Dauntless - Harry Osborn

021

           

It wasn't long until we parked at an almost empty lot. I look beside me as Harry pulled up the brake before resting his palm against the gears and sighing. I face up and through the tinted windows; I've read the words "MOTEL" lighting up in bold, red letters with bold outline hanging up the roof.

"I'm tired and this is only the farthest place I know where we could stay." Harry's voice was scratched as he rubbed his eyes before unlocking our doors. "I'm sorry that I couldn't bring you anywhere fancy."

I bite my lip and smiled weakly, "I don't have any problem staying here as long as it's safe."

Harry licked his lips before nodding and heading out of the car as I followed his actions soon. He walked around the vehicle and opened the trunk before grabbing a duffel bag and carried it effortlessly. I look up the sky and saw few stars and no moon. It was windy and cold. I feel somehow strangely satisfied this way although we're running from uncertain dangers.

"I-I haven't brought you shirts or anything." Harry said. "But I think my shirt is fine on you."

He turns around after he said that. He walked briskly towards the entrance of the motel and once we entered, there was a guy at the desk who stood slowly once he saw us. I scan the place and it's nothing but chipped walls and cracked woods that squeak when being stepped on. The lights are not bright; it was more a dim than an actual light.

The man was as tall as Harry. He's quite stubbly and his hair was sticking messily in all ways. He was already scanning me as I was doing the same to him.

"I would like a room and attention," Harry spoke much harshly than I expected him to be. The guy focused his eyes on Harry and cleared his throat. Harry has this distressed look etched on his pale face and whatever he has in mind was not suggestible to be known.

"How long are you staying in?" the guy took out a notebook and wrote. There are only few pages used and Harry eyed him as he wrote.

"A week," Harry answered bluntly. I widened my eyes at the floor.

"Your name?" he asks me first and Harry glared between me and the guy.

"Zo—"

"Zorriet," Harry cuts me off. "I'm Westick."

The guy narrowed his eyes at us but shrugged then wrote our names.  Harry took out a hell of a thick bill before almost throwing it at the guy on the table and snatching the keys from the poor guy's hand as he harshly stepped away as I trailed like a lost puppy behind him. As we are on search for our room, I can't help but speak.

"Zorriet and Westick, really? I would never let you name my child." I grunted and Harry continued to walk. "Plus we can't be gone for a week! You'd all over be the news and mom is going to be sick worried."

"Zoe, for once shut your mouth and let me find our damn room." Harry halted before spatting at me. His eyes are wide and dark and the veins on his neck are protruding.

My gaze dropped and heard him stick the key as the door creaked open. While Harry enters, I am starting to lose my sanity of why I feel like I am not talking to only one Harry. I won't even start of diagnosing him as a bi-polar person because it was a strong disease and I am sure he doesn't have that. That leaves me thinking that maybe he didn't mean everything he said, it was just the damn moment.

The room was terrible. It reeks of unexplainable stain that seems to be left by the last people who went here. The sheets are yellow and crusty while the bed is only one and it's a double-sized bed. I don't even want to start thinking about the time Harry and I shared a bed.