full throttle || h.s. ||

eighty-two || magic words

The song for this chapter is "Love is a Laserquest" by Arctic Monkeys :)

*****

Now I can't think of there without thinking of you
I doubt that comes as a surprise
And I can't think of anything to dream about
I can't find anywhere to hide
And when I'm hanging on by the rings around my eyes
And I convince myself I need another
And for a minute it gets easy to pretend that you were just some lover

*****

Harry:

It was 4:45 in the morning when I knocked on Leo's hotel room door moments after walking out of my own. I was regretting coming here already...I don't know why the fuck I did.

    "Shut the fuck up!" I heard his voice yell back from inside the room.

    "Leo, it's me, open the fucking door," I groaned, leaning my head against the cool wooden doorframe.

    "Why should I? Remember how mean you were to me earlier?" He retorted. I had no idea if he was still drunk or not...although I didn't know that the two differed that much from each other.

"Leonardo Triveni, open the fucking door or I will send the New Year's Eve video of you to the entire organization," I threatened.

I heard a loud thump, followed by an, "Ouch," and then a few scrambling footsteps later, and the door swung open, revealing a very out of sorts Leo, eyes wild, chest heaving.

"You wouldn't dare," he seethed, narrowing his eyes at me.

I raised a brow at him. "I would, and you know it."

    He grimaced. "What the fuck do you want? Last I remembered, you were kicking me out," he reminded me.

    I sighed and pressed my lips together too tightly I could have sworn I tasted blood from my teeth beginning to bite into the skin. Leo's brows furrowed at me, and I watched his expression turn from joking to serious.
   
    "Styles, what is it?" He pressed.

    Here's the thing about Leo...

    He was an absolute child. Most days, I had no fucking idea how someone like him ran a mafia of all things. In fact, I think he would be better suited as one of those sign twirlers in mascot costumes on street corners. Or maybe a professional balloon animal maker. Anything but his actual role.

    He drove me insane. There were times that my threats to punch him had a good helping of truth piled on top. If I was in therapy, which I probably should be, then he would be a frequent topic in my sessions.

    But there were moments, like now, where he somehow managed to drop the childish act, and take on a much more fatherly role for me. It was one of the rare times that I needed him instead of the other way around.

    "She can't stay here anymore," I breathed out, my voice no more than a whisper as I leaned against the door frame, my body heavy with defeat.

    I heard him sigh deeply. "Harry, are you sure?"

    I glanced up at him. There was no trace of a tease, no poking fun. Just genuine concern.

    I could have hugged him, but if I did, I never would hear the end of it.

So instead, I stared down at the ugly ass patterned carpet beneath my feet as I responded to him. "I need you to get her out of London."

It was quiet for a moment, and I almost spoke again to make sure he heard me before he finally responded.