Gamers

Chapter 32

General POV.

Harry was out with Mia, worrying his brains out for Zayn and what's happened in the battlefield.

He wanted to go back again and perform the plan that was ruined and kill James once and for all. He wanted to go back and confront Josh and return his gaze so he'd die in bitter irony.

Liam talked him out of it. He used the fact that Harry never knew if it would work, he could be mistaken or something can go wrong and Harry would drop dead in front of Josh the same way Grace had and all this crap wouldn't matter anymore.

Even though, Harry thought it was a low card to pull but indeed it was convincing enough.

"Harry!" She snapped her fingers in front of his eyes, catching his attention.

"Sorry, come again?" He apologized and flashed an innocent smile.

"What's wrong with you today?" She asked irritatingly even though he had just apologized.

"You don't want to know." He hinted briefly. A part of of their tasks as inhuman creatures was to conceal their identities and powers even though, it's the most breakable rule. But even if you reveal your identity it's still necessary to keep others' hidden.

"Actually, that's one thing you got wrong Mr. Gamer, sir." She said jokingly and he gave a humored look and a small smile.

"A friend is in trouble. I'm hesitant whether to help or step aside." Harry narrated intentionally mysterizing his words.

"A friend in need is a friend indeed." She advised indirectly and Harry nodded, he's already acknowledged that.

"It's more complicated than that." Harry said with a smile.

"Simplify it." She suggested plainly.

Harry smiled as If gratefully to avoid deeper engagement in the conversation. So, they stood up, took they're bent, fighting position, sword in hand.

Ever since he took her to the swording centre, she's gone detached from the gun shooting. To her it just wasn't as good as swording.

Harry talked to the owner and he managed to take a spare key so they could train alone and Mia remembered every time she whooshed in the air, how she was bitterly rejected that day she wanted to kiss him.

The temptation kept rising though, every time brutal than the one before. Green mischievous eyes, playful smile, sexy man-bun. His grip tight and sweaty over the sword handle. His slow smooth voice telling her what to do. His tender touch as he offered guidance. His flexed muscles.

But he was a beast, beneath the calm and collected face of the defender, was an angry shouting offender. His slice is a stab of death and his wound is a bleeding river.

Right now Harry was the offender and even though to himself, he was going easy, to Mia he was going madly insane.

She had to forcefully and mindlessly without focused vision, just calculated assumptions, swoosh Harry's sword away. She relentlessly countered the blade that stuck professionally in deadly positions, head, abdomen, chest, neck, heart. Everywhere.

Harry -strangely- made an expected strike forward and quickly withdrew his sword from Mia's way, leaving her dash forward at emptiness. He then swiftly locked her head between his sword and his chest.

He smirked, making a barely heard chuckle at the goosebumps that crawled on her neck from their intimate proximity.

She huffed loudly when he realesed her, running her hand through her hair, her face flushed in fatigue.