The Wingman // t.h.

Part Four - the one in the room

You pushed your way through the crowds of tourists. Space was getting tighter and tighter and so were your lungs. You couldn't breathe. As your inhales became heavier, the more tears started to build up in your eyes. Where were all these people coming from? Why couldn't they just let you pass? Couldn't they see you were trying to get to somewhere? To get away from him.

Finally escaping the crowds, onto a slightly less populated shopping street. Your jog came to a halt. The pain in your feet, chest, and head was catching up to you. You looked back behind you one last time, before leaning against the brick wall of a shop. With your hand on your heart, you took some deep breaths to hopefully calm down. He wasn't there. You lost him. His stinking face nowhere near yours.

You still couldn't believe it actually happened. You thought you were safe after you had left the building but he followed you and tried to... you couldn't even think about it. The way he called you darling made you feel sick in your stomach. You could still hear his voice in your head. That perfect accent...

No, that disgusting pig didn't have an accent. At least not a British one. That's when you realized. It wasn't Rob that had bumped into you. No, not at all. It was someone else. Someone you knew because you recognized the voice. But you didn't know anyone in the city. Nobody except for... Tom and Harrison! You tried your best to replay the voice again. It all happened so quickly. You hadn't even looked at the person that fell on top of you. At the moment you just wanted to get away. You tried to remember. Anything.

"Hey, looking good, sexy." A guy cat-called while walking by with his friend. Massaging your temples and trying to think, you just replied bluntly with a: "Fuck off." Both strangers were clearly shocked by your hard response. They quickened their step in shame and didn't look back.

You were glad that was over. Unfortunately in the time of that small interaction, all your memory of the incident a few streets back had vanished completely. You couldn't be sure if it was Tom or Harrison... or maybe just someone that sounded like one of them. The only thing you could do now was to go back to the hotel and take a good long nap. After all, it's what you deserved.

"You're joking me?" Tom wanted to laugh. There was no way his friend was that thick to not only lose his jacket, but also his phone. There could literally be nothing more valuable that he could have lost.

"No, I'm serious. I think I left it in my jacket." Harrison was as pale as the couch he had been sitting on just moments ago. He was still patting down his jeans. Which was pointless because they were so tight it would have been visible if he was hiding his phone in there.

"In the jacket that (Y/N) has?" Tom asked and watched as Harrison nodded slowly. He rubbed his face with his hand before leaning his chin on it. "Shit Haz. Literally only you could get yourself into a mess like that."

"Tell me about it." Harrison sighed defeatedly and sat back down on the couch. He looked sad. Embarrassed to be exact. But then his eyes lit up with that spark that Tom knew so well. He knew there was nothing good about to come from his mouth. "You can call her!"

"Wha-what?" Tom blinked a few times. His mind was blanking. "What?" seemed to be the only thing he could say?

"Call her, you div. She has my phone. You have my number. Call her!" Slowly processing what was said to him, Tom shook his head. "No," he said, "I can't ask her out over your phone... after she had ignored me for four days."

"I was actually hoping you would call her to get my stuff back, but I see how your brain is thinking." Tom looked away, feeling his cheeks heat up. Of course, they had to get Harrison's things back and give her her things. That was the priority here. "But if you don't want to call her, fine. I will. Give me your phone."