Chapter Text
Louis stood in the back, a cigarette stuck in his mouth as he took a long drag, looking up to the sky as he blew out the smoke. Besides him, Zayn was holding the boy the collar of his shirt, slightly raised in the air so his feet couldn’t reach the ground. There was a knife being pressed over his shirt, just slightly digging in, not enough to leave a mark. Liam stood behind them, another knife in his hand, ready in defence.
Louis felt numb. He wasn’t moving, he had no desire to get his hand dirty with physical violence.
The boy looked terrified. His dark eyes was swimming with emotion and tears that are blurring his vision but refusing to spill over the edge. His chin was trembling, frame shaking under Zayn’s hold. He was sweating profusely, droplets of sweat rolling down his forehead.
He was too young. Too young to die. Too innocent.
Much like Louis, himself, once upon a time.
Finally, Louis asked. “Where are the drugs, Tommy?” His tone was monotone, void of any emotions. He couldn’t feel anything, he didn’t feel anything.
When there’s no reply, Zayn pressed the sharp end of the knife into him just slightly. “Speak.”
Tommy shook his head, the first of his tears rolling down his cheek. “I don’t have them.”
“Where’s our money?”
“Louis…” his voice shook as he speaks and Louis could see the gears shifting in his head, like he was deciding how to articulate his thoughts carefully. “I had to use it. You know why—”
“What the fuck did I tell you?” Louis spat out, cutting him off at the sudden burst of anger coursing through his veins.
The worst part of it all was, Louis did know. He knew all too well. He and Tommy had become somewhat close, despite the six years of age difference between them. Even though Tommy was only nineteen, Louis had taken the boy under his wing and had showed him how to adapt to the life they were stuck in. Tommy had told him about his messed up, his terminally ill mother, desperate for treatment, his dependent younger sister.
Louis was hurting for Tommy because he knew what happened after this, he knew what happened after you betray Chris.
It was only 2am and yet, Louis felt fatigue screaming at every bone in his body. Nowadays, he had become accustomed to the late nights or, early morning. He couldn’t remember the last time he fell asleep before 5am. The thought of Tommy dying tonight was going to keep him up all night, even if he wanted nothing more than to crash.
Tommy was crying now, choking on a sob. “You know, Louis,” he tried again though he sounded defeated. “You know, my mum needs it. She’s sick.”
“So you use our fucking money?”
“I fucked up. I don’t—”
Louis tutted, shaking his head. He raised his index finger to shut Tommy up, not wanting to hear it because he was sure his guilt is going to swallow him whole. He was supposed to help the nineteen-year old boy, he could’ve helped if Tommy had approached him earlier, separately, about his concerns. Louis wouldn’t of hesitated to give him money.
It was too late, now.
“Save it for Chris.”
Tommy’s eyes grew wide, another sob escaping him. “No, no. You can’t do that to me, please! Just kill me now! Don’t take me to Chris.”
Louis’ stomach churned and he opted not to reply, taking another drag of his cigarette and diverting his eye to Liam, nodding to his mate.
Zayn let out a humorless laugh. “We wish.”
Zayn let go of his collar, letting Tommy’s feet touch the ground before he grabbed ahold of his jacket and began to pull him to the car. Their short interaction is over. It’s now time for Chris to take over.
Tommy gave one last, desperate glance in Louis’ direction—he looked at Louis like he could save him.
His chest tightened. He swallowed the bile growing in the back of his throat and at the very least, did the courtesy of looking at Tommy straight in the eye as he was dragged away to the car and pushed inside.
After tonight, he would never see Tommy again. The boy’s blood was on his hands now, too. Another victim, another young boy with potential. Another one. Another person to add to the list of people he failed to save.
Louis exhaled sharply, his fingers cold and numb around the cigarette in his mouth as he took a drag. His hands were shaking as he withdrew the stick from his mouth, eyes shut as he blew the smoke out.
“You coming?” Liam asked as he had started to walk towards the car, pausing to look at Louis.
He took a step in the other direction, shaking his head. “Nah, man. I’m going to head home.”
He needed to go back to his flat and pretend tonight never happened. He needed to get high, he needed a cup of coffee—or four—and he needed to carefully erase any memory of Tommy from his mind. He needed to forget their deep conversations, their banter over breakfast when Louis prepared food for the boy in the mornings he stayed over and they had stayed up all night watching movies and playing cards.
Louis needed to stop getting attached to the everyone who joined the gang.
Liam frowned. “Is Chris going to be okay with that?”
He looked unimpressed. “Do I look like I give a shit?”
The other man looked equally unimpressed but he doesn’t press the matter. He nodded, cutting the distance between them to pull Louis into a hug. They both knew if it was a problem to Chris that he didn’t come back with the rest of them, he’d be hearing from Chris tomorrow.
“See you. Take care of yourself,” Liam whispered before he extracted him, not looking back again as he joins Zayn in the car and they sped off.
Louis remained standing in the alleyway for a few more minutes, just collecting himself. He wondered where life went so wrong, when this had become second nature to him.
When his mind finally stopped swimming, he took the tube back to Stratford.
**
Louis had been a part of the gang since he was seventeen years old.
He had arrived to London with nothing. He had no money to his name, no shelter over his head and no connections to anybody in the big capital city. He only had one small backpack in which carried two pair of clothes, a pair of shoes and a small sum of money that ran out within the first week.
He slept on the streets, under the bridge in Bow and around the area outside Bethnal Green station. Anywhere he could find shelter, he inhabited.
He was a school dropout, disowned by his disappointed family and lost relations to his friends that ceased to exist. He had nothing. He was a nobody.
When the money became scarce, he began to sell his body. It wasn’t the most glamorous job and he despised it, he hated the feeling of grubby old men’s hands on his body, as they used him. In the end, he’d only get a few notes pushed into his hand and pushed out of the place but it was enough for food for that week.
It wasn’t long until somebody had found him.
A man named Chris came across him outside Bethnal Green station. It had been pouring with rain, the wind was brutal and there was, for sure, a storm on the way. He had been cuddling into his thin blanket, shivering as his hair flew over his face and obstructed his view. He was sure he was about to blow away in a minute.
Chris had seen him, introduced himself, took him for a drink and before he knew it, he had claimed Louis as his own.
Louis was suddenly thrusted into a new life: the criminal underworld of east London.
He had been given a choice and he opted for the wrong decision. He had been enticed by the money, by the attention Chris gave him and the reassurance of shelter, of a life.
It had been wrong because eight years later, he was still here. He was still a washed up, twenty-five year old with no ambition, with countless people’s blood on his hands though he’s never killed somebody himself. Louis couldn’t recall the last time he had slept comfortably in the past three years.
But being part of the gang introduced him to people, to the world.
He had met Liam a year after. When he was eighteen, Liam who was seventeen, had joined. He was never supposed to be a part of any criminal activity, let alone a gang. After a few drinks, Liam reluctantly opened up about being a golden star student, straight A’s that led to his Oxford uni acceptance. He spiraled down a dangerous slope when he discovered his parents were having an affair and now, he was here.
Zayn joined three years later. He was skilled, practised like he had done this before. He didn’t need time adapting and quickly, the three of them became Chris’ most trusted members.
**
Louis was jolted awake at 9am by the blaring of his phone.
He groaned, his bones screaming at him with the need for more sleep. He had arrived back to his flat at sometime between 3am, he had drawn himself a bath where he had gotten high and then, he had made himself a cup of tea and watched TV though he couldn’t focus on a single word. He had finally rolled off to sleep around 7am and he doesn’t appreciate being woken up barely two hours later.
He saw Josh’s caller id and grumbled under his breath, annoyed.
“What?” He snapped as soon as he picks up, using his spare hand to rub at his eyes and heaving a heavy sigh.
Josh never played around. Chris had picked the perfect partner, composed and cold. He cut straight to the chase and this time was no different.
“Get to Chris’ apartment.”
“It’s fucking 9am.”
“He needs to see you.”
“We finished a job yesterday!” Louis argued but knows it was a lost cause. What Chris wanted, he got.
Josh sighed. “Don’t make this any harder than it has to be.”
“Are Zayn and Liam already on their way?” He asked, frowning a little because he expected his best mates to wake him up if something was going down.
“No. Chris’ only called for you.”
Louis refused to address the initial dread that swarms through his veins. He didn’t bother to respond, not wanting the fear to leak out in his voice. He hung up, instead, and gets out of bed to get ready.
Chris rarely asked for Louis alone. Only if it was for sexual favours and that was unlikely on a Monday morning. It had to be a serious matter and that made Louis feel nervous.
He showered, washing the remains of Tommy and tried not to think of the boy any longer. He was gone and remorsing his death wasn’t going to do him any favours. He’d never move on. But he made a mental note to do something, anything, in his memory before letting go entirely.
Louis decide to take the tube to Bethnal Green. It was only two stops on the train and he knew the morning rush hour on the car would slow him down, only irking Chris further. He didn’t need to give the man anymore reasons to be annoyed, if that was the case.
The walk from the station to Chris’ apartment was barely five minutes and he walked up the two stories of stairs, turning the lock in the key he had been given years ago when he had earned the trust.
As he walked in, he registered the smell first. It’s no different to any other day—the smell of booze and sex.
Chris was sitting on the sofa, a blunt between his lips and a girl on his lap. He took a drag of the drug, blowing it out on the girl’s face who just took it. Because that’s what Chris was like, nobody dared to defy him and the memory of their times together caused his chest to tighten as always around Chris.
The girl looked young, vulnerable like all of Chris’ prey. Like Louis, when he was a washed up seventeen-year old.
Chris looked up, their eyes meeting and his lips twitching into a twisted, satisfied smile.
“Finally,” he removed the blunt, gesturing to the seat before him. “Come, sit.”
Louis didn’t make a move, launching into the words heavy on his tongue immediately. “Look. If this is about yesterday, I’m sorry. I wasn’t feeling well.”
And I couldn’t watch you hurt and murder a young boy. Who had become my friend. Who was desperate to save his mother, his sister, for a better life.
Chris looked at him intently before letting out a snort. “I don’t care.”
“Oh.”
“I didn’t call you here for that reason. Though, I’m sure you would’ve enjoyed to see Tommy’s ordeal. I can assure you, he’s been disposed.”
Louis felt sick to his gut that the man before him could even think Louis would like to see that. He didn’t know Louis, at all, despite having spent the last eight years working closely together.
When Louis didn’t reply, Chris continued, oblivious.
“I have other news for you.”
Louis furrowed his brows, taking a step further into the room. “Oh?”
“Sit the fuck down, Louis. You’re making me feel uneasy.”
He resisted the urge to roll his eyes and obeyed, instead. He crossed the room, sinking down onto the sofa opposite Chris. Their eyes met and Chris looked delighted.
“What is it, then?” Louis demanded to know.
Chris was smirking when he looked away, patting the prostitute on her ass. The girl got up and wandered out to the kitchen, bringing back Josh with her. Josh, the devoted partner, brought back an envelope in his hand but he doesn’t give it to anyone in the room.
“We have some news,” Chris announced.
Josh didn’t speak, didn’t extend the envelope in his hand to anybody. Instead, he walked to Chris and took the blunt off him, taking a drag. They were purposely dragging this out, trying to make Louis feel anxious. He felt his skin crawling but he waited, not wanting to give Chris the satisfaction of getting to him.
Finally, Josh turned to him. “Harry Styles is alive.”
A moment passed. Two. Louis felt his mind slowing down, the words replaying out in his head a few times but he still couldn’t wrap his head around it. The lack of sleep was making it hard for him to focus, his mind like sludge, feeling delirious. He couldn’t of heard Harry Styles is alive, because how was that possible? That was impossible.
Harry was dead. He had watched it with his very own eyes, the scene on a loop in his mind that he could never remove.
Louis looked at both of them, their dead-serious expressions staring back at him.
“What?” He finally said.
This had to be a joke. A cruel, sadistic way of playing with Louis and it was only seconds before Chris would start to laughing, saying he was messing and cut to what he really called Louis here for. He waited, and waited, but the moment didn’t come.
Chris remained serious.
“How?” Louis managed to say next, looking between Chris and Josh with desperation. “How?”
Josh smirked, continuing. “Someone spotted him,” he reached over to hand Louis the envelope he had been holding. “One of our people saw him wandering around Hampstead, north west London. Pretty boy made it somewhere fancy.”
Harry was alive.
Harry was in north west London.
Harry’s was in London.
Louis’ hands shook as he reached out tentatively for the envelope placed before him. He took it off him quietly, debating whether or not he wanted to open it, unsure what he’ll be met with. Unsure how to react. When Chris coaxed him into opening it, he finally unsealed it and pulls out… pictures.
A set of ten pictures of… Harry. Harry, who looked a lot different to how Louis remembered. Harry who looked a lot older than he ever did, broad shoulders, defined jawline, hair cascading down to his shoulders, walking down a street. He looked carefree and unburdened, a smile sprawled across his lips that Louis never had the privilege of seeing often. His dimples were on display, his eyes still the piercing, forest green colour. He looked… happy.
Louis felt sick. He looked at the pictures until it burned a hole in his mind and then he couldn’t look any longer. He slammed the pictures down on the table, unable to comprehend what the fuck was going on and if this was really real.
Harry was supposed to be dead.
Louis had been there, he had watched the entire event play out. He had watched the final stab puncture being made by one of the members (who Zayn killed afterwards), he had watched Harry bleed out on the floor with a lifeless expression, his soul leaving his body. He had been dragged by Zayn out of the alleyway. He had seen it, experienced it, remembered it. How could these pictures exist, how could Harry be alive?
Louis had a million questions running through his mind but he can only address one: why the fuck is Harry back in London?
The entire criminal underworld of east London knew he was dead. Being back here compromised everything, put him in more danger than ever before. Louis had taught him better than that.
“Where was this in Hampstead?”
“Outside the local Tesco express.”
Louis’ eyes widened, his heart threatening to thump right out of his chest.
Harry wasn’t even trying to hide, apparently. He was back in a city that thought he was dead and he was walking around grocery stores, oblivious to the fact that people knew he was here. Oblivious that Chris was aware he’s alive now.
The need to protect him, to save him and shelter him from the world came back to Louis. The feeling was a force that consumed him, any other emotions ceased to exist when it concerned Harry and three years later, that was still the case.
Chris leaned forward, resting his elbow on his thighs. “Do you know anything about this?”
“I… no. I didn’t, no.”
“Are you sure?” The threat was clear in his voice, he didn’t need to directly say what he’s trying to imply.
“Do you fucking think I’d—”
Chris raised a hand. “Don’t get defensive.”
“I had no fucking idea.”
He looked perplexed now, brows furrowed, deep in thought. “Do you have any idea how this is possible? I thought Harry was dead.”
“You and I, both.”
“Did the man not get the job done that night?”
Louis’ mind travelled back to the unfortunate night. He remembered it all too carefully, the memory didn’t escape him even if he tried. The man had delivered three careful, precise stabs. Harry’s face had down slack. He had done the job, alright.
“I believe so.”
Chris cursed under his breath, vexed. “So how the fuck is this possible?”
“Clearly, I don’t have a fucking clue.”
“You were there. I sent you there to make sure Harry died and the job was done properly. I fucking trusted you. You’ve let me down.”
In the first three years of being part of the gang, that had meant a lot to Louis. He had worked tirelessly to become Chris’ favourite when he had first joined, eager to impress Chris, devoted to him with everything he had. But the illusion of Chris giving him a fresh start to life quickly died when he met Harry and his entire life was turned around, when the truth gave him a harsh slap in the face.
Fuck Chris. Fuck letting him down. Louis didn’t care.
Regardless, Louis nodded like he understood. “I fucked up.”
“Yeah. You did. So now, you’re going to fix this.”
Louis narrowed his eyes, evaluating what Chris is implying. “Fix what?”
“You’re the reason he tried to walk. Now, you’re going to be the reason he doesn’t.”
Louis’ breath hitched but his eyes remain focused, not trying to display a moment of weakness for Chris to pawn off. They remained staring at each other.
“I don’t understand,” he finally said.
“I mean… Louis, I don’t care how long this takes. I don’t care how you do this. But you’re going to find that son of a bitch. You’re going to find him, you’re going to bring him to me and then you’re going to kill him, with me present. We’re going to finish the job once and for all, do you understand?”
It was a form of punishment. It was Chris trying to make up for the fact that Louis had let Harry walk alive from that night.
He balled up his fists, clinging onto any sanity he has left. “Why me?”
“You know why.”
“You’re—”
“You and Harry thought you were in love. It’s pathetic. Don’t you get it, Louis? You’re mine, and mine only. My property. In my group, you don’t fall in love with each other. So you’re going to get rid of him.”
Louis’ stomach flipped, a hit of nausea overtaking him as he tried to steady himself. Every time Chris claimed Louis as his own, he wanted to scream, shout into abyss about how wrong he was How he belonged to Harry, always had.
He stared defiantly, not speaking.
Chris waved a hand, seemingly bored of the conversation now. “Go. Deliver the boy. End him.”
He was dismissed.
Louis grabbed the pictures, as he nodded curtly and got up. He didn’t spare any person in the room another glance, leaving the apartment. He ran down the stairs, wrenching the door open and running to the side before he threw up the empty contents of his stomach with Harry Styles crossing his mind.
**
Louis called for an emergency meet-up with Liam and Zayn.
Their friendship was incomparable. They had met due to the unconventional situation between them, being thrusted into a gang life they had never asked for. But the three of them, together, were undefeatable. They were the dream team. They spent every day of life together, getting high together, conning people, committing crimes left and right like it was normal.
They had a regular pub they met up at often in Stratford, close to Louis’ apartment.
Since they gave up on their loyalties on Chris, they branched out of Bethnal Green and made a new spot in east London their own. Stratford was their new haven.
Louis was already there, on his second glass of beer. The envelope sat before him, the pictures still fresh in his mind but he has no desire to see them again. He couldn’t bear to be faced with Harry’s face again, he couldn’t bear to be taunted by his face again.
The two of them arrived together. Zayn slid into the booth besides Louis, pressing a kiss to his cheek whilst Liam wandered off to order their drinks.
“You okay?” Zayn asked once they’re alone. He reached out to squeeze Louis’ forearm. “Last minute calling for us. I’m worried.”
Louis bit the inside of his cheeks. “I’ll tell you guys in a minute.”
Liam returned with three beers, handing another glass over to Louis as he sits on the other side of him. They sit and wait for Louis to speak, to announce why he had called them here all of a sudden.
When Louis gathered the courage, he cleared his throat and pushed the envelope towards them.
“Look at it.”
Zayn was the one who reached out for it first. He was always the one with the capability to mend and flex to be what the boys needed from him, he was adaptable and always willing to push away his own desires for his friends. He grabbed the envelope, pulling out the pictures.
Louis couldn’t look at them. He refused to. He shut his eyes, draining the last sip of his beer from his first glass and immediately reaching for the second, needing to be buzzed if he’s going to attempt to get through this.
Zayn’s quiet as he observed the pictures, analysing every inch of them before he slammed it down on the table. Liam reached forward to look at them, also falling silent once he realised what it was.
“Is this some sort of sick joke?” Zayn demanded to know.
Louis scoffed. “Does it look like a fucking joke to you, Zee?”
It had only been four hours since Chris had told him, given him these pictures and every instinct in his body had been urging him since to get in his car, to drive to Hampstead and to find Harry. Only to shake some sense into him, send him packing back to wherever he crawled up from.
“What the fuck is this?” Liam finally said, lowering the pictures. “This can’t be real. He was dead, we were there. We saw it.”
Louis shrugged. “I don’t know. I don’t have a fucking clue.”
“How’re you holding up?”
He shrugged, again, non-committal and not wanting to get started on himself. “The worst part is, Chris’ going to rip him to shreds.”
Zayn leaned forward. “What do you mean?”
“Josh called me today morning, asked him to cover over. They showed me the pictures and Chris took it upon himself to blame me for it, for not making sure I didn’t complete the job properly. He wants me to find Harry and wants me to kill him, for sure, in front of Chris.”
Cold blooded memories of Harry filter in his mind. He couldn’t forget the night, ever but he had been trying to push it to the back of his mind. He couldn’t, now. Memories of Harry falling to the ground, the sound of his body hitting the cold, hard concrete, the last look of absolute desperation he had given Louis. He had been begging, pleading. The look of complete betrayal. Of hurt.
Louis had left him to die.
He remembered Harry being dead. He remembered being a fucking coward, how he had to be dragged away, how he threw up in Zayn’s car, how he had been too shocked to do anything.
“I still don’t understand how he’s alive,” Zayn spoke up. “What are you going to do, then?”
Louis gulped, taking a sip of the beer. The concept of Harry being alive was making his head swim, unable to placate a single emotion but he knew one thing. He loved Harry. He had loved Harry so deeply, so hard that nothing else used to exist in his life. He had let Harry down once and there was no way in hell he’s going to repeat that mistake.
There was no fucking way anyone was even going to think about hurting Harry again.
“I’m going to find him. I’ll deal with the rest later.”
Zayn watched him with carefully, focused eyes. “You’re not going to kill him. Are you?”
“No. Never.”
He’d lay down his life before he ever lets anyone touch Harry.
“But Chris—” Liam started.
His eyes snapped to Liam, shaking his head. “I don’t fucking care. Chris can kill me, for all he wants. I’m not letting them touch him.”
He wouldn’t survive if he has to witness Harry getting stabbed again. He wouldn’t make it out alive, not this time around.
“When does he want you to find Harry by?”
“He didn’t give a timeframe,” Louis answers, swallow.
Liam nodded thoughtfully. “Okay. We have time. Let’s forget it for now. We’ll worry about it tomorrow.”
Louis got hammered, opting from beers to hard liquor but it didn’t stop his mind wandering back to Harry. Always Harry. His mind was still stuck on Harry even when Zayn came over, fucked him and left him with a kiss and a promise it’ll be better.
It was still Harry when he falls asleep, alone in his empty bed.
Always Harry.
**
Four years ago --
“Fucking cocksucker!” Louis exclaimed in anger. He threw his phone against the wall, it fell to the ground, cracked and he couldn’t bring himself to care about it.
He didn’t care about anything right now. When he felt enraged, when the fury took over every organ in his body—he found it hard to focus on anything else. He felt like he couldn’t breathe, sometimes and the only way out of the temporary haze was to hurt somebody, unleash the anger on another human being.
They were in the middle of a vicious gang war, up against the south of London. Louis had the task of getting close and intimate with AK, to break him down from within and break him apart. But it wasn’t that easy.
AK was playing games with Louis. He was always one step ahead, just a little more wiser and he was telling Louis one thing whilst acting on another. Every time Louis came close to making some sort of achievement, bring back any kind of news to Chris, AK would fuck him over. In the end, AK managed to get into Louis’ life and stole hundreds of pounds of drugs from Chris.
Chris had beat him black and blue for his sloppy, useless work and had spat on him in disgust.
He was back to his apartment in Mile End, shaking with fury. Harry was sitting on the bed, boxer clad legs crossed, a fearful expression painted over his cherubic face. He had been waiting all night for Louis at the promise of something special tonight but instead, Louis returned home with a bust lip, a broken nose, bruised ribs and he couldn’t breathe properly.
“Louis? Baby?” Harry called, voice delicate like he’s not sure what to do. His voice wavered, breaking off at the end.
Despite the anger, the resentment that was boiling inside of him—he hated scaring Harry. The initial fury melted away, bringing him back to earth.
He turned around, the sight of Harry instinctively bringing a smile to his face. “Yes, babe?”
Harry looked like he wants to say something, opened his mouth but clamped it shut, biting his lip. After a moment, he gestured to Louis’ face. “Let me clean you up.”
Louis sighed, nodding. Another wave of anger rolled off his shoulders, unburdening him.
Harry got off the bed at the permission. His long legs walked him to the wardrobe as he retrieved their first aid kit that they use regularly, it was a must in their lives. He walked back to the bed, sitting Indian style and patting the space before him.
Louis found himself coming down from his high of madness. Harry was here. That was all that mattered.
Louis winced as he walked, his ribs screeching at him in agony but he swallowed it down, not wanting to display any signs of weakness. It was something he was used to doing, to pretending nothing got to him. He joined him on the bed, shuffling forward Indian style so their knees were touching. Harry touched his face gently, fingers grazing over his cheekbones.
“Does it hurt?” Harry asked, stupidly.
Louis resisted the urge to make a snarky comment, simply opting to nod instead.
Harry grabbed the cotton wool, drenched in anti septic cream. He muttered an apology when he pressed it down on the dry blood, cleaning it up. “Your nose is still bleeding,” he frowned as he grabbed another cotton wool, handing it over to Louis. “Hold it down carefully, apply pressure and don’t let up until I say so.”
This time, he couldn’t hold back the groan that escaped him as he touched his nose for the first time. It was definitely broken.
“Do you not want to get it checked out professionally?” Harry said, his eyes concerned lingering on the swollen nose.
Louis shook his head. “No.”
He sighed but doesn’t comment any further, knowing it’s a fight he’d only lose.
“Why did he do this?”
Louis closed his eyes for a moment, feeling Harry’s hand work over him, pressing down on the blood and wiping it away.
“AK fucked us over. He needs to fucking die already.”
“He will. We’ll make sure of it, I promise.”
Sometimes, Louis forgot that Harry was as equally as involved in the gang as him. He, too, had blood on his hands, he’d also fought dangerous criminals and he was also as messed up as Louis was. It was easy to forget when he looked as young, as innocent and naive as he did. So beautiful, so youthful and yet, on the wrong side of the world.
“He fucking set me up.”
Harry bit his lip. “Chris is an idiot for punishing you for it.”
“It’s better that it was me than you.”
He paused from where he’s pouring out more of the antiseptic liquid, frowning but refusing to say anything. He dabbed the cotton wall, pressing it gently against Louis’ forehead and ignoring how he hissed.
Louis, noticed Harry’s silence, and pressed on.
“I care about you, babe.”
It was his way of letting Harry know how incredibly, completely in love he was with him. He couldn’t say those words, but he showed it any other way possible. Harry’s eyes softened though his expression was mostly unreadable, he didn’t say anything as he grabbed the dressing and adorned Louis’ cut on the forehead, pressing it down.
“Harry…” Louis continued to urge, holding his forearm to pause him from moving around so much.
He was finally forced to look at Louis. “I know,” he mumbled softly before withdrawing himself, getting off the bed. “I need to get an icepack for your nose,” he said, leaving the room and leaving Louis alone with his thoughts.
**
Two days later, Louis finally decided it’s time to stop dwelling on his thoughts from the comfort of his bed and to do something about it. He needed to seek out Harry. He didn’t know what to do, yet.
All Louis knew, for certain, was that he was not going to kill Harry and he’d kill the entire underworld to make sure nobody else does, either. If Harry was truly alive, if he was wandering around Hampstead, he wanted the boy to be safe. He’d do anything to make sure that happens.
Louis drove up to north west London. It was startlingly different to the east, it was quaint and quiet, reeking of middle class, white people and their hipster independent coffee shops, surrounded by greenery.
Hampstead was an attractive area of London, though and as Louis drove through it, it reminded him of Harry. The little inner streets, the coffee shops, the big gated houses and the expansive parks. When he used to describe his dream location, it used to sound something quite like this and Louis didn’t feel an ounce of surprise as he drove through it. Of course, Harry would settle somewhere like Hampstead.
He wasn’t sure where to start looking for Harry so he started from the tube station, driving around the area until he could figure out what to do next.
Louis parked out outside the Tesco he had been photographed outside, feeling queasy as he looked around in case he catches sight of Harry somewhere around here. He looked around for a good five minutes and didn’t catch his face amongst the crowd. He took a deep breath, entering the store and walking over to the counter.
“Hello, can I help you?” The assistant behind the cashier asked, a pleasant smile painted over her lips.
Louis’ own lips twitched. “Yeah, actually,” he gets his phone out, scrolling down to a selfie Harry had sent him three years ago. He hadn’t been able to clear his camera roll out since. “Do you know who this man is? I know that he shops here, he’s an old friend and it’s his birthday. I’m just trying to track him down and surprise him.”
If the assistant was suspicious, she didn’t let it show. Her expression immediately brightened upon seeing Harry’s picture, nodding.
“Oh, yes! A lovely man. He shops here for his groceries regularly.”
“Lovely man, indeed,” he nodded in agreement. “Do you have any idea where I can catch him?” He locked his phone, putting it back inside of his pocket.
“Yes. He works at a bakery, a few blocks down.”
“Oh. Right, what’s the bakery called?”
“Des’ Bakery.”
Harry’s dads name. Louis’ stomach lurched, trying to swallow the immediate distaste that grew in his mouth. Harry worked at a bakery named after his father, his immediate suspicion that it was his own business. That was, also, something he had voiced to Louis—about owning his own business, baking everyday.
The assistant gave him directions, even drew out a map with a pen and paper.
“Thanks, darling. Have a good day,” Louis greeted, leaving the store with the paper in his hand.
He couldn’t believe that Harry was working at a bakery. Despite all odds, it was a dangerous feat to be working in the public when he clearly knew the risks involved. Louis knew he couldn’t wish Harry to stay indoors, away from the public but he wished he wasn’t out on display for anybody to stumble across.
Louis arrived the bakery but he couldn’t see Harry working anywhere. He wondered where he was and decided against going inside, simply because he didn’t want to jeopardise anything before he had carefully thought of a plan.
He wasn’t sure how long he stood there. It felt like hours. He chained smoked, rubbing his nicotine stained fingers together to calm his anxieties.
When it was 6pm, somebody stepped out and Louis recognised him almost immediately. Because there he was, in all his glory—Harry.
Though it had only been three years since he had last seen Harry, he looked dramatically different. His long hair, that had been photographed, had been cut. It was now short and buzzed, curls forming around the back of his ears. He looked mature and his body toned, the baby fat had disappeared from his face, replaced with a chiseled jawline, sharp cheekbones. Harry had been working out, that much was clear with the way his biceps was visible under his work shirt.
Harry was beautiful.
So, so incredibly beautiful and the feeling hit Louis after three entire years. He felt like he could stare forever, from where he stood, out of sight.
Beside Harry was another man, somebody he didn’t recognise. The man was shorter but also attractive, he had mostly brunette hair with a little bit of blonde showing. He swung his arm around Harry’s shoulder, drawing him flush to side as Harry closed the shutter.
The two of them walked off and Louis was still staring after them, still absolutely gobsmacked, in shock.
The man he had loved so fiercely, so deeply that he couldn’t breathe was alive, breathing. He was healthy and well.
He could be sick. He wasn’t sure why—whether it was from the fear or the relief of seeing Harry, confirming with his own eyes.
Louis kept smoking his cigarette until the two figures were out of sight. Then he reached for another cigarette, grabbing his phone to call Zayn. They needed to talk. He needed to cry. He needed to get fucked.
**
Zayn came over, as requested, without a single compliant. He turned up with a pack of six beer bottles which Louis took off him hastily, muttering an appreciative thanks. He took a long gulp, swallowing down the liquid.
“What’s going on?” Zayn asked as he sat down on the sofa, opening his own bottle.
Louis sat down besides Zayn. He lit up a blunt, taking a long drag and waiting for the drug to take effect, passing it over to the boy besides him.
“I went to Hampstead, tracked Harry down. I saw him.”
Zayn froze over where he had been reaching over for the blunt, eyes widening. It took him a moment to snap back to action, though. He took a long hit of the drug, eyes red and hazy already.
The three of them had been best friends with Harry, too.
The four of them, together, ruled over east London criminal underworld. They were a team together that everyone feared. Each of them held their own skills, their own set of attributes that contributed to the dream together altogether. The four of them were the best team anybody could come across and they always had each other’s back, taking care of each other until well… until they let Harry die.
They were the golden boys before they had been broken apart.
“Oh…” Zayn finally spoke though his voice lacked any real emotion, empty. “So. He’s really alive, then?”
Louis nodded. “Yeah. Alive and well. He works in a bakery, named after his dad. I think it’s his own business.”
“Not surprising.”
It really wasn’t. Harry had always wanted his own bakery but he had been sucked into the gang life from a young age. He had been eighteen when he joined, Louis nineteen when he had first met him. He had been sucked into the life, abandoned by his stepfather for being gay that had contributed to his spiral downwards. He had attended uni in London and met Chris. It wasn’t long before they were all introduced.
The fact that, as soon as he had gotten the chance, Harry had opened his own bakery wasn’t surprising. At all.
“Yeah. He has friends, too. Apparently.”
Zayn nodded slowly. “Did you speak to him?”
“No… I couldn’t. Not until I know what I’m going to do.”
He was quiet for a moment, taking another drag. “Fuck, man. That’s fucked. He’s stupid.”
The idea that Harry was here, so close yet so far from reach made Louis’ stomach churn in an uncomfortable, painful manner. Barely forty minutes away, Harry had set up a life besides his past and he was healthy, happy. Louis felt envious yet happy, fearful yet pride.
“I don’t know what the fuck to do,” Louis heaved a sigh.
“I don’t want it to backfire. I don’t want Chris to turn on you. If he notices you slacking and not following orders, not on top of your game—he won’t hesitate to hurt you, and you know that.”
It was terrifyingly true. Louis gulped, grabbing the blunt off Zayn.
“I’m not letting anybody hurt Harry,” Louis said stubbornly as he blew out the smoke. “I don’t care. I’ll lay down my life before I do that, I’ll give up everything, anything before I let anybody touch him. I swear to God—”
“Calm down,” Zayn cut him off, squeezing his shoulder and drawing him closer.
They met each other’s eye. Zayn kept eye contact with him as he took a hit of the weed, pulling Louis closer as he exhaled the smoke into Louis’ mouth. Then they were kissing, on top of each other, Zayn fighting for the dominance and Louis giving into him.
Later when they had both came, in Louis’ bed, they were cuddling.
Zayn ran a hand through Louis’ matted hair, stuck to his forehead before pressing a kiss there.
“Go to sleep,” he coaxed.
Blissful after his orgasm and his running thoughts coming to a halt, he took up the offer. In Zayn’s arms, he let his eyes shut and he drifted off to sleep.
**
Six years ago --
“I have someone for you to meet.”
Louis raised a brow at Chris, instantly intrigued as a nineteen-year old who was entirely devoted to his leader and saw the moon, the stars in him. He followed Chris back into the apartment, Chris had been in a good mood all day and Louis suspected it had something to do with what was about to be revealed to him.
They entered the living room and Louis was met by… a boy, a young, impressionable boy who he had never seen before.
He was sitting on the sofa in a mesh black shirt, tight black jeans and a black collar pulled taut against his neck. He had curly brown hair, sticking out in every direction and though it was unkempt, it looked right. The boy was looking to the ground but the sharp line of his jawline was present. He was… kind of beautiful, Louis realised, with a start with caused an ugly feeling of jealousy grow inside of him.
“Who is that?” Louis asked, not moving from the doorway.
Chris walked into the room, patting the boy. He immediately got up, eyes filtering up to Louis. They made eye contact and he almost had to look away from how attractive the boy’s eyes were, piercing green eyes that had a knowing look, like he could read right into Louis without a trouble.
Chris lit up a cigarette before he spoke. “Our newest member.”
“Oh?”
“His name is Harry. He approached me after I made the initial offer a week ago, wants to be a part of us.”
Louis still felt skeptical of him and didn’t want him to be a part of them. He normally warmed up easily to new members, especially with Zayn. But with Harry, he felt the need to keep himself away at arm’s length.
Harry, on the other hand, had other plans as he walked right up to Louis and put his hand out for a shake, confident.
Louis looked at the hand for a moment, not moving.
Chris scoffed. “Go on, babe. He doesn’t bite.”
Perhaps it was insane but Louis liked the attention from Chris to be on him, only, and entirely. He wanted Chris to like him, to favour him above all and for the past two years, he had been working hard on making that happen. It hadn’t taken long for Chris to bring up the mention of sexual favours. Louis obliged easily, even on days he didn’t want to.
At Chris’ coaxing, Louis finally took the hand into his own and offered a tight squeeze, almost in a warning.
It was ridiculous of him to see Harry as a threat but he couldn’t help it, he was territorial.
If Harry noticed, he didn’t say anything. He offered a small smile. “Pleasure to meet you…?”
“Louis.”
“Pleasure to meet you, Louis.”
“Hmm,” he hummed back non-committally, not returning the sentiment but Harry didn’t seem to mind. The smile didn’t fade from his lips as he took a step back to Chris’ side.
That caused another burst of irrational jealousy, blossoming in his chest as he turned to divert his attention somewhere else before he said something he’d end up regretting. He didn’t want to ruin his first impression, didn’t want to disappoint Chris.
“How old is he?” Louis asked, talking about him like he wasn’t present in the room.
“18.”
“Young.”
“Just like I like them.”
“Just like you like me?” Louis pressed, trying to assert his dominance over Chris, trying to show Harry who he belonged to.
Chris’ lips stretched into a satisfied, pleased smile and nodded. “Of course, babe. All mine.”
Louis shot Harry a look like take that, but Harry didn’t seem the slightest bit bothered. The smile on his lips didn’t falter.
Chris carried on talking, though. “Anyway. Since Harry is new, he needs someone to show him the ropes… how things work, how things are around here. I need you to train him how to use a knife and gun properly. You’re the best there is.”
Louis’ heart thumped harder at the compliments. He wasn’t happy about having to cater to somebody else, especially Harry, but if it made Chris proud—he’d do it. A hundred times over. He was whipped for Chris, it was embarrassing.
“Sure.”
“Off you go.”
Louis looked over to Harry, barely able to keep the scowl off his face. “C’mon, then. Let’s go.”
**
It had become a steady routine for Louis to drive to Hampstead everyday. After he had done his tasks for the day, checked in with Chris, he drove over to the bakery just before closing time to catch sight of the boy leaving the place.
It was creepy. It was out of order to violate Harry’s privacy, to silently watch him from afar. But he felt the need to stay there, to see Harry once everyday to ensure he was alive and well. He always say the same man leaving the store with him and Louis figured they must be co-workers. He had new friends. It warmed Louis’ heart.
Louis watched everyday as he smoked until Harry had disappeared down the road before he’d get back into his car, driving back to Stratford.
It was a borderline miserable concept. But it was fulfilling to him, a silent reminder that Harry was alive.
**
They were hanging out in Chris’ apartment the next day.
They had just terrorised and tortured another young boy. Chris had ordered Zayn to go through the ordeal and whilst the man hadn’t so much made a grunt of disapproval, Louis could see the remorse in his face. Zayn was quieter than usual after that. Subdued, playing cards with the rest of them but barely making a sound.
Louis felt sick to his stomach but he knew he couldn’t throw up. Chris would only call him out for his weakness and he’d rather not get into an argument about it. An argument he knew he’d only inevitably lose. The boy had just reminded him of Tommy and he’d be lying if he said he hadn’t thought of Tommy since.
Chris, though, looked awfully pleased with himself. He received a twisted sense of satisfaction to watch a vulnerable, helpless teenager get beaten to near death and left unable to help himself.
Chris didn’t know, though, that Liam was with the teenager right now, helping him out.
The three of them had made a vow to help who they could if they had the chance. They wanted to stop watching innocent teenagers get hurt under the hands of Chris. They wanted to teach teenagers better, to help them not get enticed by the money and the world of drugs that Chris offered them. They had promised to help out in any way they could. It wasn’t much but given their circumstances, they did what they could.
Chris did a line of cocaine, sighing out loudly in contentedness as he settled back on the sofa, sniffing and rubbing his nose.
“Where’s Liam?” Chris asked.
He had asked the question in general to them, and Josh, but his hauntingly, empty eyes were boring into Louis for longer than necessary. It was almost like Chris could read his mind and look into his soul. Louis swallowed thickly, looking away and diverting his attention to the cards in his hand.
Zayn shrugged, still looking shaken up.
Without thinking, Louis’ hand slithered onto zayn’s thigh and he offered a tight squeeze of comfort. He was here for his mate.
Right on cue, Liam looked through the door. He looked disheveled and tired, his hair sticking out in every direction. In his hand were a blunt, blowing out the smoke as he came to bump his fist with Chris.
“Sorry. Got caught up with something.”
“We were just mentioning you.”
Liam’s fake smile was blinding, joining Zayn on the table. “I have a long life then.”
Louis scoffed, looking up from the cards with an unimpressed gaze. “You don’t believe that shit, do you?”
The room lapsed into silence and Liam only offered a shrug, not filing in the gaps. The fresh wound of what they had just done, and witnessed, was clear in the air. Even though Liam had managed to get the boy to an hospital, they all felt crippled with guilt.
Chris got up, walking slowly over to Louis. He stood behind Louis, a hand snaking around the nape of his neck for a minute before withdrawing. Instead, his fingers grazed down the back of his shirt, ghosting over his skin. Louis willed himself not to tense up and react, tried to calm the panic arising within him. He tried to keep his shoulders lax as he continued to play cards with the rest of the lads around the table.
Chris leaned down to whisper in Louis’ ear. “I haven’t heard back from you yet. Are you slacking on this job? On Harry’s job?”
At the same time, he pushed some cocaine onto the table. Louis’ eyes drifted from the white powder, up to Chris’ face that was unreadable. He knew it was a silent way of exerting power. Louis did the line of cocaine, sniffing a little before he spoke up.
“Slacking?”
Chris laughed. “Don’t play smart with me.”
“I’ve found Harry. I just haven’t gotten down to approaching him.”
“I’m not asking for a lot here. I just need you to bring him back here. Why’s that taking you so fucking long?”
“I left him for dead. I don’t think it’s that easy to approach Harry without him running a mile in the other direction. It takes time,” he shot back but regretting the sharp tone as soon as it left his mouth.
Zayn, by his side, inhaled sharply as all three of them waited for Chris’ fury to unleash.
Nobody talked to him like that. He didn’t tolerate it, not from his own partner, let alone his associates and definitely not random strangers. Nobody wanted to face the brunt of Chris’ anger.
Chris sucked his teeth in disappointment but his voice was level when he spoke. “Fair enough.”
Feeling the need to reassure him, Louis continued. “I’m working on it.”
“I trust you. Don’t let me down. I assure you, it won’t be good.”
Nineteen-year old Louis would’ve cried if he heard those words from Chris. He would’ve been desperate, eager to impress Chris in any way he could. He’d feel sick to his gut that he had let down the man.
Today, though, six years on—Louis felt nothing. Absolutely nothing. There wasn’t a single ounce of devotion or loyalty inside of him. He didn’t care.
But he could play the part.
“Of course. You can trust me.”
Chris didn’t look the slightest bit convinced. He simply shrugged, lighting up a blunt as he nodded curtly and diverted his attention to Zayn. He was saying something but Louis tuned him out.
He had to figure out what the fuck he was going to do before it was too late.