15. One Thing After Another

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Harry

Thursday 31st October

Harry's heart is slowly sinking from his chest with each passing day. He feels Nikita gradually slipping away from him with every second that ticks by, because even after that stupid non-interaction he had with her at the beginning of the month, he's once again stuck with the image of her walking away from him in a circumstance where he can do literally nothing.

The house raid was an inconvenience but nothing ever really came of it, besides the fact that Harry's denial of the two of them seeing each other seemed to spur the police officer into taking her on a date. That hurt, yes, but it wasn't like he hadn't slept with an endless string of people nearly every night since he'd been sent home from the hospital. Not to mention the girl latched onto his neck and almost sat in his lap probably wouldn't have helped any kind of conversation the two of them could've had.

He's got his gun back, though. Because just like he'd told the detective the day they found the firearm in his safe, it has never once actually been fired. Harry still doesn't know what they searched his home for, but he hasn't heard from the police for a while.

But in this present moment, it seems the one thing Harry has that he's actually proud of, is burning to a cinder. For what? He can't possibly tell you. He sheds a tear, because Soho Hideout wasn't just a successful business in a lot of senses, it was also his cover for all the stuff he shouldn't be doing.

The flames from the fire sting his face like a bonfire on November 5th. He's aware of the hysterics around him as Eleanor and Sarah stress about what might have happened if they hadn't evacuated so quickly. Liam and Louis are arguing about who did it, but mostly blaming each other, as always. Niall and Mitch are silent, though no doubt sharing a concerned glance on Harry's behalf every now and then.

But Harry? He's just watching. Watching his business crumble to the ground as fire envelopes every single available space. With his hands in his pockets and his expression giving very little away, his heart shrinks a little more.

The police have already asked their questions, and it's just the fire brigade trying to calm the angry outbreak for now. It doesn't seem to be doing much.

"Harry." Eleanor brings him back to the present, pulling on the sleeve of his coat.

He glances down to her but his expression remains hard. She nods off to the right, and he follows her gaze to where Dex sneakily slips into his car, thinking no one had seen anything.

He sighs heavily. "Wait here with everyone else. Don't let anyone follow me."

"Where are you going?" El asks quietly, a concerned frown etched in her brow.

"Wherever Dex is going."

~

Saturday 30th November

After the trauma of watching the building that homes Harry's favourite place go up in flames on Halloween, he's not particularly in a celebratory or even relaxed mood. And it would seem that way for the rest of his group of ne'er do wells. They've resorted to spending their free time in Harry's flat when they need to be together, and while it's only been a month, nothing seems to go smoothly while they're all in one place together.

Harry's kitchen island is where they hold most of their meetings, but it's a disaster pretty much every time a conversation is even started. He's getting bored of listening to everyone argue, whether it be about something as simple as who's collecting the next shipment, or a more complicated matter that Harry hasn't quite got his head around yet. Either way, he's sick of their yapping.

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