The song for this chapter is Had Some Drinks by Two Feet :)

Tate

I spent hours just sitting on the floor, with an array of books strewn out in front of me. Some of them were photography books, others were almanacs, a few of them were novels, and I was mindlessly lost in all of them, desperately trying to pass the time with anything other than talking to Harry.

I don't quite know why he showed such a distaste for me. I understood it initially, when he was under the impression that I was some undercover mastermind, but now that he knows I am innocent of that, I'm not really sure why I left such a bad taste in his mouth.

Perhaps I was just a nuisance, he did admit that he would much rather be killing people than having to babysit me. Although in my mind, having to deal with a twenty-year-old girl seemed much more appealing than committing murder, but to each their own, I suppose.

From the looks of it, Harry was doing his best to avoid me too, as he sat in one of the barstools at the kitchen counter, hunched over his computer, and typing some things every few minutes.

It's not like I was trying to be best friends with Harry, he still terrified me to my very core. But I suppose all of this idle time was giving my mind the opportunity to wander into dark places, and I just wanted some sort of company to pull myself out of the darkest corners of my mind.

I couldn't stop thinking about the men that Harry and Will killed, or the fact that those same men were most likely on their way to kidnap or kill me. It completely overwhelmed me to think that just last week, I was just another friendly face, someone who would smile at you as you entered a restaurant, a daughter who never misbehaved, and did everything in her power to make her mother happy. And now? I was the center of attention for some of the evilest and cruel people on the planet.

The saying, "it's a small world," applied to my situation in the most painfully high level. How I just so happened to pick up Harry's knife, thinking I was doing a good deed by trying to reunite it with its owner. How James just so happened to ask to walk me home, not knowing that he was in some sort of alliance with Harry and his organization. How Harry thought that I was involved in his field of work, and it turned out, he was right, just in a different way. The way that Reggie and I followed Harry's car to his flat, and now, I was sat inside on the floor of it, meddling through Harry's collection of books.

And perhaps the strangest and most small the world had been? Learning that Harry's father and mine kept identical journals. I don't know why he wasn't willing to consider any possibilities for why that might be, but I had a feeling if I kept pushing him on the matter, it wouldn't end well for me.

I couldn't help but wonder what would have happened if I had just left that knife on the ground. Would Harry and I never have met? Would James never walk home with me that night? Would I still be safe and sound in my own home? Or perhaps it wasn't a matter of coincidence or a wrong place at the wrong time scenario. Perhaps this was what my life was destined to entail all along, one way or another.

My mind drifted to my mother. I wondered if she knew of my father's involvement with this software, and had decided to keep it from me for my own protection. Or my uncle, who guarded my father's journal as though his life depended on it, and maybe it did. Or maybe, just maybe, they were both as blissfully ignorant of the situation as I had been, as I wish I still was.

My heart lurched as I thought of my mother. Thinking of her pacing around our apartment, wondering where I had gone. Wondering if I was alive and if she would ever see her only child again. I imagined her eyes weak from a lack of sleep, due to the restless nights she would spend aching for me to return. I wondered if she even knew I was missing yet, as it had only been a few days. The people that Harry worked for were smart, and even though it made me sick to admit it, Harry was smart. Perhaps they managed to cover my disappearance up, for the time being, meaning that my mother had not yet been struck down by the grief of my absence.

I don't know how long I sat there, lost in the snares of my own thoughts, but it must have been for a while. When I finally snapped out of my trance, my body was stiff from being sat in the same position for so long. I cracked my neck and shook out my limbs, feeling the aches and groans as they finally felt relief as I stood up, twisting side to side and stretching out my back.

I looked down at the assortment of books splayed out around my feet, deciding that I would just leave them there for the time being, as I'm sure I would return to them later.

Glancing up to the window, I widened my eyes in surprise upon seeing that the sun was nearly set, amazed that I had been zoned out for that long. As I went to turn around and head over to the kitchen area, I felt my stomach growl, and I hadn't realized until then how hungry I actually was, seeing as I hadn't eaten since breakfast.

I hesitantly made my way into the kitchen, I found Harry sat in the same position that he was in earlier, his eyes still focused on his computer screen.

I cleared my throat, catching his attention. He lifted his head up and turned to me, wincing and grabbing his neck, clearly, he had not moved much for the past few hours either.

"Shit, what time is it?" He asked, glancing back to his laptop.

"It's almost eight already? Damn," he laughed in disbelief.

I nodded my head, feeling my stomach growl once again, and it must have been audible, too, as Harry suddenly had a look of realization on his face.

"Oh, Tate, I'm sorry, are you hungry?" He asked, and I was slightly taken aback at yet another one of his random bouts of concern for me.

"Yeah, I am," I replied.

"Me too, um...let me think," he spoke, standing up from his chair and walking over to his fridge, opening the door with one hand and placing the other on the freezer, leaning forward slightly to peer inside at its contents, which, from what I could see, were mainly drinks and a few bags of fruit and vegetables.

He moved one hand to rub the back of his neck, letting out a hum as he seemed to be waiting for food to magically appear.

He sighed in defeat, closing the fridge door and turning to face me.

"I could make pasta, I don't have much else, I wasn't really expecting guests," he offered, gesturing towards me with his hand.

"Pasta sounds good, and I'm so sorry to inconvenience you like this," I replied in mock guilt, bringing a hand to my chest and pretending to be remorseful.

He laughed a bit before I continued. "I really don't want to intrude though, so how about we take a rain check, and I'll just be on my way," I chirped, whistling as I walked over to the front door. As soon as my hand twisted the doorknob, pulling it open slightly, one of Harry's large hands appeared above me and slammed the door shut.

I gulped and laughed nervously, before slowly spinning around to face him. His arm was still placed above my head, and he was leaning towards me slightly.

A blush crept onto my cheeks and I gave him a sheepish grin.

"I was just joking Harry, relax," I shrugged, and he rolled his eyes.

"Mhmm, sure you were," He tutted, bringing his arm back down and pointing it towards the kitchen.

"Go sit down, I'll make the pasta."

I nodded and brushed past him, hearing the faint click of him locking the door back behind him, before his footsteps followed mine back into the kitchen.

I slumped down into one of the barstools, placing my elbows on the table and propping my head up with my hands, swinging my feet back and forth beneath me. Harry got straight to work, pulling out everything he needed from various cabinets, pouring water into a pot, and turning on the stove.

With each passing minute, the aroma of the food crept further up my nose, seeming to be taunting my growling stomach. I tried to ignore it and just kept watching Harry, finding it amusing to see someone like him doing something as domestic as fixing a meal. I would have guessed that he just ordered take out all of the time.

After a few more minutes, Harry had turned off the stove and was reaching into another cabinet, pulling out two bowls. He grabbed them one at a time, piling in an enormous amount of pasta into each of them. He set them down onto the counter, before turning around and rummaging through one of the drawers until he found two forks. He spun back around to face me, sticking a fork in each of the bowls and ripping off some paper towels for us to use as napkins.

He slid both of the bowls closer towards our seats, before walking around and pulling his chair back, slumping back into the same seat he had been in for the past few hours. I looked around for a second before standing up, walking over to one of the cabinets. I could feel Harry's eyes on me as I pulled out two glasses, before making my way over to the fridge and filling them with water and ice.

I walked back over to the counter, placing on glass in front of Harry, and the other in front of myself. I peered to the side to see Harry staring at me.

"Um, thanks," he spoke awkwardly.

"You're welcome, thank you too," I replied just as awkwardly, gesturing towards the bowl of pasta in front of me while sliding back into my seat.

We didn't say anything after that, both silently eating our pasta and doing what we seemed to do best. Ignoring each other.

Harry would be a lot easier to understand if he was always a dick. I could put him in that category and walk away, happy with my placement of him. But there were moments that he revealed that he was in fact human. Moments of compassion and concern. Moments where he showed joy. And although those moments were few and far compared to his general behavior, they made it damn near impossible to figure him out.

His up and down behaviors were enough to give me a headache. I couldn't figure out how it was possible to fear someone so strongly, and yet, a small part of me trusted him in a way.

Once we had both finished our food, stuffed to our hearts content, Harry did something that only added to the list of confusions I was piling up in my head.

"Are you still bored? Or are you going to go back to reading or whatever it is you were doing in there?" He asked.

I turned towards him and raised my eyebrows, not knowing what to expect, but curious to see where he was going with this.

"Yes, I am still bored. Why? Do you want to go use some innocent civilians as target practice or something?" I teased, earning a smirk from him.

"Well, as fun as that sounds, I was thinking of something more civilized, like having a drink and seeing what's on TV or something," he suggested, and I couldn't believe his words.

"Harry, are you asking me to hang out with you?" I laughed, the thought of it sounding so ridiculous and unfathomable to me that it made it humorous.

He rolled his eyes at my comment. "No, I just can't stand to look at this damn computer anymore, and I was planning on having a drink and watching television for a while, and you just so happen to be here, so I am inviting you to participate."

I shrugged. "I'll take it. Do you have any wine?" I asked, feeling hopeful, imagining the wonders that a glass of white wine would do for me.

He scoffed at my comment. "No, I do not have wine. I have vodka, bourbon, and tequila. Take your pick," he replied, causing a small frown to appear on my face, and my nose to scrunch up a bit.

I had never been too fond of hard liquors, I drank in high school a bit and went out occasionally, but I usually just had some sugary drink, something easy to handle. But at this point, I would probably drink battery acid if it meant escaping reality for a little bit.

I nodded slowly at him, considering my options before answering. "I'll have some bourbon."

He was clearly shocked at my choice, which only made me more glad that I had made it. He shrugged in reply, nodding his head at me slightly, before standing up and grabbing the dishes and taking them to the sink to wash them.

"I'm going to clean up in here, you can go ahead into the living room and try and find something tolerable on the TV if you want. I'll be in there in a second," He spoke.

"Okay, sounds good," I replied, both nervous and excited to see how this would turn out. I didn't have any intention of getting drunk, but I was looking forward to taking the edge off a bit with a glass or two of bourbon.

I walked into the living room, plopping down onto the couch and reaching forward to grab the remote off of the coffee table. I turned the TV on and flipped through the channels, finding most of what was on uninteresting, before settling on some old Hollywood film. I had never heard of it before, but I'm sure Harry would change the channel anyway regardless of what I picked whenever he got here.

After a few minutes went by, I heard the clinking of bottles in the kitchen, soon followed by footsteps. Harry walked into the room with two glasses in one hand with a few cubes of ice in them, and a bottle of bourbon in the other.

He sat down next to me, which surprised me, and poured some of the alcohol into each of the glasses. He picked them both up, before handing one to me.

"You sure you can handle something that strong, sweetheart?" He teased, and I glared at him defiantly, before bringing the glass to my lips, taking two large gulps of the liquid. It immediately seared down my throat, and I fought the urge to grimace at the taste of it, which was much more powerful than my preferred glass of white wine.

He raised his eyebrows, looking impressed, before bringing his own glass up, and taking three large gulps, smirking at me as if to say he had beaten me.

I scowled in response and watched as he turned his head towards the TV, furrowing his eyebrows.

"What the fuck are you watching?" He laughed.

I clenched one of my fists by my side in annoyance, and took another large sip from the glass, before answering him.

"I don't know, some old film. There's nothing good on right now. Feel free to change it, I don't care," I responded, feeling the warmth of the alcohol traveling through my body.

He didn't change it though. Instead, he just took some more sips of his drink.

Part of me wished that he had changed the channel so that we could sit here and just focus on the television and enjoy our drinks, while the other part was glad that he seemed uninteresting in what was playing so that maybe he would actually talk to me, not just throwing the occasional rude or sarcastic comment my way.

He hadn't said anything though, and so neither did I. We just sat in silence while the random film played, both of us pretending to be interested in it while we continued to sip on our drinks. A few minutes went by, and I paused to look down at the glass, noticing that it was almost empty. I was shocked that I had been able to so casually almost finish off an entire glass of the strong substance in so little time. My head was beginning to feel tingly and my face felt hot, a sure sign that the alchohol was providing the distraction I had hoped it would.

Harry glanced over to me, noticing my near-empty glass. He held up his glass, showing me that the contents of it had been completely drained.

"Do you want another glass?" He offered, studying my face as if to check if I was about to pass out or throw up.

I thought about it for a bit before shrugging. "Sure, why not," I replied, holding my glass out to him. He grabbed the bottle of bourbon and refilled both of our glasses, although it seemed that his pour was a bit more heavy-handed this time.

I continued to drink the bourbon, and after more time had passed and the liquid confidence running through my veins was up to speed, I opened my mouth to speak.

"Why do you hate me so much?" I asked, and Harry looked up at me quizically.

"What?" He asked, seeming like he hadn't processed my words yet.

I sighed and took another sip of my drink.

"Why do you hate me? I know you originally thought I was like, plotting against you or something, but now that you know I wasn't, why do you still hate me?"

He raised an eyebrow at me. "Tate, I don't hate you."

I laughed at his response, feeling slightly giggly from the alcohol, and I knew at this point I was far past just the light buzz I had intended to have tonight.

"Sure you do, Harry. You have hated me from the second you met me, and I don't get it," I began, leaning back further into the couch. "I don't know what I did to you to make you be so mean to me all the time. I mean for fuck's sake, I'm more polite to you and you quite literally ruined my life!" I laughed, although nothing about what I said held any humor to it.

He groaned, taking another sip of his drink and reaching one hand up to massage his temple.

"Tate, I don't hate you. This is just...this is my job. I'm treating this the same as I would any other mission. I'm not here to get close to you and be your buddy. I'm not Abel," he replied in an even tone.

I nodded slowly. "Right, my bad. It makes sense, not wanting to get attached to a person who you will just have to end up killing in the end," I replied, my voice coming out shakier than I intended it to be.

I shifted my gaze to my glass, swirling it around a little bit and listening to the faint clinks of the ice cubes hitting the sides of the glass, when one of Harry's large hands rested on my arm.

I looked up at him, expecting him to roll his eyes or make a joke out of the situation, but he looked deathly serious as he stared me down.

"Tate, I am not going to kill you, I-"

"Yeah, but someone will. Won't they?" I interrupted, feeling bolder than usual thanks to the bourbon.

"Tate-"

"No, Harry. It's fine. You can admit it. Eventually, after all of this, I will be dead. You don't want to talk to me, because I am basically a living corpse. You don't want to be nice to me like Abel is because I'm an assignment. I'm just a mission. I'm just another thing on your to-do list," I continued, and Harry looked like he wanted to interject, but I wouldn't let him.

"Well guess what, Harry? I may just be another name on your hit list, another means to an end, and that's fine. But I am a person Harry. I had a life, a good life. I have a mother who I love, and a job that I enjoyed. I had a very small circle of friends who I adored. I had plans for the future, and none of this was involved, I can promise you that!"

My blood was boiling at this point and the words kept tumbling out of my mouth.

"I'm not just another pawn in this sick game you are playing. My life means something, even if you don't think so. I didn't ask for any of this! So maybe you can cut the shit and stop being an asshole to me and ignoring me all the time! Maybe you can stop acting like I am inconveniencing you with my presence when you're the one who kidnapped me in the first place. Or better yet, just kill me now, go get the key, find the journal, and do whatever the hell you want with it, and then you won't have to deal with me anymore," I finished feeling tears stinging the corners of my eyes.

Harry sat staring at me with one of his hands clenched on his lap, and the other one so tightly wrapped around his glass I feared that it would break at any moment.

"I do not want to kill you Tate," he replied, setting his glass down on the coffee table.

I placed my glass next to his and balled my fists up, no longer wanting to be in the same room with him.

"You know what, you're a great conversationalist Harry, but honestly, I kind of wish you were just ignoring me again," I replied sarcastically, standing up to walk out of the room and hide away in his bedroom for a while. Maybe, if I was lucky, the alcohol would knock me out and I could just sleep this off for a while, before waking up to the same dreadful reality the next morning.

Harry stood up and blocked my path, glaring down at me as he towered over me. But I wasn't in the mood to have him try and scare me.

"Move, Harry," I huffed, shoving his chest in annoyance.

He didn't budge, and he didn't reply, so I shoved him again harder.

"I said, move, Harry!" I repeated, although my voice was much louder this time.

He continued to stare me down, his nostrils flaring angrily at me, and his silence only further pissed me off.

"Damnit, Harry, move!" I yelled, raising my hands to shove him again, but he caught my wrists in his hands, gripping them tightly.

"Fuck off, Harry," I seethed, gritting my teeth and glaring up at him in defiance.

He clenched his jaw and gripped his hands a little harder on my wrists, but at this point, I didn't even care.

"What the fuck do you want from me, Harry?" I yelled.

He closed his eyes and heavy breaths escaped his body, as though he were using every ounce of his will power to not snap.

"I said, what do you want from-"

"I don't know," he interuppted, his eyes shooting open and staring directly into mine.

"What?" I asked, my voice becoming much smaller.

He slightly loosened his grip on my wrists before answering me. "I don't know what I want from you Tate. And that's the problem."

I furrowed my eyebrows at his words, not following whatsoever.

"English, Harry," I snapped, not in the mood for any of his cryptic and vague commentaries.

He sighed. "I didn't give a shit about you when we first met. I honestly didn't care if you did end up dead. I thought you were in on some plot against us, and at the time, I did hate you for it," he began, and I softened my scowl as he spoke.

"But then I found out you were innocent. And to be honest, Tate, I don't deal with a lot of innocent people in my life. So I ignore you. Because it makes the job less complicated. When I say I don't want to kill you, I actually mean it. And I don't want anyone else to kill you either," he continued.

"Why not," I scoffed, "it'd be less work for you."

He squeezed my wrists and let out an irritated huff of air, the smell of the bourbon on his breath hitting my nose, and I'm sure mine smelled the same.

"Damnit, Tate. Would you just stop for a second?" He snapped, and I fell silent.

"I don't know why I don't want to see you dead. Maybe it's just cause I know you're innocent, but that's not like me, Tate. I get an assignment, and all I see is a name, another item on the checklist, like you said. I get the name, I get the location and the time, and I kill them, and I don't feel guilty or dwell on it for even a second," he spoke, taking in a deep breath of air before continuing.

"And it annoys the fucking shit out of me Tate. I hate feeling guilty for what's happening to you. I don't know why the fuck I do! I hardly know you! I've killed people that I've known for years without batting an eye but with you, I feel the need to fucking protect you!" He rattled on, and my eyes widened as his drunken words flowed into my ears.

"So yes, I ignore you, Tate. Because it's easier. Because I haven't wanted to protect anything for the past six years and then you come into my life and fuck everything up!"

"Oh, so it's my fault?" I interjected, feeling defensive as he continued to blame his shitty behavior on my existence.

He threw his head back in frustration, accidentally tugging me closer to him as he leaned back, causing my chest to bump into his.

I tried to step back, but Harry brought his gaze back down to me, and held me there.

"Yes," he began, and I watched in a mix of horror and disbelief as he brought his face down closer to mine, hovering only a few inches away from my lips, and I shivered as his hot breath fanned across my face.

He looked me straight in the eyes, his vivid green eyes threatening to burn a hole straight through the back of my head.

"It's all your fault."

I was frozen, unable to fully comprehend what was happening in my drunken state. My inner sober self was screaming at me to wake the fuck up. My drunken body was cheering me on and high fiving me on the back. I couldn't seem to pick a side, and so I did nothing.

Harry didn't budge from where he was, his lips dangerously close to mine. He flickered his gaze between my eyes and my lips a few times before he slowly began to pull back.

I closed my eyes, trying to collect myself, and I felt Harry's hands releasing my wrists.   Keeping my eyes shut, I let out a sigh, although I am not sure if it was one of relief or disappointment.

I didn't have much time to figure it out though, for only a second later I felt Harry's hands on my face, pulling me in towards him. My eyes shot open to be met with Harry's gaze, his breathing was heavy and it was only at that moment that I realized that mine was too.

"What are you doing?" I asked, although it came out like a whisper.

"I have no idea," he whispered back, his voice so sincere and genuine, that I could feel how lost he truly was right now.

"Me either," I replied, which seemed to surprise him. My mind was reeling at everything Harry had opened up to me about, and although the fear of him was still within me, I also still felt that weird sense of trust.

I knew that most of these thoughts were probably just a side effect of the alcohol and boredom, and that neither of us would probably remember any of this in the morning. So maybe that's what possessed Harry to do what he did next.

He leaned in even closer to me, resting his forehead against mine, both of us panting at the tension and confusion that had suddenly filled the room, suffocating us both.

"Well, then. Let's be lost together, just for now, just for tonight," he spoke, his voice so quiet I wouldn't have been able to hear it had his forehead not been pressed against mine.

I tried to speak, but all I could manage was a nod. Harry pulled back and looked into my eyes one more time, searching my face for any sign of protest, but something in me was causing me to wholeheartedly agree.

I closed my eyes and waited for what neither of us had spoken about, but we both knew was coming. I felt his lips brush against mine, so faintly that I almost doubted they were even there. The touch of his lips against mine sent chills down my body.

I felt his lips pull away from mine and I kept my eyes shut, thinking that he was going to just walk away, that he already regretted his actions.

But I was proved wrong when seconds later, I felt his lips crashing into mine.

The kiss was rushed and desperate, and I didn't know where this sudden urge was coming from. The sober angel on one shoulder was screaming at me to stop, but the drunken devil on the other kicked them off and sent them crashing down to the ground, along with any sense of logic that I had within me.

Perhaps we were just drunk. Perhaps I was just so emotional over everything that was happening in my life that I just wanted to feel some sort of human contact, even if it was from someone who I feared and loathed a majority of the time. Or perhaps maybe, just maybe, like everything else in my life, this moment was destined to happen.

I didn't really care what the reason was for Harry and I's sudden complete breaking of character. All I cared about was how good his lips felt pressed against mine, how warm his hands felt as they gently cupped my faced. The alcohol only added to the sensation as our lips molded together over and over, each kiss sloppier than the next.

Time seemed to stand still as we stood there, completely engulfed in one another. After what seemed like a lifetime, I finally pulled back, in desperate need of catching my breath.

Harry was in just as much of need of air as I was, and he leaned his forehead against mine, his thumbs tracing softly over my cheeks.

His breathing was shaky, and once he finally regained some amount of control, he opened his lips to speak.

"We shouldn't have done that."

I nodded my head against his, already knowing that tomorrow morning we would both be met by hangovers and regret, and that life would have to go on as it had been. But I don't think either of us cared at this moment. Even though I knew tomorrow would be the same as every day before it, and that we would go back to ignoring each other, even though I knew that I would still probably be killed, no matter how much Harry said he wanted to protect me, even though I knew that I had a price on my head that so many people were willing to pay. Despite all of these things, this moment was ours. Even if it was fleeting, for now, just for a little while, it belonged solely to Harry and me.

I continued to nod my head against his, both of us still releasing shaky breaths filled with bourbon, and opened my mouth to reply to him.

"I know."

AN: AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH THAT IS PRETTY MUCH ALL I HAVE TO SAY ABOUT THIS CHAPTER! I HOPE YOU LIKE IT! IT'S A LONG ONE! ENJOY! PLEASE DON'T FORGET TO VOTE AND COMMENT AND LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK! I LOVE YOU ALL SO VERY MUCH! THANK YOU FOR ALL YOU DO FOR ME! xx