Runaway // n.h.

0.3

With a tight hold on my wrist, Niall practically yanked me through the crowded Dublin streets, keeping his head down and his pace quick.

"Don't look at anybody, don't talk to anybody, don't bump into anybody," he quietly warned, tightening his grip on my arm to indicate his seriousness.

"You're tight grip is annoying," I admitted, softly trying to pull away from him.

"It's a busy city," he snapped, speeding up. "Not to mention the fact that you could snitch to any one of these people, but we already talked about why that would be stupid, didn't we?"

"What would happen if I told them that you kidnapped me?"

"You would die."

"What?"

"Just because I may not be the good guy in the eyes of the law doesn't mean that I don't have people on my side," Niall replied. "Don't think people aren't watching you."

Uncomfortable with his temper, I decided to just stop talking and let him lead me to his friend's house.

As we wove in and out of the mass amount of people in the narrow streets, I couldn't help but be distracted by the expressions his handsome face made.

Usually they were sour, but every once and a while I would catch a hint of joy in his countenance, probably due to his homeland.

Suddenly, I felt a heavy weight knock against my shoulder, throwing it back as the mass continued to push past me. Out of my peripheral vision, I saw a small grey circle fly through the air and onto the ground.

"Sorry," I apologized, turning to my left to find a pudgy, elderly man struggling to bend over and retrieve his hat from the street.

Immediately, I began to bend down to help him, but I was harshly pulled up before I could reach it.

"I told you not to talk to anyone," Niall hissed, anger ablaze in his blue eyes. "Let's go."

Irritated by his self-centered attitude, I yanked my arm from his tight grasp and bent down to help the man I had bumped into.

With a smile, I handed it back to the man, watching Niall's enraged body tremble at my defiance.

His back remained turned away from the old man and I, but I could still clearly see his chest heaving rapidly, furious breaths escaping and his fists clenching so hard that his knuckles were turning white.

"Thank you, M'am," the old man smiled at me, cutely snuggling his hat back onto his bald head. "Say, you're a pretty girl. How would you like a brand new, beautiful bracelet?"

I stuttered as he slowly opened his dark-green trench coat to show me his extensive collection of beaded bracelets hanging inside.

"My wife used to make them before she died," he explained, his expression changing to a sad one. "These are all I have left to remember her by."

My face turned into a frown as well, once I had heard his news.

"We always lived in the streets," he continued, "but they never felt so lonely until I lost her."

The man's eyes began to fill with tears before he quickly wiped them away, allowing his coat to fall closed.

He was pulling at my heartstrings, and part of me thought he knew that very well, but the other part of me wanted to grab my wallet from my back pocket and just empty the whole thing for him.