DIFFERENT [hs] |Complete|

Twenty-Six

[early update? 😊]

"What did you do?!" John barged in through the front door and ran until he was on his knees and staring right at a bloody Niall. His wounds wouldn't stop flowing blood, which sopped his entire shirt until it was an ugly and threatening amber hue.

"Nothing! The mark! It was the mark... he-he tried to help me and then my hand turned into-and-shit John, help him. Help him!" I cursed loudly, hitting whatever hard surface there was. "It's my fault, it's all my fault." I began to pull my hair, groaning at the pain but relishing the fact that it took my mind off my best friend's potential death for half a second.

Oh my God.

Niall could be dead.

"How do we help him?!"

"Knife, Harry. Get me a goddamn knife!"

Never in my life have I manoeuvred through the lounge and kitchen as fast as I did then. Drawers were flung everywhere, cookware and utensils clattered all over the floor but I couldn't give less of a shit. "There's no bloody... there's no knives. Where are they?!" I shouted to John.

"Behind you, you dipshit!"

I swiftly turned around, locating the knives stored safely in a wooden holder. My actions were quick and before I knew it I was knelt besides John. Everything was too fast to process, my best friend was lying unconscious and not baring a pulse, my pulse however was erratically heavy in beat that I could hear the thumps. My skin was clammy, and my hands... my hands stung, they ached and throbbed. Whenever I held something they would hurt, but right now I wasn't the matter.

Niall was on the floor with claw marks that shredded his shirt and ripped his skin.

"I need you to step back, Harry."

"I'm staying right here, John. I'm not-"

"Harry! I need you to step back!" He boomed. His head didn't turn my way as his focus was to the situation at hand. I didn't need to be told again, so I crawled backwards on my feet and hands. John resumed his actions, holding the blade to his palm and slicing the skin. He winced as I cringed, watching the scarlet fluid coat the entirety of his palm. "Come on Niall. A few scratches shouldn't faze you," he whispered.

"Why... why did they affect him so much?" I whispered and watched as John's blood dripped from his fisted hand and onto Niall's wounds.

"A wolf's claws are extremely venomous to human skin. If Niall were in his wolf form, then it wouldn't have such an effect on him. But if your nails, or an Alpha's, dug deep enough it would instantly kill anything: wolf or human."

"What are you doing?" I asked him. He revealed his palm once again and sliced another line until his blood ran even faster.

"Every wolf has their abilities, Styles. I can heal, using my blood. If it's not too late that is. Jesus, come on Niall!"

I brought my knees close to my chest and held the sides of my face, rocking back and forth slightly. I haven't even transformed yet I've quite possibly committed my first murder.

"He-he can't die, John. Don't let him die, please." I hated the way my voice shook, sounding so chocked and vulnerable.

"Dammit. Shut up, Harry!" And I did. But I couldn't help but let the tearless sobs escape my lips. My best friend. I've murdered my best friend. I think John had created four deep cuts along his left palm, but Niall still wasn't waking up. His chest wasn't heaving up and down; he wasn't teasing me about being a hybrid: half-witch, half-wer. And I wasn't slapping the back of his head because of his stupid jokes.