HIRED GUN // H.S AU

four

AMARA

I watched as Wolf pulled Harry from Finn, whispering into his ear. Harry surprisingly let Finn walk, turning to me with blazing eyes. I fidgeted with my fingers as he stormed up to me, gripping my arm roughly.

He dragged us outside, shoving me into a sleek black Range Rover. I lowered my head as he started the car, feeling his fingers tug my chin up. My face was pulled to his, his eyes staring into my own.

"You're high," Harry let go out my chin, placing both hands on the wheel as he drove back to the dorms. "Un-fucking-believable."

"You know how long it took me to find that place?" Harry continued, anger radiating off him evidently. "You're lucky I didn't call your parents."

I was shocked by the sentence at first, but then remembered he was hired by my parents to protect me, and I completely stripped him from that when I ran away.

"I'm sorry," I admitted, closing my eyes that were burning for sleep. I leaned my head back on his cold seats, curling my legs up to my still bare chest. I didn't get to hear Harry's reply before I drifted to sleep.

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I hadn't left my room all day.

I was far too embarrassed from last night. I felt awfully guilty for putting Harry in that position, but if he hadn't of annoyed me about my fridge I wouldn't have ran out. I regretted smoking so much weed, I was aching for more already.

I woke up in my bed, so I'm assuming Harry carried me to bed. I have no clue why, I was a bitch to him. I stopped folding the shirt I was holding when I heard a knock on the door.

"Amara? Are you awake?" Harry's deep voice spoke through the door. I stood up from my bed, opening my door to reveal an astonished Harry. I knew he knew I was awake, he would've heard my shower when I had one hours ago.

His eyes moved to behind me, examining the pile of clothes I'd removed from my wardrobe to fold.

"I folded your washing yesterday?" Harry remarked, my face twitching at his confusion.

"Uh, I was just re-folding it all," I admitted, feeling bad when his face dropped. He folded my clothing an odd way, and I felt the need to fold them my usual way.

"Show me how you like it to be done," Harry let himself in my room, sitting on the bed to observe my folding method. "For future reference."

I sat down next to him, our knees brushing, before showing him how I fold my t-shirts. I only noticed just now he was wearing a tank top, his tattoos displayed. My eyes fell on the ship that spread across his bicep, wondering why he'd got it.

"Why'd you get this one?" I gained the courage to ask, cautiously gliding my fingers across it when he looked at me. I watched as he clenched and unclenched his jaw, moving his gaze back to the folding.

"I'll tell you when you tell me what the fuck you were thinking last night," he spat out, his eyes hardening. Well, there it is.

"I wasn't," I whispered, my nose twitching in annoyance. I wasn't annoyed at Harry, or the fact that he was doing my laundry. I wasn't annoyed that Harry was folding my clothes completely wrong, or that I couldn't bring myself to tell him. I was annoyed by myself, and that I was so stupid to give into my darkest desires last night.

"Why?" His question was simple, but it held a deep answer to it, one that he probably wouldn't want to hear.

"I've done it before, in the past. I was addicted, I dug my own grave and turned into an addict. That's over now though, t-the past, it's the past. I won't do it again," the look Harry sent me confirmed my thoughts, that I was merely convincing myself. The realisation that rehab did nothing for me except keep the addiction on hold, dawned on me.

"Are you trying to convince me or yourself?" Harry's tone was accusing, my body reacting the only way it knew possible.

"I am done with drugs, I know I am," I defended myself, standing up from my bed. I stepped back as Harry towered above me, dropping a shirt on the ground, making me cringe.

"So you're telling me, if I offered you something right now, you'd decline it? You wouldn't think about it at all, you would immediately say no?" Harry's voice deepened as I shook my head, pushing my wants away. He wasn't helping, he was making it worse, and he knew it.

"Yes-of course I would," I alleged, picking up the shirt he dropped. I began to fold it correctly, draining out his voice.

I cried out when I felt Harry tug me away from the folding, his voice filling my ears again.

"Stop lying!" He yelled, clearly trying to get a reaction, or confession, out of me.

"I'm not!" I raised my voice to fit his, banging my fist against his chest as he stood too close for my liking.

"You are! Admit it, if I offered you drugs, you'd take them!" He shouted, his grip on my arm tightening. My silence was a confirmation for him, his face softening as a tear strolled down my heated cheeks.

"I need help," I whimpered, leaning against the wall behind me. I watched as Harry nodded his head in agreement, his grip on me now non-existent.

"I'll help you," my breath hitches as he took a step closer to me, his hand grabbing mine. "You need to let me help you." He breathed out heavily as his fingers squeezed mine gently in reassurance.

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A/N shes technically not addicted to weed, feel free to stop mocking her in the comments. she is dependent on it, a quick google search will educate you if you're interested.