelings… You can have them. You've proven that already, Harlow.

"Those nightmares were fear driven. You were afraid for Foxx's life. Afraid of being too late to save him. Each and every step you've taken since has been to prevent harm from happening to him. Sure, some of it was you wanting to shut out these new emotions, but we both know that wasn't the only reason."

"What does that matter? Let's say you aren't wrong. Because maybe you aren't. Maybe I was afraid! But now what?!" Harlow snapped. "How does knowing that help me when, at most, that emotion was a fucking fluke?!

"Because, do you know what I feel right now?! Murderous! I want to track that bastard down and skin him alive for even thinking he can touch something that is mine! Not someone, something, like Foxx is an object to fucking collect. And I can't seem to pull back from this. Because even though I know I shouldn't, I will kill Iggy if he goes near Foxx. I think I may kill anyone who tries."

Wes stared, his face grim. "Would you kill Foxx?"

He jerked back in shock. "No!" he growled.

"What if he walks away from you?"

Harlow swallowed. "That's his right."

"But it's your right to decide who he can be with?"

"He's mine…but…I'd never hurt him."

"What if keeping him from others hurts him?"

"I wouldn't keep him from his friends… And I know…Foxx doesn't deserve this, doesn't deserve to be boxed in by a psycho like me, but I don't think I can stop myself… I am NOT normal, Wes, and I never have been. So, regardless of you thinking I can feel things, it doesn't change the situation I'm in."

"I don't think, I know you can feel, Harlow," Wes pressed. "Do you realize how pale you went when I asked if you'd kill Foxx? You care for him. While you may not feel things in the exact same way as someone like myself or Tony feels them, what you do feel is just as real and valid.

"The problem is, when it comes to yourself, you talk in absolutes, Harlow. You have clung to this idea that you are a psychopath, and with that, you have attached many negative and stringent connotations to yourself. But the reality is…there are no absolutes when it comes to the human mind."

Wes let out a soft laugh. "Or paranormal mind, for that matter. Harlow, I want to help you. And the best way I can help you is if you let me officially try to diagnose you. While no, it won't fix things, it will help you to better understand yourself without that damn label of psychopath getting in the way."

"No."

He didn't want to know. Because what if Wes was wrong? What if Harlow was right…? What if he couldn't feel anything? What if all this was…him being obsessed over someone? And then what? What could he even do with that knowledge? How would it help?

Wes sighed. "Harlow…you want to keep Foxx by your side, don't you?"

His hands clenched at his side. "Yes…"

"For just sex?"

That's all he should have wanted him for… It would make sense if that was all he wanted…yet…it wasn't. Harlow liked having Foxx around. He enjoyed bickering with him, holding his damn yarn as he knitted while they watched true crime. Harlow liked teasing him, and riling him up. He…cared…he did… The problem is, he didn't know in what way…

Did he care as one normally would for another person, or…was it what one felt for something they owned? Harlow, unfortunately, didn't think he knew the difference. Mostly as he wasn't sure he had ever felt the former.

"No…not…just for sex." Harlow took a step back and slowly sat down on the couch.

"Then you need to give both of you the chance to see if there could be more. Because you can't expect someone to stay when you won't offer them anything else."

"Foxx hasn't…" He trailed off and rubbed his face in frustration—his head was pounding.

Foxx doesn't… How could he feel anything? What reason would he have to feel anything for him…?

Harlow wasn't sure if he wanted him to feel anything either. Because part of him worried he may actually feel guilt over wanting something that he wasn't sure he could offer in return.

"I can't say what Foxx's feelings are, but you won't know if you don't say something."

"Say something… Fuck…I…" Harlow grimaced, resting his head back with a groan, he stared at the ceiling. Could he say something?

* * *

Foxx satat the kitchen island, glaring at his phone. He tried to call Harlow again, but sagged with a huff when it once again went straight to voicemail.

Where the hell had the human gone?! This was… This was all Alastair's fault! If he would have just stopped pushing… Why couldn't the vampire just leave things alone?!

Now he not only had no clue where Harlow was, but the man wasn't answering his phone. Or, more likely, he had turned it off.

He sat up at the sound of the door opening. "H-Harlow?"

Harlow appeared out of the hallway, his face blank.

He hopped off the chair, hands twisting nervously as he asked, "Where have you been?! Where did you even sleep last night?!"

The human cleared his throat. "I went to my cabin."

"You weren't answering."

"I needed to think…"

"I—"

Harlow cut him off. "Don't do it."

"Don't…?"

"Don't go on that date with Iggy."

Well…he had lied to Alastair about it, but since he didn't want it to fuck shit up here even more, he might as well tell Harlow he'd already turned the man down.

"Harlow, I'm?—"

"Date me instead."

The words he'd been about to say fled from his mind. "W-what...?"

"Don't date Iggy, date me instead."

He swallowed, clenching his hands together when they began to tremble. "Harlow…have you…lost your mind?"

"No. I did think about killing Iggy, but I"m still as sane as I ever was. Foxx…date me, not Iggy."

Yes…he wanted to say yes. The word was just begging to leave his lips…but…

You are teetering with emotions for a man who we aren't even sure is capable of liking you, or anyone else for that matter, let alone loving someone.

He closed his eyes, wincing as Alastair's words echoed in his head, as with them came doubt and fear.

Licking his dry lips, he said softly, "No…"

Yes… Yes… He wanted to say yes…but he couldn't. Alastair was right…he couldn't do this.

Harlow let out a soft but slightly bitter sounding laugh. "Why? Besides the obvious reasons, that is."

"I just… We just…can't, okay?"

Harlow rubbed at the back of his neck. "Fine…but you can't date Iggy, Foxx… You can't. I'll kill him."

"Harlow, you can't kill someone just because I?—"

"I can, and I will," Harlow snapped. "Look me in the eye, right now, and see the fucking truth, Foxx. He goes near you and I'll kill him. And that goes for—" Harlow suddenly cut himself off on a low curse, rubbing his face roughly, his voice was deadly calm when he spoke next. "For right now…stay away from him, and anyone else, for that matter, if you want them to keep breathing."

Foxx's eyes widened. "Harlow…"

"Fuck!" Harlow hissed, before pushing past him and making a beeline towards the stairs.

He spun, shouting after him. "Harlow!" But the man didn't turn back around or say more, he just stomped up the steps, and a few minutes later, he heard a door slam.

Foxx didn't follow. He shakily walked to the closest couch and plopped down.

Sitting there, his heart sped up, a tremble finding its way through his body…but not from fear. Foxx bit his bottom lip, and pressed down on his hard-on with his hand, his face feeling as inflamed as the rest of his body.

He shouldn't find that hot. He really shouldn't. But he had…and did…

Would the real psycho here, please stand up, he thought sarcastically. He could only imagine the judgment if Alastair could see him now.

What was he…going to do about this? What the fuck even was this?! Foxx had so badly wanted things to stay the same… He'd wanted to cling to what they had, even if it was just partners on the job and sex… But, now what?

He bit his lip as tears tried to form in his eyes. "Fuck…"

By the Goddess, he hated crying. It just seemed like ever since those fucking priests…he had so much trouble holding back the bloody waterworks. Bastards…

Foxx groaned and flopped over on the couch. "What am I going to do…?"