Cleo Horan
"Fuck! Fucking hell, I'm going to fucking kill Louis and every single fucker with the last name Tomlinson!" Harry was very pissed off.
That was actually an understatement, I had never seen him so angry and on edge before, and he was like this since last night... when Zayn called.
Harry had been changing my bandages during long awkward minutes when he got the call, and I had no idea what he meant when he said he was watching The Notebook. That movie I had watched before, I wasn't that uncultured.
But after he spoke to Zayn, his mood simply shifted to the worst mood ever and he didn't sleep at all, and therefore I didn't sleep because I was too anxious and I could hear him breaking shit around the house after he made a lot of phone calls.
Harry said someone had taken Zayn and he was in danger, he just knew it. And it had to be Louis, right? It made sense.
Three days had passed since we escaped and we still needed a little more time, but the painkillers were doing wonders and I was feeling as good as new. Well, my thigh was bothering me a bit when I put a lot of weight on it or walked too fast, but the bullet wound wasn't really deep and I was healing nicely.
My shoulder wasn't hurting at all anymore and the cut on my face was also less swollen. Turns out resting was the best thing I could've done for the last few days. My body was literally begging for a break and I hadn't had one in a long while... and I felt ready to go out there and help Harry find Zayn, but we needed a plan.
I had actually been through much worse... I could handle the pain and the injuries, it's not like I wasn't used to it. But the anxiety was affecting me way more than I anticipated, and watching Harry freaking out since last night wasn't making it any easier.
He was also in a better shape, his shoulder was healing well and the bruises on his ribs were fading. He'd been putting some ice and taking the painkillers, plus this new wave of anger had simply made him forget about anything else.
Harry also spent the day making calls to people I didn't know and to the tattoo parlor he owned, called Checkmate, and I had forgotten about that. He had a little notebook where he kept the numbers written down and that was a smart thing to do in case you needed a backup and couldn't access your phone.
He asked about Zayn and no one was able to answer a thing, and he even tried calling Desmond but the fucker didn't answer.
We couldn't simply leave the house and go after people to ask about Zayn, we had to think... and Harry was so sure Louis had Zayn kidnapped because of us.
And he was feeling so guilty, I had no idea he cared this much about him. I mean, I knew they were friends and they trusted each other, since Zayn was the first one Harry thought about when we needed those weapons, but I honestly didn't think Harry could have this kind of friendship with anyone.
I always found it hard to have good friends because I had trust issues and I simply didn't feel comfortable opening up. And Harry reminded me a lot of myself, maybe that's why we didn't get along and hated each other even before my father was killed.
We often disliked people that were similar to us because we saw the things we didn't like about ourselves in them... it was almost a reminder.
Well, Harry and I were kinda having this weird frenemies-with-benefits thing going on... fuck, who was I fooling? We weren't enemies anymore, and the way he had taken care of me all these days and suddenly kissed me that night we got here, was enough to prove that.
And he had been acting weird since that kiss... he didn't touch me or lass me again since that, only helping me with the bandages. To be fair, I was sleeping more than twelve hours a day because of the painkillers and I barely did anything else besides using his laptop to do my research on our last target and also on Louis, but it was in vain because my brain was still too slow.
