Clean Criminal // l.s.

xxxv.

[Warning: foul language, violence and heartbreaks ahead. Read at your own risk. -M]

There was nothing for Harry to do but wait. By the time he had gotten to the hospital, Cris was already taken in for surgery, something about getting the bullet out safely.

Harry was scared out of his mind. He couldn't lose his partner. He couldn't lose his best friend, his Donald Duck, his second half. Cris was the second most important guy in his life, how would he live without him?

People constantly walked past Harry as he hung his head low, rubbing his red eyes with his hands. He tried to distract himself by listening in on other people's conversations, but he always ended up thinking about some insult Cris would say, something that made Harry laugh so hard he wanted to cry. Then he'd just end up wondering what had happened, how Cris was doing, if he was even going to live.

Suddenly his phone began to ring, Louis contact showing up on the screen, "hi, babe. Now isn't a good time. I-I have a few things I need to work out right now," Harry said, his head hanging as he ran his fingers through his hair. There was no way Louis was going to see him like such a mess.

"I know I'm probably interrupting, but I'm just, there's a-"

"Lou, please. Whatever it is, you can handle on your own. You're a big boy, you're all grown up, yeah?" Harry stated, trying to keep his cool.

Louis swallowed and then nodded, "y-yeah. I-I love you, Harry."

"I love you, too, Lou." Harry hung up and this seemed to be the only time he never smiled when he said those words.

As Harry was rethinking all of his actions from earlier that morning, Louis stood at his usual bus stop near the community college. His hands were shaking by his side as he waited for his ride.

The stranger that was standing near him earlier slowly approached him. Louis tried to look the other way, feeling the tension grow quickly. Then suddenly the man's hand rested on Louis back, "I've seen you 'round with your boyfriend. You two act like there's nothing wrong with what you are."

Louis looked at the man confused, "what I am?"

"Yeah, faggots. That's what both of you are. You're nothing but a disease to mankind," the stranger spat, "you two ain't even real men if you go 'round kissing each other. I'd like to see if your pretty boy-toy comes and rescues you after I beat you to a pulp."

Suddenly the man punched Louis square in the face, then the nose causing blood to flow down to Louis' mouth. Louis was then kneed in the stomach, stumbling backward. He felt dizzy and wobbly, finding it hard to stand on his own two feet. Louis wondered why no one was coming to save him-why no one would stand up to such brutality.

It finally occurred to Louis that he had a way to defend himself. He had something more powerful then a stranger's fists-something that would end this abuse.

A gun.

Louis spit the blood out of his mouth and then looked up to face the abuser, "is that all you got? You've got a few insults in the back of your pocket and one fist that hardly leaves a dent? And I don't say this-in fact, I've never said this-but you're a real pussy."

The taller man fumed, his face a bright red, "I'll show you what I can do," then the guy pulled out his own gun from his back pocket. Louis followed suit, the gun shaking as Louis held it.

The stranger laughed, "you think you're big and tough? I'd like to see you pull the trigger. We'll see just how brave you really are."

"W-what do you want from me?" Louis screamed, spitting out blood as he did so, "Just leave me alone!"

The man didn't reply, only looked Louis dead in the eye, his finger on the trigger of his gun.

Louis swallowed again, feeling as though he was going to be sick. But the feeling soon subsided when the strange man took a step forward and Louis fired the gun. The only bad thing was, they both went down.

.

"Hi, Lou, this is like my seventeenth call. You're kind of freaking me out, I'm really worried about you. Please just call me back. I'm sorry for what I said earlier, I shouldn't have let you go like that. I really hope you're okay. I love you. Call me, please," Harry spoke, rushing to finish his sentences. He stood in one of the janitor closets, so worried about what would happen if someone saw him like this-like the mess he was.

He was crumbling apart, ripping at his seams. His whole world was crashing down around him. Cris was hurt, but luckily surgery worked and he's recovering. However, Louis was God knows where doing God knows what while Harry had trapped himself in the hospital, too scared to even go out on the roads-too afraid he might hurt someone.

It wasn't until he stopped crying and let his cheeks dry that he finally decided to step out of the closet. As he did this, a body was rushed past him on a stretcher.

"He's lost a lot of blood," one guy spoke, "probably has a broken rib, his nose is definitely out of line."

"We're going to have to do surgery to get that bullet out," another replied, "get him in an operating room. I'll get Dr. Anderson working on him. We've got to move as quickly as possible."

It was such a big commotion, but Harry wasn't paying attention to the nurses and doctors shuffling around him. His eyes were focused on the guy he had learned to love, the one he had neglected to help earlier that day, and he felt as though his whole heart had been thrown from the tallest skyscraper and shattered to pieces.

He fell to his knees, a few nurses rushing over to help him to a chair where all he could do was sit and cry. If only he were there to help Louis; if only he hadn't put himself first; if only he had asked Louis what was wrong, none of this would have happened.

.

Harry was able to visit Cris, claiming that he needed to question him for the investigation of the shooter, but really he just wanted to see his friend.

The room Cris was in was cold. It sent a chilling shiver down Harry's spine as he entered the room to sit next to the bed. Cris' eyes were closed, but Harry didn't mind talking to someone who wasn't capable of hearing him.

"You had me in a panic, Harper. You should have seen how fast I hauled my ass down here," Harry started off, chuckling a bit, "nearly ran over a grandma because of you." Harry knew that would have made Cris laugh if he was awake. Harry reached out to grab Cris' hand, "Lou's in surgery, you know? He was shot the doctors say. They said he's gonna bruise, but they won't tell me anything else since I'm not family, but that's typical."

Harry let out a sigh, "I'm sorry I wasn't there to protect you. I could have done something to save you guys. Now we have two dead cops and you're in here. I can't help but think this is my fault."

He then let out a small huff, sounding something like a sad, pathetic chuckle, "I keep thinking you're going to just wake up, like you're listening to everything I'm saying. And even though I know you can't hear me, you understand me in some way. But that's just nonsense."

Harry scratched the back of his head, letting go of Cris' cold one, "I guess I better leave. I should go wait for news on Lou, maybe his family's actually shown up. It's doubtful, but maybe they did."

He then stood and leaned down to kiss Cris' forehead, "hang tight, buddy. I'll see you later." And as he was leaving, he stopped at the door to speak his last few words, "I love you, Cris."