Wanted by The Wanted | ✔️

|| FIFTEEN ||

Jetlagged, disorientated, and eyes half closed, I trudge out of the aeroplane with a smile so negligible it could be mistaken for a scowl. Oh wait, it is a scowl.

"Drag," I answer as my phone rings unnecessarily loud, only irritated further by Drag's amused laugh on the other side.

"Hey, dude, I trust you made it to Sydney alive?" I can practically hear his grin though the phone and answer with, "Fuck off."

"Chill, Oscar. I booked you a hotel in-"

"-please tell me it isn't a shitty one," I sigh, traumatised by the screaming banshees disguised as babies in the aeroplane and the tantrum-throwing toddlers who were quite happy to kick the back of my seat.

He chuckles, "No, it's mine," he reassures, "One of my guys is going to pick you up. We'll discuss the antidote in the morning, see you then, Pertrow."

With that, he hangs up, stealing the satisfaction of knowing you've left the other person hanging from me. I grind my teeth together and shove my phone in my pocket, catching sight of a man in a suit with my name on a board.

Ten minutes later, my luggage sits beside me as I'm driven to Drag's hotel.

:| A V Y N L U N A V E R |:

It has been two days since Oscar left to go to Australia. He should be coming back late tonight or tomorrow. Lately my head has been spinning with dizziness and my eyes burn when I close them. My wound has closed up, sealing in the poison, but I barely notice it's there at all because the excruciating pain has numbed me.

"Avs?" Trent's voice comes from the left.

I peel open my eyes and look over at him. When he found out I had accidentally dropped his phone in the sewage, he had freaked out for a while before I suddenly fainted and he decided to set his priorities straight. Ever since then, my fever has been getting worse to point where it's so scorching hot that it's cold.

My throat is scratchy and dry as if my body heat has evaporated all moisture as my health deteriorates, "Y-yeah?" I answer, trying to clear my throat but finding it painful.

"Oscar has to stay at Australia for a few more days. The antidote screwed up and burnt through its bottle so Drag has to remake a batch," he fills in, worried, "Do you think you can make it?"

I don't answer his question because I don't know the answer, "If the so-called antidote has burnt through its bottle, what makes it sound safe to put it inside of me?"

He shrugs, "Oscar trusts Drag."

"Because he's the only option," I fill in, failing to be optimistic as I feebly gesture to the bottled water next to me.

He passes it to me and the icy liquid trails down my throat, a contrast to my boiling insides. I mentally thank Soren for heading up to the surface earlier and buying us food. At that note, my glance flits to the cereal bar beside me sadly.

Along with my illness came a loss of appetite and unwillingness to do anything but lie down like a dead rock. I miss Oscar too, - but, I mean, food always comes first. Trent nods at me before walking off to sit with Red. They talk under their breaths as Red shoots a look at me and redirects his eyes.

All of a sudden, everything cuts out. Everything. My ears block up as if I'm on an aeroplane just taking off, and soon after, nothing but white noise registers in my mind. I screw my eyes shut as my eardrums start to hurt, forcing a headache. My mouth feels drier than a dust-filled desert and the pain wracking through my body like a silent scream is so agonising that I can hear it, feel it, taste it, see it pinpointing on one spot and spreading like a contagious disease and harming and killing everything around it and it's like a drug, it's intoxicating and malicious and you know, yet you keep on taking it and feeling it because the pain keeps you alive-