Legendary // H.S

44.

I've been working down on the main floor today, reading over some more of the notes from the original cutting of the Cullinan back in the 1900s so I'm prepared for the next heist. Harry has been upstairs making calls and ensuring the day is fully planned out. He's nervous, that much is obvious. I haven't seen him this jittery in the time that I've known him. This morning he kept to himself, eyes down and lips sealed while he chewed the inside of his cheek and picked at the skin around his nails. I knew better than to try and converse with him when he was in that state.

Despite the buzz of the warehouse, it's been quiet for me. But now I'm ready to focus my attention back on the deafening sounds of bullets as I convince myself I'm not a damsel in distress. While I appreciate the help from the team, I know I can't rely on them forever, and to be honest I'm enjoying the feeling of shooting more and more these days. After every shot I feel the impact vibrate through my body for hours after the occurrence, the ring lingering until I get to wrap my hands around the weapon again. A voice in the back of my head keeps telling me to run from that feeling, to flee the scene before anyone catches me in the act, but for some reason my feet will always stay cemented to the ground as I continue firing shots at the wall. It's frightening, really.

After packing up my work, I make my way up the staircase to Harry's office on the way to the shooting range. I take some time to stare out at the building, watching people work away on their tasks. It's like a symphony of ambition, the way that people put all their effort into their tasks. No one slacks in this building. Their work ethic is infectious in a way. It only encourages the rest of us. Like every great event, it's always the people in the background that carry the end result, not the faces that represent it.

As I walk down the hall, there are no voices coming from the office. Perhaps Harry has finished with his calls. I continue my leisurely pace down the corridor, the lights brighter the further I go as the few pieces of outdoor lighting through the cracks of the main doors disappear. If I hadn't become so accustomed to this place it would unnerve me with how ominous it is when alone. A few knocks sound through the door of the room, almost like something is tumbling to the ground, which only worries me.

I pick up my pace and rush slightly towards the room in case something is wrong, though I doubt there's much I'd be able to do. My hand is cautiously placed on the handle, waiting a few moments in case there are more sounds. Eventually, another bang sounds as more things fall from their shelves, and I finally find the courage to open the door.

What I am met with is not what I expect, though.

Instead of finding Harry, presumably with a temper, I find two men. It takes a few seconds for my eyes to adjust but when they do I realise who I'm watching. George and Louis. Kissing. Against the bookshelves.

I stand there for a few minutes in shock. They don't notice me at first, their bodies still glued to each other's while they melt into one another. It's gentle, but urgent. George has his back against the shelves, his hands pushed to Louis' chest, while his companion holds his face. Although I always suspected their affections towards each other, I never thought they'd act upon them. George is far too timid, and Louis is too proud. Yet, here I stand, watching them make out as if recreating the scene from Atonement in the library.

They barely even take the time to hear for the door open, completely enraptured with each other. Louis grabs George's leg and hoists it slighter higher against his hip, George's hand moving behind him to grab a shelf for balance. I shouldn't be here, but the image of them finally giving in warms my heart. When they pull back for air, their faces remain close, noses brushing against the other's with small smiles. Louis mumbles a few words that I just about hear.

'Where did you learn to kiss like that?' he asks, not taking his eyes off of George, who simply shakes his head.

Not wanting to eavesdrop any longer, I finally clear my throat. George's eyes falter over to me quickly before moving back to Louis, who has frozen in his spot. Though I try to hide it, a grin has settled on my lips at the sight. Suddenly, the two men break apart, creating more distance than needed, as if they've been caught doing something sinful. I never want them to feel that way around me, but I know it's because it's a moment of vulnerability.