weapons † hs [two]

20. love is love

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lowkey one of my faves

"You love him?!" I squeak, hugging Caleb around his neck as tight as I can, much to his frowning dismay as the man tries to push me away.

Harry forces me to let go and calm my hormones, guiding me to his side, the two of us standing before the lover-boy wearing different expressions. While I stare, unbothered by Caleb's rejection of my hug and still just as excited, Harry gapes at him, utterly bewildered at what he just confessed.

He places a hand to his hip, trying to fathom this information. "You, Caleb, capable of love?"

I smack at his shoulder to shut him up, Caleb meanwhile leaning his head on his uninjured hand that rests bent on the counter beside him, unamused.

"What?" Harry tries to justify his reaction, "I mean this is just insane!"

"Insane 'cause now you're not the only one in love with a blonde? Get over yourself," an offended Caleb shoots Harry a glare and crosses his arms, ending with a grumbled, "Not everything is about you."

"How did it occur to you?" I break up the bickering about to commence, stepping forward and adjusting the towel to cover the blood dripping on Caleb's tanned hand.

"I mean... it hit me that if Ryan wasn't here at all or I didn't care for him, I wouldn't have just agreed to up and leave my life and come with you guys," he shrugs, and I can see the hint of a smile tempting at his lips before he chuckles, "Hell, if he wasn't here, I would've reported you to the cops straight away and gotten all that money... how much was he even wanted for?"

"Like... twenty thousand dollars," I recall.

Caleb, interest piqued, arouses our suspicions when his intrigued eyes linger from the two of us to the house phone lying on the counter diagonally behind Harry and I.

Harry invades his field of view and steps forward, threateningly glowering him down and slamming his left hand down on the counter. "Don't you even fucking think about it."

"Okay, okay! I wasn't," the man recoils in surrender, feverishly shaking his hands in front of him.

I pull Harry back, now calming him down once he turns and meets my eyes and allows me to rub at his arms, suggesting, "Harry, why don't we just give him some space to do what he needs to?"

"Well, now that you both had to scare me like a motherfucker, I've fucking stabbed myself and I can't exactly cook with one hand," Caleb holds his towel covered hand up to us to emphasize his point, scowling.

"I can help you out. All you need to do is ask," Harry waves it off like it's no problem, but that only causes Caleb to bemoan.

"You can't. I told Ryan you guys were out shopping like you said at the stores a few blocks away, and he is supposed to meet you guys there and be distracted for a couple of hours. I need you guys to go so I don't look like a liar."