AMARA
"Lou?" I shouted as I walked through the apartment, frowning when I didn't get a response. I picked up my pace as I walked to the kitchen, sighing in relief when I spotted Zayn sitting on the couch. "I thought you all left."
"Harry would never allow that," Zayn spoke bitterly, making me step back in surprise. "He was pretty cautious to even let Louis leave with him."
"Are you okay?" I took a cautious step towards him, stopping when his eyes flew up to me. I've never seen Zayn mad, this was a very rare occasion. And I was even more confused when I felt as if it was directed towards me.
"I'm fine, sorry," Zayn shook his head, patting the couch for me to sit on. He faced me when I plopped down, crossing my legs up as well. "I'm just worried about Harry."
"Why?" I shot out quickly, feeling worried when he didn't answer. Zayn bit his lip as he looked at me, his eyes moving from my face to the wall continuously. "Zayn?"
"I don't know if I should tell you," Zayn muttered, fiddling with his fingers nervously. "You might get defensive."
"Tell me."
"What if your parents find out that you're with Harry...that way?" Zayn blurted, guilt covering his face when I widened my eyes, feeling taken aback by his question. I'd never really worried about it to be honest, because my parents couldn't control who I saw.
"They couldn't hurt Harry, I'd never let them and I'd never forgive them if they tried," I shrugged, not seeing it as a big deal. "Harry has protected me with his life, they should be grateful."
"Yeah," Zayn nodded, not seeming convinced as he flicked through the channels on the tv. My head turned to the clock, standing when it displayed 12:01. I bit my lip, not wanting to overthink, but being in this situation made it hard.
I baked cookies as a distraction, 2 lots of them. Zayn didn't seem worried when the clock hit 2, which eased my brain a bit. Maybe this was normal? Harry said around 12, so they're probably just running a bit late. I knawed on my lip as I watched tv with Zayn, nervously glancing at the clock every few minutes.
"I'm going to take a nap," I stood up when the clock hit 3, my anxiousness rising. I was torturing myself by looking at the clock. I heard Zayn hum as I walked into the bedroom, noticing the door had been fixed. I barely took note of it this morning, when I still felt cloudy from last night.
I sighed when my body hit the mattress, staring up at the ceiling. Harry being out had distracted me from worrying about my parents, the thought of them flashing through my brain automatically. It was odd that they hadn't gained contact with us again, but I understood due to the fact we were both meant to be in hiding. It made sense if nobody from their gang could know where I was. My eyes finally closed after tossing and turning at the thought of Harry, sleep welcoming me.
———————
"Fuck!" I yawned as I woke, stretching my arms above my head. I frowned when there was silence in the apartment, wondering if I imagined Zayn cursing loudly. "Shit." No, I didn't. My eyes squinted at the alarm clock on the nightstand, reading 7:15pm.
I jumped out of bed as I realised Harry must be home by now, rushing down the hall. I stopped when Zayn came into view, his legs pacing through the kitchen, before he threw a container that sat on the counter across the room.
"What's wrong?" My voice made Zayn stop pacing, his eyes wild as they looked at me. My stomach slowly dropped as I looked around the room, not seeing or hearing Harry's presence anywhere. "Where's Harry?"
"I-I, Amara just go back to your room," Zayn stuttered, grabbing his phone out. The dial tone was he only thing heard as the phone rang, before it was thrown against the wall, smashing to pieces.
"Zayn!"
"I can't contact them. Harry or Louis, they've been gone for too long," I watched as he tugged his hair angrily, running his hands down his face. I cursed quietly as the realisation that Harry and Louis were in trouble came at me, my breathing quickening from worry.
"Where were they going?" I asked Zayn, his head shaking, indicating he couldn't tell me. "We need to go help them!"
"Are you crazy? If I let anything happen to you, Harry would have my head," Zayn stopped talking as loud knocks sounded on the front door, both of us rushing to it. Zayn swung the door open, pushing me out of the doorway as Louis stumbled in, his arms holding Harry up.
"What happened?" I mumbled, freezing as I noticed the trail of red liquid that followed behind Louis and Harry when they stumbled into the room. Harry was barely standing, Louis' arms holding his waist up as Harry's arm slung across his shoulder.
"Harry-he, they," Louis tripped over his words as we entered Harry and I's room, Zayn helping to get Harry to lay down on the bed. Zayn rushed out of the room, hearing him rummaging through the bathroom cabinet as I stared at Harry. His face was scrunched up, breathless pants leaving his parted lips every few seconds. I allowed my eyes to wander down to the source of pain, gasping when they landed on his stomach. His entire shirt that was previously grey, was completely red, Louis' hands pressing onto his torso to stop the blood.
"Why didn't you take him to the hospital?" I choked, feeling bile rise to my throat as blood covered Louis' hands in seconds.
"He's a criminal, Zayn hurry up!" Louis explained, yelling the second part just as Zayn ran into the room, a first aid kit in his hands. Louis tore open Harry's shirt from the middle, my eyes blurring as they looked at Harry's lower half. He'd been shot, and not just once.
"Amara can you talk to him or something, I don't know, just, calm him down," Louis said worriedly when Harry screamed out as alcohol was poured over his stomach. I nodded at Louis, kicking myself out of my trance while walking to the side of the bed. I took Harry's hand in mine, kissing his bleeding knuckles softly.
"Harry? Hey, it's Amara," I started, watching his face scrunch up as Zayn and Louis poked at his torso.
"H-hey lo-ve," Harry panted out, twisting his head so our eyes could lock. I forced a smile as he kept his eyes open for a couple seconds, before they closed as a sound of pain left his lips.
I looked down at his torso, seeing Zayn pull out a small object, a bullet maybe, from one of his wounds. Louis had began patch up his other side thankfully, and I tore my eyes from the bloody scene, growing sick. I leaned my head against Harry's as he cried out, placing my hand that wasn't holding his in his hair to massage his scalp.
"It's okay, you're okay," I whispered into his ear, pressing my lips onto his temple. His pants and cries of pain slowly diminished as Louis and Zayn finished up, his stomach clear of blood and patched up.
"You good, Harry?" Louis crouched on his knees beside the bed, patting Harry's shoulder lightly. Harry let out a hum of approval, his eyes staying closed as Louis and I looked at each other. "Stay with him?"
"Of course," I nodded at Louis, him and Zayn walking out of the room, closing the door behind them. I picked my body up from beside the bed, opening the wardrobe to grab out some clean sheets.
I changed the bedsheets as best as I could without moving Harry too much, feeling awful when he let out a grunt as I touched his side accidentally. I placed the bloody sheets into the laundry hamper, deciding I'd deal with them tomorrow, because cleaning them would take too long considering I'd scrub them for hours to reassure my anxiety of them not being clean.
"Aren't you going to sleep?" Harry spoke up after I sat next to him for a couple minutes, shaking my head even though his eyes were closed.
"No, I might hurt you. I had a nap before," I brushed my fingers through his hair, coming to the conclusion that I could admire Harry all day if possible. He was truly gorgeous, even when he was a bit beat up.
"Amara, get in the bed," Harry opened his eyes, causing me to shake my head. He pulled my arm when I refused, tugging me beside him. "Please?"
I sighed loudly as I laid beside him, turning on my side to face him. His grin made me laugh, knowing he'd won yet another argument, quite easily.
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HIRED GUN // H.S AU
FanfictionHired Gun /ˈhʌɪə ɡʌn/ noun NORTH AMERICAN (informal) a hired bodyguard, mercenary, or assassin.