Syndicates //

xxxi

Harry came home an hour after we left them both. I was already cozied up on the couch waiting for him. I almost debated not even waiting for him.

He came through the front door and kicked his shoes. When he saw me on the couch, he smiled apologetically, "Mia, I'm sorry for keeping you waiting."

"No! Don't worry about it," I brush it off. "What'd you talk to Zayn about?"

"Just... got a feel for him," he shrugs. An hour long conversation must've led to more information than that. "We actually have a lot in common."

"Like what? A mysterious aura and tattoos?" I reply with heavy sarcasm.

He grins at the stab, "is he your type?"

"Seems a bit young for me," I shrug. "Plus, I've got my eye on someone else." Even in the dark, I can tell his face flushes red.

"He just turned 17," Harry tells me, getting comfortable beside me. "Looks like it, doesn't act like it though. He's a cool guy. I almost wanted to offer him a beer."

"You're not worried he's a mole?" I rest my elbow on the back of the couch and turn into him.

"Are you?"

"I only know so much from the data I obtained. Tapping into 24/7 surveillance is below my actual job."

"I think the kid's alright," Harry shrugs. "He's got that angst against his dad that some teens seem to have. I think it's normal. Except deceit is far more enhanced in our field."

"You sound like you're 45," I joke. "You're only a few years older than him."

"Sure, but I've lived a lot of life. Zayn... he's insanely smart, but he's pretty innocent." Zayn graduated from a private high school at 15. He's getting his bachelor's degree in finance. It is true, he's doing better off than most 20-something year olds, but it seems he's been so absorbed in his studies that he hasn't been entirely exposed to the syndicates. "I mean, aside from the fact he's trying to kill his dad."

"He's trying to kill David?" I'm extremely surprised he wants to go that far. Harry nods. "That's a bit... extreme, isn't it?"

"David's killed a lot of people," Harry gently speaks, "and he's helped kill even more. Cobalt hasn't promised Zayn that he would kill David, and we know that's not what we're trying to do. To Zayn, it's up in the air what we're gonna do with his dad but he is hopeful to get what he wants."

"I've always been torn with whether or not death is a worthy punishment for a murderer..." I think out loud.

"It's the easy way out," Harry agrees with me. "That's why I'm personally for not killing David. But if he becomes a hassle or a threat, we'll do what we must."

He speaks of taking someone's life with weight, but far less weight than I would ever hold it at. The Cobalt Legion isn't known for killing, but it's not unheard of.

I don't want to ask this and I fear the wrong answer: "Have you ever killed anybody?"

He looks at me, admiring my innocence. "No," he reassures me, holding my arm that's facing away from the couch and gently rubbing my upper arm. "I'm desensitized to a lot of things. I've hurt some people, but I've never killed anyone. And I promise I would never hurt you." His hand moves to my cheeks, caressing so gently. I trust his word.

It's confessions like that, which make me hold off on labeling whatever we have going on, and from completely falling head over heels for him. I don't know what I would've done had I committed myself to a relationship with him, just to find out he's a murderer. I couldn't love a murderer.

A mutual pull between us draws our faces near and we hold a gentle, reassuring kiss. I'm thankful to still have this comfort to confide in him. I take this closeness to scoot further into him, laying on his shoulder in the crook of his neck. "So, what did you two have in common exactly?"

His arm drapes around me, "Tattoos and a mysterious aura." We laugh and I feel his chest move under me.

"No, really," I try to stop laughing as I speak. I was trying to be serious.

He fumbles over his words a bit after thinking for a moment, "Just, uh, a similar upbringing."

"How so? If you don't mind me asking." I figure he'd be willing to talk about this since I'm at least close enough to snuggle into him on the couch. Maybe it's more sensitive than I thought.

"My father wasn't really in my life until I was a teenager. I got a birthday card and some money every year. Then my mom died and I still needed to have a guardian. He took me in and then suddenly decided to take the reins on my own life. That's where the correlation is. His dad is equally demanding out of Zayn as mine was at Zayn's age."

"Oh," I softly sigh. I feel him hold me just a little tighter. "Thank you for telling me."

"Thank you for listening." He kisses my forehead.

I pick my head back up and use my hand on his cheek to guide mine to his. I love every single little kiss we share. It's never passionate or lustful. They're gentle, caring sensations, counteracting our less-gentle life.

We only watched one episode before both confessing our tiredness. Harry turned in, promising, "Soon you'll have your own room and bed to go to. We've been working on it while you were doing that stuff for Cobalt."

"Thanks, Harry," I smile. I picked my chin up towards him, wordlessly asking for a kiss. His head darts to the upstairs again, then back to me with a quick peck, nearly missing my lips, as the coast was clear.

"We can't get too comfortable with these little kisses," Harry reminds me.

"I quite enjoy them," I frown.

"I mean, I'm not too sure how the boys would take this," he corrects himself. "I don't think they'd be mad, but... like you said, you don't want to be a rift."

"Well right now they're asleep," I comfort him. "So I think I should get a real one." He playfully rolls his eyes and kisses me once more, making sure to linger his lips on mine to satisfy me.