The Runner ➳ Narry (Book One)

Chapter Seven

There, sat on my couch, was my best friend. His feet were propped up on my coffee table, black leather jacket laying on the spot beside him. His dark grey shirt made his blue eyes pop out. He looked at me with a confused expression. 

"What's with the knife, dude?" He asked, his familiar high voice filling my ears, making me smile.  

"I thought you were a robber or something," I said, walking forward and placing the knife down on the coffee table. "What are you doing here?" 

I watched as he lifted his hand, a joint between his thumb and forefinger - my joint - and putting it to his lips, taking a drag. I rolled my eyes at him and took a seat beside him on the couch, him puffing out the foul smelling smoke and passing the joint over to me. I took a drag as well and the familiar, tingly sensation filled my lungs. 

"Decided to come back," he replied, a grin playing on his face as he watched me make a perfect ring of smoke come out of my mouth. 

"Didn't like Paris?" I asked. I remembered how pissed I had been when I found out Louis was leaving for Paris. I had gotten into this drug running shindig with him, he was my partner up until about six months ago. John had wanted him to go live in Paris for a while to run for another dealer. 

Louis was very good at sneaking around, picking locks and lying his way out of everything. I look up to him in a way. He was eighteen and I was sixteen when we starting working together, and he taught me everything I know. It was weird running without him these past months, I felt more exposed. More in danger. But I got used to it.

"The dealer out there was shit," he said. "Only paid me a few pounds a run. I quit a while ago, I just couldn't afford a plane back until yesterday."

I nodded, locking eyes with him. He cracked a smile, showing off his straight teeth. I took notice to the little chip on the corner of his front tooth. It was barely noticeable, natural looking even, but it gave him character. 

I smiled back as he took the weed from my fingers, sitting forward and crushing the burning embers in the ash tray that sat on the coffee table. He then stood up, straightening his dark shirt and reached down, grabbing my hand.

 He yanked me up from the couch and wrapped his arms around my waist tightly, resting his head in the crook of my neck. He was a bit shorter than me, but it was still comfortable. I reached my arms around his shoulders and set them there, taking in the familiar scent of my best friend for many years. 

"Missed you, buddy," Louis said as he pulled away, his hands still resting on my waist. 

"I missed you, too," I replied, my breath hitching as his hand accidentally pressed against my stab wound that I had forgot about. I squeezed my eyes shut. 

I felt him quickly retreat his hand in surprise. I opened my eyes again and saw how he was giving me a confused look. His eyes studied my face before they fell down my body to where his hands once were.

"What's under your shirt?" He asked, touching the little square outline of the gauze Niall had put on that morning. 

I didn't have a chance to reply before Louis took the hem of my shirt and lifted it up high enough to look at the gauze. His forehead creased as he bent down a bit, his left hand reaching forward to touch the tape, peeling a corner up. 

I winced as he ripped off the whole bandage, leaving a sharp stinging pain lingering on my skin. He sucked in a deep intake of hair as he looked at the somewhat deep gash on my body. 

"How the hell did this happen?" He turned and tossed the bloody gauze into the garbage beside the couch, wiping his hand on his pants. I guess the bleeding didn't stop after all.