Seven Minutes » stylinson

fifteen // manic

story: seven minutes
part: fifteen // manic
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Louis bites his lower lip.

If any time is a good time to panic, it's probably now. He's in some strange room that is apparently a part of the airport. Gale said that they had to wait for their leader to arrive, and they've been sat here for nearly forty-five minutes. The seven hour plane ride out of the States is lagging on him, but he doesn't trust the people around him enough to take a nap.

He sighs and looks down at his watcher. It's light pink. He didn't even look at it earlier, so he can't rightly know whether or not he's gotten any closer.

He looks up in surprise as everyone stands in attention. He grips the sides of the seat, and it hits him that he forgot all of his medicine. He has no burn cream, and no pain medication for his ankle. He can feel the last dose he took wearing off, his ankle is starting to throb.

Gale nudges him with his dark arm and he stands up shakily, but quickly. "Miss Thelma," he smiles and Louis notices the light haired, stone faced woman that has entered the room with two guns on either of her hips. "This is the soldier we told you about, the one tiny enough to get in through the ducts," Gale informs her. Soldier?, Louis inwardly gasps.

The woman nods and furrows her dark eyebrows almost condescendingly, stepping forward, right up into Louis' space. He feels smaller than he really ever has under this woman's gaze. She looks him up and down and he has an obtuse idea of what he currently looks like; pale, dirty, frightened, fatigued, weak. He can't deny himself of being any of those things. "Introduce yourself," she orders and he swallows. He doesn't know if he can talk around the lump in his throat.

"Un, I - I'm Louis. Louis Tomlinson," he stutters and Thelma's dark brown eyes blow wide, she whips around to look at Gale, who looks very afraid now.

She takes a step towards the tall man, and he metaphorically tucks his tail between his legs. She knew the name was familiar, but seeing his face clicked everything together. Every member of every gang knows what Harry Styles' soulmate looks like. "You... took... Harry Styles' soulie?," she drawls out and Louis burrows himself deeper in Calum's sweater.

"He wanted to come," Gale says quickly and one of Thelma's eyebrows raises. "No! Really! He came here to help us with the Den crisis. He's on board with being a spy, he even flew all the way from New Hampshire to here," he says, even though he knows that Thelma knew where they flew from, Harry had been the one to contact her. She turns to look at Louis, and the shorter boy catches Gale's glance, swallowing thickly.

"Is that true? Are you on board to do that? It's dangerous, kid. This ain't no game, you could get hurt. Fatally," she says, putting her hands on her muscular and armored waist. Louis' bottom lip wobbles, but he stops it quickly, clenching his hands so tight that his nails nearly pierce his skin.

He nods. "That's fine. I need to help," he whispers, anxiously running a hand through his limp hair. Thelma purses her lips and nods. "What all would I be doing?," he asks, he doesn't know what they mean by him going through vent shafts.

+

Harry sits in the chair, his face in his hands and angry, frantic tears stream down his face. "You... what?," Jesy growls, her swollen and bruised face contorted in rage at the sobbing man in front of her.

This is no way to treat her leader, but she can not control herself. "He was gone when I got back," he hiccups, showing her his watcher, which is slightly darker pink with 7 more hours... illuminating. "There's no way I can get to England in time!," he cries, fisting his curls in his hands, pulling at them violently.