burns and bullets

three - we lost, didn't we?

first things first: burns and bullets is now rated R. :) 

ok so i planned on posting this earlier, but wattpad is being a bitch and wouldn’t let me do so. next update: 6 votes, 3 comments.

also, tell your friends about this. when i get a decent amount of votes/comments on each chapter, i’ll probably start updating weekly or something.

last thing: i know it's short. the chapters will be longer as the plot thickens, i promise :) 

but for now, enjoy:

Three

we lost, didn’t we?

—

It was hot. Their suite in Hotel New York was hot and smelled like a mixture of confusion and worry and fear and tears and thick tension. A denim jacket was thrown over the back of a chair, a glass of water was knocked over, the clear liquid dripping on the carpet below the small table. Harry paced around restlessly, turning a nearly empty vial over and over in his trembling hands.

‘It’s a sedative, Lou,’ he said softly, voice shaking. ‘They sedated her. They sedated her and took her away.’ He ran a hand through his curls and shook his head to make them fall back into place, worry edging his features.

‘Well at least she isn’t scared, then,’ the oldest said calmly, but breathing was hard for him too, because he couldn’t focus on anything but the thought of Katherine, taken, gagged, chained.

‘But she’s gone!’ Harry exclaimed, ‘We shouldn’t have left her unprotected.’

Louis sighed. ‘We didn’t know this was going to happen, love,’ he soothed, walking up to Harry and pulling him next to him on the couch. ‘We didn’t expect this.’

The youngest hid is face in his hands, elbows resting on knees. ‘We promised we’d protect her. After everything. After Aidan. And then after Prague. And then again after that time in Moldova.’

‘We got her back, didn’t we? After Prague? After Moldova?’

Harry nodded, reluctantly. ‘We got her back. Her and weeks of nightmares and screaming and crying. She got bad after that, Lou. Not as worse as after Aidan, but close. Awfully close to that. I don’t want that to happen again. She—she got bad.’

Louis chewed on the inside of his cheek before silently adding: ‘But we got her back.’

It was quiet for a long time after that. Harry was curled up against Louis, crying silently, not knowing what to do with himself, with these feelings, with these goddamn fucked up messed up feelings.

He was Harry Styles—even though he went for Harry Tomlinson most of the time—

(they told everyone it was easier to always act like they were brothers. The way Louis held him said a whole lot more. This intimacy was not brotherly love. And he enjoyed having Louis’ last name much more than a brother would.)

—He was Harry goddamn Styles and he loved Katherine like she was his little sister. He had found her, he had befriended her, he had guided her through pain and sorrow and he thought that maybe he had somehow healed the broken girl.

He knew he hadn’t. One look at all the scars and the wounds and the tearstains on pillowcases told him he hadn’t, but Kat was good at hiding and smiling and laughing and avoiding, and he was good at avoiding too, unfortunately.

But now she was gone and now he had to get her back, they had to get her back. And as salty tears made darker spots on Louis’ T-shirt he sobbed brokenly.