One Word | H.S.

Chapter Twenty-Four

"...as everything seems to fall into place."

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Key.

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Mia has a knife. I repeat, Mia has a fucking knife.

My body is sat on Cade's, the two of us shielding the other from the impending doom as Mia ferociously chases Pretty Boy with the sharp blade. His only defense is a pillow, constantly ducking as he continues to trip over the laundry.

I'm terrified but so intrigued, both of mine and Thor's bodies not moving as we watch the current situation with admiration.

You deserve to be stabbed.

She-Hulk nearly catches Harry's windpipe, his back bending into a complete right angle, "You're fucking insane!" He yells, myself and Cade nodding in unison as we mentally prepare the caskets, "Promise?" She holds the knife above her head, a crazed look in her eyes as a hushed 'shit' comes from Thor.

Personally, I'm quite thankful that these two are bonding. Harry is on the verge of becoming cutlery, Mia already pleading guilty for the hasty murder of Loki. People bond in different ways, I just think this method is superior.

You don't deserve rights.

Harry has only been present for the rightful time of thirty minutes, the world ending when he expressed that, and I quote, 'cats suck'. I'm not really sure if Mia mistook the actual animal for a vagina, but something hit a nerve.

The pillow drops from Harry's hands, his face contorting with terror as my eyes go wide, "This is getting good," I look at Cade, his head nodding repeatedly as an amazed smile forms on his lips.

It's not that we are supporting this, but we are fucking supporting it. The whiskey bottle is now in my hand, the four of us passing it around before Harry spoke the cursed words.

He brought this upon himself, Mia can be blamed for nothing.

Harry turns to us, his eyebrows furrowed as his mouth gapes open, "Are you assholes just going to sit there and let her kill me?" He motions to Mia with his arms, the erratic movement proving he is quite flustered. 

"Well, yeah." Cade nods his head, my hand shooting a 'thumbs up'.

In the words of Rafiki, this is truly the circle of life, and I don't think commoners like Cade and I should come before the Grim Reaper.

Bye-bye Pretty Boy.

The dynamic is so powerful, the fact that we all nearly die at the end of each get-together feeling like art, the bewitching streaks of blood painting the canvas' of our friendship.

And whatever the hell Harry is.

I'm not exactly sure why I went to his room, convinced him to come back out, but I could barely stop my legs from moving.

Can't help but feel he would have done the same, though the more rational parts of my brain tell me that I'm extremely wrong.

You are.

After the night at the club, the vanquished look hidden behind a foraged smirk, there has been this sense of longing. Not to be with him, but to be there for him.

And, I guess being around him is part of the process.

It seems as though his brain is filled with pistols, the beholder being none other than uncontrolled emotions. They are ready to fire with the slightest faltering of confidence, the most minuscule gun powder aiding the fracture within him.