Chapter Text
The day after The First Task (and the... incident), the college had become a desolate place. It was like a ghost town, and it was very uncomfortable. The hallways carried an ominous hush whenever people weren't heading to class, and the air was stale and doleful. It felt like the life and joy that existed when the school year started -when the Wolf Games had inaugurated- had somehow disappeared into nothing but a hollow memory of what had happened yesterday. Nobody spoke about what happened, but it was obvious everyone was thinking about it... including me.
Yes, I couldn't stop thinking about Harry, and it was driving me nuts. I hated him; I couldn't understand why him potentially dying meant so much to me. It only left an achy feeling in me. It swelled in my throat and tightened my lungs. Liam had told me that I was "mourning," and that it was completely normal since everyone was doing it. I couldn't tell him that this wasn't normal, that mourning for the one person I absolutely detested was the one person I was concerned about.
I was concerned about Harry Styles... never in my wildest dreams would I've ever imagined this to happen.
My pencil hovered over the page of my notebook. The led tip brushed occassionally across the page like a pendulum, leaving greyish scratches. I knew I had homework to do, but my mind was blank. Every time I rounded my conscience to focus on answering the questions due tomorrow, my mind swapped paths, leading straight back to Harry and his pastel skin.
If I hadn't heard the medical person announce that Harry's heart was still thrumming, I would've thought he was dead. I could imagine him now in the hospital bed, his heart straining on edge of life - insistent to live. I could also imagine the pain he was foregoing. I wondered what it felt like - to have fatal venom slithering through your veins just before you died. I wondered if it burned or itched, or if you could even feel anything, if it just felt like you were already drifting into the spirit world.
... I wondered what would happen to Harry, whether he would die or live, whether he'd be able to continue in the Games or not. Regardless, everyone was worrying, and it didn't help that everyone was forbidden to see him.
Even though I'd never venture to Harry's hospital room for a pop-in visit for obvious reasons, it would've still been nice to have received some insight from others on his health. Zayn had tried to see Harry an hour after he'd been carried off to the college hospital, but had been denied immediately, informed that "only family members may see Mr. Styles at this time." It had only been family members for the last several hours, and still nobody had received news on the dying boy.
Niall had joked once that Harry might turn into a Mónimos, but had been shot down immediately by Liam's lambasting glare, then was doomed to a lengthy and aggressive speech by the beta about how the omega "shouldn't joke about death at a time like this." I would've found Niall's guilt-striken face amusing if it weren't for the heavy concern of a certain alpha governing my mind.
I frowned when the pencil oozed from my fingers and flopped onto the notebook's center crease. I stared at it dully, but never reached for it. As if I could even doodle in a state like this. I couldn't even go to sleep on demand like I used to anymore. Everything had been postponed for more space to worry about Harry, and the worst part about it was that it was getting me nowhere.
I shook my head and plucked the pencil up with stiff movements, and leant the nose of the pencil against the empty paper, urging for words to appear.
"You can't do your homework either, huh?"
My head yanked up. "Oh, uhm." I tapped the pencil against the notebook assiduously. "Yeah... yeah, I guess not... I don't know." I completely dropped the pencil and rubbed my clammy palms over my face in a massacre of distress. "I don't even know, Liam... I can't seem to do anything right now, and it's bugging me. It's bugging me so much!"
Liam was so sympathetic he was empathetic. His thick brows were pressed and worrying, wrinkles adorning the soft skin of his forehead. He wasn't wearing his glasses, which meant he wasn't he even attempting to do his homework. He was in the same boat as me, though this was the first time either one of us had said anything regarding the situation. I assumed we both thought we would just forget about it and move on, but we couldn't. It was like an invisible cancer.
Liam sighed. "Well, obviously we're not gonna get anywhere just sitting here moping around." I was surprised to see a small galvanized smile winding at his lips. "C'mon," he said, sliding off his bed, "I got an idea."
"I don't wanna see what's gonna happen for the Second Task," I divulged glumly. "I'm still not even over what happened in the Fir- "
"We're not doing that today," Liam told me, rounding to my side of the bed. "C'mon, Louis, we're getting you and I out of the dorm room today."
"But I don't feel up for an adventure," I complained.
Liam snorted. "Not even for an adventure down to the kitchen?"
The kitchen? I'd thought Liam was coaxing to go outside again, but everytime I thought about entering the outdoors again I'd be slammed with the dark memories again... but now he was telling me the kitchen was our mission today, and my stomach might've just perked up at the thought of food and sweets. I didn't even have breakfast this morning, too tangled up in the demons inside my own mind.
"Okay. Fine," I said - defeated.
I closed my notebook and pushed it and the textbook aside onto the bed heedlessly. I didn't miss the tiny smirk of accomplishment infect Liam's face as we both trotted out the dorm room and downstairs to the public kitchen.
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Since we resided in an omega-only building, the kitchen was omega-only, too. Fortunately, the wide, beige room was basically bare of Wolf existence other than a few, so Liam and I were quick to help ourselves to the stove and cupcake ingredients. Usually the kitchen was stashed with lively omegas, but with the looming dread of one of the students possibly dying, it became a empty shell.
We both decided on splitting the icing colours; one half green and the other blue. It was typical for a beta's favourite colour to be green and an omega's to be blue, which explained why society had deduced those specific colours as the representative symbols for our genders. Most toys for omegas were blue, as betas were green, and as alphas were red. It wasn't so much 'sexist' as it was an innocent stereo-type.
Liam had been packing up the cupcakes-for-later in little sealable cups when I'd joked about not telling Niall since he'd eat them all up on us. The beta had surprised me with a soft glare before resuming with the cupcakes. "It'll be a horror story to keep sweet foods like these away from that boy," Liam had said.
I scrutinized him curiously before surmising, "You care about him." It wasn't a question.
Liam had ceased, and looked to me. His face looked sweet and kind, which was typical for Liam, but what was surprising is what lurked below: a kindess toward Niall - the one boy who relentlessly picked fights with the beta, and with whom the beta himself stewed accepted into the hostile mix with, too.
"You really do care for Niall," I said again in genuine realization, and then I asked determinedly, "but why?" All he'd ever shown towards Niall was detest, but now all of a sudden he was bestowing a new set of feelings towards his omega friend.
Liam shrugged. "I don't know," he admitted, plucking in the last cupcake and sealing the lid overtop. "Niall just... he can be a little harsh at times, but I always find it in my heart to forgive the lonely omega."
I blinked as I held open the bag to allow Liam to delicately spill the cupcake cases into. "Lonely?" What could he possibly mean by that? He told me just yesterday that Niall was super social and popular, did he not? So then why would he be lonely?
"Niall may surround himself with friends," Liam begun, "but I can see it in his eyes, and also how he clings to you, that he's just a lonely omega who wants something other than an endless list of contacts on his phone."
"And what's that do you think?" I pressed.
Liam finished dumping the cups in and stood with his typical beta poise to look at me. His big, brown eyes were solemn and friendly. "A family."
"Family?" I repeated, trotting up beside the beta as he turned to depart the kitchen, "but how do you know he never had a family before? I mean, yeah, based on the way he acts around me, I'd believe it, but he's spoken about a family background before, about how they refused to let him go to Mac tíre Academy because of their educational system, don't you remember that?"
"Yes," Liam answered, "but he's never spoken passionately about them. Like," he raked a hand through his short hair with an exhale, "he's never cared to bring up his folks when we talked about ours."
"Most of the time he's on headphones," I agreed, following the beta out the kitchen and on the route back to the dorm room.
"Maybe he's on them for a reason," Liam suggested shrewdly.
I mulled on it for a moment. That did make sense. The most popular times when Niall had plugged in the infamous headphones was when the subject of parents and family had been resurrected. It was like he demonstrated a discomfort in the topic, and shied away from it surreptitiously. It made me sad to think Niall was brought up without any loving parents... and perhaps that was it. Maybe Niall did grow up with a family, but that he never received the love part from them.
The idea of a loveless family seemed horrible to me. Having grown up with a lovey-dovey, super affectionate family, I felt a deep melancholy for Niall. The idea of him being a victim to something so cold like that had me clenching a fist.
"Here."
I looked to the baby blue icing cupcake in Liam's offering hand.
"Oh! Uhm, thanks!" I said, taking the treat with my free arm (the other was holding the bag).
"I'll take that for you, Louis," Liam told me, and before I could protest, the beta had robbed the cupcake bag straight from my grasp.
I huffed, and -with an aggrieved pout- licked at the sweet, sweet icing hat of the cupcake. I purred contently. "Mmm..."
"Like it?" Liam asked, tasting a green cupcake with a complacent grin plastered to his face.
I rolled my eyes. "If I say yes, will you promise me... that you'll make more for the future?" I said, purring again as the succulent icing met my taste buds again.
"Sure," Liam replied. Then, as a new thought seemingly crossed his mind, his face swapped dramatically to a sheepish blush. "Uhm... and that's not the only thing I can do either... i-if you wanna it, that is."
"Ya!" I nodded frantically, "definitely!" I probably looked like an excited child about to see a magic trick, and what irony that was.
To my impatience, Liam had waited until we reached the dorm room to show me his little secret. I skipped into the room with an elated prance in my step, and plopped enthusiastically onto the bed. I waited with my heels rocking feverishly against the matress as I finished up the cupcake. I couldn't even fathom my excitement for whatever was about to happen, only that I really, really wanted to know this "secret" of Liam's, whether it was a tangible object or a dark secret he refused to tell anyone else.
"Okay," Liam announced modestly, "here it is." The beta produced a black wand from his jean buckle and stood poised and firm in front of the open dorm door. Had I forgotten to close it?
Then, with a swift jerk to the left of his wand, the door obeyed, following the direction as it snapped shut on its own hinges.
I gasped. It wasn't that I'd never seen a magic spell performed before my eyes, but that the telekinesis spell was a third year aptitude - not first year! First-Years -like myself and Liam- only learned the history behind magic (which was a recipe for dozing off in class) and a few charms in-between. Second-Years learned spells, but were merely being introduced to it. Third-Years dove right into the cauldron and assimilated the whole deal of magic. Fourth-Years were a little more daring, and leant more towards the Dark Arts.
So, as a First-Year, how was Liam able to perform the skill of a Third-Year?
Liam chortled, turned now and facing me with a bashfully flattered smirk. "You're, uh, you're probably curious as t'how I did that."
"Yeah, kinda," I replied sarcastically.
Liam scratched the back of his head sheepishly. "I think I'm just gonna be blunt with this... I didn't learn this spell in class."
"No shit."
Liam snickered, now toying modestly with his wand. "I actually just managed to master the telekinesis spell recently. It's a bit more tricky learning solely from a book than with a teacher, but with years of practise in high school to back you up, it got a little easier."
I was appalled. "You were practising magic in high school?!" It was strictly forbidden. One could even get expelled if a teacher caught you in the act.
"Yeah... kinda hard to see me as a rebel, huh?" I've gotten a glimpse.
"How did you get away with it?" I asked eagerly.
Liam pondered, then grinned. "I hid outside during lunch and sometimes during my spares. The teachers never suspected a thing. You wouldn't think they would from a goody-two-shoes." He chuckled mischievously.
I hummed, narrowing my eyes at him - suspicious. "You're not the good beta everyone suspects you are, aren't you?" It was starting to make sense now, and I was a little astonished this revelation didn't seem to punch me right in the face, especially considering my first impression of Liam was a snobbish teacher's pet.
Liam shrugged. "Not quite. I'm still obedient, just not completely." He turned to me, simpering. "We all have our secrets, don't we?"
You have no idea, I thought slyly as I forced a casaul smile.
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The next day, I was languidly assisting customers in the shoes department at S. S. Sports. It'd been a rather tedious day with it raining outside... again (Jesus Christ, did it ever let down here?), and still no news on preparations for the Second Task... nor on Harry Styles' condition.
I plastered a smile on my face as I helped customers with selecting their winter boots. It was October now, and apparently some people chose to winter shop early so that prices wouldn't cheat them when December actually rolled by. It was smart... but, to be honest, it was getting a little irksome. These people were already cheap arriving two months early, but they were also very finicky about what style the boot was. I tried explaining to them that we only had few winter boots in stock since they weren't exactly in demand right now, but that was never good enough, and-I swear-I was spending at least a half hour with ever customer.
I hadn't realized Josh had been vigilant from across the store, so I became a little tense when I noticed him trudging towards me. He pulled me aside and had remarked on my constant fidgeting.
"I- I have?" I discerned. I knew I'd been feeling under weather with all these people carding in with the same excuses and giving me the guff when they got frustrated, but I hadn't realized I'd actually been fidgeting.
Josh patted my back affably. "Go wash up, then go help Mr. Malik over there with the Halloween decorations. I'll get someone else to help out over here."
I was relieved, but also guilty at the idea that I'd failed Josh (stupid omega instincts...). "Are you sure? I mean, I'm okay here. I can deal with- "
"Do as you're told, Louis," Josh simply said, then smiled affirmingly down at me. "Believe it or not, but part of my duty as a boss is to also care about the well-being of my employees."
I nodded. "Thank-you."
"Alright." Josh gave a last pat. "Go. I'm not payin' you to stand around." And there he was again.
Complying, I scuttled to the restrooms to ease myself. I admit: maybe I did need this. The idea of collaborating with random people today didn't seem to fit. On my next shift when I'd (hopefully) be a little more relaxed, I'd repay Josh for this.
Bringing chilled water to my face, I looked up at the sink mirror and froze. I stared, and if I could've seen myself right about now, I probably would've laughed because of the mortified expression on my face. There, on my neck, peeking out slightly from the shielding of the collar (for which I was so thankful that my uniform had just managed to cover it) was the mark.
Had it... gotten darker? Horrified, I reached up to prod it, flinching when the sensitive nerves reacted. It had darkened. It made sense, too: after about two-to-three days, bruises darkened, but it was only because they were healing. Still, the once-purplish dot on my neck had now blossomed into a ghastly smear. Like a zit, it was dreadfully conspicuous, demanding eye attention.
Great. Just great. How was I supposed to conceal this now? The collar had shaded it, but with it now being darker than ever, it poked right out from the shadowy habitat. I could perhaps put a bandage on it... if there was one large enough, that is. Or I could just pray that I won't have anymore run-ins with Josh today.
Ugh.
Deciding to face the world regardless, I tugged my collar up, feeling despondent as it drooped, but ignored it nontheless. Immediately, I'd succumbed to the paranoia of people to my right, and tried discreetly to only allow people to see my left side - the side without the hickey. I was hoping my strange behaviour could be mistaken for modesty.
I found Zayn with a hanging string of plastic Halloween symbols above the football merchandise. He teetered on the top step of the ladder, reaching with a tight face to successfully nail the one end to the wall. He cussed profusely when he accidentally stabbed his finger on the sharpness of the nails whilst blindly reaching into the plastic container. The large string drifted to the floor. I chuckled.
Zayn had apparently heard me and shifted his eyes. Still sucking on his injured finger, he stiffened, his face quickly reddening with abash. "Don't laugh," he grumbled.
I just chuckled again.
Sighing, Zayn muttered "of course he did" under his breath as he began clambering back down the metal ladder. I watched him with a smirk, and crossed my arms boldly when he turned to me when he'd touched the floor.
"I'm gonna spank you, Louis," Zayn threatened, though the playful tone suggested otherwise.
Amused, I replied, "Might I remind you that this is a workplace and that sex isn't allowed here." I was quoting Josh on the first day we came here.
Zayn caught on immediately, smirking. "The spanking I wanted to give you wasn't the sexy kind, Mr. Tomlinson, it was the my-omega-is-being-naughty-brat kind."
"I'm not your omega," I rebuked.
"Nope," Zayn agreed, "I have my own... but that doesn't mean I can't look out for a little friend." He ambled over and plucked up the end of the string of decorative cartoon pictures, grimacing at it. He muttered indignantly, "Why are they trying to embarrass us? They do know this store has sharp objects that could easily harm some stupid kid."
"You're a stupid kid then," I giggled, referring to his little prick-on-the-finger incident a minute ago.
Zayn frowned. "Shut-up...," he groused, twisting away to hide his heated face.
I scrambled to fetch another ladder -one that was unoccupied- and returned to assist the alpha with the hanging string. I held the one end of the string in place, flattened against the walls while Zayn nailed it in, stabilizing it. Zayn rejoiced with a triumphant smile, then we slid back down the ladders.
Zayn looked to me with a casual smile, but then as his eyes drifted below my face, everything else seemed to be forgotten. His smile dissipated to a frown and a curious dread uplifted in his face. I was instantly concerned, and as I followed the alpha's hard gaze, I realized-dismayed-that Zayn had distinguished the mark on my neck.
Immediately, I huddled my collar over it, concealing it. Unfortunately, I knew already that it was futile, and frankly I castigated myself for it. Nice, Tomlinson; now he'll never suspect a thing. The foreboding heat detonated in my chest as Zayn's suspicious eyes remained resolute on the one spot where I hoped nobody would ever see. And now Zayn knew... he wasn't stupid; he probably already knew what it was without asking me.
"Louis," Zayn grated out - disbelieving. "I... is that a hickey?!" The last word squeezed out with a force of disgust. He sounded like a parent who just realized his daughter had been secretly chatting with a boy ten years older than her online.
I was blank. It was a hickey; I couldn't lie to him that it wasn't when it so clearly displayed itself dark and splotchy on my neck. However, I didn't like the idea of Zayn thinking I was some slut, so I sought to amend that impending image.
My voice was so small and quiet when I spoke to him. I could barely concentrate with the alpha's scrutiny practically suffocating me. "Yes, but- "
"Who did it?" Zayn demanded, remissing my input. He charged up to me, his hands immediately drawing to my neck. My hands were hasty attempting to bat his away, but the alpha was adamant and yanked down the collar, exposing the mark.
"I... I- "
"I asked you a question." His tone was something I'd never witnessed before; cruel and dictating. He was lingering just off the edge of the Alpha Voice, the grisly timbre insisting where his anger loosened on his control.
I felt that familiar, discomforting twine in my belly. The yearning to submit impaled up from my stomach and up my throat, burning. He serious, my omega whimpered, exhorting the want to obey and be passive to this alpha - to Zayn. I felt like whimpering myself. I didn't want this. Zayn was one of the last people I would've preferred to find out about this.
Zayn's tough fingers shifted my jaw up to the side, denuding the mark even further. Ashamed, I tried to bend my shoulder in attempt to safeguard the mark, but Zayn's grip immediately denied me that action and he detained my shoulder with just his pinkie and fingers. Ugh. I wrestled a little, mustering my last string of willpower to hopefully break free, but the sheer tenacity of Zayn's hold refused to be deterred. I was captured. The reality of it had me writhing in a mental pool of regret and indignity.
"Ah- uhm..." I couldn't give him the truth though; I couldn't tell him who did it. I fished around my mind for a fake, decently-convincing answer, but all I could comprehend was an annoying incantation of Harry Styles! Harry Styles! Harry Styles!
"It's quite dark," Zayn quietly remarked, his thumb brushing.
I whined, flinching away. "D-Don't-!"
"When did it happen?" Zayn asked, and I suddenly felt assaulted with his collecting questions. Which one did he want answered first?
But I couldn't tell him that either because then that'd pilot right back to "who did it?" Feeling knotted in the troubling situation, I boldly pressed my lips together, rebuffing to answer. He hadn't used the Alpha Voice just yet; I still hung onto some kind of self-control.
Surprisingly, Zayn hadn't pushed the matter; he didn't even apply the Alpha Voice. He just stood-utterly stilled-with his fingers incarcerating me in the same awkwardly bent position. I allowed it to happen as I was already apprehensive about choosing to ignore his questions. We stayed like that only for half a minute before Zayn's hold loosened, silently granting me liberation. I stepped away instantaneously.
Zayn folded his arms over his chest. His face was impassive, yet his gaze still felt dangerous like he was comtemplating how to handle my punishment. However, as I scrutinized, his forehead started ghosting with wrinkles, suggesting a different emotion. Was he... concerned? He didn't look particularly angry at all... though I didn't understand what he'd be concerned about. A hickey wasn't going to kill me.
It felt like someone had torn out a page in a book just as we were approaching it as Zayn wheeled on his heel and just strolled right back to the ladder. I watched, torn between relief and feeling unsatified. Zayn was acting as if what just happened never happened. Was he allowed to do that? What were his intentions exactly?
"Help me with this," Zayn ordered firmly as he selected another festoon with flat, plastic Halloween cartoons from a blue bin.
I understood immediately, and scurried over, hastily taking the other end. My mind was still in a perplexed flurry as I oberved him casually adjust the ladder to a different spot. I dropped the string to do the same, steering my ladder to an area where I assumed he planned to post the thing. I was timid to question the abrupt silence he initiated.
Eventually, the awkwardness grew too discomforting, and I piped up. "Zayn?" My voice was tiny again, "what are you doing?"
"Embarrassing the name of Sports with kiddy pictures," Zayn answered flatly, thrusting a nail into his black jeans pocket, then he shoved one towards me.
I took it hesitantly. I stared at him dubiously. "No, I mean like... earlier... you, uh- you just..." I plucked at the end of my uniform shirt anxiously, "you just walked away."
"Your point?" Zayn quiped.
My heart was achy as I responded, "It wasn't, like, what I expected. It was kinda a bit awkward, actually." I glanced down at my hands (which were still toying with my shirt) as my face burgeoned with a sheepish heat.
"Then what were you expecting?" Zayn asked, his tone arising as a pique quickly overrode him.
I was instantly fearful and found myself inevitably in another regretful situation. "Uh, nothing specific," I answered rigidly, "but, uhm... I definitely wasn't anticipating for you to just walk away like that."
"Louis," pressed a forceful note from Zayn, "you refused to tell me anything. What else was I supposed to do with that? If you won't let me in, how am I supposed to help you?" His voice was strangled with the built-up exasperation he'd been harbouring for the past few minutes.
"I-I just- "
"Go stick the other end of this thing into the wall," Zayn adjured, cold and rejecting. This was the bad boy; this was the acclaimed side of Zayn; the side everyone else saw... and I was getting a piece of it.
Zayn wasn't usually like this with me, and I guess that's what broke my heart. I felt like I'd failed, that this was all my fault. And it probably was. The mood still would've been bright and impish if I'd of just covered the mark up better; Zayn wouldn't've been dragged into a bad mood if I just kept my mouth shut. My throat was swelling as the guilt infected me, and I knew what was about to happen, but suddenly I didn't care.
My eyes scorched, threatening as I watched Zayn with his back to me. He was miffed, muttering frustrated grunts as he attempted to untangle the twisted string. I felt invisible. I knew he hadn't forgotten I was still here, but a depressed thought told me he wouldn't even care if I just walked away. I didn't want Zayn to think of me this way. He'd never been angry with me before - least not like this. I felt rejected-unwanted-and it hurt - a lot.
Eventually, I couldn't help it. "Zayn," I begged, fluctuating on the brink of tears, "I.... I-I'm... s-s-sor-r-ry...!" I hadn't realized I was crying until cheek felt sticky. Feeling ashamed, I quickly brought my hands to my eyes, trying to occlude the sight I'd inadvertently created. I hated crying in front of people...
I meant to take a step back -hopefully leave- but then familiar arms barricaded around me. I knew it was Zayn, and that was exactly what prompted me to sob harder. The guilt cut right through me, tempted to mutilate me in half. I wish it did, then I wouldn't have to deal with the trapped situation of feeling pathetic.
I pancaked against Zayn's chest as his arm contricted me, forcing me close. My emotions continued to get the better of me, and tears drained from my eyes, sponging into Zayn's uniform. The alpha didn't seem to care. His one hand braced the back of my head and the other rubbed my back. Eventually, with the combination of closeness and Zayn's soft cigarette smoke scent, my taut body and overwrought mind finally found some ease.
We stayed like that for a while, and frankly I'm surprised that Josh hadn't reprimanded us for "standing around on the job." It makes me happy sometimes to think that maybe the beta did see us, but allowed it to happen. Everyone knew Josh was a harsh person to mend with, but I knew he cared; he showed me that not ten minutes ago.
Eventually, Zayn's strapping arms loosened. I lifted myself off of the alpha a little, and rubbed away any remaining evidence of tears. Zayn's one hand tousled with the strands of my hair as I composed myself. Zayn added some distance between us, but still stood in front of me. I felt his watchful eyes on me as I bashfully scrubbed my face and fixed my uniform.
"Start eating more, Lou," Zayn suddenly said. "You're getting skinny."
I sniffled, staring up at the alpha dubiously. "Wha...? Th-That's what you have to say at a time like th-this?"
Zayn looked almost surprised, then shrugged nonchalantly. "Well, huh, sorry. I just felt concerned. I mean, I could feel all your bones through your uniform, Lou. Correct if I'm wrong, but I don't remember that being healthy."
I hadn't discerned my weight loss... but I guess what Zayn said was true though. For the past week, I'd barely been sucking down one meal a day. My stomach barely registered hunger anymore. I blamed it mostly on my energy wasted worrying about running into Harry Styles again and reliving another bullying... but ever since yesterday, that worry had been diverged. I'd started worrying for Harry Styles now. But, nevertheless, the same anxious mind-set never deterred, and I never considered my stomach's side of the story.
"Oh," I muttered, chuckling demurely, "I guess I've just been preoccupied with my studies." The lie skidded right through my teeth. I couldn't remember the last time I actually studied properly. Everytime I did, my thoughts swerved right back to the anxious topic of Harry Styles.
"Well," Zayn concluded,"let's get this crap done swiftly and efficiently so we'll have time after to go to a really fattening fast food place."
I rolled my eyes.
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After work had passed and a determined alpha had aerated me with greasy fastfood, I found myself back at the college, meandering to the omega dormitory. I didn't know why, but something felt odd. It whisked around me, and as I breathed in the winter-warning air, I felt a peculiar suspicion manifest. Much so, nothing visible seemed out of the ordinary, which was until I drew eyes on a particular duo standing-awaiting so-before the doors.
I approached them.
"What's wrong?" I asserted automatically.
Though, their faces -now that I'd deciphered- were stress-free. Well, except for Liam. The beta had his arms folded, but his face was a mangle of nerves. No amount of his confidence could mask the trepidation hiding behind those brown eyes. So, suddenly (and quite obviously), I was plastered curious.
Niall gleamed with mischievous positivity. "We've come up with a plan." His expression teetered. "Well, actually, I was the one to come up with the plan. The beta here just kinda agreed to it."
I should've been concerned with this so-called plan, but first, I was bewildered by the non-accented words easing from the omega's messy mouth. His words were clear. There was no hint of Irish sloppiness. "Niall-? Why do you sound like... like...!?"
The omega ambashed, casting away like a bummed child. "Yeah... about that..." Then, in an indignant snap, he scowled, eyes flaming to the beta. His voice rose, too. "Actually, ask him. He'll proudly tell you."
"Stop it," Liam scolded, a lecturing face to the resenting omega. Then he turned to me, the shadow of ire relieving. He smiled; a twitch at his dry lips. "Uhm. Yes, I suppose I should tell you. You see, when you left for work, Niall here revealed himself from under the bed like a bloody banshee." He was half-speaking to Niall. "It was horrific. He just kept slurring in his own language. I couldn't understand a thing."
"What happened?" I cut, impatiently urging for the point.
Liam shrugged as if it wasn't his fault. "Well, I wanted to understand the lad, but he wouldn't listen, so I spelled him. Took his non-comprehensive voice away I did."
I was appalled. "You erased his accent?!"
"It's not permanent," the beta quickly defended, almost snapping. "It's temporary. I don't got the skills yet for permanent spells. 'Sides, I wouldn't dream of casting one; the Dark Arts is where they belong to, and I ain't tainting my wand with that foul magic."
"Still," I hissed, "you can't do that. It's not civil."
"Why not?" His tone was pressed. "Don't you find it relievin' too, Lou? Now you can least understand 'im now." His eyes were dark slits of dangerous accusation. "Don't tell me you could actually understand 'im, Lou."
"'Course I could!" It was sadly only half-true. It was true that for the past month coping with the omega, I found his accent to be very unkempt and frankly unclear. I'd dealt with it, restrained in the thick ropes of my sympathy to address the matter (I kept telling myself that he grew up with it; it wasn't his fault). Hence, as much as I genuinely felt for Liam's side, I also felt the annoying responsibility to garrison for Niall's.
Liam then flicked his wrist, rinsing the topic, seemingly already wearing an exhustion from it. "No offence, Lou, but we got bigger concerns right now."
"But I thought nothing was wrong," I pin-pointed, touching on accusing.
Niall huffed in dry humour. "Nothing is wrong... yet."
"What does that mean?"
"It means," Niall said, anticipation rising, "that we're gonna be breaking into the hospital. Tonight."
The hospital? I couldn't fathom these two's ideology. "Come again?"
"Hospital," Liam repeated; low, defining. "Niall's sought the illusion to see Mr. Styles tonight." There was a sliver of peeking humour that was unmissable, especially to the likes of a certain omega nearby.
Niall's Irish rage activated again, though the actual Irish -constrained by forbidding magic- couldn't perform on his tongue. "It's not an illusion, beta. It's a fact. We're going to have an actual talk with Styles."
The horror crept inside me and lounged. I pondered those words - that word: Styles. More horror beetled along my skin, and I shivered. Already? I'd just finished wiping away my anxious carriage; now, I was right back to square one, everything else shallowed, forgotten in the futile shadows.
"Why must you talk to him tonight?" I pressed, pushing over the wall of my willingness. I wished not to speak about Harry as it made me uncomfortable, but something about the situation had provoked my sheltered moxie. I needed to know why this adventure was so important tonight.
"Need to know what happened last night," Niall admonished as if it were already obvious. "Wouldn't you like to know what happened too, Louis?"
I already do, the thought sailed without ownership. I remembered the draining of his skin as if Death was hovering nearby, drinking, maliciously enjoying the taste of Harry's life as the boy slowly gave. The sight was difficult to absorb; that's all I'll say.
Then I realized... I must've been the only one who was aware of that. The spell of the black branches had swallowed the glass bowl of the arena, overlapping and shrouding the activity of what transpired from inside. So, consequently, that'd indicate that nobody saw Harry Styles being inspected, lain down, strapped, and carried on the stretcher; however, Zayn had explained a glimpse of the event the public's inquisitive eyes had sipped up before Harry had acquired injury, and that was the bite. I still couldn't believe he was bitten and poisoned by one of those hideous things. His ego must've blinded him from the possibilities of existing inside that parlous arena. And somehow, somewhere, in a small crevice of my mind, a dauntless thought pronounced that perhaps -maybe after all that's happened- Harry deserved it.
And I couldn't bring myself to regret thinking that. Every little drop of karma is his blood on the table.
"I have something," Liam proclaimed, his hand scurrying his pocket.
What is it? He suddenly introduced a collection of ghostly boons -name tags, that is- and I say it's ghostly because there were three - three hospital name tags with our faces, our names, and our information on them as if we actually worked there. A coat of plastic suffocated each one; smooth and glossy. I was scared to ask where exactly Liam unearthed a picture of my face, but if I had to suggest, I'd say it was probably during one of my many empty studying hours with the beta accompanying me in the room. What a bandit I shared in my quarters...
"How- ?" I couldn't speak. Thankfully, accentless omega spoke for me.
"Where'd you get these from, Payne?" Niall demanded.
Niall's hand swept, snatching his name tag like an eagle would snatch a fish from a pond. His eyes remained fixated and sharp on Liam - cautious. It didn't surprise me the untrusting grudge still endured. By doing surgery magic on Niall's vocal cords, I'm sure it only fed the fire.
"I made 'em," Liam revealed. His tone was casual and modest, yet a pride prevailed, demonstrating in his every-so-slight chin raise, his corner-lip arch, and his glory-basking eyes.
Beta modesty. It was common. Liam's nature trapped his attitude in a sensible, professional state of mind. Liam was an obvious character who heeded his nature's chains-the expectations-though pride was still a strong feeling, and I could tell as his face pulled, he wanted to rub this in Niall's face (who was fuming at the moment; averting eyes, exploding red), show him who exactly was the smarter wolf.
"No, you didn't," Niall defended tightly, his jaw holding, his eyes narrowing like a cross woman, "there's no way." He added disdainfully, "Even with witchcraft, you can't create this stuff yet. It's an impossibility."
Obviously humans can whisk mischievous things like fake passes, but with the assistance of magic, these cards could fool even the computer system into believing these were real. Magic is limited though, and I'm assuming -if Liam really did construct these from magic- then we'd only have a day's worth to apply them.
Fortunately, I forsaw the imminent verbal fight stewing, and I instantaneously sought to break the bonds before they cemented. "Guy, please, do not fight again. This is actually getting ridiculous." And, oh God, was it. I could dry up this topic with the many moments where I -the bystander- bottled up my exasperation whilst these two bickered in the same room for hours on an endless time string.
"You want me to forgive this... this..." Niall hands cut the hands in tetchy gesticulations, as if trying to summon the correct word. Then it came, "This CUNT!!"
"Niall!" I reprimanded, though I didn't feel as horrified as I wanted to. I was too accustomed to this flavour of hostility.
Liam, who looked ready to pounce, tightened, as if restraining himself. He -most likely his beta- was desperately yanking back the reigns on himself. I could practically feel the negative energy cloaking him; the heat brushing me like vengeful feathers. It quite unnerved me actually.
His fury was buried, and suddenly the beta released a stiff breathe. He molded a sensible mask, and spoke calmly, though rigid, "Louis' right. No point in aruging if we're planning to work together on this."
"This isn't some cheesy kids show, Liam!" Niall snapped, prodding again for a rise from the beta.
"Niall," I stated calmly, "enough of this." I'm bloody sick of it. I looked to Liam, then to the ear-smoking omega. "Liam's right, too. If this was your plan, then teamwork is something you should be mending."
"Mending?" Niall snorted uppishly. "This isn't something you can simply just needle-and-thread. Omegas and betas aren't meant to get along. We're completely different indivduals."
"Then why do Liam and I get along?"
Niall remained composed-unharmed-from the rebuttal. "It's because you don't see it, Lou," he lessoned. "You don't care to look for it."
"Why would I want to?" I upbraided.
"You don't just want to; it just happens."
"Sounds prejudiced."
"You have no idea." And suddenly, something warped in Niall. His temper simmered, though he developed the shadow of a strange gloom in replacement. His dejected features casted, and his face mapped a particular, unreadable thought which appeared to be the source of this abrupt sadness... yet it was impossible for me to tell what it was.
I noticed this and seized my opportunity. "Niall, please." My tone softened voluntarily, like a parent speaking to a doleful child. "Hours ago, you agreed to get along with Liam for something in return. Now, can you promise me you'll do it again for the sake of a... friend." My throat gripped as I forced out the last word.
Niall looked reluctant at first-unsteadied-, the Irish-y indignation retaliating for a quick moment, though, as he reconsidered, his brows turned shameful and his mouth drooped in his guilty realization. Even as stubborn as the omega seemed, he was still capable of seperating wrongs from rights. Obviously, at times, he refused to admit it (especially when it came to Liam), but right now, it was clear what had to be done in order to attain success, and Niall knew this.
"Alright, Lou," Niall sighed, then he growled puppyishly, "I hate when you're right."
"Right, we should probably start headin'," Liam reminded. "Security emphasizes around this time; don't want bad Wolves to catch patients while they're sleeping."
"What, do they think some stranger's gonna infiltrate and start stabbing the unconscious patients?" I criticized, simultaneously appalled and baffled by the news. Then I remembered. "Oh." We're the strangers. but then I added in defense, "but it's not like we're kill anybody."
"Doesn't matter. We're not authorized." Then, with a confident grin, the beta held aloft the security name tag frauds by their tails. "Not unless we have these."
"You sure we won't get caught?" I asked, suddenly unsure and anxious as I was gifted my name tag. It felt as I thought it would; polished and fake. It also felt heavy, like I was cupping the burden of a lie right in my hands.
I was never good with being bad.
"Just as long as you stay focused," Liam replied, handing Niall's. "And if you follow me," he said, necklacing his on, "I'm sure nothing will go wrong."
Niall looked ready -fueled and anxious- to unleash a juicy, argument-worthy response to that, but upon catching my scolding side-glare, reminding him, he huffed and deflated. It was times like these were Niall was at his most disappointed. It was as if he received his life energy from feasting on Liam's bitter reactions. That needed to stop.
Liam began walking, and -in a moment of face-slapping comprehension- I dashed up beside him, words rushing out in an anxious spill. "Waitwaitwait!" I called, "Liam, I have to ask, before we start, will it just be Niall going into Harry's room?" Please say yes, please say yes.
The question shifted and processed. His face stony and concentrated. Then, as the telegram delivered, Liam's lips unlatched. "If all goes well, then yes, it'll just be Niall."
I don't know where I assumed it'd just be Niall visiting, but apparently I'd been right, so I stuck with it. I had no information on the depicts of the plan, but I trusted Liam, and I also trusted (hoped) that it really would only be Niall who tracked out Harry. Perhaps the omega would inquire about the details of yesterday, or how the alpha was feeling... or maybe Harry wouldn't wake at all and we'd all be caught.
This plan -even as it did not exist to me yet- was flawed. I felt it. It seized me, demanding I did something, though it forgot to tell me what exactly. A foreign pressure to speak up abducted me, though I ignored it, pushing it aside.
And that was my first mistake.