Hideaway [h.s]

151

Niall Horan

After watching Harry carry Amelia's unconscious body out of the house, we didn't hear a thing from the two of them for hours. We texted Harry probably ten times, but he never answered. I couldn't help but think of the worst. Lou and I passed time by playing cards and motorcycling around the premises to make sure they weren't stuck in a ditch or hit by another car.

Then when Amelia came storming through the door with her arms crossed and holding back tears, I was relieved but also concerned.

"Amelia you're b-" I stop myself when I see the tears flooding her cheeks and she quickly hurries by us sitting on the couch.

Louis and I's heads follow her as she doesn't speak a word or even look at us. She hurried herself to the stairs, going all the way up too her bedroom and shutting the door.

"Well alright then." Louis mumbles.

"Why was she crying?" I ask in confusion, waiting for Harry to storm in after her.

"I'm guessing it something to do with Harry."

"Yeah well when is it not." I chuckle.

"Where is the fucker anyway?" Louis asks, seeming that Harry still hasn't made it to the door. I stand up and look out the window, seeing that the truck is nowhere in the driveway.

"He isn't there mate." I look back at Louis who arches his brow.

"What? He left?" He stands up and struts up to the window to just confirm that Harry is not here. Where the hell could he be?

"You don't think he died right?" I ask.

"No idiot I'm pretty sure she would've told us." He scolds.

"I mean.. she was crying." I add in defence.

"They probably got into a fight and Harry stormed away shit brain." Louis looks at me like I'm and idiot.

"Hey don't be a prick." I furrow my brows together at his remark.

Louis rolls his eyes and walks back over to the couch, throwing himself on it in a rut.

"Well should we ask her?" He huffs.

"Erm.. she's like crying though. I don't know how to deal with cryers." I scratch the back of my neck in awkwardness.

"Yeah.. I don't either. But I mean, I would like to know when Harry's gonna come back with my car so we should probably ask her." He states, looking just as uncomfortable by the thought of going up and disrupting a crying woman.

"Alright, should we bring her something?" I ask in cluelessness.

"What the fuck would we bring her?" He shakes his head and squints his eyes in a glare.

"Well I don't know! Like a tissue." I shrug.

"We don't have tissues." He replies with a rejection.

"What kind of house doesn't have tissues?" I cross my arms.

"A house of cold blooded killers."

"Okay then a roll of toilet paper." I roll my eyes.

"I guess that works." He agrees while standing back up.