thirteen | you love me. (true or false)?

Consciousness smacks me in the face in a rush this time around.

"Hello Liam. Glad to see you're awake."

Where am I? It's the only thought repeating itself in my brain as I look around, more anxious than ever. My hands; why can't I move them? They're tied to the back of a chair. Well, so much for escaping. The walls in the room are red, and in front of me is a window, showing three men; the one talking to me, and the two guarding both doors to the room he currently stands in.

"What's going on?" I ask curiously, pulling at the restraints on my hands. This is the second time this has happened in less than a month. How this has come to this, I will never be sure.

"It'll be fine as long as you do what you're supposed to do and sit there."

The door opens and Harry comes in. I look at him pleadingly, hoping he's in here to save me, but he only turns to face me, his hands behind his back.

"As long as you sit still, this will either go swimmingly, or..."

"Or what?" I call out.

"Time will answer your questions."

The door locks behind him and I try to drag some emotional response out of him.

"Harry."

He doesn't look at me when I speak.

"Today."

"Harry," I repeat, ignoring the voice coming out of the loudspeaker, "Harry what's going on?"

"On the sixteenth of March,"

"Harry," I plead, and he only looks at me with tears staining his sanity before mouthing a slow and somber 'I'm sorry'. But for what, is what I still don't understand.

"Agent Harry Styles has been accused of first degree disobedience, and has been tried as guilty. For this, he is to be expelled from the EYAD, with no pay, no protection, and no privileges."

"Wait," I jolt against the ropes again, "what? You're getting expelled?"

"If he wishes to continue his service at the EYAD, with accepting these consequences, he will have to pass this test."

"What test?" I ask, once again left with pure silence. Not having any of my questions answered is starting to irritate me, but my attention fades from that as Director Axton begins to talk again.

"Liam," he says, standing up, "Harry here, knows the drill like the back of his hand, so I'm going to explain to you."

"Okay..." I murmur.

"Agent Styles broke the first rule of the EYAD; not having a connection with his assignments. He, as the guilty party, has two options from this point. If he has the connection with you that he is said to have, you both walk out, and we deal with this outside of the red room."

"If not?" I ask cautiously.

"If not..."

My eyes widen and my mouth drops as I see the silver gun Harry is pulling from behind his back. No. No no no no no.

"One of you walks out of here, and we deal with this outside of the red room."

He reaches into his pocket, taking out a stopwatch and pressing the top button harshly.

"But--"

"You have sixty seconds, agent."

It all sinks in, and then I scream at the top of my lungs, begging for Harry to become emotionally responsive.

"Harry," I cry and try to talk to him calmly, but I can't contain my emotions, as I'm about to possibly be shot, "Harry please listen to me! Please don't shoot me! Please! I can't--I can't die now! I can't die; please!"

But no matter how much I shout, scream, or beg, Harry still stands with that same blank expression. It's so lifeless, I'm fearful that he's considering ending me. But ending me over what? What could I, as a person, done to inflict this punishment upon him.

"Li..." my head shoots up at the sound of his voice coming out in a small squeak. My eyes pool over with tears again as I try to free myself.

"Harry," I sob, "please, please don't shoot."

"Thirty seconds."

I hang my head and fight the sobs leaving my lips as I try not to think about being shot by Harry would mean (other than being dead). It would mean he really is a liar; that he didn't love me and that Spain meant nothing to him at all. That he was willing to kill me right here right now, and he could move on without a blink of his eyes.

"Harry," His name leaves my lips in a choked cry and I almost see his walls break, setting the sentiment free. But he stops himself, shaking his head and looking past me. His single hand raises, shaking as the gun sits in his palm. He takes his other hand and steadies it, but the effect is only temporary as he aims for my head.

I'm going to die to the gun Harry wields. Harry is going to kill me.

"Ten seconds."

I'm done for by now. He has the gun to my temple and therefore has taken a knife to my heart as well. The times we had means nothing. I am nothing, meanwhile he will always be everything.

I close my eyes and pray to god I won't hear a bullet fire. That Harry will change his mind and the lies I think are clouding my head are all false and I'm simply going out of my mind.

But the gun sounds, and the bullet leaves the barrel. My heart stops along with my crying, pleading, and breathing. I prepare for impact, kissing my life goodbye and wishing this could have ended up differently. Loving someone to a point of death by gunpoint. Wow, nice job Liam.

But wait; why am I still able to think? Shouldn't I be dead?

I zone back in just in time to hear the timer go off and the wall break apart from the impact of the bullet.

Harry didn't shoot me. He shot the wall.

I look up carefully, examining the gunshot and the plywood flakes falling from where he shot. My face is streaked with tears and I can't even begin to control my breathing, but I try to contain myself and listen to what the director is saying.

"So you have decided," he says, looking at Harry through the glass, and then looking at the two men presumably behind me, "untie him."

Harry is completely drained of life as he watches me get untied from the chair. His hand is shaking and he drops the gun as soon as the men are away from me and my wrists are free. I can feel the rope burn singeing my skin and I grunt lowly as I rub it.

They leave us alone to recuperate, but I can't even find the words to say to him. I practically looked death in the face today. And he could have been the one to bring it upon me.

We just stare at each other for a while, at a loss of speech from the situation at hand. His fingers are still shaking, and his eyes are darting left and right in a highly frequent pattern, so I suppose I should start there.

I take my time, slowly making my way up to him, and taking my precious baby steps before I approach the beast. My head tilts up anxiously to look into his eyes that are dilated with tears. I reach out, taking his shaking hands in my still ones as he silently purses his lip.

"I--"

"Don't," I whisper carefully, "don't talk, just breathe...I--"

"I'm sorry," the words slip from his mouth uneasily, "all of this could have been avoided; you wouldn't have to be in the red room if I had stuck to the--"

"Why didn't you shoot me?" I ask him. He sighs, taking his hand from mine and sniffing a few times as he runs the hand across his face in distress. It then resumes in trembling which I had stopped just momentarily.

"Because I think what we have is more than Spain." He answers, stumbling on his words as he looks at the gun that he had dropped to the floor.

"How do you do what you do, if you can't even look at a gun without choking up," I ask him, kicking the weapon he can't take his eyes off, away from his eyesight. I do understand though, what staring at it can do. It makes me want to vomit until I have nothing left within me.

"I can kill someone without thinking about them every day and night," He stammers, "but I would never be able to kill you without killing myself after."

His arms wrap around me, closing me in and suffocating my lungs with his protective, yet panicky embrace. Blocked up sobs leave his mouth as he mutters disjointed pleas and cries. The only thing I can do is stand there, letting him take it all out while I still wait for it all to soak in; from the day I met Harry to the day I met Harry.

-

I sit in my little white-walled room, waiting for Harry to come back to me with good news, bad news, or in a body bag. They say he gets expelled, with no pay, no protection, and no privileges. I'm not sure as to whether one of those privileges is life or not.

Louis is right; the white walls of the room are putting me at ease, in response to the trauma I just endured. For the first time in my life, I looked death in the face, and almost accepted it. There's a lot of 'for the first time in my life's I could list here, but that's the one that sticking out in my mind right now. Along with having sex with a trained assassin and being personally attacked by a terrorist group in my own house.

"I swear," Louis sighs, walking in my room and making me jump out of my skin, "I've never seen him break down like that..."

"Huh?" I mumble, looking up at him as he turns back to face me.

"The Red Room Ritual?" Louis points in the direction of the red room, and I cringe. It's too soon to go back on it, for me at least. Maybe not them...but me? I still have a human heart.

"You saw it?" I ask, "But you weren't there..."

"They broadcast it live," he explains, "in all the pavilions. I was in PV6 when I heard."

"Why do they broadcast it...?" I shiver, horrified, "Why would anybody want to see it? Do they block it out? What if he...what if he did shoot me?"

"It doesn't matter, sadly," Louis explains, "they would have showed all the blood and gore regardless. They use it as a symbol of fear. That you're expendable."

"What...why does that matter?"

"Harry wasn't supposed to have an emotional connection with you Liam," he continues, and it feels like I've heard it before (I probably have), "here, he's admired. He's one of the top agents; has all the awards, he's in the director's mental book of favorites, Harry is basically the best of the best. If he, of all people, broke a rule and got away with it, what would the others think?"

"That they could do whatever they want to..." I answer, and he nods.

"Exactly. They need order, so they show us what happens if we don't abide to their rules."

"Makes sense," I sigh, "who knows what could happen."

"Oh, it's already happened. There have been riots down here in the past, my friend."

"Good," I roll my eyes with a frown, "where's Harry?"

"He's going to be released in a second," he answers me, "don't worry, he's not going to be killed."

"How did you know that's exactly what I was thinking?"

"Trust me," Louis chuckles, raising his eyebrows, "when you've been in this business long enough, you're able to read people better than you can read yourself."

I nod, biting my lip nervously. I'm still not sure how long I have to be here, but I pray it's not for long. All I want to do now is go home to my family and forget any of this ever happened. Then again, almost being shot in the head? That's not going away any time soon.

"So," he says quickly, looking out the doorway, and probably seeing Harry nearing, "I will see you later, at the Initiation Dinner?"

"The what?" I ask.

"It's the initiation ceremony for new members," the door opens in a rush as Harry steps into my little room, "there's a dinner after. You're going to be here for awhile, so they give you permission to participate in all of the activities that come with being a member. It's just that you aren't one."

"Am I going to be initiated..." I whimper, and Harry shakes his head quickly, sitting down next to me.

"No no no," he answers quickly, and I see Louis take the cue and make his exit out of the corner of my eye, "I wouldn't let them do that. It's only your second day here, and both days have kind of been a living nightmare."

"More like heaven..." I mutter sarcastically. Harry frowns, turning away from me and facing the small window that remains in my room. I know he feels bad about what happened in the red room. In fact, anyone would feel bad about what happened in the red room, if it wasn't him.

"How many people go in that room..." Asking cautiously, I wait for Harry to give me a reasonable reply.

"The last person to go in there was...well, me, before this," he chuckles, "but look, I don't really want to talk about it right now, okay?"

"But Ha--"

"Please," he begs, looking over to me and exposing his red rimmed eyes. He looks shattered, torn from the inside out, and I can't help but nod, letting this one fly as he lays down on the bed.

"Come lay down," he pleads quietly, and I nod again, leaning back into his embrace. He wraps his arms tightly around me, burying his face in my back. I sigh heavily, resting my hands over his, feeling the ice cold chills that escape his skin.

"Liam..." he mumbles, sounding terrified, "I swear...I don't want to lose you. I never did. I wanted to leave you alone when I saw you in the museum, but you...I couldn't resist you. I know I put you in harm's way, I knew everything that was at risk when I let myself fall, and I'm sorry for doing that to you. You're too precious for that."

"Harry..." I start, but he interrupts me.

"Please, say you're not going to leave Liam. Not after the red room, please don't leave me."

"Harry, what if we aren't even compatible?" I ask, vibrant memories of the two or three weeks I spent going mentally insane over his departure making their entrance, "The only time we had together, when things were slightly normal, was in Spain."

"I don't need anything more than Spain," Harry implies, "I knew it was you from the second I saw you."

"Please," I beg him, "don't get my hopes up like you did last time. You don't know what you did to me."

"Then tell me," he insists, taking my arm and turning me out of the spooning position, "tell me what I've done to you."

Does he really want this? Personally, I want him to feel the pain I've been going through, to hear just what he did when he left me alone in his own god damn house.

"Fine," I sigh, "you want to hear? Then you will."

"I'm all ears," he says enthusiastically, and I chuckle brokenly.

"I felt like my heart was ripped out of my chest, and sent to burn in the pits of hell, Harry. For weeks I would come home and sob my eyes out, wondering when you would come to my doorstep, arms open, heart overflowing with love for me. Day after day I hung on to those words that you wrote on that god forsaken note! That the timing wasn't right! That we'd meet again one day! I held every single goddamn word to heart, and you took no consideration to the fact that maybe I fell just as hard as you did."

He nods, maybe not understanding, but at least listening.

"And I promise that I will never do that again."

"Don't make promises you can't keep." I warn him, "Don't."

"So then what do I say?"

"Who said you had to reply?"

"I want to fix this Liam..."

"I'm not sure how you're going to do that. It's already pretty fractured."

"Like life in general."

We lay there for awhile, obsessed the silence that keeps us in. I want to forgive Harry; I really do. I have him back now, but who knows for how long?

"...What time is acceptance dinner we have to go to?"

"It's in PV1," Harry starts, and expects to continue, until I interrupt him.

"I don't know what PV means."

"Pavilion," he tells me, "it's an event in the first pavilion. It's the initiation ceremony for the new and soon-to-be trained assassins. They all have to participate in it in order to be considered members."

"You had to too?"

"Yep," he sighs, sniffing before he sits up, "it's a really fancy event; we get funded by the US and UK government for our services, but this is something we take seriously."

"When does it start?"

"Seven," he states, "at least, that's when the party itself starts. The initiation is at eight. Then the inductees families get the amnesia spray."

"The what?"

"They uh," Harry exhales, hanging his head back, "they spray the inductees parents with amnesia spray, so they don't remember that they had the child."

"Why?!" I exclaim, looking up at Harry in horror as he gets on his two feet, stretching his limbs out before heading to the door.

"None of the families can know that their children are part of this agency," he clears up, "they do it to all the families. It's better that way; safer. The only downside is that you remember you had a family. In which, they still have value to you, but they won't accidentally slip up and release your real name or something."

"So--"

"Come on," he waves his hand, "you're coming with me to my room. I'm sure you don't have a suit in there?"

"No..." I mutter, getting up and taking his hand as he takes me out of the room I've never been outside of (other than being unconscious and dragged somewhere), "no I don't."

"What were you saying?" he asks as he presses the code in to shut the door.

"So your family doesn't remember you either?" I ask, and he tenses.

"Something like that..." I hear him utter under his breath, "but anyway, come on. I'm sure I'll give you the tour tomorrow, but at least you'll see the fourth floor."

"How many floors are there?"

"Five," Harry begins to recite, "floor one is the cameo floor--"

"What's that?" I ask.

"Okay," he smirks, "let me start from here; all our floors go backwards. Floor one is all the way upstairs. Floor one is upstairs, and floor five is underground."

"Wait," I stop him and he giggles, which surprises me, "so we're underground right now?"

"Yeah," he says.

"Then why do I have a window in my room?"

"People that work for us work outside of the building too," he explains with an amused expression, "it's quite bright underground, if you think about it--"

"Just tell me what the cameo floor is," I whine as we walk through hoards of people. People of various shapes and sizes are passing by, and as Harry holds my hand tightly while we walk, each and every one stops to stare. Louis must not have been kidding when he said that Harry was practically MVP of this place.

"Okay okay, it's the floor that basically disguises us. Regular people walk in and out every day. Upstairs, they pay the rent so our base can stay here. They know we're down here."

"Oh..." I mumble, "floor two?"

"The pavilion floor," he responds, "all eight pavilions are located on that floor, and are quite big in size. That's where we're going tonight."

"Floor three?"

"Training, and weapons. Everyone trains on floor three. But where they train on the floor? That all depends on age and rank. And the weapons team does their work up there too. Hopefully, we can avoid that floor, for your sake."

"Okay...floor four?"

"We're on it right now; living quarters. For the agents, and for the stray assignments. Like you, of course. And the red room happens to be at the end of the hall..."

"Good to know..." I mutter, "floor five, presumably the last floor?"

"Yep; Director Axton's floor, and where all the prisoners are held."

"Director Axton? Is he--"

"The guy with the timer," Harry nods numbly as we approach two double doors, "yeah, that's him."

Lovely. I have a sick feeling in my gut that I'll be finding myself on each and every one of those floors, whether Harry has a say in it or not.

He pushes the door open to reveal a room with four wide doors. I take note of the letters engraved in each of them; H, L, B, and N. N? For who?

"Harry!" I hear Louis voice as he appears from behind the door with an 'L' carved in it, "You're not dead yet! Would you look at that!"

"Shut up you fucking weasel," I hear him chuckle (quite cutely, to be honest) as he grabs Louis arm.The wrestle until their on the floor, practically beating each other up with what look like jujitsu throws.

"Are you guys ready yet?!" I hear a voice come from the 'N' door, one coated with a thick Irish accent, "Because I swear to God, if you're not ready, and making all that noise, I'm gonna end you both!"

"Shut up Niall!" Louis shouts from underneath Harry, who rolls off of him in a huff. The 'N' door opens to reveal a man, probably just as old as Harry, with slightly brunette hair, blonde tips scattered all over his head. He's without a shirt, and I can see the few tattoos that litter his pale skin, most of them lining up on his arm. He's quite the character, and looks like he could snap me in half without trying.

"Niall?" I ask, somewhat quietly, but loud enough for them to hear. All three look at me, surprised that I spoke up.

"Who's this?" Niall, presumably, asks as he walks up to me.

"That," Harry states, getting off of the floor, 'is Liam."

"Red room Liam?" He asks, and I groan, a small, stretched out 'what' escaping my lips.

"What?"

"Am I really only going to be known for the red room?"

"For today at least," Niall tells me honestly, "Trust me, when there's a red room session, no one forgets it for awhile."

"Harry," I say, exasperated, "why am I here?"

"Right," he says, reaching down to take my hand, "you don't have clothes."

The other two boys start to coo like middle school boys, which distracts me from asking who's behind the 'B' door.

Harry opens his own door, leading me inside to his living quarters. They're definitely much nicer than mine, and looking around, I wonder why he doesn't just live here instead of buying houses.

"So," he says, leaning back on the wall, "this is where I stay."

"It's nice," I say, looking around at his room. He lives in a clean environment, just as I expected.

"Alright," he says, "let's get you some clothes."

He walks towards his closet, which I hadn't seen earlier, looking through the clothes he has. I take this time to ask my question.

"Who's behind the 'B' door?"

"I knew you were gonna ask," he smirks, turning around and setting a suit down on the bed, "that's for you. And it's a long story."

"Of course it is..." I roll my eyes, and Harry sighs, sitting down next to me.

"You know," he says, "there's a pilot here. Her name is Estella Montgomery, and she just flies us around. She knows less than you, along with many other people. You aren't alone in that sense. It just takes awhile to find a way to explain everything without scaring you away."

"But," I sigh, "okay, I...we'll talk about this later, I guess."

"Hey," he says, reaching down to turn my head up to him. He leans in, pressing his lips to mine in a smooth manner. I kiss back only softly, not wanting him to think that a single kiss could drag me back into it full fledged.

"I'm going to get dressed," Harry fiddles with the ends of his shirt, "do you mind if I...?"

"No," I say, watching as he takes his shirt off, "I don't mind at all."

But I know that it's all I can think about. No, not his shirtless tattooed body, but the fact that my cluelessness may be the death of me.

oooo next chapter gon be lit.
(note that the red room in the marvel cinematic universe was not what inspired the red room for this book. i just really liked the gif)