same old war.

@ tommo;


Louis woke up with a large headache, he couldn't deal with the stress of his parents fighting, and it was starting to effect him more. He had just turned twenty one, and now they were fighting over the dumbest of things. Such as "You forgot milk, dumbass!" or "That's why you cheated on me while Louis was ten, huh?!"

And Louis hated it.

Yes, his father was an awful father for cheating on his mother.

But his mother wasn't innocent either.

She had cheated on his father two, possibly more than once.

"Can you two just talk things out?! Goddamn! I'm going to be gone all day for work, and yeah. So stop arguing so I can take a shower and stuff!" Louis yelled from his room. He was honestly sick and tired of his parents fighting and bickering at each other.

He wasn't going to work... he was actually going to the arcade to play a few rounds with his pals. But his parents didn't know that.

@ BringMeTheFuentes


"Styles! Up and at 'em."

Harry jolts out of his sleep, his forearm bandaged and his headache is gone and oh, he isn't paralyzed anymore. That's nice.

His limbs are stiff, joints popping every time he moves even slightly. He looks up at the lad before him through blurred vision, eyes watering from the fluorescent light shining in his face. He mumbles, "Yeah?" through a yawn, stretching his arms and cringing when the bandaged cut stretches with him. He listens in somewhat to what is being said, but he's just so tired that--

"Harry, are you listening to me?"

Liam, an agent ranked just barely above him, is gripping his shoulder, shaking him to keep him awake. He leans down, pops Harry on the cheek a few times, and says, "Mate, they want you to go out and keep an update on McCoy," pausing because he knows Harry is going to pout. Sure enough, Harry begins to let a whine loose, one from the depths of his throat. His hazy green eyes shine with disappointment, and he almost vocalizes his annoyance further when Liam finishes, "but I'm sure I can get someone else to do it. I have a little pull here, y'know?"

"You abuse your powers as the boss's son," Harry murmurs, a smile spreading across his face.

"I know. Get the hell outta here for a little bit. You need it, yeah?" Liam taps the mark on Harry's neck, the remainder of a dart that forced his whole body into stillness. "That, I've not seen in years."

"You're the best, Li. I'll, uh, I'll repay--"

"Just go, mate. I'll see ya."

Harry nods, sliding off of the infirmary bed. He gives Liam a quick hug, another thank you, and he's off to try and enjoy what little time he has to breathe before he's back in the game.

(He keeps a gun strapped to him, right on his waistband, right under his shirt. Just in case.)

---

Harry sits in a cafe, leg bouncing as he peers out of the window every ten seconds. His heart is beating almost out of control. He feels like he's going to explode. Why can't he relax? What's wrong with him? He thinks that someone is going to burst through the windows and slit his throat, is that it? He's being irrational and paranoid and he knows it, but once you've seen some of the awful things that everyday people can perform, nothing is ever really the same.

He lowers his head, runs his fingers through his curly hair and tries to steady his breathing, but it doesn't work. He needs something good, something to stabilize him. He needs an anchor.

[WOW THIS GOT REALLY LONG I AM SO SORRY.]