Elude l.s.

Chapter 9

Louis POV
I just stood there the whole time. Why'd he call Marcel Harry? Why'd he kill those guys? Why were they shooting at us? Who were they? How does Marcel know how to fight? I have way to many questions. Marcel or Harry, whatever his name is, told me he'd explain later.

He had gotten shot. I think he forgot about it for awhile because it didn't seem to bother him. How though? He gets shot and just ignores it. He said it had happen before, how?

I walked over to the car and stepped in the drivers seat. I'm still kind of in shock of what just happened, I'm extremely confused and questions clouded my mind, but I hope I'll get answers soon. He told me not to go to the hospital, why? This man has been shot and he's not going to get help. How is he going to get the bullet out?

Another question I have also had for a while. If he's so muscular and attractive, why does he wear huge glasses, khakis, and sweater vests? I mean he fits the whole definition of a stereotypical nerd, why would he want to go to school like that?

I didn't talk all the way to his flat. Marcel sat beside me uncomfortably because his wound must hurt now. It's still bleeding very badly and I really think he should get that checked out.

We stepped out of the car and I helped Marcel into his flat because he was having a hard time walking, I don't blame him. "Thanks" he mumbled. I lead him towards the sofa so he could sit down and cleared my throat.

"Can you get me a bottle of whiskey, a belt, and a pair of tweezers?" He can't actually be serious right now. I looked up with a confused face but then saw that he was extremely serious. Shit.

I walked over to the kitchen to grab a bottle of whiskey, then to the bathroom for tweezers, and his bedroom for a belt. I gathered all of the essentials and gave it to him. I could see he was hesitant about taking his shirt off. He took a breath and lifted his shirt over his head. Holy fucking shit. There were multiple scars running  in different directions all of his torso and chest.  Some were fading but some seemed like they wouldn't heal any time soon. How did he get these?

Marcel took a few huge gulps of the whisky and then put the belt in his mouth. In heard grunts and loud yelp coming from beside me, Marcel was digging out the bullet. His neck vains were popping out and he was turning red. I could tell he had done this before, he seemed in control of what he was doing. A few more seconds passed by until the bullet was out. He poured whiskey all over the wound and winced in pain. How does he do this? By himself too. And how does he know what to do?

"Could you get me some bandages? They should be behind the mirror in the bathroom" he asked with a strained voice.

"Yeah ofcourse"

I got up to grab the bandages and walked back to him quickly.

He took them from me and started wrapping it around his waist. He looks back up at me "Thanks".

"Why'd that guy call you Harry?" I asked.

He was silent for awhile "That's my real name" he finally said. First name Harry last name Styles. Holy shit, not it can't be.

"Harry? As in Harry Styles?"

"Yes" he replied

"You were the kid on the news a few years ago who was pronounced dead, why?" I remember watching the news with my mum and he came up. He went missing for a few months but then was pronounced as dead. My mum got worried because he was the same age as me at the time, so she gave me a phone so I could contact her so this would never happen to me.

"I guess it started when my dad died. I tried to make a living in Chicago at 12 because I had to start over again alone at a young age." I was about to ask why but then he started again.