Fragile Heart (Niam)

Chapter Seventeen: Chaos

This was a hot mess let me tell you. This is the longest thing I've written since 

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"Are you sure that that man is Niall's father?" Louis asks for probably the twenty-second time. All I can do as a response is roll my eyes. I mean, I can only say yes in so many different ways.

"Bu-but ... he ... and Niall ... what?" the vampire stammers out. I look over and see him try to deduce how a man with so much power can be a part in the conception of something so innocent and sweet as Niall.

"I know," I sigh. "That was my exact same thought process when I first met the both of them."

"But there is just no way that-"

"Louis," I interrupt before he can irritate and honestly confuse me even more. My jaw clenches and there is a painful pressure from my white knuckles. "I know you are wondering how that family tree came about and what sort of genes were carried down to Niall, but we have something really important to worry about right now."

And just like that, Louis shuts his mouth. I turn back to the house across the street and wait for Harry to return. There's no need to confuse myself over Bobby again, I tell myself. Just worry about Cheryl. Even though my father told me the Big Man doesn't want me to. Worry about Cheryl. Cheryl. Cheryl.

"But are you sure?" his scratchy voice breaks my concentration. I grit my teeth and slip out a low throaty growl before slowly ticking my head back to the vampire. However, my black eyes and clenched jaw go unnoticed as his fingers continuously taps his chin, still futilely trying to figure out the Horan lineage.

"I mean I can look back if you want to see if there are any adoption papers because tha-" Before I can stop his useless rambling with a fist or flame, ripples of energy travel through the branch. I turn my focus back to the task at hand and look down. Harry's back. Without looking at Louis, I straighten my bent knees slightly, getting ready to jump.

"We will discuss this later," I spit out vehemently, hoping that my tone will nip the conversation in the bud forever. Not waiting for a response, I jump from the branch and land with a grunt next to Harry. Louis drops down gracefully right next to me and places one hand on my shoulder. I roll my eyes. What a sensitive fucker. I reach back and slap his back a few times and he immediately laughs a boisterous sound. Harry bites his lip to probably hold back some deep chuckles, but his face quickly loses the humor when he clears his throat.

"His name is Michael. Twenty-two," Harry states. My eyebrows raise at the age. Wow, she definitely doesn't discriminate.

"And this is also his," Harry continues. He opens one of his fists and the pungent smell of stale alcohol permeates and chokes the surrounding air.

"Oh God," Louis moans out. He quickly places the shirt over his nose and swipes his hand in the front of his face. "Really, Harry? You had to take a souvenir with you?"

"Well, the dumbass decided right now wasn't the perfect time to leave so I thought we'd get acquainted with his scent because regardless of how disgusting that motel is, his scent will be unique," the werewolf retorts. I take one small step and lean forward. I didn't have to sniff for the stench to destroy the nerves in my nostrils. I pull back too quickly and wrinkle my features.

"Could you not find anything that was more ... neutral?" I ask while walking back next to a disoriented and recovering Louis.

"Oh trust me," Harry starts condescendingly, "this was the most neutral out of all the things smelling like cheap whiskey and scotch."

"Alright. Then we just wait?" Louis asks in his shirt-muffled voice. I roll my eyes and in my peripheral I catch something. I turn to the left and see a man walking out of the house across the street. Well then I guess we don't have to wait at all.