the song for this chapter is "Breathe," by ZABO :) 

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Breathe in, breathe out

Breathe in, breathe out.

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Tate

     "No, no, no. Don't hold the gun like that," Harry scolded, walking up to me and shaking his head.

 I huffed in frustration as he placed his hands over mine and swiftly removed the gun from what I thought was a vice grip in between my hands.

  "If you hold it like that, it makes it ten times easier for your attacker to disarm you," he explained and showed me how to properly hold it.

  "Okay, got it," I sighed. "Are you sure this place is secure?" I sighed.

Harry and I had driven to yet another one of Whit's safe houses. I don't understand how he can have so many houses scattered across the globe as he did, the whole idea of it seeming a bit surreal to me.

   Harry and I were currently in the backyard, which was fenced in. When I had asked Harry why we didn't just stay here, he explained that he thought a hotel would be a better choice, as it was more difficult for just anyone to get in there.

  "Yes, I am sure. And even if it wasn't, I think that we have more than enough weapons to defend ourselves," he laughed, gesturing to the masses of artillery scattered about. 

    "Okay, so now that I know hold to hold a gun-" I started, but Harry was quick to cut me off.

 "Now that you know how to hold this gun," he corrected, once again glancing down to the various types of guns spread out on the ground. "You need to master more than one type of gun, you never know which one will be available to you in a crisis, and therefore, you need to know how to handle them all."

   "Do you really think I'm going to be able to carry a machine gun with me? What am I supposed to do? Call Mary Poppins and ask her if I can borrow that magical bag of hers?" I cried out in frustration. 

   Harry's eyes twinkled in amusement at my little outburst, and he pursed his lips together, and I could tell that he was trying to hold back his laughter. 

  "No, I do not think that you will just have a machine gun strapped to your back while you are out and about. But your attacker might, and I can teach you how to disarm them," he explained, and I felt my cheeks redden slightly.

   "Oh," is all I managed to mumble back. 

  "Okay, you know what? We will master the rest of those later. How about we do some target practice?" He suggested, handing the pistol back to me, the cool metal of it still feeling so foreign resting in my hands, but to Harry, I'm sure it was the same as holding his phone or a cup of coffee. 

    "Are you sure? Won't the people who live in this area be freaked out if they hear a bunch of gunshots?" I asked in confusion, but Harry was already shaking his head.

   "There's no one around here for miles. This is actually one of the places that Whit sends new recruits to do some of their training. I came here for my own training when I first started," he replied.

    My face softened at his words. I couldn't even begin to imagine being taken here at sixteen, trained to fight and kill. I wondered how someone who had been through as many things as Harry had managed to still have such a soft and tender heart, even though he didn't show it to many people. 

    "Oh, really? You didn't tell me that," I replied softly.

   Harry nodded back at me with his lips pressed into a firm line, glancing around at his surroundings as if he were recalling a memory. 

  "Yep, I stayed here for about three weeks when I was sixteen. Whit came with me, and he and some other of the guys helped to train me. It's ideal for target practice since it's in such a remote area," he answered, fixing his eyes back on me. 

   When he registered the melancholy expression on my face, he frowned and furrowed his brows in concern.

  "Why do you look sad?" He asked cautiously. 

 I gave him a half shrug and a weak smile.

   "I don't know. It's just...I feel bad that you had to go through all of that at such a young age. I can't imagine having to come to a place like this when I was that young," I admitted.

  Harry shook his head and gave me a soft smile.

  "Don't feel bad for me, please. Honestly, it sounds weird, but I kind of had it really easy. At least in terms of this line of work. Trainees at other places quite literally go through hell when they are first recruited, and not many people in this business are lucky enough to have a boss like Whit. Other people have to train in much harsher and inhumane conditions, with Whit, you always had a choice...and a voice, which is something that I have always appreciated," he explained, and I nodded my head, feeling a little bit of comfort from his words. 

   "What about the choice to leave it though?" I suddenly asked, not realizing that the words had left my mouth until I heard them myself.

   I wasn't sure what had prompted me to ask that question, and Harry looked equally as confused as he stared at me blankly for a moment.

   "Leave what?" He chuckled hesitantly. 

 "To leave this. Your line of work, this way of life," I replied, gesturing to the firearms scattered around our feet. "Do you have the choice to leave this?"

  Harry's face fell slightly, and I watched as he reached one of his hands up to scratch the back of his neck, something he did often whenever he felt uncomfortable or unsure about a situation.

    "Oh...I-I don't know. I'm not sure. I had never really thought about it before. Most people who get into this business get into it for life. I had always just assumed that was how I would be too, I never exactly had any other options or anyone to back out for. But that was before..." he trailed off, his voice sounding tinged with the slightest trace of sadness. 

   "Before what?" I asked, peering into his pale green eyes, that looked softer in the subtle light the cloudy day was providing.

   "Before you," he answered quickly. 

  My heart skipped a beat at his words, and in an instant, my feet were carrying me over to him, on a mission of their own, and soon, I had wrapped my arms around his neck, the gun hanging loosely in my fingertips and laying flat against his back. 

    "Be careful where you point that thing, he mumbled into my neck, causing both of us to chuckle. 

   I removed my arms from his neck and held up the gun. 

 "The safety is on," I reminded him, cracking a small smile. 

 A light blush crept onto his cheeks, and for the briefest moment, he looked like what I imagined to be a younger version of himself. Bashful in front of a girl he liked, sheepishly smiling up at her, and once again, bringing his hand up to rub the back of his neck.

  I could tell that the subject we were on was a touchy one, and so I decided to change it.

"So, target practice?" I offered, wiggling around the gun in my hand and giving Harry a small grin. 

   I swore that I saw relief flash over his face which was still slightly pink from the blush that had appeared on it moments before, and he nodded his head eagerly. 

   Just because I had chosen to change the subject, didn't mean that I was ignoring it. I think that both of our minds were still heavily fixated on the monumental question I had just posed to him. 

   I suppose that even if Harry did leave this line of work, a normal way of life would be out of the question. Not just for him, but for me as well. 

  Prior to meeting Harry and encountering all of the extremely abnormal things that came along with him, I had always pictured a pretty normal future for myself. 

   Sure, I had hopes and dreams, hobbies of my own, but I never really pushed myself too far out of the box that I had built for myself. 

  I planned on maybe getting married if I found someone that I truly loved and wanted to spend the rest of my life with, probably having some kids, and having a small apartment, or maybe a house, if I could be so lucky.     

   But now?

   I didn't really know what I wanted for my life. But I did know who I wanted to be a part of it.

   Harry.

 After everything we had been through, I don't think there's anyone else I could ever picture myself being with. And I was perfectly fine with that. 

  All criminal affairs aside, Harry had made me realize that just because I had lived an ordinary life up to this point, it didn't mean that I couldn't live an extraordinary one from here on out.

  So, as I said, no matter what happens to Harry career-wise, I think that normal was completely out of the question for both of us. 

  Harry was currently setting up the target practice boards in various locations throughout the yard. He looked so excited, like a dad about to teach his son how to play catch for the first time. 

    Except instead of throwing a ball, we would be firing bullets. 

"Okay! I think we are all set!" He exclaimed excitedly, clapping his hands together and rubbing them against each other.

    He looked so proud of his set up, and I laughed as I lazily made my way over to him, clutching the gun in my hand as if it were a purse, swinging my arm gently back and forth as I walked. 

  "Okay, so, remember when you shot that guy back in Scotland?" He asked as if that was something that could just slip my mind. 

 I laughed incredulously at him. "Yes, Harry. I remember that."

 He brought up his hand to lightly smack his face, realizing that while that may have been a normal question to him, in my case, it was rather outlandish. But I had a feeling that it would regrettably become more normal to me as time went on.

  "Okay, well...anyways. Fuck, that was stupid of me, sorry," he laughed. "But, as I was saying, that was a really incredible aim that you had, and also very smart to stab the other guy as well. However, while your aim was amazing, you need to make sure that your aim is always that accurate. It's like how even the best athletes practice the same things over and over, just to make sure that any time they compete, they give nothing but their best, and make it like muscle memory," he explained and I nodded at him to continue.

   "It's the same way with shooting a gun," he shrugged but hesitated afterward. "Okay, so, it's not really the same situation, giving that kicking a football and shooting a person is on very different spectrums, but the idea of developing muscle memory for both is the same," He corrected himself, chuckling lightly. 

   I laughed along with him and gently patted his shoulder in encouragement. "I get what you're trying to say. So, you want me to practice until hitting the target every time becomes second nature?" I questioned, and he nodded quickly. 

  "Exactly. Sometimes when you have a lot of adrenaline going, you can do things that you normally wouldn't be able to. Your body's natural instinct of fight or flight kicks in, and sort of takes over, doing whatever it believes is necessary in order to save your life. That adrenaline probably helped you aim better when you shot that guy, but you're also probably just a natural," he winked, causing me to roll my eyes, but I couldn't fight the smile that followed.

  "Gee, thanks," I chuckled.

 He gave a little bow and smirked at me as he looked up at me through the curls dangling in his face as he leaned his body down, before going back to standing at his full height. 

    He then walked over to me and placed a hand on my lower back, ushering me closer to where he was previously standing. 

    "Okay, so, hold it like I showed you," he began, and I lifted the gun up and positioned my arms as he had taught me.

   He gave me a big thumbs up and a toothy grin, the sight of him so precious I almost tossed the gun down to cover his face with kisses.

   "Perfect! Okay, so, the trick is to aim the gun in a way that it will still hit the target even with the kickback the gun will provide. Usually, the kickback will cause a person's arms to jerk upwards slightly, so I suggest that when you are aiming at your target, aim it where you want it to hit, and then move your arms slightly lower," he instructed.

   I nodded and flipped off the safety on the gun, before shutting one eye to focus on the big red bullseye on one of the target practice boards. I found where I wanted to make contact, and then, per Harry's instructions, I moved my arms ever so slightly lower. 

   "That looks great," Harry suddenly said from behind me, and I had been so focused that I hadn't even realized he had moved directly behind my body to peer over my shoulder at where I was aiming. 

   I blushed as I felt his hot breath fanning over the back of my neck, and my cheeks began to warm up.

   "Thank you," I mumbled, with a soft smile on my lips.

"You ready?" He asked, and I could tell he was excited.

  I didn't say anything, I just lightly nodded my head in reply.

  "Perfect. Okay, so breathe in, and when you fire the trigger, breathe out," he instructed.

I tried not to let Harry's presence behind me distract from what I was about to do, and so somehow, I managed to tune out my surroundings and hone in on the feeling of the weapon in between my fingers.

    As he instructed, I took in a calm and deep breath, placed my finger on the trigger, and then as I pulled it back, I exhaled.

    I kept my arms surprisingly steady as the kickback of the gun jerked my arms upward a bit, just as Harry had said it would, and everything seemed to be in slow motion as I watched the bullet spiraling through the air, and I was pretty sure that I forgot to breathe again until I saw the bullet piercing right on the edge of the big red bullseye. 

    Finally, I took in a big breath of air, lowered my gun, and slowly turned around to Harry, with an expectant look on my face.

    He looked stunned, his jaw a little slacked, eyes wide.

 "Are you okay?" I chuckled, as he stood there with his wild eyes.

  "I-I think I'm hard," he suddenly marveled, causing me to burst out into laughter. 

"What the fuck, Harry?" I chuckled. "Why?"

    "I have trained grown-ass men to shoot a gun, and hardly any of them are able to hit the target on the first shot. And then you, my badass little Bonnie, nail it on the first fucking try!" He exclaimed, running a hand through his hair to push back a few stray pieces that were hanging down. 

    "Well, I have a great teacher, Clyde," I winked, playing off the reference that he had made.

 Harry tilted his head back and groaned a little bit.

   "You're so fucking hot. If I didn't have to teach you about the rest of these weapons I swear I'd-" he stopped himself.

     "Nope, nope, nope," he shook his head, shutting himself down. "We can do that later if you want, but we need to keep going," he sighed, looking like a pouty child. 

   I smirked at how flustered he was getting and lightly rolled my eyes. 

  "Alright, calm yourself, Styles. You can touch me as much as you want tonight," I teased, and Harry pursed his lips together in frustration.

   I blew him a kiss and he lazily reached up his hand to "catch" it, going to press his hand against his lip, but then smirking deviously and instead, moving his hand down and pressing it against none other than-

   His dick.

 "Nice. Real nice," I laughed, "I hope you enjoyed that."

   He nodded his head, giving me a smug grin and looking proud of himself and his comedic abilities.

    "Honestly, the best I've ever had," he joked, and I raised an eyebrow at him.

 "Oh really now? Well then, I guess you don't need me anymore," I shrugged, turning back around to face the multiple targets. 

    "No! I take it back!" I heard him cry out, making me smile.

 "Shh! I'm trying to focus here!" I warned, but the teasing tone in my voice was still there. 

  "Fine," he huffed from behind me, and I could practically see him standing there with his arms crossed over his chest, messy curls on top of his head, and his lip pouted out.

     I rolled my eyes and grinned before bringing the gun back up and aiming it at a different target.

    I breathed in, placed my finger on the trigger, and breathed out as I pulled it back. I bit back a smile as the bullet pierced yet another bullseye in a target, and decided to test my luck, quickly pulling the gun back up and firing it at another target, then another, then another, then another.

    One by one, each of the bullets perfectly hit each of the bullseyes on the targets that Harry had scattered around in the yard. 

   "Are you trying to make me horny?" Harry cried out in exasperation from me behind me, and I flipped the safety back on before turning around to see him with his hands up in the air in frustration. 

   "Oh, I don't even have to try baby," I teased back, walking past him and placing the handle of the gun in one of his outstretched hands, and making my way over to the table of smaller weapons that Harry had set up.

    "So," I began, running my fingers across the various knives that he had on display.

   I smirked as I scooped up a handful of the throwing knives and turned around to face Harry again, casually glancing down at the knives, and then back up at him.

   "Should we practice throwing knives next?"

AN: I LOVED WRITING THIS CHAPTER SO MUCH!!!!! I HOPE YOU LOVE READING IT AS WELL!! SPEAKING OF LOVE, I LOVE YOU ALL SO SO SO SO SO MUCH! 

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