Chasing the Sun (Larry Stylinson)

Chapter Four

(A/N: Question: Why does chapter three have more reads than chapter two?)

Louis' POV:

It was Wednesday, but some very interesting information had come to light.

Harry had been conversing on the Internet with someone about buying some not-so-legal things(military-grade explosives), and we had tracked the IP address.

"It's a school," Zayn walked up behind me and handed me a packet, "it's a bloody highschool,"

I opened the packet to the front page and saw a copy of a pamphlet for a nice-looking public school not to far from here.

"That's fucked up," I flipped through the pages, "How did he even get into a school?"

Zayn shrugs, "So, we are going right?"

"Hell yes we are going. He's injured, and he was stupid enough to pull this shit," I waved the papers around, "We are going right now,"

My leg has almost completely healed, now the bruising's not as deep. It's just a normal bruise. I can run and walk again.

"We are going right now, get the primary ready," I ordered and turned to get ready myself.

If Harry's there we should wear full protection. Even if he's not armed, he's dangerous. He doesn't know we're coming, so that's good.

Nearly twelve minutes later, Zayn was standing before me with the rest of primary.

I led them out the door to the vans we would use for the short drive. It should only take twenty minutes at most to get the the school.

Looking through the packet, there was a list of student names and what classes they had.

I came across the name Marcel Styles.

"Is this a joke?" I handed the papers to Zayn.

"He's not that stupid," Zayn glanced at me, not believing his own words.

Harry hasn't slipped up in the two years we've been pursuing him, why would he now?

"I'm going to this classroom first with you," I pointed to Zayn and turned to the rest, "You guys split up and check out the other classrooms. I've already called the school and made arrangements for the classrooms to be locked down,"

They nodded and pulled rifles into their shoulders and waiting for the ride to end.

As estimated, we arrived twenty minutes later. Filing out of the doors into the school.

"Room 134" Zayn whispered as we swept through the first floor, searching for the right room.

"There," I pointed and we knocked on the classroom door before entering.

It was set up as a computer lab of sorts, four rows of desktops lined the left side of the room.

"Mr. Tomlinson!" A person, who I assume is the teacher, stood to greet me.

"They told you I was coming," I asked. He confirmed with a nod and asked me who I needed.

"Marcel Styles is who I'm looking for," some geeky kid sitting in the third row looked up when the name was mentioned.

"Ahh this is him," the teacher led us to the row with the geeky kid, "My best student, Marcel. Fluent in French, he tutors for me sometimes,"

"Funny, because you know who else is fluent in French?" I looked at the two with mock-quizzicality, "Harry Styles,"

Marcel squeaked at the mention, but tries to cover it with a cough.

"Are you familiar, with the name?" I leaned closer to him.

"He- I- uhm, well- I," he stuttered and Zayn grabbed my shoulder.

"Mate, it's obviously not him, Harry would have thrown a comeback in your face so quick," he tried to get me to move on to the next room, "He doesn't even look like Harry. The hair and the eyes are all wrong. Harry doesn't wear glasses,"

The entire class was watching the four of us standing now, no one paying attention to actual work.

Hearing Zayn's words, I pulled the glasses off Marcel's face to put them on my own.

"I need those to see! D-don't!" Marcel tried to reach out to take them back, but stopped and gasped seconds after, stumbling back in pain.

"A bit of rib problems?" I asked mockingly, "These are fake," I handed the glasses off to Zayn, who tried them on as well.

I drove a hand into the side of Marcel, earning a gasp of pain from him, and a gasp of shock from the class.

Marcel, or Harry at this point, fell to the ground and clutched at his side. A patch of blood soaked through his horrible sweater vest.

"What are you-" the teacher started to interject.

"This is not 'Marcel'" I used air quotes, "This is Harry Styles. He is dangerous and destructive,"

More gasps emitted from the class of high schoolers.

"Do the honors, Zayn?" I handed him a pair of handcuffs, "I'll call the rest of the team,"

"You know you can't keep me, right?" Harry asked, his voice having lost it's high pitch and stutter, "He's coming and you can't take me,"

"Please shut him up," I asked Zayn.

Zayn obliged and most of the class had their phones out recording the ridiculous scene happening.

"Take care of the legal shit, I'm going to round up the others," I mumbled to Zayn before I walked out.

I spared one last glance to Harry, on the ground with his hands tied behind his back.

He scowled back at me through his hair.

"Can't be done," he mouthed before being slammed back to the ground by Zayn's foot.

(A/N: how was this chapter? Absolute shit? 😀 yeah ik.)