Escapade [harry styles au]

XXXIX

XXXIX

12:11am

We eventually find a telephone box and I punch Flynn's number into it. I had memorised it, much like every other agent. He answers after three rings.

He listens to what had happened to us and asks whether one of us had a credit card. Luckily, they hadn't taken Harry's so Flynn transfers some cash onto it. We eventually finish our conversation and Harry stands nearby, the door of the telephone box open. As I talk into the phone, I could tell that he was becoming restless.

"Be careful, okay? Bye." Flynn orders into the other end.

"Of course. Goodbye, Flynn."

Harry stood by as I placed the telephone down and stepped out from the metal container.

"Are we finding a motel?" He asks and I nod. "Good because I am tired." He literally yawns straight after his words and I find myself chuckling at the forest-eyed man or boy in front of me.

"Come on, then."

Our steps are synchronised as we step along the sidewalk. It seemed that the liveliness of Italy had died down as it turned later. We got odd looks from people passing us due to our all-black outfits but we both just chuckled at them.

After searching for what seemed like forever, we find a motel with a vibrant, flashing sign outside of it. I was sceptical at first and as we approached it, I grew even more uncomfortable. When we stepped inside, my suspicions were correct. It was dirty and rundown. The vibrancy of the outside was nothing compared to the inside.

Behind the counter, which I presumed was the check-in, was an old man with a scruffy, grey beard. He appeared half asleep and as we went nearer, he smelled of tobacco and whiskey. I didn't want to stay here but I knew that we would have been searching till very late if we were to turn around now.

"Any rooms available?" Harry is the first one to speak, which was expected since he was in front of me. We were both obviously hoping that he spoke English.

"You came just in time; we have only one room left. Cash or card?" The man speaks with an Italian accent.

"Card."

The man hands a card machine to Harry and he pushes the card into it, typing his pin before taking it away once he heard a beep. He returns the card into his back pocket.

"You have room 16. Here are your keys, enjoy your stay." The man smiles a full-yellow-toothed smile, I notice how some spaces in his mouth were empty; his teeth must have fallen out.

I gulped as Harry led the way to our room. If the lobby was that dirty, god knows how bad our room would be. Harry turned the key to our room, opening it to reveal inside. My eyes fell upon the double bed in the middle but I brushed away any worries I had in my mind.

My legs take my body inside before Harry and I perch on the end of the bed, taking my knife from my pocket and inspecting it. There were only a few noticeable spots of blood; I would have to clean it thoroughly. I get up to use the sink in the bathroom but I am stopped by Harry's voice.

"Are we really going to sleep in the same bed?" He questions to me, an eyebrow raised.

"Yes, there's no problem."

"Hmm." Was the only noise to leave his mouth and I could tell that he was still unsure; his emerald eyes were peering strangely at me. He probably expected me to react crazily and sleep on the floor. But I wouldn't; we were both fatigued and the bed was big enough.

"As long as we are strictly professional, there is nothing wrong." I state and he nods. I take that as my queue to stroll into the bathroom.

There were stains on the white walls, I found myself disgusted but there was nothing I could do about it. This motel was nothing compared to the hotel I stayed in when I did the job with Liam at the museum. That was filled with luxury, this was filled with mess.

At least the snowy towels were clean, that was something. I gasped when I saw that the bathtub and sink were full of rust. I couldn't help but to be a neat freak, it was just who I was.

The knife was carefully washed after ten minutes; I also washed the sleeve that belonged to it afterwards. It was getting late so I wandered back into the bedroom. My knife was thrown on the fabric armchair in the corner; even that was ripped and stained.

Harry was already lying on the left side of the bed, his arms lazily underneath his head. His eyes never left me as I stepped to the bed and sat on the right side. The only light on in the room was the one on my bedside table.

"Do you want the light turned off?" I asked him in a hushed tone, catching eye contact with him. My mind presumed that we were both ready to sleep.

"Yeah." He answers and I click the switch, making the room fall into darkness.

I feel my way under the sheets, praying that no insects or peculiar things were under it as I was too tired to check. Harry gets under the sheets too. Although I am tired, I do not fall asleep. Twenty minutes of silence go by and I stare at the window, covered with blue curtains. Only some light was viewable from the nightlife of Italy beyond it.

Suddenly, I feel two arms clutch my waist and think that I am imagining the feeling of them. But I am not; his hands were in fact holding my body.

Within seconds, I am pulled towards Harry's body. I wasn't sure whether he was asleep or not, I just presumed so. His nose touches the back of my neck and I realise just how close we were. I feel his warm breath against my skin; a shiver falls over my body.

But I don't move.

Maybe he needed comfort.

Maybe I needed comfort.