Runaway // n.h.

0.4

"What the hell happened out here?" Harry asked, a heavy bucket of bleach and sponges in one hand and a dirty shovel in the other.

As soon as his tall, lean body stepped out onto the wooden porch, my eyes couldn't help but drink the attractive man in. 

His long, chocolate curls cascaded down to his shoulders, the top part pushed back off his forehead, presumably by his fingers, while his full lips were pursed tightly in annoyance and his bright green eyes shined.

In fact, all four boys were incredibly handsome.

Liam was muscular and broad, his brown hair pushed expertly into a quiff and the crows feet beside his eyes indicated that his smile was just as beautiful, although I had yet to see it in person.

Louis was smaller height-wise than the other three, but still very muscular. His jawline and icy-blue eyes looked as if they could slice me all the way from the other side of the porch.

I still sat in the corner of the porch, watching Louis take the shovel from Harry and lean it against the house while Harry set down the bucket and watched Liam run toward Niall.

Both of their eyebrows were drawn together and their strong arms were crossed across their chests, presumably in concern for their hurt friend.

I had stopped crying by this point, the initial shock of everything that had happened having passed, but I still had to blow my nose every now and then.

Hearing me, Harry's head whipped in my direction, his right hand grabbing his gun from behind him and pointing it at me so quickly that if I had even blinked he probably would have shot at me.

"Who the hell are you?" he spoke, his tone angry and dangerous, his fingers wrapped tightly around the trigger of his gun.

My eyes widened in surprise and fear.

Had he not noticed me before?

"Harry, chill out man," Louis spoke evenly, still staring straight ahead. "She's with Niall."

Harry's eyes narrowed at me, as if trying to plot out what my next move would be.

"Why would Niall get a tag along?" he asked, his gun still pointed at my forehead.

"I don't know," Louis shrugged. "Ask him."

"I don't know if I'll be able to, Louis," Harry snapped, giving him a rude glare. "Given he's been shot and all."

"In the leg, Harry. He'll be fine."

"You got him shot, didn't you?" he hissed, focusing his attention back on me. "You're trying to kill him! Who are you working with?"

"No, I didn't-"

"What a stupid move," Harry interrupted, his tone venomous. "Did you really expect to find shelter with us after killing our friend? You'd be lucky to make it out in one piece."

"I'm just as lost and confused as you are!" I screamed, annoyed by his ridicule. "Why would I try to kill him? I need his help!"

My face was turning beet red again, but I didn't care. This guy had no right to interrogate me like this.

Louis' head turned at the sound of me yelling at Harry, a humored smirk on his face, almost seeming impressed.

Harry, however, did not seem so amused.

"Don't you ever disrespect me again, you lying-"

"Harry, lay off man," Louis breathed, pulling a cigarette from his back pocket, lighting it and placing it between his lips. "Who shoved a stick up your ass this morning?"