Not A Decision ✓

62. Monster

Third Person

There was not anything else that could possibly be worse for them than the sick feeling deep in their mind that their mate was in the very edge of life and real death. They were all trying to do whatever they could to help their bandmate, their brother stay alive.

The boy with the a head full of curls walked in accompanied by a ravened haired quiff boy who had dashed his way to the kitchen, he apparent defeat and anguish. The boy trudged towards the living room and slowly like a wilting flower sunk into the sofa that laid alone in the corner. He hid his face in his palms, his mind questioning everything he was, everything he had.

"She's not coming," he mumbled into his hands, the words reflecting the heartache he felt. She was what they needed, what his friend, best mate needed now. It wasn't by desire, she was a necessity. Just at the small thought of her, his body grew colder, more than he already was as he recalled her stopping for a brief moment when she had been told that Niall was dying. She had not even moved a muscle, did not even say a word. The silence had stung even more than her walking away. All he could think of was of the loss of his mate, and what soon may be of his brother.

All Harry wanted to do was make himself as small as he could and just lock himself somewhere dark. Somewhere where he could not leave, where he would be force to slowly die being bloodlust washed into the abyss. That was the only way he could live with himself, if his best mate died and his mate rejection.

"How's Niall?" The two words washed over his thoughts and brought him back to the present. The two words brought a small light of hope that the boy was still living even if it was just barely. Harry looked up from his hands, his eyes locking on the raven haired boy who had lessen his misery for a moment and who they both knew that this could possibly be the end of someone they both cared for.

"The same. He's on his bed sweating and restlessly calling for Kenzie," Harry and Zayn both broke their stare, a silent exchange of words, and register the response given to the state of their friend by a feathered haired boy who took a seat next to jade eyed boy. The two boys nodded and both sat there, residing in everything they knew. The boy who sat by Harry knew much of this pitless feeling in his heart. But deep inside, he still held on to the small beam of hope that the two boys before him had some good news. He wanted to know and he opened his mouth and closed it right away. Louis didn't have the strength or courage to shattered his own last bit of hope he had.

"Lou? I brought some more." A boy with much his air tousled hair called out from the entrance. He closed the door after him.

"Blood?" Zayn asked Liam who held a bottle of fresh blood in his hand. Liam walked into the living room, under the light, he seemed more worn out than the rest of the boys. It was more than the sleepless nights caring for his fading friend. It was the guilt churning in him, constantly reminding him and blaming him for all their troubles. Tormenting him telling him he was the one to blame if the blonde haired boy died. He stood before Louis, even with time their was still the remains of tension between the other two boys towards him.

"Niall needs it. His irises have been changing, his body asks for so much blood. It's like he never has enough," Louis' composed body slumped as he thought of the boy who was bedridden, his throat closed as tears threatened to spill. This was all too much for him. He was the oldest but he had never been able to handle stress, that's why they had Liam. Still, he knew if he placed Liam as their head, the two others would rebel further and then what would be their end?

Liam moved to Louis' side, he knew that there was much still to resolve with Harry and Zayn but that would be after Niall.

"Is she coming later?" Louis asked both of the boys who had been tasked to deal with the brunette. His eyes landed first on the boy who sat next to him.