Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/10294382.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Graphic_Depictions_Of_Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage, Major_Character
      Death
  Category:
      M/M, Multi
  Fandom:
      One_Direction_(Band)
  Relationship:
      Harry_Styles/Louis_Tomlinson, Zayn_Malik/Louis_Tomlinson, Niall_Horan/
      Louis_Tomlinson, Liam_Payne/Harry_Styles
  Character:
      Louis_Tomlinson, Harry_Styles, Niall_Horan, Liam_Payne, Zayn_Malik
  Additional Tags:
      Angst_and_Fluff_and_Smut, lots_of_pining, Angst, liam_is_an_asshole, zayn
      is_a_pimp, Drug_Dealer_Niall, Famous_Harry, Prostitute_Louis, graphic
      depiction_of_rape_and_sexual_abuse, kinky_smut, Underage_Prostitution,
      Alternate_Universe_-_Homeless, Young_Harry_Styles, Non-Consensual_Drug
      Use, Drug_Addiction, Underage_Drug_Use, Drug_Withdrawal, Graphic
      Description, of_everything, Sad_sad_sad, so_many_tears_fuck, i_swear_to
      god_I_died_writing, Why_Did_I_Write_This?, What_Have_I_Done, Please_read
      with_caution, louis_and_Harry_madly_love_each_other_but_its_still_sad,
      Bottom_Louis, Top_Harry, Crossdressing_Louis, Drug_Abuse, Riding, Their
      Love_Is_So, hurting, Sad_and_Beautiful, Hurt_Louis, Larry_Stylinson_Is
      Real, larry_stylinson_-_Freeform, Young_Harry_Styles/Louis_Tomlinson,
      Endgame_Harry_Styles/Louis_Tomlinson, Kissing_in_the_Rain, Slow_Dancing,
      Dancing_and_Singing, Dancing_in_the_Rain, Endearing_louis, Strong_Harry,
      Weak_Louis, Mental_Instability, Mental_Breakdown, Mental_Health_Issues,
      Stressed_Harry, Stressed_Louis, lottie_is_a_bitch, Anal_Sex, Anal
      Fingering, Double_Anal_Penetration, Anal_Gaping, Anal_Fisting, Explicit
      Sexual_Content, Explicit_Language, Face-Fucking, Blow_Jobs, Dubious
      Consent, Light_Dom/sub, Dom_Harry, Sub_Louis, Dom/sub_Undertones,
      Kidnapping, Gang_Rape, Zayn_malik_is_a_bitch_here, and_so_is_niall, Niall
      is_supposed_to_be_good, but_he_is_a_little_bitch, Sneaky_Bastards,
      MOTHERFUCKeRS, Liam_Payne_&_Harry_Styles_Friendship, Implied_Liam_Payne/
      Harry_Styles, Graphic_Novel, Poetry, Self-written_poetry
  Stats:
      Published: 2017-03-16 Updated: 2017-08-30 Chapters: 29/? Words: 49523
****** Addicted to you. {HIATUS} ******
by enigma_scars
Summary
     Previously known as 'Why?'
     Louis is a prostitute.
     Harry is a Rockstar.
     Zayn is an artist, who is Louis' pimp.
     Niall is the alleyway drug-dealer who works in International
     parameters. He also falls in love with Louis.
     Liam is Harry's manager. He is jealous and stealthy. He will do
     anything to keep Louis away from Harry.
     Louis is broken and bent in ways unimaginable.
     It's all about love and hate and it's a war.
     Will Louis make it out alive?
     To know more, accompany me on his journey to freedom and peace.
      
     Or the one where,
     Louis(16) and Harry (14) are homeless, so Louis pimps himself to feed
     them both.
Notes
     On HIATUS.
      
     Just read the tags and read with caution because, you'll see.
     Just pay caution, it gets bad, only bad.
     There's no good in this fic, no good.
     There will be a Louis' pov.
     Then an old chapter in third person pov.
     Lastly there will be a Harry's pov.
     This cycle will be continuous until mentioned.
See the end of the work for more notes
***** Plot. *****
Louis(16) and Harry (14) are homeless, so Louis pimps himself to feed them
both.
One day Harry leaves, he returns six years later as a famous A-list musician,
to the same warehouse where he and Louis took shelter in only to find it has
been redeveloped into a shopping centre, and the only lead to Louis is the
blond drug dealer in the corner alley.
Harry finds Louis but Harry's manager and new friend Liam is an asshole who
intends to make Louis' life a living hell.
Niall is the sweet Irish leprechaun who sells heavy drugs to people.
Zayn is the classy looking pimp who swears on his life that he loved Louis all
these years, while continuing to pull in High-class, A-listed closeted men to
Louis and convincing Louis that this is the last guy.
Louis is no longer the sweet little seventeen year old whose necessity was
prostitution, but is a well-known 'Doll' who perverted vile men call Mommy
Tommo while doing very bad stuff.
Harry is no cherub, he is a messed up popstar, with a bad past after he left
Louis alone on the streets that night, six years ago. He has paps always on his
trail and he is too much of a media personality and no longer treats Louis, how
Louis is supposed to be treated.
Love is ever present, everyone is hurt, Louis is broken and bent in places he
shouldn't and Harry tries saving him but ends up messing more, Liam is not as
sweet as he seems, his mentality not being fair to Louis' previous promiscuous
way, police can't be involved and Niall is always supplying more coke and
heroine, Zayn is playing with Louis' feelings.
Over the course of three months, Louis is more mental than ever, his addiction
dragging him places. Old habits die hard. And death is ever-looming.
Can Louis be saved?
 
 
THE_COVER
***** Not new. *****
Chapter Summary
     2017/23/3
     Cold day.
     Louis' pov:
     My hands have gone numb and my ass feels on fire, my head hurts, my
     lungs are constricted, tears are definitely blurring my eyes and my
     entire body is shaking.
     This guy has been going in just forever.
     If only I was allowed to talk.
Chapter Notes
     This is a current time chapter in Louis' pov.
     Just a glimpse in what goes on everyday.
     He doesn't want anyone to know, but it still happens. He can't help
     it.
     He chose this.
     Don't hate me, I am just writing it out.
      
     Enjoy!
See the end of the chapter for more notes
"513, Blu Palace, Old Navy Colony. Richard Merchant. 50,000 pounds for three
hours. His file is on your car's windshield, check it out." His voice is gruff
and a bit hoarse, telling me that he has been smoking.
"Alright what time?" I ask as uninteresting as possible.
"Around in the next hour." He says and hangs up.
Alright Louis, you got to get ready. I think as I walk down to the garage and
out the door towards my car to check his file out. It is in a yellow manila
folder. I walk in and open it to find a two-page detail about what he wants.
'Name: Richard Merchant.
Age: 34
Status: Closeted.
Spouse: Divorced.
Demand: (Body/figuratively):
'Slender guy.
Great ass.
Preferably brunette.
Coloured eyes.
Tiny waist.
Feminine features.
No makeup
preferably in lingerie.
Height about 5'7.
Great capacity.
Should accept pain.
Demand (while bedding):
Handcuffs.
Paddle.
Cock-ring.
Name-calling.
Daddy.
Rimming.
Double-penetration.
Orgasm delay.
Silent respondent.
 
Number of people involved: one
Special request:
Tell the person to wear a skimpy dress, a one piece, open shoulders.
The person should not be entirely skinny. A little tummy is good.
And he needs to be hairless.
I am willing to tip for a good show.
Payment:
Advance given £20000
remaining payment £30000'
Another page of confidentiality contract so that he does not say anything to
anyone and vice versa.
He looks like an amateur, does not sound very confident, his signature is
childish, and it looks like he was sweating it.
I get ready silently, knowing I waxed, I am hairless, I have a great blue club
dress to wear, and I can cover it by wearing my faux fur full length coat.
~~~~~~
My jaw is paining from the very rough fucking it had to face for the past
forty-five minutes. My face is glistening and burning hot, my throat sore and
eyes burning. But now I am flipped over.
"Aren't you just perfect?" He asks rhetorically, stroking my waist as I lie on
the bed face down in the pillow, my little lipstick smeared.
My body is so numb, my mind wishing I wasn't here, my heart beating out of my
chest, and this guy is definitely not an amateur and he is too rough. My mind
is reeling, screaming and running away to places, when I feel him poke his
tongue into me and the act that could have made me keen and fall apart is only
sickening me, but I have been doing this for years, I know how to act, so I lay
there, ass in the air, face being mussed into the pillow, my hands tied to the
headboard, my thighs strained from being spread open and holding my body up, my
lungs trying to give up on searching for oxygen, as the guy pokes in his finger
along his tongue experimentally. He goes on for quite some time, relishing the
feel, gladly knowing that he has three hours with me and all I can do is lie
here like a dead man. Silent response is what he wants and that is all I will
give. He has gone from two fingers and tongue to three dry fingers pumping them
as if his motherfucking life depended on it. I stay silent, after all, he
wanted to pay for a person who can take pain.
I take my mind off the slurs he spoke as soon as his mouth was off me, I knew
he was going to spank me now, but I had to remain silent.
15 on each cheek, a little bit down on my thighs and then he was spreading my
thighs further apart. Sliding in between my feet, my teeth gripping on the
pillow cover. He plunged his condom clad cock in me, not letting me adjust as
he went at a savage rate, I still didn't pay attention to his slurs, I don't
even try to grind back on him as he keeps going at the insane speed, his rhythm
not losing once.
I do not talk or make noise as he pulls at my hair, I continue breathing at the
constant pace, in-hold-out, and repeat. He too held his rhythm, spanking with
his hands while his hips snapped into me, my back arching because of his death
grip on my hair. I could tell he was near and so was I, but I had a cock ring
on.
Three, four more thrusts and he spill into the condom, moaning at the feel as I
clenched around him. Even if I hate doing this, I know what I have to do. He
pulls out and before I could breathe in once, my hole is being breached by a
wide vibrator, assaulting my prostate, he kisses down my back, he is revelling
in my squirming as the vibrator is overwhelming my senses, but I will not break
my stance, I remain silent and still.
Within 15-minutes, the moments in where I closed my eyes, laid there thinking
again, I feel another presence in the room. I open my eyes and tilt my neck to
see another naked person standing there, his hand stroking his cock, and I feel
my eyes widen, I choke out, "The contract said only one participant!"
"Shut your mouth little bitch. Sluts like you can take three, what is two? You
must almost crave it, such gorgeous men wanting you, I paid 50,000 quid’s to
enjoy your filthy body, so shut up and take what's being given!" The first
person says and before I can say something to retort, a gag is being placed in
my mouth, the vibrator is removed and before I know, the other person settles
into my warmth, moaning at the feeling. He thrusts violently for a couple of
minutes before the first one says something to him in his ear. My head is being
forced into the pillow, muffling my breathe intake and then almost immediately
I feel his cock slip in, snug beside the other's. I scream out, but my voice is
muffled, I thrash around, my thighs constricted by their legs and their hands
huge on my hips, they sneer at me, slurring curse words. I feel as if I am
being torn apart, split right in the middle.
They both move in simultaneously, as one goes in, the other moves out, they
make a perfect balance, going slower, much slower than individually, I feel my
tears slip out, my lungs giving up and I let this trance like smog take over
me, I again hold my stance, letting them use me, because at the end of the day,
I am a worthless slut, being paid to have sex with men, so what if this wasn't
consensual. So what if these guys are raping me, isn't that's what I am good
at, selling my body, getting fucked into, so what if there's two massive cocks
in my dainty hole, so what if they are almost outlining my stomach, so what if
the guys are laughing at my agony, so what if I am being paid for being raped,
I deserve it, don't I?
~~~~~~
I walked over to where my clothes lay, limping as my tears fell shamelessly,
this had done more damage mentally, than earn monetarily. I hear them laugh as
they speak about me, even more so hungrily eyeing my naked body all the while
talking about how much more fun it would be 'if this little slut would just sit
his cunt on our dicks and ride the fuck out of us both', while the other just
loudly thinks of how fun it would be, 'to just hold him down and fuck him dry
while he screams and starts to fight back, he is so small, fucking him by
holding him down would be perfect, make his cunt bleed, that slut', I couldn't
help but shiver and yelp quietly, ravenous these men, how much more agony could
they cause somebody?
I quietly dress up before leaving with the bag of cash he gave me, along with
an extra five hundred, how cheap do they think I am? I just leave, still crying
from earlier, but I do not want to think anymore. I know just what to do!
~~~~~~
I dress in grey sweatpants and a black shirt with an Adidas hoodie before
driving towards the shopping centre in the corner of Brewer Street. I park at
an empty space before pulling up the hood and walk into the corner alley this
is always clean, cold and dark.
There in the corner, sat the regular head of blonde hair properly quiffed,
black skinnies adorning his thin legs, a black hoodie on and a cigarette in the
right hand, his phone in the left. He hears me come and his melodious voice
says, "Oh, Tommo? How are you baby? Wanted something tonight?"
"Hi, Ni. I just wanted some Mary and Jo. Do you have the stronger one? The ones
like October?" I ask him, standing closer to his frame that brooded over me by
a couple of inches.
"Oh, yeah. You wanna come in, I am alone, no one’s here. We could talk, maybe?"
He asks politely, his cigarette on the ground, smashed by his boot. I look
down, not quite shy but afraid of him, the last time I was in there, Marcus
almost jumped me, I was hesitant, but this is Niall, and he is asking, not
demanding, I have to say yes, he won't do anything wrong to me.
"Yeah sure, Ni."
Yes, Niall was three years older than me, but a well-known face in the works.
He had a nice house inside the alley, a little ahead of the chair he put up
where he sat for sales to locals. He did major deals, international and stuff
but liked a little normalcy by being the everyday Mary, Jo person. He was nice,
and the one of the people I could trust myself with, I have known him for
nearly a decade, so it comes by second nature honestly. He leads me in, his
foldable chair in hand. For a drug dealer, he had a really organized and clean
house.
~~~~~~
I don't know how but in the past two hours, from doing a few lines and a joint,
I had gone to making out with the blonde, and now I found myself on my knees,
eyes watering from deep throating him, and ears buzzing from the calmness of
Niall Horan, he doesn't once push my limits and I let him kiss me on the mouth,
he moans my name and not some slur and he cares for my being.
He comes down my throat, but immediately pulls me up into his lap, embracing
me, hands on my face, thumb brushing my cheeks and he kisses me softly, so
softly that I almost miss it when he pulls back, eyebrows furrowed with
confusion, "Why are you crying?" His voice asks, mellow and accent heavy.
"How are you so good? You never force my limits and you always are so nice, so
soft and caring. You are a drug dealer, you are supposed to be a hardcore
person." I asked him, confused out of my mind. Unknowingly, I tilt my head
sideways and he just laughs, " You are so adorable, why would I be rough with
you? You are a delicate flower, to be kept in a vase and worshipped, not
slaved. And even right now, your curiousness is adorable, you are so pretty,
you do look dashingly hot at times, but right now, you are just cute. But a
cutie that gives awesome blowjobs and those lips look good wrapped around my
cock as well as the end of Jo also on my own lips. I am not made to be
hardcore, we Irish just love."
I blush, I blush hard, so I duck my head hiding it in my hands that were just a
little bit ago were wrapped around his cock, and I blush harder.
"Are you sure you work as a rent boy, because you blush like a teenage girl
when I talk or compliment you." I hear Niall say, before his soft hands pull me
up by my chin and he kisses me, softly. No tongue, just lips, moving together
softly.
An hour after that I leave with a smile on my face, having to not pay for extra
dose of Mary and Jo, and a good make out with one of the hottest people I have
known.
I am a whore, but the idea of kissing Niall makes me blush. Because I never
kiss, kissing is not my scene, I just get fucked and leave. Kissing is too
intimate, for being billed into.
I drive back home, order some Chinese and go to bed listening to Yiruma.
Seemingly having forgotten about my advance that laid with the hazel-eyed
hottie, my boyfriend.
Actions
 
Chapter End Notes
     Leave some feedback!!
     All the love,
     M
***** Baby Green boy. *****
Chapter Summary
     Now, Louis wasn't always homeless. He came from one of those families
     where there was no definite dad, an unknown father and a mother who
     was high and sobriety was a far off reality.
     So, one day, when Louis was six, his mother went out after putting
     Louis to bed and told him that no matter what happens, he wouldn't
     come out, no matter what, so Louis being the scared and obedient
     child he was, promised her.
     She left, and Louis was woken up by the sound of sirens. He heard
     people break down the front door, so Louis hid, he hid in the
     basement which had another secret hide away.
     The people never found him, even after it was locked up, no one still
     found him. The government itself unaware of the child's existence.
     Louis didn't wait for forever. Around ten days later, he gave up hope
     of ever finding his mum.
     For a year he fed off of what was being given to him by the nice
     ladies at Brewer Street, behind Greek Street in the heart of London.
     Then one day, he stumbled upon a boy, younger, smaller, with blonde
     hair, green eyes, rimmed red and a sad frown.
     When green met blue, it was a shock wave of cinematically dramatic
     stances of care and need, a magnetic couple.
Chapter Notes
     Past chapter.
     In these chapters, marked past chapters, we get a background
     coverage, a story of what went down where, when, with whom and why.
     Read with caution, and no I am not determining anybody's real
     behaviour. This is a work of fiction and none of these characters are
     real in life.
     Everything is a work of my imagination and am sorry for having such a
     twisted mind that throws out such stuff.
     I do NOT ENJOY HURTING MY CHARACTERS, THEY JUST MAKE HARSH DECISIONS,
     THAT ARE NOT LOGICALLY VALID, BUT WHO GIVES A SHIT ABOUT LOGIC WHEN
     NEED, GREED, LOVE AND LUST SMOG YOUR MIND.
      
     Thanks for reading this unnecessary AN.
     All the love,
     M
See the end of the chapter for more notes
It was not always the life of a prostitute for Della; she was a nice woman,
graduated high school. Had good grades. Had a good family.
It was the person she loved.
At the age of eighteen, Della Styles decided it would be a good idea to move in
with her 25-year-old boyfriend. Who had any idea that he was a pimp? A man who
pushed so many unsuspecting young girls into this harsh business. But he did
and she was done with.
At the age of 25, Della or Dolly, her new name was told that she is three
months pregnant and not down with the flu.
At the age of 26, she gave birth to a boy, who looked nothing like her. He had
green eyes, blonde sandy straight hair and he had dimples, and Della despised
the kid, she despised the kid with all her heart, because having carried him
for nine months, the kid could just have her hair, or at least her strong jaw,
or maybe have brown eyes or anything at all, he instead looked like some
deadbeat she sold her body to.
~~~~~~
 
Agnes Tomlinson had always lived the life of a partier, she spent all her youth
doing nothing but partying. She was never a good student at school, homework
always undone, school nights spent with too many men to remember who was the
reason she was kicked out of her house at the age of 17, pregnant and no idea
of the father. Being the second daughter in a family filled with Catholic pigs
who believed too much in what the society said, never brought her any good. So
she was more than glad to forget about her family.
When she moved to London, pregnant and jobless, she found herself in the strip
club at the back of Brewer Street; she served drinks and earned her lot.
Soon she was the star of the night, while her two year old slept at home, a
small apartment next to the friendly Chinese woman who sold authentic Asian
vegetables. She loved her son very much. He was so small and so quiet, never
made much noise. Did not cry in the middle of the night. He ate whatever her
mother brought. He looked just like her, except for his blue sparkling eyes
But soon it all changed. That awful night in the bleary summer, she knew
something would go wrong, with the innumerable complaints against her parties,
police was soon to arrive.
She told her son to hide in the basement that had a secret hideaway filled with
lots of fresh water and some protein bars that would last for a month for three
people.
She never got to come back; she got into an accident while the police sealed
her house. His son stuck there.
~~~~~~
Harry was lost, his mum told him to stand next to the alley, while she went
with some man. He was only five and a not so obedient child. So he wandered off
from the alley, leaving behind the whorehouse and onto the abandoned warehouse,
but he has never been outside, so he is honestly lost and alone and lost. A
child's only defence, he starts crying, sobbing, and wailing loudly.
~~~~~~
Louis is walking over to his hideaway inside the backroom at the warehouse when
he hears it. A crying noise. So he pushes his day's supplies he stole and got
from the open market at Greek Street and the little something's he got from the
nice ladies at Brewer Street, joined only by the alley in the corner, so he
walks towards the front to see a small boy much smaller than him, standing at
the edge of the road going towards the entrance of Greek street, and his mind
is giving off signals, because if the child walks any ahead, he can be caught
into traffic.
Even at the young age of seven, poor Louis had to be a grown up. Earned his own
food, so what if he stole and ate and so what if he only got baths because the
nice /women made him, and he had clothes because the women and those men who
stayed there liked him enough to give him some.
So Louis took it upon himself to calm this boy down and bring him inside to his
home. He walked over to him and pulled him in just in time for the milk van to
pass and both of them to remain unhurt. He scolded the boy all the while
pulling him behind him. The boy just cried more. So when he sat him down on the
fourth of the seventeen wide cobblestone steps, he looked up at him with wide
green eyes rimmed red and a sad frown. So Louis softened his stance, still
holding the boy's hand. The boy looked with widened eyes, then his eyes met
Louis’, and he smiled at him before giggling, immediately forgetting his
distress just moments ago, Harry was always an easily distracted child, "You
have blue eyes."
"You have green." Louis replied, sticking his tongue out, hand still in the
little boys. "I am Louis. Louis Tomlinson."
"I am Harry, blue eyed Lou." Harry said, giggling again.
Louis smiled widely and then gestured for the boy to follow him inside. The boy
looked with wide eyes as Louis lit four candles across each other in the corner
of the rooms and one window opened. As we said, Louis was a grown up for being
seven, Harry was yet to learn.
Louis talked to the boy, Harry was his name, for quite some time, forgetting to
eat, but the growls of their stomachs had them back. So Louis offered some of
the nice lasagne the woman at the Cafeteria had left on the window, wrapped in
a foil for someone to take, it was not exactly stealing when he had actually
heard the woman say that she wanted some homeless people to be away with it.
Harry and he shared and enjoyed. Tomorrow night Louis will not worry about
food, after all it was Friday tomorrow, so the church people would feed him and
his apparent new friend.
But no sooner had he thought that, Harry, or Baby Green started crying, quietly
telling Louis how he lost his mum. So to calm him down, he took one of the
candles, as it was already dark outside, no moon or stars, it would maybe rain
tonight, he leads Baby Green to the nice women. As soon as he reached there,
the old man at the door screamed out, "Oh Harry! Where have you been lad? Your
mother has been crying her eyes out since you disappeared. She leaves you for
two minutes and you go whoosh! Bad lad."
Harry shies away but then says, "I am sorry Manny. Can you let Lou and me in,
so we can meet mum?"
The person nods before letting them in and then Nixon led them to where Della
and other women sat around each other, partially naked, but Louis could not
care, he had seen all these women before. He on the way, waves to people him
already knows, smiling politely at them. And the women all scold Harry and
Louis just listens and then asks," Baby Green stays here?"
Some woman with golden hair says, "Oh, yes. You see, he is Dolly's son. Louis
you didn't know?"
Louis shakes his head, he had been coming here for almost a year and he never
knew of the little talkative boy.
~~~~~
For the next few years, Harry and Louis grew closer, going around town
together. They were really close friends and Louis always stuck by Harry even
when Harry and 'Dolly' had fights.
Those nights, he slept with Louis at the abandoned warehouse, quiet and Louis'
arms always were so warm, so safe, so much, like how it should feel to be at
HOME.
Chapter End Notes
     Leave some feedback!!
     M.
***** Late day. *****
Chapter Summary
     23 March, 2017
     New York City.
      
     Harry's pov:
      
     He was mine and I was his, I shall remain his for life.
     Even in my dreams all I can think of is him.
     Is he alright?
     Is he fine, healthy?
     Is he happy?
     Did he wait for me?
     Does he remember us?
      
     All these questions.
     What am I to do?
Chapter Notes
     Chapters named Harry's pov, are basically what Harry feels about his
     situation.
     There is a kind of thrill in knowing what is going to happen to the
     respondent even before it happens, not complete idea, just a small
     portion of the plot in both sides.
     Whose life works out how?
     The answer is always shocking.
     Not everyone is as bad or as good as it seems.
     Don't judge the characters on first impression.
     All the love,
     M
See the end of the chapter for more notes
I wake up at five in the evening, sweating, cold and clammy. Body numb, head
hurting and a catch in my wrist. Memories of past, of certain blue eyes, so
full of life, gone grey, brown feathery hair, now coated in blood, cheek bones
chiselled by god gone awry, pale lips now bleeding, a full bosom, now ruined.
Dreams, nightmares, memories the entire same person. I end up thinking about
him every moment of life, the guilt of leaving him there, hands of unknown men
on his body, hands muffling his screams, fear in his eyes, not for himself but
for the little boy who is running away, instructed to leave him behind.
I shake my head off these thoughts. Late night work is never good, but I am not
going to fall back, I have to complete the album before next week. So that
after the promo work I can take the much needed break.
I get up, shaking my body like a dog. My eyes roam around the room. Monochrome,
absolutely monochromatic. Black bed, grey covers and similar curtains, the
carpet next to bed is also grey. A black wall behind my bed showing off picture
of a running black horse. The view outside is of the city under me, covered in
NY smog, the remaining three walls a pale grey in contrast to the black. The
closet door is ash grey; the love seat in my room is again a dark grey, the
coffee table mahogany and black glass top.
I walk over to my washroom, half-expecting to see a small boy with curly hair,
mussed behind his ears in the mirror. I cannot say I am shocked when I am met
with a man. A little scruff on my chin, black ink adorning my body, hair
falling down my neck, eyes holding dead grey, purple bags under them.
Each day, I wake up to this man in the mirror, a body to kill for, all childish
features lost, a smile too damn fake, a jaw my mother would be proud of, and
hands that burn to hold a small body between them, all warmth of safety, care
and love lost on me.
~~~~~~
'If I may,
Just take your breath away,
I do not mind if there is not much to say,
 Sometimes the silence guides the mind,
 To move to a place so far away.'
 
I sing into the microphone, yellow lights dimmed into the recording booth, Liam
and Mike sitting outside, right across from me. They give me thumbs up once we
finish the song. They stop recording and let me come out. I drink the, now,
room temperature beer brought for me.
Liam and Mike talk for some time, discussing sales and stuff, I just walk up to
the open balcony and sit on the ledge, feet dangling outside, 26-storeys of
ground below me, cars looking like toys, men like ants. This is not the time to
think about him. He might be happy, asleep somewhere, thinking about him has
never brought me good. He has anyways disappeared from the face of earth.
After my sixth beer, I feel Liam walk over, "Harry, I think you should get your
ass inside, before you end up dying. Your EP is complete and we are dropping it
this Monday, now's not the ideal time to die." He laughs, but it has a nervous
glint to it.
"Look at me Liam, poor, orphan, troubled child, Harry Styles, making it big in
the industry that ravishes innocence like popsicles. I, Harry Styles, making it
as the top singer, Grammy winner, whoosh!” I stumble, laughing as I get back
inside the ledge, my gangly limbs tangling into each other.
"Harry, Harry. No, okay. No one knows about your past and if you want to keep
it that way shut up." Liam ushers to my side, hands holding onto me, pulling me
inside. I just laugh. I laughed, loudly, maniacally. I could hear him fumbling
with my bag's zipper, desperately searching for my pills. I laugh louder, he is
my manager but does not know that alcohol and pills cannot go together.
He stops searching, ends up giving me a bottle of water. I drink it, still
laughing. I do not know what is so funny. Maybe the idea that is rounding my
head is funny.
"Liam drop the album and let me go MIA."
"What?" He says, shocked out of his mind. "Why would you want to do that? Are
you out of your mind? Are you still drunk?"
"No." I say in all seriousness. Sitting up straight, I look him in the eye
before saying, "I have to go. I need to do some stuff. Important stuff. I need
to do it. You do not understand. It is really important. I have wanted to do
this for six years! You have to understand."
"I need to find him. I need to... I... I need to find him." I mutter, stumbling
around, packing my workbag.
"Who is this person? Who is he? Why does he matter?" He asks me angry and
confused.
"Him, I need to find Louis. He is important. More important than the fucking
Grammys in my closet." I say.
"Oh, so it’s about some puppy love. Infatuated Harry Styles running across the
world for some slut he slept with." Liam says and the next moment he is
stumbling backwards, falling on the couch.
I punched him. I just punched Liam fucking Payne. I just fucking punched my
fucking manager and best friend.
"Don't call him a slut. You do not know what he has done for me. He is the
reason I am alive and standing in front of you." I sneer. Liam gets up, not
stumbling; he just slaps me, hard across my cheek. It stung, but he hits like a
bitch.
"How dare you? How very fucking dare you. I am the reason you are famous. I am
the reason you have Grammys and I am the reason you are not in some ditch,
whoring are-" he starts, but I pounced on him with a growl, two, three four
punches and he is still staggering.
"Shut up, you little bitch. Don't you dare? You don't know my life, you just
know this, this illusion you have created. Nothing fucking else." I spit out
and stand up, leaving Liam bleeding and in pain in the floor. Good for Mike, he
already left. How dare he? This little bitch.
"I am going. And no one can stop me. I dare you to try." I sneer at him, before
leaving. Those punches breaking my knuckles skin. I just get into the elevator,
not waiting for a reply or anything.
"Jones, a one way, business class ticket to Heathrow from NY, tomorrow morning.
Styles. 23. Male. I'll send my bank details via email." I say coldly into the
speaker.
"Done. There's a seat in the 4.30 flight, this morning. Or would you prefer the
11.30am flight?" The voice says back.
"4.30, please." I reply, getting off the elevator, and getting into my car
standing ready outside. No paps in vision, I still pull up my hood.
"Done, but you only have, like what, three hours, three and a half. Why in such
a rush?" Jones asks.
"Got to leave as soon as possible. Do you mind?" I tell him.
He just laughs muttering an okay. I hang up while my driver drives me to my
penthouse.
I need to call Charlee and tell her to fix the house. I still can't believe
it's been over three years I haven't stayed there in peace. I am definitely
sober now. I thank Fin, before heading up, still no paps on trail, good thing.
~~~~~~
"I told you I am in the waiting area, have been here for around fifteen
minutes, I am not coming back. I am sorry I had to leave like this, but it was
necessary, all right. I will make a couple of videos and send them over to you
all right. I am sorry for fighting but you were getting on my nerves. No one
gets to call him names, all right. No grudges mate." I tell Liam.
"Alright. Just have a good smile and wear clothes for the video alright, I'll
alter it a little, but send it before Sunday, or maybe a little warning video,
like 'Look out for, Lost in the AM!' Or something. Okay and I am not angry, I
am sorry. I will talk to Schuster Willis for you. He will willingly give you
the break you need. Now go get him. Bye." Liam says, happily, a little on edge,
but nothing unusual.
I hear the flight announcement, so I just forget everything and get on board.
Six years, almost seven.
How does he look now?
Is he still as beautiful as then?
Is he still in the business?
Does he have a nice house?
Does he still feel like HOME?
 
Chapter End Notes
     Leave some feedback.
     Constructive criticism is appreciated.
     M
***** My Money, My Love. *****
Chapter Summary
     24 March, 2017
     Louis' pov:
     "Zee, I am coming over for the advance. Are you home?"
     "Oh, Lou baby, I am not at home right now. Can you come a wee bit
     later?"
     That lying, cheat, little scummy bastard!
     "Oh, so all your cars are in the garage and your look alike is
     standing at your window. Open the door, you bitch. I need my money,
     fifteen thousand pounds. Not a fucking dime less." I sweetly say
     before hanging up.
     I can see him wiping his brow, frantically looking around to see if
     he can find me, oh tough luck, love, I am already at your doorway.
     Good luck not paying me.
Chapter Notes
     In this chapter, another side of Louis will be seen.
     He is die hard money-monster. Each penny more important.
     You see, even though some would justify his behaviour as rightful,
     seeing that he earns the money in a hard way.
     He is not your usual roadside hooker, he is posh, well-cultured,
     tiptop up to date guy with the nerve to unnerve you with just a few
     syllables, he is unafraid, cold, and lost of emotion.
     His 'love' for Zayn is not so much as love and you'll see why he
     hates the inky-haired lad so much.
     Zayn is 27, Louis is 25.
See the end of the chapter for more notes
I wake up to my alarm blaring in my ears, memories of last night blurring me.
My head was bursting, all that Mary, not good for me.
I get up and the sharp sting in my bum reminds me of why I had all that Mary.
Tears spring to my eyes. Fuck!  Why me?
It is not the first time Zayn's clients have violated these rules. By Zayn, I
remember, my advance.
I take a shower, scrubbing my body thrice, feeling utmost disgust. I pop in two
pills before making breakfast. I dress casually before going out to buy myself
a couple of fags.
Smoking while driving, I reach Zayn's house, he lives in the outskirts of the
city, on the border of Manchester, in a nice suburban house. Zayn was an
artist, renowned one at that, his paintings were hung in the London Art Museum
and he had his own shows.
That is how he got clients. All had one thing in common, fucking rich measly
bastards, heartless, rogues, brutal murderers at heart, a fake show of class
and posh behaviour.
I see another car at his drive way and him smoking in his window, I call him.
"Zee, baby. I am coming to your house you see, my advance is with you. So you
know, you must have taken your 10% and left my fifteen thousand pounds right."
I sweetly say.
"Uh, Lou baby. I am not at home right now. How about some other day?" He says,
sounding genuinely sad, how bad, I can see you sweating your brow.
"Oh, so is there some look alike at your house, while all your cars stand in
your garage? Open the door I am here." I say sternly but sweetly, hanging up.
He is surely looking around for me. Tough luck, I am already in the archway of
his doorway, hidden from inside view.
I hear some scrambling inside before he opens the door, giving me a bright
smile, his forehead still sweaty. He is shirtless and there are hickeys on his
chest, how good.
I give him a sickly sweet smile and his smile falters. He leans in to kiss me,
I just duck my head, moving in, slithering away from his snaky hands.
"So what pussy decided to come with you?" I ask while walking into the living
room, placing my coat there. Then I move to the dining room, dodging him,
almost missing his answer, "Just some girl."
"Oh, at least give me my money." I say, a bit rough. I do not what I am looking
for, but I just am.
"Baby, what are you looking for?" He asks me, hands holding my waist.
"Nothing, just... Nothing." He kisses my neck, all those soft spots, grazing
them with his teeth. I moan, surprisingly, when he grips my hips roughly,
turning me around.
Before I can say something, a voice breaks up apart, "Zayn?" A girl, a blonde
girl to be on point.
"So this is what you were hiding?" I seethe. Zayn cowers a little. The girl
standing shocked.
"I am... I uh, I am just going to go." The girl said, leaving through the front
door.
Zayn and I just stared at each other while the screeching of tires could be
heard on the outside.
"I am sorry Lou. Let me make it up to you, please." He begs lips pouty and
brows furrowed, looking genuinely sad.
I let it be, "Come here."
~~~~~~
"Oh, baby. So tight. You are so tight baby. So many men fuck you, and still at
the end of the day, when I make love to you, you are so tight." Zayn moans,
thrusting once more, as he came into the condom, falling on top of me.
"Only for you, only for you. Let me come, please." I rambled, for once not
feeling forced.
He sucks me off and lets me come in his mouth. He comes back up to kiss me, but
I cannot help but compare his lips to Niall's.
What am I thinking? This is your boyfriend; he loves you.
"Are you listening? Baby?"
"What?" I ask, confused. He laughs and kisses me softly before saying, "I am
going to get your money. Alright?"
"Oh, yeah alright." I tell him, lying down again. I hear him fumbling around a
bit, doors opening and closing. I feel a weight on the bed and I open my eyes
to see Zayn laying a brown bag on the bed, "there's fifteen thousand pounds in
ten's, twenty's and fifty's, I asked for them that way, so it can go under the
radar transaction, the police almost raided me last time I deposited the
seventy five in your account. This way we can be out of view."
"And you expect me to count them all?" I ask uninterestedly.
"Don't be such a lazy slut!" He says, angered.
"Don't you dare." I say standing up, irritated by his stupidity.
"Shut up. I am paying you, right? What's gotten up your ass? Stop acting like a
bitch and be away with your money. Little slut." He murmurs.
I see red at his words, I slap him, right across his face and he just looks at
me, bewildered that I did that.
"Oh, don't look at me like that. You deserved it." I say, sneering at him.
He pushes me on the wall, choking me, big hands cutting off my breath. He
seethes in my face, his eyes gone black, "You slut, you will wish you never did
that."
"Z..Zay... Zay, stop. I... I can't...breathe."
I choke on my spit, my eyes blurring with tears, my hands wrap around his in a
weak attempt to move them, and I thrash around, my feet above the ground.
He suddenly let's go and I fall down, limply, tears streaming down my face. He
turns around, facing away from me, I cough and gasp trying to breathe again.
However, before I can catch my breath, he is pulling me up by my hair, I scream
out in pain, the voice only coming out as a choked cry.
Again, he pushes me against the wall, his hand on my collar, and my feet above
the ground. I have never seen this side of him and me being afraid is
definitely new. My hands again get into a feeble battle to keep him away, an
impossible task, before I can determine what's happening, his fist collides
with my jaw, a scream spilling out, and my jaw feels broken. I just cry, still
trying to get him away.
He growled as I fell, kicking as he did, blow after blow fell to my body, I
weakly try to cover my face, trying to move backwards, the wall restricting me.
The blow from his kicks and punches intensify as my back jumps against the
wall, the impact hurting more.
There was blood, and spit and tears and hurt everywhere. He had stopped, I had
only a flicker of a vision, no power to get up. Therefore, I lay there, hands
by my side. Unmoving, silent.
I could hear him, "Lou, Louis! Oh my god, what have I done? Oh, fuck! Louis,
baby please come back." I could feel him touch my face, I could feel him pick
me up. It hurt.
It hurt everywhere he touched. So I screamed, as loud as I could.
Suddenly, I had the power to get up, so I did. I pulled away from him, as he
looked at me as a deer caught in headlights. He gets up to look at ms, trying
to touch me, but I just flinch away, moving left and quietly dress up. Moaning
at the pain, it hurt so much. He just stands back, tears in his eyes, mouth
turned into guilt and sorrow. His hands stuck to his chest, in an attempt to
keep to himself.
As soon as I dress up, I pick up the bag and leave, I hadn't noticed how late
it had gotten. It was almost seven in the evening, while I had come here at one
in the afternoon.
Wiping away my tears, I try driving. Somehow, I cross the bridge and get to the
city. The traffic slowing down the movement, I thanked god for slowing it. I
drive to the shopping centre at the end of Greek Street, parking it in an empty
space. I feel faint, a bit dizzy. I quickly ignore it walking over to Niall's
alley. I don't see him there or his chair. Stumblingly I walk over to the end
and knock on his door.
After three knocks he opens it door, shirtless, a towel hanging from his hips,
before he could speak anything, I feel my legs give out. My eyes close, no
sense, or feeling in my body. My mind abandons me, as I black out, not before
feeling two hands holding me by my waist.
 
Chapter End Notes
     Leave some feedback.
      
     All the love,
     M
***** Slip Up. *****
Chapter Summary
     Past pov.
     12 September, 2004
     Sirens, sirens is all he hears. Police sirens to be sure. Louis wake
     Harry up and look out the window to see many police men raiding the
     whorehouse, pulling people, good thing was no one was removing the
     stuff, but the moment they see Della being taken away, Harry wants to
     run to her, but Louis doesn't let him.
     What do two young boys do now?
Chapter Notes
     Okay, so in this chapter we will see the reason why Harry was stuck
     with Louis for the rest of growing up. Not to go too much into
     detail, writing fiction is difficult.
     We will see how much of a sacrifice Louis has been making through all
     his life.
     As an author, as a writer, as a reader, as a friend, I want to tell
     you, that the summary is necessary, not relevant. The words are
     twisted, and not completely true.
     I change dialogues and scenes like Taylor Swift changes lovers (don't
     behave like it's not true, my swifties).
     We will see a lot of fighting, crying, stealing, a couple of fist
     fights too.
      
     Enjoy!
     All the love,
     M.
See the end of the chapter for more notes
Third person pov:
It was just another day at the warehouse.
Just another day of doctors for Agnes.
Just another day for twelve-year-old Louis and ten-year-old Harry.
But not another day for Della Styles.
~~~~~~
You would think that 18 years in the business would be enough to make her
tough, make her heartless and emotionless. I take it back; she was still the
naive woman who decided to move in with an older person.
Della was the caretaker of the girls now, not so much heartless, a sight to
pity, still looking youthful and in sight of men, an old money bag. But she
didn't give in; she didn't give in to pity, to sympathy, to any of that stuff,
not to drugs or alcohol either. She saved money, tried saving as much as she
could.
And then gave it away. Away to his son and the lad she had come to know as Lou.
On the night of 12 September, around dusk, the sun setting beyond the Thames,
an anonymous tip set off the biggest raid of sex scandals and prostitutions
around London. Fifteen whorehouses were raided, five hundred women saved,
thirty-seven women found dead, seventy-one women severely ill and a total of
two hundred men caught.
When at around three in the morning, the alley behind Brewer street, held
twenty cop cars and three police vans and two ambulances and a fire brigade,
Louis, who slept with an arm draped across his chest and a body spooning him,
woke up to the commotion outside his window, the pale moonlight casting
terrible shadows in the room and the sirens setting off a iffy feeling into his
chest. The last time he heard sirens he lost his mum forever.
He felt a presence behind him and saw the younger lad trying to look out the
window. He let him.
What they weren't expecting was the next person brought out on a stretcher to
be taken to the hospital would be Della, soaking wet, body pale and nerves
blue, eyes open and lots of colour and lips turned blue. Harry almost screamed
at the sight of his mother. Louis held him down before the lad could jump
fences and run into the police who didn't know that they existed.
Louis let him cry on his chest and then he let him cry some more, and then some
more. He let him cry for three days, before which he made sure to feed him, to
bathe him in a communal washroom and take care of him while having to go hungry
himself.
It was day six, when Harry ran out of tears, ran out of sobs and wails, ran out
of energy to feel sad anymore. He came to Louis who had given the lad the
privacy he demanded on day four. He held into Louis, tired, exhausted, and
sleepy. He fell asleep on Louis' lap. Louis let him.
On day eight, Harry asked Louis, "Why could I not pay her a last visit? Why
didn't you let me?"
"Oh dear, Haz, love, if you went that day, the police wouldn't let you be, you
would get stuck in the dirty politics and inquiry system they happen to have,
stuck with questions you don't have answers to, tell you things that aren't
meant for you and do things they're not supposed to do. You would have been
stripped off of your sanity and innocence. I had to take care of you. I'll
always take care of you. Do you trust me, Hazzy?" Louis had said.
Harry had nodded confusion and anger swept off of his features, guilt and
sorrow only partly present, he was glad to have someone like Louis to help him
through life.
Louis now knew why Della had given him the brown gunnysack filled with a filthy
amount of money. It was enough for them to have for later in life. For now,
Louis can work.
 
~~~~~~
 
Louis was always the lad who had to behave as the grown up, he didn't let Harry
get hurt.
He was over protective of his younger counterpart. He was the ideal parent, he
bought food, water, clothes, books, essentials, everything with the money he
made working at a bakery or at a clean-up drive, or as the milk boy or
newspaper boy or the supermarket delivery boy or anything at all, he was
working earning a little money each week for some work he did.
He took Haz for a quarterly check up with the doctor, bought him meds if
needed, bought a stove to cook fresh homemade food, scavenged for utensils and
at last he made the warehouse a small home. He was glad to do all the work
while Harry wandered the streets learning about life and the world.
Harry had dreams, to become a star, to get successful and to become powerful
and to become rich, so that one day all of Louis' miseries will come to an end.
So that one day Louis can catch a break from all the work he does. Harry
learned about music from street artists and song writing from handwritten
notebooks of a few absent minded or reckless students or teachers at the
Trinity College, Louis bought him a guitar and loop pedal and bought him sheet
music and song books and an iPod that Harry didn't need to know Louis spent
three months of wages to buy and update with the best kind of music. Louis
taught him classical music and made him a cultured student, the kinds who would
get scholarships to Julliard's for their talent and knowledge, only if he were
educated.
Because Louis could not afford the tickets to the royal opera house or the big
artists who held concerts, he took him to the open house musicals at Trinity
church and he took him to the instrument shop at Market Street. He opened his
heart to music, Louis opened his purse strings. And later Harry would sing
along other artists by the street, or the London Bridge or by the Big Ben or at
subway stops or at bus stands, anywhere and bring money from what he got for
the day. Harry was happy to help.
Louis was always worried about if what he was doing was correct, or if he was
casually under the nonsensical radar, the government has had. He worries about
not being caught. He worries about the people not realising that these two
children are not legal. He worried that both of them happened to have no legal
documents and records. He worried that he is not capable of giving Harry a good
future. He was worried that maybe one day Harry would realize that what Louis
has to offer wouldn’t be enough for him.
What he didn't worry about was himself.
 
Chapter End Notes
     Leave some feedback.
     M.
***** Breathe. *****
Chapter Summary
     Harry's pov.
     Current chapter.
     Landing at Heathrow, I could finally let go, but all those locks just
     pulled me back.
     So many strings pulling at my heart.
     So many rocks tugging at my heart.
     So many memories choking me.
     So many smells making me feel like, like I am home, but in
     unfavourable circumstances.
     What am I to do now?
Chapter Notes
     Okay, so no one is leaving any feedback, so I am just continuously
     writing for myself, but I won't let that stop me. I will continue and
     if you feel like saying something just say it. Alright?
     So in this chapter we will see what happened with Harry and what
     demons he faces.
     The song for the chapter is One and Only, Million Years Ago by Adele.
     In certain contexts you will feel like the song fits.
     LARRY DO NOT MEET.
     Sorry.
     P.S. I wrote this chapter at 3.30 in the morning. While being high as
     fuck.
      
     Enjoy!
     All the love,
     M.
See the end of the chapter for more notes
Heathrow airport.
March 24, 2017
Cold rainy day.
Harry's pov:
"Sir could you shut down the laptop. We are near landing." The host says.
"Oh, sure." I nod. Saving my file before shutting it down. A few moments later,
I could feel my body tingle, knowing that after all these years, after all that
I left behind I'll find him again. Find him, love him, let him know what I did,
hold him tight to make up for the past years.
I long for him. My heart, my mind, my entire being longs for him.
And when I say, I long for him, it simply doesn't mean that I miss him, it
means that I yearn for him.
It’s like my heartstrings are reaching out for him, for him to pluck at them.
Every breathe of my lungs, it only screams his name. And my lungs burn out with
nicotine, just so that it masks the pain from having lost him.
My lips crave to taste his, a small graze even of the soft silk that is his
lips. I crave his tongue behind my teeth.
And my ears, they impatiently wait with a burning passion to hear from his
mouth, a whisper, a moan, a call, just of my name. I yearn for it. But then
again, I lost you.
My fingers tingle with anticipation to hold his hands in mine, to let them roam
along his mind's dips and curves, to roam the deepest corners of his dark,
beautiful and sad mind, to touch all his microscopic details, his crinkles, his
thighs, his smiles, everything.
My entire being waits for him to come back, and I know in my heart his does
too, but why hasn't he? I know he is fine, my body tingles knowing he is doing
good, even though my mind has it's doubt, my heart fights all my senses.
Because he is my oxygen keeping me alive.
He is the sunlight keeping me going.
He is the one I still wake up to the harsh truth of reality, with a short happy
glance of knowing one day we will be together again.
I need him in every sense of the world.
I long for him, always have, always will.
 
~~~~~~
Having comeback to the place I was born, the overwhelming nostalgia was making
me nauseous.
I wanted to cry. Cry thinking about him, about her, about how we did what we
did and then how everything changed and why I am where I am.
"Harry, so you are a big artist now, huh?" Charlee asked me. A soft smile
playing on her lips as she took a sip of her tea, my cup sat right in front of
me, my hands playing with the spoon.
"Kind of." I replied with a croak. I don't want to break down.
"And I hear you write your own songs, with little to no editing? Doing concerts
all around the world. Having so many charities in your name, running to
everyone's help. Being a good little, sorry, big boy. So many awards, seven
Grammy awards, singing along side so many artists. Selling platinum records.
Fans call you life saver, your music saves people's lives."
"I am not as great as you are thinking. I am just a nobody who made it big
there, nothing more. I am still the little boy at the doors of your home, wet
from the rain and dying of starving." I said, a few tears dropping out. I blink
them away, awkwardly fluttering my eyes.
"For me, you will always remain the seventeen year old. With wide, curious
green eyes, afraid of anything that moves. For me you will always remain the
little boy whose voice mesmerized me for the first time in twenty seven years,
since..." She stuck, her voice heavy with emotion.
"I know. You don't have to repeat any of that. I maybe a big artist to the
world, I will always remain your little boy. I maybe heartless, but for you I
will always be the mellow boy feeding kittens my food, for you I will always
have love in my heart." I say. Crying silently now.
"You know... Your tea has gone cold, drink up." She says, I do as told.
"You just look different. You, I just haven't seen you in three years. And I am
overwhelmed by the thought that I will wake up in my bed at the market house
and you will be gone." My eyes widen, her voice so meek, almost afraid to let
me go.
"Charlee, no. I am not leaving. Not now at least."
"So, do you have a significant other. A certain boy you have your eyes on? I
thought you had something to do with that boy, Sam something." Charlee says,
trying to lighten the mood.
"Uh, no. I am here to find him. You know, I am here to find Lou." I say shyly,
happily, but a twinge of sadness in me.
"And you will this time." She gets up from her seat, she pulls me out of the
seat and leads me to the sunroom.
She settled down and pulled me into her lap, I lied down, head on her lap, she
brushed her well-manicured hands in my hair.
We stayed silent, but the silence that doesn't need words to fill them, the
birds and the wind can fill the void, our mouths stayed silent, unmoving.
And then again,
I lost my reigns on heaven when he kissed me. He promised me that he would be
there to hold me when I fell alongside the stars.
But instead, I am left with only the fading away tinge of warmth of his
brightness near me.
I am left with the feeling of his eyes, the feeling of being lost in their cold
azure and still feeling the warmth in them, safe.
And I am left with the memory of his skin's perfume, the scent of his love, the
way his body felt beneath my fingers and the way his tears felt on my skin, the
way his cheeks tinted rosy when I saw him letting me go.
The moment our hearts crashed like a man jumping off of the plane without a
parachute, like an asteroid from space, like the overdue feeling of an unwanted
hailstorm on a thin sheet of glass.
There are not many things so beautiful that they hurt, but all of them I have
experienced.
Swimming in an ocean while it rained.
Reading alone in empty libraries.
The sea of stars on a particular night when you are away from the city lights.
Empty bars after 2am.
Walking in the wilderness, alone with your thoughts.
Keeping a note of all the phases of the moon.
The things we do not know about the universe.
And Him.
My love, does he even know that he carries all the constellations in his indigo
eyes.
Blue doesn't even begin to describe the flecks of gold and hints of green, the
oceans and starlight and velvet hidden like a jewel inside such a boy.
~~~~~~
I lied in bed at night, my room filled with art from the artist ZJM, he drew
abstract figures that looked like Louis, so accurate that I had bought his
entire show from two years ago, named 'Queen Louve'.
The memories of his eyes, glaring into mine, softening with every gaze,
fondness taking over slowly.
The way his eyes fell when I walked in on him trying to put more money in my
wallet.
The way he was filled with awe when I took him out to the London Eye.
The way his eyes filled with guilt when he made me a burnt pancake, because he
was busy shooing a rat.
The way the crinkles by his eyes made his real smile distinct.
His eyes were the most beautiful thing I had ever witnessed. It still is.
He always burned so bright and beautifully; but anybody can burn that great in
a good day.
But what impressed me about him was his ability to burn with extreme passion
even in our stormy lives, days only getting greyer, and the only flicker of
hope was his burning light, I was attracted to him like a moth, and he was the
light that didn't burn me in the slightest, instead he took it upon himself to
give me warmth not heat, his love.
 
And then every day I am reminded of things I have learnt and songs I have
written, all in the name of my love and longing for the one who saved me and I
am only a step away from falling off of a cliff, because we walk through life
in search of pieces that were never missing, constantly weaving roads of
strings of gold in our mind, plucking the glitter from minds of people we
thought were bold, and they wish to save your soul, your blazing mind burns
through their thickness and their ashes fall through your hands in mourning,
days and day over you desperately wish to find, why the moon chases the sun,
winter comes enticing with its silent cold, but as your bones chill, you stand
and turn around to seek warmth, but all that remains is the meaning of your
gold made just for fools.
Panicked, you send a flare in the sky, wanting The One to come to your rescue,
but you have gone too far and the wise have burned through your wake. And you
are alone.
The journey back is now full of missteps and mistakes haunting your being.
For fool’s gold is made for fools and fools always lose.
 
Chapter End Notes
     Leave some feedback.
     M.
***** Sure? *****
Chapter Summary
     Louis' pov:
     After blacking out on Niall's door, I woke up on a soft bed, it
     smelled like burgers and meatloaf's in this place, a slight lemony
     and citric smell, a good clean scent.
     I could hear someone humming the tune of a new song. I realize it was
     Niall.
     I attempt to sit up but end up awkwardly squeaking and groaning,
     whining in pain. My entire body hurt and then the realization of what
     happened hit me like hail, it brought tears to my eyes and it ended
     in me sobbing.
     Day upon day, I go and each day is only getting worse. Why did I have
     to do this? Can't I be left alone, in peace and just peace.
     Why do men think its alright to abuse me this way?
     How is it alright?
     How come Niall does not behave that way? Why for him am I a flower?
     I am interrupted by Niall coming into the room, unfortunately wearing
     clothes, asking me if I was alright? And if I wanted food.
     My stomach grumbles for an answer and he chuckles before feeding me.
     We definitely end up doing a bit of Mary.
Chapter Notes
     In this chapter, another side of Louis will be seen.
     He is not so innocent and his mind is a bit more crooked than we
     could imagine.
     He is definitely a druggie and he doesn't recall all the times he has
     had sex with Niall in order to escape paying for the drugs.
     Mary=Weed.
     Jo=Cocaine.
     And Niall is a really good person. He has no secret motives, he is an
     open book.
     Angry means angry, happy means happy, sad means sad, nothing is a
     mask and maybe that is a point of weakness in this game Louis is
     playing.
      
     Chapter song: Chasing Pavements; Crazy for you - Adele.
     Enjoy.
     All the love,
     M.
See the end of the chapter for more notes
Louis' pov:
My head was pounding, my body felt sore, beaten up sore, not sexed up sore and
it hurt, it hurt so much, especially my throat and my face.
I inhale deeply to be hit by a very unfamiliar scent. Not a bad one, just
lemony and fresh- like dewy grass, or after rain sunshine, is that a smell? For
me it is.
This room is so calming and peaceful. Radio is playing Adele, and the drizzle
of soft rain fills the greyish-bluish-greenish room. And the softness of the
bed is nothing like mine, but it’s well slept in and smells like, it smells
like a certain blond drug dealer I know.
Niall.
I am at Niall's, in Niall's bedroom, wearing his clothes.
What the hell?
I try to get up and immediately collapse as my feet give up, I squeak out
loudly and groan as my body aches that much more from the impact.
"Are you aw-? What? Lou, baby, what the hell are you doing out of bed?" Niall
asks, entering the room, fully clothed and then it hits me, (pun intended) Zayn
and all that and me collapsing on Niall's doorstep.
A sob wracks through me and Niall is right by my side, constantly asking if I
am hurt, but more than physical pain, I can only think of how I trusted that
motherfucker, I can only think that I sought comfort in him, always went back
to him knowing that he was cheating, how he kept pushing me to keep doing, keep
doing this, this shitty business. And yet I thought, believed him when he said,
all those lies for the past five years, and I listened to him, believed him.
The thought made me cry more. Niall was now picking me up with care and lying
me on the bed and my arms clung on to his neck, so I pulled him down to lie
next to me, he did and I sobbed into his neck.
He calmed me, slowly rubbing my back and whispering sweet nothings to me, he
kept doing it until I calmed down and then he looked me in the eye and asked
me, rage clear in his eyes, "Baby, who did this to you?"
"Uh... It ... It was, Zayn." I stuttered.
His anger was making him intimidating. I rubbed circles on his shoulder in an
attempt to cool him down.
"Isn't he that stupid pimp-boyfriend of yours?" He asked, eyebrows furrowed.
Voice laced with anger.
"It’s alright. He didn't mean it. And I am never going back to him. He is an
asshole. He doesn't deserve a piece of this." I said, clearly trying to lighten
the mood.
And it works because he laughs, a loud laughter.
I glance at his lips, and then towards his scrunched eyes, and back at his lips
before leaning in and slowly joining them together. He is startled at first,
but then he holds me tighter and closes his eyes, I doing the same, our lips
moving in slow motion, with much delicacy and chastity, one like I always
imagined of, with Niall I can adjoin the prefix or suffix of soft and care,
don't know how.
In all the five years, I have known him, I have always wanted to do this, but
now that I am doing it, it is better than my imagination. His hands never leave
my back, still rubbing circles, my right hand on his shoulder, left hand on his
cheek. We pull apart together and Niall still has his eyes closed. So I rub my
thumb over his eyelid and he slowly opens his baby blues, and again I am struck
by how soft everything about him is.
"I didn't want this to be a dream, a figment of my imagination." He says, his
eyes boring into mine, blues of different hues mixing up in a swirl of dreams
and unspoken words.
"Well, it wasn't. Think of it as a thank you, Niall." I say, clearly wanting
him to cross it and say something mellow.
"Well, to me this feels so surreal. You next to me, it’s like a dream come
true. And no need for a thank you kiss, please tell me that the kiss was more
than just a meagre thanks, it felt more to me. It felt like the Disney kiss I
have been awaiting for forever. It was that kiss that if I were standing, my
knees would have given up, and I just can't wait to do that again." Niall said.
Mission accomplished.
"Niall...." I said, mock soft and silently draining. I know I have him where I
need him to be. "It definitely meant more than that. It was more than just
thanks. And the sparks were real. So, so, so real."
"Please stay?" Niall asked, his face hopeful but afraid.
"Of course."
~~~~~~
"Lou....uh...ohm!... Lou. Fuck baby, stop, I don't want to take advantage."
Niall says.
I pop off and get up to see him eye to eye and glare at him and say, "Don't you
want me?" I give him my best puppy face.
"Lou, you know I want you. Damn you just sucked me off and I am still hard. I
just don't want you to feel used. Like, you are vulnerable and stuff. Plus it's
been only like two days since you came here. I don't feel like you consciously
want this. Don't do it out of habit or some shit. I'll feel so bad for doing it
then." He says, I almost roll my eyes, physically holding back from doing so
and suddenly a thought springs in my head.
"You are right. You are absolutely right." I say, lying down next to him, my
head on his chest. "But I feel so disgusting right now. All I can feel is his
hands on my body and the thought is making me sick. For so long, so, so long, I
have always done things his way or the other men's ways. I have always given,
nobody has thought what I might need, how I might need. If they get off, it’s
all good and done, what about me? No one has ever thought that I might need
something too. But why would a prostitute need caring, I am just a body, a
ragdoll to be used and thrown aside like trash." I give out a self -deprecating
laugh, actually saying out what I have felt all along, it had long shifted from
a game plan to reality and now it scared me how words just kept tumbling out.
"I have been used against my wish all my life, now I just crave a loving rub. A
caring touch anything that reciprocated more than just a need of ravenous,
heinous lust. You know, I maybe a prostitute, I have some dignity and my self-
respect has suffered a one too many blows, but it stands with cracks too. I
just want someone to love me, is that too much to ask?" I had silent tears
streaming down my face, a late night thought had just presented itself on a
silver platter to Niall, and he had the most hurt and worried and afraid and
disappointed and angry and god only knows how many emotions reflecting in those
wet baby blues, his face scrunched, eyebrows furrowed.
"Louis, baby. You deserve so  much more than that. I wish I could give my all
to you. Believe me, I am willing to give you all of me, if only you will have
me. I am a stupid drug-dealer, who sits in an alley half his time and other
times smuggles drugs internationally. There is so much problem and risk in my
profession and all that shit. But if you will have me, an idiot with love, then
fuck, I will show you how you are supposed to be treated. Lou, I want to love
you how you are supposed to be loved. You are young, younger than me, but the
sorrows you have faced makes my heart grieve and just, fuck. Lou, this is not
the right time, but damn, do I love you. I love you. I love you so much, and
for so long, I don't even remember for how long I have wanted you to be mine.
Please, even when I had just seen you, back then when you were just seventeen,
I wanted you, no, needed you to be mine. I promise as long as it remains in my
power, I won't let you go. Please be mine." Niall finished.
I probably looked like a fish out of water, eyes wide, mouth opening and
closing, not able to breathe or form words, my mind had collapsed. I was sure
to get a reaction out of him, but not a love confession this sweet and honest
and Niall was a very truthful and straightforward person. This was heart
clenching and bursting.
"Niall..." My voice sounded distant and airy, but he just cupped my cheeks and
kissed me so softly, but strongly, as if he was trying to prove a point. And I
could feel it, my game had broken down walls I never knew existed, but now, I
am just going to bask in his amazing warmth. I haven't felt this heat in my
stone cold self for forever; it's a good change, weird but good.
His hands move to my waist and he hovers over me as he keeps kissing me softly,
soon his tongue pokes out and I grant him entrance. He starts moving his hips
in sync with mine, grinding down his crotch on mine and I gasp, because, damn
is he going slow and soft on me. He takes advantage as he pushes down harder,
sucking my bottom lip, and we moaned into each other's mouths.
"Lou, do you want to do this? Like 200% sure you want to have sex, with me?"
Niall asks, concern dripping from his voice.
I close my eyes and internally scoff, "Niall, make love to me, like you would
to a lover." Is all I say before Niall takes lead?
And in the first time in forever, I didn't feel used after having sex. No,
after making slow, sensual, heart touching, love-filled, caring love, to Niall.
It was amazing.
The games had just begun, a baggie of Mary was what we wasted the evening on,
and I knew, if I kept him around, no more need for me to pay.
Free food.
Free sex.
Free drugs.
And a fool with power.
Chapter End Notes
     Leave some feedback.
     M.
***** Run! *****
Chapter Summary
     Past Chapter.
     15th August, 2010
     Warehouse on Greek Street.
     "So, we are having what for lunch?" Harry asks, as he walks into the
     room he and his lovely boyfriend resided in.
     But the sight infront of him had him paralyzed.
Chapter Notes
     Sad chapter.
     Sorry, but not sorry.
     In this chapter, we will see what scenario had forced the boys apart.
     Enjoy.
     M.
See the end of the chapter for more notes
28th May, 2010
"Say what you need to say.
Say what you need to say.
Say what you need to, say what you need to.
Say what you need to, say what you need to.
Say what you need to. Say what you need to.
Say what you need to say." Harry finishes of, slightly strumming his guitar
with the endnotes.
The people around him applaud as they all bend down to put their money in the
guitar case. Even some notes of five and ten pounds making their way in it
along with loose change. He thanks everyone for it as the crowd leaves, their
shadows walking away, their faces happy, Harry was happy too as he counted the
money he collected.
He had started to sweat, the Thames water not doing anything to cool the day,
the sun blaring angry at passer-by's, the London traffic filled with double-
deckers and tourist buses. And the only good thing about tourists were extra
money.
He sits down by the person who acted as a golden statue, his name, Harry had
learnt was Winn, as he ate a leftover sandwich, while Harry drank water from
his bottle that Louis had snuck into his bag. Harry quickly started counting
his money as he sat there in the shade.
He had sung five times since morning, it was 1:30 now. He was hungry but the
warehouse was very far. So he just walked over to the Railway station of
Central London and bought himself a grilled cheese and another bottle. He
needed the energy for another few of his singing moments before he could go
home for the day.
~~~~~~
"Carla, a number six, a number twenty one and a number forty four for table
six, with a side of three icy-beers."
"Coming. Order for table four is ready, Louis!"
"Thanks!"
"Next coming up table one..."
Louis had already left with the order of table four. As he ran out the door and
into the serving area, he saw that table four people were two burly men, bald-
heads, big tattoos and thick moustaches. He plainly walked up and placed the
two dishes and the two beers jugs on the table, minding who had ordered what.
"Anything else you wish to order?" Louis' asks politely, this regime almost as
if habit.
"Yeah, how about a side of you, on my dick? Aye pretty boy!" The one sitting on
his right said. Louis scoffed and said, "Enjoy your meal." A quite 'meathead'
muttered under his breath as he walked off.
He sighed as he slid back into the kitchen to serve another table, his feet
were aching badly, because he had been working almost 14 hours five days a
week. He came in at 9 in the morning and left at 11 in the night, after
cleaning and closing. He was just a 17 year old, it was difficult, but he did
it anyway as he got paid £15/hour, so he was happy as long as he could take
leftovers for home.
He kept serving table-to-table non-stop all afternoon, handling the rush. Then
in the evening he served table to table or behind the desk coffee maker and
later he worked as the bartender for the night rush before closing up at 10 and
started cleaning up for the night. He was the most openly hit on server at '70s
Metro Café', the horrid retro-bar/cafe place he worked at. It was so common for
men to smack his bum or inappropriately talk to him while he served. He hated
it, he hated the pay, he hated everything, but he did it five times a week to
put food on the table back at home, at the warehouse.
~~~~~~
"Hey, I am sorry I am late. Tonight the rush was too much. I guess, a lot of
drinks were spilled, so I took extra time to clean. Will probably get paid for
that." Louis says, hopefully to Harry who was lying on the cot in the corner of
the room.
"It's alright. I was just tired. Too many people, too many places. And the sun
was high up today. Probably drained me out. Let’s eat. Shall we?" Harry says,
getting up from his place as he walked up to Louis to wrap his arms around the
older lad. Louis accepted his embrace, snuggling into the younger lad.
"You are getting taller. Need to go shopping for you. I'll go tomorrow
perhaps." Louis mutters, before pecking Harry's lips and walking over to the
coat hooks and hanging today’s clothes and changing into his boxers and an old
tattered shirt, with a weird stain.
Harry had already started rummaging through the bag of food that Louis brought.
"What do we have today?" Harry asks as he pulls out the foil-covered food
pouches.
"Some lasagne and beef jerky. Cold sandwiches for breakfast, grilled cheese for
lunch. Chocolate coated cheesecake for desert. And some sausages and fried
French beans. I'll bring the plates. Sorry for not cooking last weekend.
Perhaps this weekend I can cook us something good. How do you feel about that?"
Louis asks.
"Why not? I got us some great money today. Made at least two hundred." Harry
says. Obviously happy of what he made today.
"Hooray! Good job Harry. Great job. I am so proud of you, ohm god, love, this
is good. Maybe you can get in some gigs sometimes later then." Louis praises
and suggests.
Harry just nods, expecting to get a gig somewhere.
~~~~~~
30th May, 2010
London Shopping Centre.
"Harry, go inside already."
"These are so expensive! Can we even afford these? Louis, please."
"None of that. Get inside and get changing already. Those are just some plain
t-shirts and while you change I am going to ask some of these nice people to
grab you some pants too, because god only knows how long your giraffe legs are
going to grow." Louis jokes.
"Heyyyy....." Harry whines. But nods, a small smile adorning his lips as he
turns around and murmurs, "Well, you could just come in with me."
It wasn't however said for Louis to hear, but he does. And Harry just startles
when he is about to close the door and a sneaker clad foot stops him from doing
so.
"So, you would change with me in here, huh? Is that all you want princess?
'Cause I can give you lot more than that." Louis says entering and locking the
door behind him, then he is licking his lips, wetting them before slowly
leaning forward and stopping right in front of Harry's lips. Harry surges
forward and presses his lips to Louis' and they both have their eyes closed.
The clothes from Harry's arms falling to their feet as his, now free, hands
pull Louis by his waist, Louis' hands on his chubby cheeks.
Louis then licks Harry's bottom lip, and Harry gives him permission to enter.
Louis pushes hard on Harry, pushing to the mirrored wall, Harry's hand going to
rest on the curve of Louis' bum. They both moan into each other’s mouths as
Louis' hands fumbled with Harry's zipper, his hips grinding on his thigh.
Louis opened Harry's zip without breaking the kiss and soon his right hand was
palming Harry's length through his boxers. Harry pushed into the touch and
Harry was moaning wildly. Louis taking pride in the noises that left Harry's
mouth, swallowed by his own.
Louis breaks off the kiss and gets on his knees, he is face to face with
Harry's cock and he wants nothing more than to put his lips around it. He palms
himself within his jeans, he pulls Harry's cock out and gently strokes him.
He puts his lips around the head and licks his tongue over the slit, purring
noises eliciting from Harry. "Oh Lou!"
Louis took it as a motion for him to surge forward and take more of Harry in
his mouth. Slowly sucking on it and Harry was having a hard time staying still
as Louis pushed him to his limits. Both of Harry's hands were on Louis' face,
feeling the outline of his cock on Louis' thin cheeks. He almost came when he
felt his cock strike across Louis' throat and his tongue on the vein throbbing
near his base.
Louis tugged at his balls, and Harry wanted to look at Louis' eyes while he
came, so he brushed his thumb over his eyelids and he immediately came into
Louis' mouth at the sight of his lust-blown blue eyes, rimmed red.
Louis sucks him dry and then pulls up his pants, zips it, buttons it up and
pats his thigh before kissing him softly, "I'll wait outside. Grab a pair or
two of jeans while you try these on. Okay?"
"Yeah, yeah, sure. But don't go too far. Don't bring anything expensive.
Anything above twenty pounds and it goes back on the rack." Harry counters.
"Okay, whatever Princess Harry wishes for." Louis says, rolling his eyes.
Silently, both of them were happy that no one heard them, especially with
Harry's loud mouth.
~~~~~~
"Oh, another. Lou-u-uh, another. Please, another." Harry moaned as Louis
proceeded to prod another finger in his wide-stretched hole, three fingers
already pumping in..
"Oh, Lou." Harry screamed as Louis curled his fingers and hit his spot. He
repeated his action over and over again.
"If you don't fucking want to get to fucking me, continue this shit and forget
being inside me for a fucking month. Get the fuck on with fucking me." Harry
screamed.
Louis laughed as he got up from where he was crouching near Harry's propped up
feet. He grabbed the lube and condom and Harry stopped him, "Want to feel you.
Please."
And Louis couldn't say no. He lubes up his rock-hard cock and lined it with
Harry's entrance. His hand guiding him in, other hand propping him up above
Harry. As he started slowly pushing in, his swollen head getting stuck in the
inside of the rim, both moaned as Louis slowly pushed in further. Feeling
extremely overwhelmed about fucking Harry bareback and now actually feeling his
vice warmth trap him in. Harry was overwhelmed and trying to adjust to Louis'
girth, he might not be uber-huge in length, but his thickness made up for it.
Harry felt as if Louis would just tear him apart. But the drag and the pressure
and the stretch. He loved it, and his moans and the marks on Louis' chest and
back would be something to go by it. Harry moved his hips and felt his breathe
hitched at the extreme intrusion as Louis pushed in harder. Harry moaned, a
voice between a squeak and a groan. Louis groans as he pushes in all the way
and pulls back out almost immediately, thrusting back simultaneously after
that.
Their moans and heavy broken breathes filled the room, sweet-nothings lost in
the air and it was slow, so slow and caring and filled with passion as Louis
rocked into Harry and Harry tried hard to hold onto his sanity. But at the end
when they both came together, their sweat-slicked chest flush against each
other, the two quietly whispered the sweetest secret they shared, "I love you,
Haz." "I love you, Lou."
~~~~~~
Louis' pov.
10th July, 2010
Warehouse (22:45)
"Wow, you are such a slut. So tight. Uh, fuck yeah." The person yelled as he
came into the condom.
It hurt, honestly it all hurt. But last month after the little work feud, less
pay on that job in the morning and this, disgusting work at night was the only
way we could make it through, and I was willing to let it be.
The person was hooking up his belt when I heard Harry whistling. He was back,
shit, shit. "That was a hundred and fifty. And quick you got to leave." I
ushered the man. He grumbled before paying and getting out from the front exit.
I quickly dressed up and moved into the kitchen to behave as if I have been
waiting, it wasn't a lie, I was intact waiting for Haz to come home and when I
felt his wide hands on my hips, hugging ne from behind, I gulped unconsciously,
before relaxing into his hug. He kisses me on my cheek and says, "I missed you,
long day today? You seem tired."
I felt bad but ended up smiling when he fell face first, while putting up his
guitar case. "Yes, Hazzy. Long day you tall duck. Get up, and come here, let me
check for damage."
Harry grumbled quietly but came back and sat near my foot on the flour box. He
had bruised his nose and it looked swollen so I softly caressed it and he
hissed but relaxed quickly.
After dinner we both lay in bed and Harry immediately fell asleep, and that's
when my tears spilled out, I chose this life, can't really help myself now.
~~~~~~
15th August, 2010
Harry's bags were packed, all his stuff neatly kept and easy for him to move
around, but the way Louis' heart ached at knowing what he was about to do, was
worse than death.
Louis was fired and last week a notice was put up in the warehouse that it had
been bought and today was the day the new guards would come around. He couldn't
let anybody around Harry or let anyone know that they were basically unknown.
Harry knew Louis would be home this afternoon, so he decided to give him a
little surprise. So as he entered their room, he saw all his bags packed and
confusion was clear to hid being. So in search if Louis he walked further into
the room, well near to where they slept and the sight before him had brought
tears to his eyes.
Two men, their hands holding on to Louis' petite being while one fucked him and
the other waits his chance. The sight sickened him. But what sickened him more
was the tears in Louis' eyes, the fear in them and the blood on his lips and
forehead, his feathery hair matted with dirt and blood and the men's laughter
at his agony.
Louis was caught up in thinking about helping Harry out if this place so they
could get away, but the two guards arrived right before he could pack himself
up and in order to help Harry he thought he would distract them first. And the
distraction was he. And the distraction worked, so what if he got beat up
before being raped, Haz was safe and that's all that mattered to him.
The second person was having his way with him when he opened his bleary eyes
only to get caught on a distant face in the far-off, Harry. He never wanted
Harry to see this, he just wanted Harry to run away, si he openly mouthed Harry
to 'Run!'
And that's what Harry did, he ran, he ran away till he could feel his lungs
burn out and till the images burned his soul, but the rain was heavy and his
being weak and tired. He wanted to give up, he did. He passed out on the doors
of a Chinese vegetable vendor's closed Shoppe, and woke up in a warm room,
cuddled into several blankets, smell if lemon and ginger tea fresh to his nose,
he was suddenly attacked by a coughing fit. An middle -aged woman ran to his
side to comfort him.
"There. There, quiet down. Drink this now, poor lad, you were all drenched and
passed out. How are you feeling now?" She asked, softly.
"T-thanks. I am Harry." Harry replied shyly.
"Charlee."
 
Chapter End Notes
     Leave some feedback.
     M.
***** So Far, Nothing. *****
Chapter Summary
     The process of Plan: Finding LOUIS has begun.
Chapter Notes
     Hello, so how is this book going so far? Any question/confusions?
     I am willing to answer and clear all your doubts, so don't hesitate.
     IN THIS CHAPTER WE SHALL SEE THE PROCESS OF FINDING LOUIS, THE TOMMO
     AND PRINCE STYLES!!!
     US FANS PLAY A ROLE IN THIS TOO!!!!! YAYYYY!!!
     KINDA HAPPY, BITTER-SWEET!
See the end of the chapter for more notes
Harry's pov:
 24 April, 2017
 London Estate
"Hey guys. It's Harry Styles, your beloved. The response to the new album has
been amazing, mind-blowing, my apologies for being away for so long. I really
really appreciate the good response. Now that it's blown over, I have just one
small request from the lot of you, as you all know, I am openly gay, and before
you all start making speculations, No I do not have a boyfriend currently, but
that is the reason, I have requested your attention. I am residing at my London
home, at the moment, and being on hiatus for this undefined period is
supposedly the time during which, I really really wish to make certain amends,
turn back the wrongs of the past, turn around time and ....uh... probably, find
him.
“Him as in, Louis, the reason why I am here, at this peak at this moment in
life. As you all have supported me through my career, I hope you help me and
support me equally in this little task too, I have no contact with this man,
neither does he with me and as desperate as it sounds, I need to find him, even
if I have to go on foot, and walk across the seven seas, manually, and search
for him. So the final request, help me find him.
"The last picture I have of him is this," I shuffle around and pick up the
picture of Louis at the London Eye, soft yellow lights bouncing off his
feathery hair, his blue eyes so full of life and glimmering with the twinkling
lights, no scruff on his delicate yet sharp cheekbones, sweater-paws in his
blue woolen coat and his red shiny nose.
"I basically don't quite know how he looks currently, but those eyes and
cheekbones, must not have changed, so this is the best I can do, I will be
taking the help of the police as well locals, but you guys are to help me the
most. His full name was Louis William Tomlinson, and he was, is the softest
sweetheart out there. Help me get him back. Signing out, its H!"
I was completely nervous, the album was doing good, the fans loved me doing
quirky promos via videos, and well, Liam was doing his best, the past month I
had just been busy with being accustommed to the weather here, honestly, I was
the one feeling a bit under the weather, not London. Charlee was understanding
and patient with me. She helped me get up on days I wanted to give up and lay
in bed and behave like a brat, or helped me shower throughout the week when I
came home from a particularly bad case of drunken mishaps, including a little
pap hassle, and not a complaint ever left her mouth. She cooked, helped the
maid, went to the market, stayed with me, talked me out of taking impulsive
decisions, and helped me maintain my sanity, or what was left of it anyways.
And like a million bricks it hit me, my fidgetting and bratty behaviour is only
because I haven’t slept a peaceful night since the day I reached here, my
expectations were so high up on the peak that the negative results of the
search only brought much disappointment, the earlier excitement of getting him
back, searching for him, had gone and plummeted into quicksand and my mind was
submerged with the much (un)expected  failure of my abstract plan of getting
back my lover. What a lie, I as enraged, how could destiny play me like this?
Like every deranged lover, my hopes of instantaneously finding him were too
far-fetched, I should have known better than to hope for such embellished goals
to be fulfilled so soon. I behave as if Louis would come running back into my
arms, Idon’t even know for sure if he is alive, is he...? No, no, Harry, you
can’t think like that, you would know if he is dead,i would, wouldn’t i?
“Harry, Harry? Come downstairs. Food is ready, darling.” Charlee calls me, the
timing is incredible, otherwise the only thing left was me to foam from my
mouth.
“Coming.”
I rush downstairs, and into my dining room, food was kept on the table, some
soup and some asian chicken curry and rice, I joined hands and prayed to
‘whoever is listening’ before beginning to eat. Over the course of life with
Louis I realized one thing that food was something not everybody gets, you
might deserve to eat but circumstances might not allow you to. With Louis we
were afraid, that will tomorrow or the neaxt meal we get to eat or will we
starve? The uncertainty taught us that “do not waste what someone else worships
for.” A very important lesson in life. And the sole reason why I did so much
Charity, so that people who are living poorly in the third world country don’t
have to face what Louis and I did, even as children, the haunting uncertainty.
People ask me again and over again, why I did so much Charity, I learnt while
in India, something that Louis encouraged me to do, a different language but
the same thought, “Naiki kar, Dariya me dal.” Apparently, it means, ‘Do good,
and let it go.’
 I was by no chance a whiny child, but once in a while, giving hard-earned
money, back in the olden days of LouisandHarry paradise, became a hassle to me,
homeless children who littered the streets or abandoned children under
government care who were under-privileged asked us for alms, and as struggled
we lived, Louis would generously handed them fifty pounds or more, depending on
how much worse their needs were, and the poor lad used to earn only 15 Pounds
an hour, my conditions were worse. But we, as a team and as individuals, made
it through.
But I still suffer from guilt, it stays in the back of my mind and the edge of
my throat, on the tip of my tongue. I haven’t yet told anybody about Louis, not
even Charlee, she just thinks he is someone I used to know, not that he was my
lover or anything. I am still under a pile of un-sorted mess. It’s like my
brain is under an emergency lock-down due to a tornado causing havoc within.
Imagine it as that one episode from that show Spongebob, where his brain is an
office and everything is burning and lost, it’s that bad, or perhaps worse?
Dinner was silent, and no one spoke, the clatter of spoons and forks and a bit
of loud chewing and slurping were the only noises in the environment. It all
felt like ‘le calme avant la tempête’, and it scared me out of my own skin.
Perhaps it was only my mind playing games on me, but my eyes were zeroed on a
particular spot of curry stain that had formed on the table-cloth, my ears felt
like static, my skin was suddenly clammy, I could hear the loud dropping of the
silverware on my crystalline ; it sounded distant, suddenly someone was
screaming, it sounded  distant at first and the next it felt as if it was
coming from right beside me, but I was stuck in the abyss of nothingness, I was
numb, i couldn’t move and then there was a hand on my back, a soft yet hard rub
on the clothed back, but then I realized, it was I who was screaming, there was
the ‘Oh!’ so, similar darkness enveloping me, and I let it.
I felt myself fall and the lack of vision invited extremely sensitive hearing
and the pitter-patter of feet and the anxious voice of Charlee were
overwhelming, but what felt enticing was the distant, perhaps imaginative voice
of Louis calling me towards the darkness.
And I ran towards him, following his sweet voice, but I found myself on the
edge of a cliff, the same man standing between him and I. And again, the visual
wasn’t pleasant, Louis lay on the ground, bloodied and dead-like, every breathe
wracked through him like an arrow piercing his skin, his eyes were red and
watery, and his being laid limp as the man had his way with him and I stood
still, unable to move.
Was this real? Why weren’t my feet moving? I was running, damn it, I am
running, but the ground just expands, and the distance between us is increasing
and I am just not fast enough, all this is happening so quick, one moment I
almost had him in my arms, and the other the same thing happened, no matter
however many times I tried, it was like the videogame I was destined to lose no
matter how hard and good I play, the arch-nemesis is always better, the villain
is going to win and I am a failure, a loser.
“Harry? Harry, please get up. Oh my god, I am so, so, so sorry, I forgot you
didn’t take your medicine last night and even this morning, I forgot to remind
you and oh! You are awake. Goodness gracious, I almost had a heart attack.
Please take your medicine, darling!” Charlee?
“No, no, no! Where is Louis? He was right here! No! No! No! He was right here?
Right in-front of me?” I clenched my fists and shut my eyes as tears blurred my
vision, again this, why? Charlee rubbed my scalp in an attempt to cool me and
relax me, but now all it reminded me of was the way Louis used to card his
fingers through my hair and relaxed me or gave me head-massages when I had
severe migraines, and now it is all just a bitter-sweet memory, a haunting
nostalgia.
Chapter End Notes
     FEEDBACK!!
     -M!
***** Run in. *****
Chapter Summary
     Niall takes Louis to a small transaction.
     In addition, a little in side of the gorgeously disturbed brain of
     the one and only Louis Tomlinson.
     And probably a sort of cliff-hanger.
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
Louis’ pov:
25th April, 2017
Niall’s House.
“I just have this one place to be, darling. Would you want to accompany me? I
am going towards Manchester. A sort of big party, have a great order, actually.
So?” Niall asks me as he emerges from the kitchen where he was cooking.
One might think that how adorable my boyfriend cooks for me, sikes, no, I have
made it a rule that if anybody’s in the kitchen, it’s anyone but me. How rude
of me, nope, nope, nopety nope. He chose it himself, decided I was a fragile
flower in need of a servant, well when you put it that way, he behaves that way
on his own, no force on my part, the most I ever do is pout, and a huge feast
lays before me, I don’t need to do much, at least I don’t need to work anymore
and no one forces me to sex with them, free drugs and the slow and minimal sex
is amazing.
“Yeah sure, babe! Let me just dress up; is it like a casual place or low-like,
high-like?”
“Um, high-like, I suppose, the guy sounded like a proper whack.” Niall replies,
aha!
“Okay then. Be right back.”
Another thing I learnt about Niall was that he absolutely despised the high-
class society, A-list people, socialites, celebrities, even though he himself
would have been easily a part of ‘them’, he chose the ‘crib life/ hood life’ or
whatever ‘cool’ name he has for those. He hated posh and cultured people,
‘unethical bastards who are worse than us but behave as if they are better’ or
probably the kind of clients I used to have before, well then.
So as per demand I dressed in one of the expensive Gordon Bennett blazer and a
scoop neck plain white t-shirt and a black skinny jeans, him wearing something
similar, he was one of those people who wanted to match at places, we were
’that’ couple. I despised it, but let him parade around with it. He was new to
this relationship stuff and he did stuff off of examples and stories from
social media, it irked me but I let him, a little cheese from him here and
there was okay with me.
He wanted to hold hands as he lead me out of our shared house, that
surprisingly wasn’t the same as the alleyway house, that was his ‘bachelor
pad’, this one was in some high-rise flat with three bedrooms and four baths.
It was much more posh and better and I ended up leasing my flat, I lived on
rent anyways, the only stuff I owned was two or three bags of clothes, a couple
of boxes filled with books I bought over the course of six years.
And the many of them were brought during the time Zayn took me book hunting, so
that he could in-breed in me the culture and sophistication he was brought up
in. To him somehow I was more than just some scum on the street. He taught me
things, things like how to sit, how to dress, how to eat, what and when and how
to drink, taught me about art, books, history, the society and its demands,
people and trends, and in general about life.
He was a jerk at times, an impatient man, with a temper as wild as his hair in
the wind blowing at me as I stood in the rain, broken, beaten and used, drained
of my life, drenched to my bone, shivering like the last leaf of autumn, every
breathe a sob and everything felt like its lasting longer than it should.
But through it all, it was much fewer times that he made me feel worthless. For
a homeless, desolate prostitute, he was god, the light at the end of a tunnel,
the warmth of a candle-light in the snow. He was an amazing person with a dark
side only I happened to face, a death-like stance, and a few months back was
the first time he actually raised his hand on me, I know he was frustrated out
of limits and I was edging him more, and someone would say it’s no excuse for
him to raise even a finger towards me, he was frustrated that someone had raped
me, again, under his watch and all I had to say was “it is bound to happen,
happens to everybody!” His anger towards my answer was illogic, but what egged
him were the cheap tips men gave for ‘the show’.
His anger, before that was me being subjected to words, cursing, a few glasses
broken, thrashed here and there, nothing severe, it’s his temper after all, and
it was rare, rare when he forgot his easel at the studio, with another picture
of me that he painted, his anger started when men hit on me at those
extravagant dates he took me to, his anger came in the form of sex, rough love-
making and even though it hurt, his love was of that sort. He gave me a life I
couldn’t have afforded or dreamt of, even if it meant he made me a pawn. He
became my advertiser, a sort of pimp, but isn’t that what my being was all
about?
A bump on the road brought me back to where I was in a car with one of the
sweetest men I had met, dumb but sweet. As Niall drove us there in his SUV that
looked way too sketchy, had tinted glasses and protective glares on its windows
and back panel.  It screamed ‘this car holds illegal drugs’. But we weren’t
caught and I was sure Niall was very good at his job otherwise I seriously
doubted that this suspicious driving and car would have him behind bars for
forever.
He opens the door for me, and puts his hand out for me to take as I step out of
the car, I get treated like a queen and all he’ll ever reply to that is, “A
queen is supposed to be treated like they deserve anyways.” He picks up a black
leather bag, those new man-purses, and I dare not ask him what is in there,
probably weed. He holds my left hand, clearly entwined together, a forced tug,
indicating that he doesn’t want me to let go.
 I wouldn’t anyways; social settings in this situation only remind me of the
many times Zayn took me out for a couple of events with his socialite
‘friends’. He let men have turns at such events, and because it was off-
contract the pay was a lot higher than usual. He wouldn’t warn me before hand
and I use to have scruff and looked as old as him, and the slightest hints of
me being a bottom would be lost and men would go slow, the most at one night I
have taken are three men, with a gap of  half an hour at least.
 I shake my head of the images of the horrors I have faced, I might look
fearless, but the self within knows the kind of fear I face every night, or
every time an unwanted, unknown hand brushes past me. I am anti-social not by
chance, but by will; by choice. Every handsy person is my nightmare, I know to
control myself, and I don’t wish to ever confide in anybody, the secrets that
my soul keeps. It’s horrific how I wish one of them will read my mind before I
wish to die, or perhaps Death takes me in. It’s pathetic how I wish that Harry
would find me again and hopefully his touch won’t make me cringe or his voice
won’t make me flinch; I hope that when we are in the same room his sudden
presence doesn’t make me afraid, and I just hope that if he ever finds me
again, I am alive and hopefully he can somehow turn back time.
Niall knocks on the door, his hand shifting to lie loosely on my waist, rubbing
circles to soothe my rushing mind and I gulp before plastering on my face a
smirk, a sensual smirk, a killer smirk, my signature. The door is opened by a
clean-shaved, baby-faced, brunette in a grey suit and a confused glint to his
face. Poor lad, not his home, I guessed. Niall tightened his grip on my waist
as the guy called out to, insert assholish name, and moved aside for said guy
to allow us in, presuming this great looking house is supposedly his. He leads
Niall and me towards, what I am assuming his kitchen is, and I happen to be
correct.
The transaction was smooth and easy. And the ‘good lad’ allowed us to hang on
and enjoy the party. And that is the story of how I found myself, an hour
later, talking to a bunch of art enthusiasts because Niall was somewhere
getting high. “Cubism was not the first term that they described for the
painting until 1911 when they made it official about it.” I complete what
thought I was conveying.
“Cubism started to decline in art when the artist that used Cubism died and
when slowly Cubism died out from use after the 1920's.” The guy who opened the
door for us, Chad, said.
“Still, Cubism lives but not many people or artists use Cubism anymore,
nowadays.” Another one of them said.
“Cubism can be seen in the architecture of buildings often when they used 3D
geometrical shapes without an illusion or a classical perspective for the
buildings.” The guy who was filling my champagne glass said from near the table
on the far-left of ‘us’.
“This is why architecture has an important link to cubism from the early 1900's
to present that change the way buildings were made. Influence for Cubism is
average in many of the artistic fields for paintings and sculptures and
impacted the world a lot too.” I completed as he handed me my glass back.
“Pointillism and Cubism are great ways to do art and helped changed the world
in the early 1900's to now and will still in the future. If you all do not
mind, I would like to borrow this charming young man for a moment.”A jarringly
recognizable voice said from behind me and even in my slightly tipsy haze the
dominance in the voice was clear to me and the harpy-like flock of men quickly
scrambled away, leaving me with the owner of the voice.
“I never knew you had such keen interest in Art and its various forms.
Especially boring forms like pointillism and cubism. I guess my interests and
ideologies, rubbed up on you. Long time no see, Queen Louve.” He said, in his
slow, smoky, sensually teasing, and mellow, honey-like voice.
“Ever thought that I was perhaps, I don’t know, maybe ignoring you?” I said as
I turned to look into the beautiful hazel eyes of the devil himself, Zayn.
 
 
Chapter End Notes
     Leave me some feedback.
     -M.
***** Naive boy. *****
Chapter Summary
     Past chapter.
     [This was very overdue, honestly.]
     “So, who are you Harry?”
     “I am a runaway.”
     “Were you in an orphanage?”
     “No.”
     “Did you grow up on the streets?”
     “Not quite.”
     “Then tell me.”
Chapter Notes
     Okay, so honestly, I am so sorry, I did not give y’all a chapter
     about fetus babies, past chapters are mostly grim, as if the whole
     book isn’t. Smh.
     So like I was saying I am sorry, not quite as much as I would like to
     be because in some twisted way I love writing about my characters.
     [BTW Sweet creature is fucking amaze, and Slow Hands has me choking
     fuck!]
     So, like I have said before, a couple of times ahead, the summaries
     mean shit, it’s just something I contemplate and write; like a prompt
     of sorts, it only gives a general idea to the masses, the summary is
     not the story.
     So, the summary of it says, Harry and Louis had a conversation about
     Louis’ prostitution, which I would not deny happens[ed] in this
     story, but the general idea was cut out by my writing, and I
     apologize if my writing seems brutally gruesome, it’s the way I like.
     There is again the possibility, that I might change my mind, and end
     p writing another version of the summary’s chapter, mainly revolving
     around the particular subject of Louis’ body-sale.
     Till then, keep reading, keep commenting, be rad and dapper.
     All the love,
     M.
See the end of the chapter for more notes
Past chapter.
Market House, Charlee and Harry.
16th August, 2010 
Third person's pov:
“So Harry, where are you from? An orphanage? Some family? Or where?”Charlee
asks, while they both sip on their teas.
“I am from around here. Just a little away. I lived with an- Um, I mean, I used
to live at the warehouse, the one at Greek Street. It is being remodelled into
a supermarket, they sent guards there so I had to run before they caught me.”
Harry replied meekly, swiftly taking a sip of his tea.
“Well, I don’t want to force you or something, but...” Charlee trailed off.
“Oh, yes sure. After this tea, I wouldn’t want to impose, so I shall be gone
and out of your hair. Forgive me I might have un-knowingly over-stayed my
welcome.” Harry rushed out.
“Oh, no, I meant, you are young and alone and I have no children and I would
love to legally adopt you. You know, legalize your citizenship. All that
paperwork.” Charlee exclaimed, nervous and unsure.
“What? You want to adopt me, a fifteen year old? I really do not want to
impose. Like you are a nice lady and all, but I can manage. I have a singing
job, I sing here and there and I can manage, honestly, there are more worthy
and needy kids.” Harry explains.
“You don’t understand. I meant, you have a bright future and you are already so
self-made. And you won’t be imposing when I am inviting you. And you could
continue singing, I wouldn’t stop that, but you wouldn’t require earning all
that much money. You should know, I had the chance to help a little five year-
old all those years ago, and I got cold-feet, ended up watching the child run
away and do god knows what to survive, or if he is even alive now. And my guilt
would turn me against myself if this time I knowingly let you go. Please think
about it, I will let you be now. I’ll call you when dinner is ready. Have a
calm thinking. Think about both of us.” And saying that Charlee hastily left
Harry alone with thoughts far too confusing.
“Charlee.” Harry called.
“Yes, Harry.” Charlee said, not meeting his eyes, still halfway through the
doorway.
“I might say yes, but with that yes come a few conditions.” Harry said,
thoughtfully, his eyes on the wall across him. From the corner of his eye he
sees Charlee shuffle, A soft hum as an answer.
“We shall talk then.” Charlee said leaving.
~~~~~~
 
8th October, 2010
“So you have to sign here, Miss. Chen. And Mr. Styles, here.” The officer said.
“Anything else, officer Liu?” Charlee asked politely.
“Charlee, I am happy for you. Harry, Charlee is a good woman, take care of her.
By the way Charlee, Harry has to come every month on the eighth and have
session with Mrs. Cole. If that’s no problem, we will now remove him from the
missing person list.” Officer Liu said.
“Missing persons list? Excuse me, why is my name in the missing persons list,
was?” Harry asks.
“Charlee?” officer Liu said nervously.
“Harry, you were legalized, the hospital you were born in had your records,
while Officer Liu and his partner Officer Zhang were investigating for papers
of legalization, the officer from Child Development, research and crimes
against underage citizens said he has seen the particular files of your name.
We found out that you mother was Della Styles, the woman who alerted the police
about Sex scams and prostitution scandals. She had already filed a missing
person of two people.”Charlee said.
“Two children, specifically. This was when you were supposedly ten. Well the
other person, we never found him. If you are fifteen, he is supposed to be
seventeen, he is still underage. We don’t know if he is dead or alive. All we
know is that he actually has papers and a guardian, a parent.” Officer Liu
said, pointing to a wealthy looking, weary lady sitting outside their
colleagues office.
“She used to be this young thing at the club at Market Street. Stayed next
door, was a single mother. Got into an accident when her son was five, police
raided her house, found illegal drugs but she was already caught up in an
accident. The year Della died, was when Agnes came here, healthy and married to
this big businessman, wealthy and in love.
“But a weariness of not knowing the whereabouts of her only son. She has six
kids now, but still comes here every two weeks for a report or update on the
search. But the picture of her son is that of an ankle-biter with glossy golden
hair, slight dark blue eyes and a chubby face, something we cannot decipher.
The post-puberty person must look different, obviously.
“We have tried sketch artists and everything, but the search results always
come back negative, just like yours did after all these years of government
plans wasted in your name. She doesn’t want to give up. She still has hope.”
Officer Liu concluded.
And that was when harry realized, this was Agnes. Agnes Tomlinson, as in mother
of Louis William Tomlinson. Louis has a mother, he has parents and a family. He
is and so is Harry legal and eligible for government schemes and plans, they
didn’t need to scavenge all these years if only Louis would let Harry and
himself out and about and helped himself to the doctors openly.
But Louis didn’t know this. And somehow the sadness and overly-aged and mature
Tomlinson’s blue eyes were suddenly so naive, and stupid for not reasoning if
he was so lonely or was it just an illusion he had built. Obviously, it was an
illusion, because as Harry left from the over-crowded station, he could see the
worry and despair in the older Tomlinson’s brown eyes.
 
 
 
 
 
Chapter End Notes
     Leave feedback! And come back for more from Mistique.
     Tell a friend.
***** An Older Realization. *****
Chapter Summary
     It has been weeks, and so long, no one has come up with anything for
     me.
     It is like a hopeless cause.
     And like the twists of life, a sweet turn takes me back.
Chapter Notes
     Sorry for the last chapter, it was no good.
     This chapter is more worthwhile, it is a current continuation of what
     we ended in last chapter.
     If you notice [I don’t think y’all would] Harry’s chapters are more
     poetic and deep, sadder, but metaphorical.
     Hope you enjoy!
     -M.
 
26th April, 2017
 
“Harry...” a familiar voice, whispering it, it was distant but clear.
I open my eyes to be met with the hazy and mellow orange sunlight cascading
through the satin white curtains. The room itself glowed as the sunlight danced
atop my possessions. The room looked tranquil and serene. However, my mind was
at war with my sanity. It was a first time in a long time I had woken up at
dawn, the slight pinkish tinge of the sky was a sight of beauty.
The slight pink of the atmosphere reminded me of the pink lips so silky, so
soft, lips that once touched me in the most tranquil chaos. The pink reminded
of the flushed skin that my orifice touched gently, in the most sensual way
possible. Memories of a time lost haunt me with pleasure.
~~~~~~
 
“Oh, Harry.” Louis panted as harry rocked into him in the most leisurely pace.
Each thrust a powerful biff to his prostate. The pleasure brought tears to his
eyes, eyes of glossy blue lost in a pleasurable darkness of overwhelming lust
and love for this boy who was so gentle and yet so brutal.
“You feel so beautiful, Lou, so beautiful. Just a bit more, hold on for a few
more.” Harry spoke as he kept up the leisurely torture to his lover’s sweet
spot. It felt a different pleasure to be buried up to the sac in the saccharine
heat of his ‘amant’.
They make eye contact as Harry groans in unexplainable pleasure of feeling
Louis writhe under him harmonious to his thrust that were languid and filled
with love. Louis opens his eyes that were a clear blue and he wept with silent
screams, his pleasure with the pain of Harry buried so within him that it felt
more painful than pleasurable but the pure bliss of the heart-felt emotion was
more than anything he will ever feel. They maintained eye contact before Harry
dipped down to nudge at the many nips he left along the magnificent
exquisiteness of his collarbones and along his neck, onto his Adam’s apple and
along his sharp jaw. The purple bruises were little nubs of pleasure and harry
never once lost rhythm while nibbling more onto them; almost breaking the skin.
Louis tightened his grip on Harry’s hands that laid entwined together, a vice
grip from both forces as both neared their climax. It was the best feeling as
Louis clenched hard around Harry, while Harry sped up a little. Both met in the
middle for a kiss laced with love, delivered with a bite and that was all it
took for Louis to cry out in anticipation and urgency.
They stared into each other’s glassy eyes, so open, so vulnerable and so
quaint. With a final wail they both came together, not a pace skipped. Louis
painted up his and Harry’s chests and Harry filling Louis up to his brim and
Harry fell on top of Louis, slumping and finally giving up. He slowly slipped
out and Louis winced in pain but it felt blissful.
A distant traffic and howling was heard, but prominent sound of each other’s
laboured breathes and heavy heartbeats were all they heard.
“Haz, hold me. Please.” Louis whimpered and so Harry did.
~~~~~~
“Harry?” Lee called.
“Yeah.” My voice cracked as I called out, I touched my face and found wetness.
I hurriedly wiped away tears that settled on the crevices of my face. I keyed
up my mind of all the memories.
 I got up from where I sat and walked to my door to open it to find lee
standing there with a newspaper and a couple of reports and mail.
“Come on in.” I told her. She does and hands me the papers before taking a seat
on the copper-coloured ottoman near my bed. I sit down near her feet and she
immediately carded her fingers from my hair, slowly massaging my scalp. I close
my eyes and pretend that the fingers are Louis’ and the breathing is light and
high.
We sit in silence for a couple of minutes and then she says, “You woke up early
today. What is going on in there?”
“The usual.” I answer.
“The usual. I have some news. There is progress.” She says.
I immediately open my eyes and stand up at a crazy pace, my morning dullness
lost. “What do you mean there is progress?” I almost shout.
She hands me the newspaper and the couple of envelopes. I first pick the
newspaper and see the headlines; there on the front page was a picture of a
baby Louis with golden hair and chubby features beside another picture of Louis
as a teenager.
“Forensics_reveals_lost_baby_is_the_same_person_as_the_lost_teen._Hope_for
International_rock_star_and_Business_tycoon’s_second_wife.”
Then in a lengthy report, they mention about a couple of other information
vaguely that I do not seem to care about. I pick up the envelope with a stamp
on it and the forensics stamp on it. Inside it was an entire report of the
older files and new databases as well as facial matches that came back 94%
matching.  Moreover, in the other letter is an invitation to ‘Darling’ estate.
In another letter from the police department, there is the news report and a
case-report and some information about witnesses who claim to have seen and
interacted with the boy.
That happens to be the highlight of the day. I smile and look at Charlee
picking her up in my arms and hugging her to my heart’s content, screaming and
laughing maniacally. I run around the room before jumping out and down the
stairs, shouting orders at everyone.
“Carl, breakfast.” “Meg tell Ryan to come upfront by nine.” “Chloe my dry-
cleaning.” “Everyone collect bonus in the evening.”
Aah! Finally.
I text Liam about our progress and then tweet the world a thank-you for their
help.
I look at myself in my shower mirror and am blinded by what seems like the most
honest smile I have on my face for the first time in six years and I feel like
I might just die inside, of happiness, of sorrow, of pain, of dizziness.
***** Closure? *****
Chapter Summary
     Louis’ pov:
     “This piece of roadside tramp is the one you select to call your own
     each night?” Zayn seethes, eyeing a very high and wasted Niall
     dancing to the rhythm of bass playing in the background.
     “Don’t you dare say a word against him! He is a very kinder person,
     unlike you he loves me in a sense purer than your black heart would
     ever know.” I grit back.
     “How would you know what my soul and heart knew? You do not know what
     your heart desires. You would not realize my love even if it was
     dangled with neon lit ropes right in front of your pathetic aqua
     eyes.” He says, angrily, not meeting my eyes.
     “What do you mean?” I ask confused.
Chapter Notes
     Hey people,
     I am so glad you all are reading, commenting, and leaving valuable
     feedback. Believe me when I say, I am so, so very glad and thankful.
     My many, many loves to all of you. I have repeatedly tried to remind
     every one of you how thankful and grateful I am to everyone who is
     reading.
     In addition, chapter songs happen to be ‘Like I would’ by Zayn and
     ‘What a Feeling’ by 1D.
     Keep reading, commenting and loving!
     All the love,
     M.
Continued...
 
Present_Chapter:
 
“Lou, how have you been?” Zayn asks, moving forward to sit on the chair of
whose arm I was sitting.
“It doesn’t bother you. It must not bother you. My health, my life, my well-
being, stopped being your bother the moment you raised your hand to my face and
the slur left your mouth.” I seethe as he sits down comfortably beside me,
leaning opposite to me on the other arm.
“I made it my bother the day I found you on the steps of the closed down
brothel. It is and shallalways remain my bother.” He says, his possessive tone
dripping like water from an open tap.
“I no longer take shelter  with you and your kind.” I say, with equal rage.
“I wonder, then what must a prostitute do at a gathering of social superiority?
Perhaps you are performing duties which place themselves at your feet or must I
say, place themselves at your  orifice?” He says, bitterly.
I stand up with a distinguished stature, a fake one, and attempt to walk away
from him as tears sting my eyes, my face burning with ardour mortification.
However, he stops me with his hand on the crevice of my left thigh behaving as
if he owned me. I shudder with embarrassment and discomfort, a shame rising to
my face and neck, my ear tips heating up. I blink up the tears to stop them
from seeping out of the corners of my eyes.
“Still obedient. Still so beautiful. Such exquisite cuisses,how I would love to
bury myself within them, sheath within, warm and saccharine.” His hands move to
my upper thigh, slowly caressing me, it pronounced love and care, but I knew
better.
“Zayn, you cannot do this. I am with someone now. I do not belong to anybody. I
no longer prostitute myself. I am no longer your ragdoll who you pay to fuck.
Let me go.” My voice cracks pathetically as I try to move his hand away, but he
only grips it tighter, glaring into my eyes.                      
                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                      
“Louis, who, who in the whole wide world is more worthy and laudable of you
than me? You and I both know that no one can love you the way I do.” Zayn says,
laughing at me, mocking me very much. He knows deep within he has lost but his
ego will not stop without a fight.
“Him, he is, he is the one who has my heart and my body. Commit him to your
memory because unlike you, he is not a coward and a brutal lover. He is soft
and caring and very much a sweet-heart who deserves me.” I say as I point
towards the head full of blonde hair and dirty brown roots, peeking from below,
as it sways, lolling left to right as he dances to a tune on the radio.
“Obviously, an uncultured swine is the one whom you choose to deliver your
heart to. A worthless ‘pute’ like you would go for some whore-lover. Does he
snort coke off your bosom? Alternatively, does he let you have him? What does
he have that I do not? Does he have riches that have your raggedy self, tied
down; or does he sing you love-songs I refused to sing? What is it about him
that has you defending him while he snogs off another whore in a corner, drunk
blacked out, high to the sky?” Zayn says, almost pleading, but his snarky
undertone very evident.
“He doesn’t hurt me, and it is an open relationship, we love each other but
nothing binds us together. You hurt me Zayn, you hurt me more emotionally than
all your physicality’s ever could did.  He picked up pieces, which were not his
to pick. He loved a heart afraid to love.” At this point, I am blatantly lying
to him about all my dynamics, all my emotions and all my feelings, towards both
men.
“Then why does your voice tell me that you are being deceitful, towards the one
you love and this blond-head druggie. Then why does your voice not waver when I
mention him kissing someone else? Why does your mouth tell me that you are
hurt, not beyond repair, but a slight aggravation towards me in a conditional
manner. It is after all only I, you ought not lie to me, amoureux.” Zayn
whispers in my ear from where he stands behind me, his hands treading carefully
as they slowly go around my hips, his voice slow sensual and doux. He turns me
around, still holding me in his embrace.
“Take me.”I shock him as well as myself as I say that. He obliges as he looks
in my eyes, his hazel brown swirling with .... ‘Love’.He stares into my eyes
and carefully dips me before he softly covers the distance between our lips,
softly massaging his plump lips to my own. 
 For the most time he just kisses me softly, nothing rough, no biting, no
tonguing, nothing, and it felt pleasant, like I was wanted, wanted for more
than just bodily pleasure.
“Let’s take you home, shall we?” he asks and I nod.
~~~~~~
Our breath was laboured and heavy, it kept mixing up as we kept breathing into
each-other’s mouths. It was unlike any other time, unlike any other person,
unlike himself. It felt great.
He took his sweet time to get us to our starts and to our ends. He did it
methodically, as if he was painting on an empty canvas. He took care of me,
like no other time, it was all about me, none about him and it gave me
satisfaction of knowing that yes, he was definitely, definitely in love with me
and not just my ‘corps’.
Sensual kisses were placed along my body, my whimpers and moans were swallowed
hungrily, my body was ravished with a temperament, but it was an agonizing,
leisurely torture to my overwhelmed senses.
He slept next to me, his eyes shut, arms covering me like a blanket and feet
entangled with the blanket, but in that moment I knew, I realized, I never
belonged in these arms, never belonged in hearts, never belonged to a memory.
Thus, I did what I knew best.
I ran away, only this time I wrote him an apology and a request.
 
‘Dear Zayn,
I am utmost sorry, but tonight was the last night I would ever be with you as
your own.
You ought not find me or pursue me any longer.
I apologize for running away like a coward.
We were two lost boats on a rocking sea, we were not meant to be saved.
Your beloved,
Queen Louve.’
I left while the night stayed dark, not the stars, neither the moon in sight.
One down, one to go.
 
 
 
***** Addict *****
Chapter Summary
     “Hello, Mrs. Darling. I am Harry, Harry Styles.”
     “I know who you are. But how do you know my Lou?”
Chapter Notes
     Hello loves!
     It is so pleasant to see so many reads on this story and all the love
     that you have been sending me is immaculate. I am so overwhelmed.
     Keep reading, commenting and leaving feedback!
     All the love,
     M.
Present_Chapter
25th_April_2017
Third_person_pov:
You_read_that_right_;))
Part - I
Harry Styles.
“Hello, I am Harry Styles.” Harry said to the person behind the open desk.
“I do not care who you are unless you have an appointment with Lady Darling?”
The person said, a bit uninterested.
“Does this letter count as an appointment?” Harry asks, furious, but neutrally.
“Dear Mr. Styles,
I am Agnes Tomlinson Darling, I ask you to be present at my personal residence
upriver, by eleven in the morning.”(Some more murmuring) “Alright sir, please
enter through gate no. 2, it’s on the left. Show them this parchment and they
shall let you in. Thank you.” And with that, she looks back into her newspaper.
Harry thinks that if it were not for Louis’ sake, and for this damned letter
from, Louis’ apparent mother, he would never come here. The entry staff is
rude, unwelcoming and disrespectful.
But what is he to expect, he is just a guest and this estate happens to be a
very big business. Lofty and like a palace. Harry’s driver stops right in front
of the gates of the house and the valet opens the door for him.
He steps down and shows the entry stamped parchment and the woman at the door
says some directions to the tearoom.
Harry follows her directions after she takes his coat. He reaches an elegant
white double door adorned with ivory handles in the shape of orchids, the door
carved nicely into little flowers, the man in waiting opens the door for him
and he enters.
On a circular table decorated with blue lilies in a centrepiece vase, and china
cups on the silver satin tabletop and grey ribbons, the chairs were of similar
design and it all looked like a very elegant manner.
The door opens once Harry settles down, and a woman in a light blue Victorian
dress comes in, her hands in form-fitting gloves and hair up in a bun, her
features similar to another boy, except for weary brown eyes that scrutinized
on Harry. Harry immediately stands up and welcomes the woman.
She sits down; Harry follows and says, “I am Harry, Harry Styles.”
“I know who you are Mr. Styles. My question is how do you know my son, and is
that really how my son looks now?” Lady darling asks.
“That is how he looked when he was seventeen.” Harry replies.
“How did you know him when he was 17?” Agnes asks.
“We grew up together, while you were in the hospital.” Harry says.
That is when Agnes broke down. All her posh facade breaking down. “My poor
child. I never knew what would happen that night. I never got to save him. My
only question is why my parents never thought to look at my house to check if
their five-year old grandson is alive or not. They let him be, and he grew up
on his own. My poor child. How did he manage? Did your mother take him in? Tell
me harry, is your mother the one who helped my son grow up?” Agnes pleaded, all
her sadness peeking through her eyes.
“Agnes, if I tell you what happened when he was five, will you believe me? Will
you be able to get past it and see that none of it was your fault? Will you?”
harry asked as he grabbed Agnes’ hands in his own, the brown-haired woman
sniffled before nodding.
“He was five, probably a few days after your house was put on lockdown and
patrol police sealed it as a house containing illicit drugs, he escaped from
your basement where you told him to hide apparently, that is what he told me
anyways. So after escaping, he walked away a few miles until he found out an
abandoned warehouse at the end of Greek Street and Market Street. A few blocks
away from home. That is where he decided to stay. At the least, two years
later, he found me as I wandered towards the warehouse, mistakenly leaving my
mother behind. There I was stuck in traffic about to get hurt by a milk-van
when he pulled me away to bring me to safety. Will you believe me when I say
that he did not beg for food or shelter but scavenged and went to Church for
food?
“London is quite big and anybody with eyes could have complained about a five-
year old roaming around, but fortunately, for us, unfortunately for you, he was
not ever reported. The people at our house were nice, they saw an abandoned
child and helped him survive until he was ten and that was when he realized
what goes down at that place and casually decide to move away from there, back
to the warehouse, our warehouse.” Harry had a nostalgic smile on his face, but
a lying sadness too.
“What did he do then?” Agnes asks eyes wide.
“He did odd jobs, small jobs like milk delivery, newspaper delivery,
supermarket advertisements distributor. All those things, he made it to have
food every day.” Agnes’ sobs echo in the room, “My baby!”
“Whatever happened none of it is your fault. After that when I was nine, even I
realized the happenings of that place I called home and left to stay with
Louis, he and my mother supported it and that is how I came to stay24x7 with
him.” Harry says, still smiling.  Agnes sniffles loudly, fat tears dripping
down her perfect eyes.
“Who is your mother? I need to really thank her.” Agnes replied, filling the
silence.
“She is no more. She died when I was 10,” Harry gets up and paces towards the
room’s window and stands there gaping outside, “tell me Agnes, do you remember
where you were on September 12th of 2004?”
“Yes, I was in the hospital, I had just gotten up from the coma I slipped in
due to the accident. Why do you ask?”Agnes replies, confused yet, curious.
“I lost my mother that night. Do you know what else happened that night?” Harry
asks fiddling with his puffed silk shirtsleeves.
“Something about sex scandals and whorehouses being raided, and a huge case
of”, her voice hushes down several decibels as she says, “Human rights and lost
children.” She gets up from her seat to comfort herself more than to comfort
harry, she places her hands on Harry’s broad shoulders, rubbing her palms on
his shoulder blades. “I am so, so sorry Harry darling. Please have a seat.” She
coaxes Harry to sit and she sits across him, rubbing his knuckles with her
thumb. “Where were you and Louis?”
“At the warehouse across in the alleyway, away from all the commotion. We were
asleep when he woke up; leaving me cold on the worn and stained mattress, he
called a bed. He walked over to the ventilator windows to have a look at it,
and I followed and as soon as I walked over, they brought out the water-laden,
ghost of a body of what once was my mother, and she was the one who called the
police and initiated the raid.
“Louis was very caring and everything was soon explained to me why the outside
world is the worst demon of our lives, two homeless boys with no papers they
know of, for a twelve year old he was too smart, smart enough that it was bad
for his own good.
“He was so mature and everything.  He made me the man I am today, this well-
cultured man, who rose from the literal streets to the top of the world.” Harry
said. Tears were brimming in his eyes, they were about to fall, but he blinked
them back.
“How did you both separate?” Agnes asks.
“It was in 2010 when he lost his job at the local cafe where he earned a lot,
we had reserves of money my mother earned too but we both decided it would be
better to use them later in life. For sure, we were going to get married one
day and move away from the city for a small house and a farm in the country.
That being beside the point, but after he lost his job, the only work for him,
as he thought as a 17 year old was” Harry hesitated, taking big gulps of saliva
that almost ran dry on his throat. How is he to tell a mother that her son
decided prostitution was the way of life for him?
“Well?” Agnes asked confused.
“He chose prostitution because that is what he knew he could do. I obviously
opposed but...” Harry tried saying, but Agnes’ gasp filled the room, not
allowing Harry to continue; and then she was wailing again.
“My poor, poor young son. How could you let him? He was only a boy. A seventeen
year old boy.” Agnes wailed.
“I know how you feel, but think as a seventeen year old with nothing else to
do, whose knowledge of the world’s conditions are immaculate and more logical
than a sociology textbook, what would you have done to keep your identity
hidden and yet earn enough money to save and feed two mouths. Yet, that is not
the story of how we separated. We separated because on August 15th, 2010, while
I was away in the morning singing for money at the Subway stations and other
places, he was at home packing our bags. Packing my bag to be specific. He
never got the chance to pack his bag.” Harry said.
“I got back in the afternoon to find him bloody and being raped by two filthy
guards who started work on site for the new supermarket that was to be built
there, and to this day his face haunts me. That image, that particular memory
haunts me. And that selfless foolish boy of yours had only the words ‘run
away!’ to tell me. So tell me Agnes, did I do anything wrong? Because I still
live with guilt in my being.” Harry all but shouts, face red and expression
furious and rage-filled.
“My poor boy was, no, no, no! You are lying. You must be lying.” Agnes screams
as she lunges to pull at Harry’s collars, jerking them forward, her eyes wide
with fury.
“Why would I lie to you about a nightmarish memory still fresh in my head, he
chose to bait himself so that I could run. But I would prefer his company in
death or shame, than to ever breathe with the memory burned scarlet into my
brain. Why would I lie, woman, why would I fucking lie?” Harry yells. Agnes
falls to his feet and grabs him by his knees as she weeps on him, grieving
Louis.
Harry walks away and seethes, “You know what is worse? That my mother’s entire
savings, all that gunny filled with money, he packed it into my bag and told me
in a letter to make myself a life, for he chooses death, and that I should
never comeback to find him. But guess who is still in love with a prostitute? I
am. And I am ready to kill before I die in peace, just to get a final glimpse
of him. Because he is a fool if he thinks, I could un-love him.
“He is nicotine, he is a drug and I am nowhere near sobriety.  I am an addict
and he is my addiction. “
 
 
                                        
***** You can't. *****
Chapter Summary
     “Hi, I am Zayn. You were knocked out on your way here.”
     “I know who you are. Why the fuck is I in your car? What did you do
     with Louis?”
Chapter Notes
     I am doing a Character ask, if last chapter was not a good enough
     memo.
     If interested please do leave a comment, I will answer you!
     Chapter songs: Melt my heart to stone; First Love; Tired by Adele
     Thanks for reading.
     All the love,
     M.
Part - II
Zayn Malik
Present chapter
25th April 2017
Third person pov:
Zayn woke up sharp at 4:15 am, like he did everyday to a warm body cuddled to
him, but as he smiled and opened his eyes he saw what game his mind played on
him, for he was only cuddled to a pillow that was warm from the body warmth of
his own. There was no sign of Louis, no sign of last night. All that is left is
just a memory and a taste of sour love.
Zayn got up and his bare body held evidence that indeed he was here last night,
that it wasn’t a sober dream, that it was not him imagining another chance to
dance with Queen Louve, his queen. However, the memories were bittersweet,
because Louis was the one to start what happened, to start the inevitable, to
start something that burned down in their passion.
Zayn was furious, sad and desolate. Right when he thought, he had the love of
his life in his arms, and wished their night lasted forever; it disappeared
like an oasis in the desert, like horns from a donkey’s head. He sat there
thinking just how good it felt to have Louis in his arms, begging and moaning,
and the passion in their love was just enough to burn him in the process, for
there was never a ‘we’ or us in this crooked dynamic.
He went into the modern kitchen of his house to see a parchment of paper, some
scribbling on it. Beside it laid an antique ink pen, a designer royal blue,
initialized and custom-made. It once belonged to a royal, but Zayn bought it in
an auction and then he had it repaired and filled it with Egyptian black ink
and dressed it in rich silk paints. Before finally having, it initialized to
the core in platinum, “Q.LWT”.
It belonged to Louis. Zayn picked the letter up to read that in a neat cursive
handwriting, a beautiful print, were written a few words, intellectually
thought over and worded to hit hard. The letter fell down with the unheard
sporadic tears of a raged man. He was hurt, not by the words but by the
emotions hidden within, by the memory dam of the past six years, by the utter
betrayal of destiny.
 
 
 
~~~~~~
 
 
 
It was five in the morning, when Zayn was dressed to the nine in his best
robes. He got in his SUV and drove back to where he came from last night. There
inside, beside the couch on the ground, lay a man with blond hair and dirty
brown roots. He hauled him up while he lay unconscious and drove the man.
Right as Zayn crossed the London Bridge, the dyed blond seemed to awaken.
“Hi, I am Zayn Malik. You were asleep but by the time you woke up ever thing
you loved would combust, it was naturally inevitable for me to drag your
unconscious body before anything of such manner happened.” Zayn said.
“Bloody fucking hell! I know who the exact fuck you are. But what the blubber
are you on about?” Niall asked, confused and a migraine piercing his head.
“You do know that Louis drugged you last night?” Zayn asks.
“I knew you were always shit-mouthing Louis, but ye don’t get to say stuff like
that about him in front of me. I will literally smack ye in the middle of the
traffic.” Niall says his rage clear.
“Get your head out of your ass for a moment and think; has any drink or drug
ever had an effect on you that lead for you to pass out at a party where you do
not know anyone? On the other hand, has it ever lead to blackouts?” Zayn asks.
“What did he drug me with anyways then, go on tell me, tell me.” Niall
provoked.
“I don’t know that, perhaps an organic drug, an organic sleeping pill, what are
those cooling pills? Valeria or something?” Zayn says.
“Valerian? You think Louis would give me sedatives. Why would he do that?”
Niall asks confused.
“Yes, I have very good reason to believe that the last drink of beer that Louis
handed to you before disappearing in the mass of well-culture assholes was
breached with a heavy dosage of valerian that classifies negative in a drug
test. But is an equivalent of sonata just not addictive, are you happy now?’
Zayn exhales as he stops at a red light.
“Why would he do that? Where are you taking me?” Niall asks, softly complying
with whatever Zayn was now saying.
 “I am taking you to the alleyway where you stay; you need all your important
documents, evidences and papers you keep hidden in the storage locker behind
that portrait of SpongeBob. Now as soon as we reach there, you will have
exactly half an hour before we catch up to Louis, as far as I know, he won’t be
done packing by then.”
 
 
~~~~~~
 
 
“Tell me again, how do you know what lies where in my house?” Niall asks
sceptically as Zayn sits simply on the guest couch instead of the old moth-
eaten green couch, which Louis and Niall had have sex several of times, Zayn
cringes at Niall.
“Well, you see Louis was never in love with you. He was faking it all this
time, and let me tell you, you simpleton loon, he was using you so well, you
never even realized.” Zayn says, plastering on his signature smirk.
“You were in on the plan this whole time?” Niall asks, bewildered.
“Oh, no. Not at all. But you just confirmed it for me, that you indeed are a
simpleton.” Zayn stands up from his place and stalks over to Niall who stood,
confused and raged near his study wall, his hands firm on the locker door.
“He was and always will be a player, this is his monopoly, you are just another
play toy on the way to owning the entire board, another piece he owns.”
“Stop talking in riddles. Explain.” Niall says.
“You see, my boy loves games and when he found you he decided to play you. The
easiest game he had played in years. That whore, who you gave your heart,
money, drugs, love and home to, created situations where nothing was hidden
from him, and nothing was difficult or out of reach. Being on the streets
taught him to survive, he is a thief you see, a crooked thief, and Darwin
always said ‘Survival of the fittest’, he is doing just that.
“He pretended to be in love with you so that he can learn your methods, your
business, learn about your deepest secrets. You like the fool you are disclosed
everything like you would to a puppy. This puppy more than just bites, it talks
and fucks shit up.” Zayn says shuddering at the memories of things shared with
said puppy.
 
 
 
~~~~~~
 
 
 
Zayn and Niall drove in silence towards the apartment building where Niall and
Louis were staying.
“I literally hope that he didn’t pack up in time. Because if he did, the
extortion and other stuff is not far away. Imagine heartbreak from a heart-
broken, you can’t because none of us have ever been in his shoes.” Zayn says.
Niall stays silent.
They reach the flat and find the door unlocked and no stuff gone. One of the
expensive Chardonnay disappeared. All of Louis’ belongings gone, Niall’s
cupboard is un-touched. Louis’ toothbrush, his used clothes, blankets
everything gone. Property papers of Niall’s Ireland and Australia villas,
everything still there. Nothing to prove that Louis was ever here; however in
the kitchen on the counter laid in rich parchment, scented and heavy, adorned
in the most beautiful writing were written a few words,
‘Dear Niall,
I am sorry, but we, no you and I, it can never happen.
I am not somebody to settle down, not somebody to stay sitting duck at one
place for so long.
You were interesting while you lasted, but soon you were clingy and tasteless
like a worn out chewing gum.
One can only win a game so many times before giving it up totally.
I give you up.
All the love,
Q.LWT.’
“And that my friend is how you get heart-broken over a heart-broken
heartbreaker.” Zayn said.
“Sit; let me tell you a story.” Zayn says.
“Louis, he is a complete psycho. Imagine being orphaned at the age of five.
Imagine scavenging the streets for your ever-growing body and wishing to remain
small, instead of wishing for a parent. Imagine being six and seeing
prostitutes being ill treated, and misused, imagine growing up in that
environment. Imagine having to feed two mouths at the age of ten. Imagine being
twelve and finding out you are fucked for life when the other person’s mother,
who is a prostitute too, dies and leaves you a few thousand pounds. Imagine
thinking, ‘I am going to save this money for somebody else’s better future’,
when not knowing if you are getting the next meal. Imagine being fourteen and
working three to four jobs a day so that you can do better for the other person
who is still not old enough to do anything. Imagine being afraid of being seen
and yet working so many jobs to put food on a warehouse table where you and
your counter-part stay and call it a home. Imagine being sixteen and realizing
that you are attracted to the said counterpart. Imagine working at a place
where you are always being harassed by patrons and still doing it for a shitty
daily wage. Imagine being seventeen and pimping your body so that said counter-
part turned street-side musician can fulfil their dreams and be cultured enough
to not be called a street-show.
Imagine being raped almost every day for two weeks before gaining enough
courage to run away. Imagine continuing prostitution for food. You can’t.” Zayn
concludes.
***** We Shall Begin Again *****
Chapter Summary
     An awaiting part III.
Chapter Notes
     No one wants the character ask, or perhaps I will extend the date up
     to next Sunday 17:30 GST.
     Thanks for all the support, but there is a long way to go from here.
     We are still in the first phase of a four-phase book.
     I hope you fasten your seatbelts, and keep up all the support.
     Chapter song is Lovesong by Adele.
     All the love,
     M.
See the end of the chapter for more notes
 
Present chapter.
2nd May 2017
Third person pov:
Part III
Liam Payne 
Harry reached the police station at exactly quarter to one, his hair a wild
rage, eyes red and tempered, and a jaw snapped tight. His silken shirt flying
in the wind, his silken pants taut on his legs, flowing from the bottoms. The
paparazzi stood there, throwing questions at him, about the case, about the
blue-eyed lad in the newspapers, and all those poor controversy stories about
old flames that ironically he never had, about his place of origin that was the
spot for speculation, and just so many things he did. He enters like a
whirlwind, the staff alert, and guards in salute position.
He enters and storms into the Chief’s office, his case investigator already
inside. He demands to meet with said witness and he is quietly led into the
room where he awaited. There on a steel bench sat a horrendous criminal,
arrested three months back for heinously raping and murdering five prostitutes,
and Harry’s blood runs cold.
“Leander Mena, convict of 2014, 2015, 2016 and 2017 infamous rape and murder of
Gracie, Rose, Diana, Lucifer and Dolly.” The reporting investigator said as he
sat down across the handcuffed, decent looking man, who was not decent in any
manner.
“You said you know Louis?” Harry asked, standing near to the investigator, Mr.
Steve Atkins.
“Not Louis, his name is Mommy Tommo, or Mommy Lou. He lets them go by either
name. That body he has.” Leander says.
Harry’s nose flares as his anger rose to another level.
“Have you ever touched him? Does he have a pimp we can contact?” Harry asks,
keeping his cool, he needs answers goddamit.
“Oh yes. I have touched him, done so many vile things to his small body, so
small, so tight. You know what, I told him to fight back, just so I could feel
him up obscenely, while holding him down. Oh, ho ho, the things I did to him.
Nevertheless, he has a price. The price of buying him for a few hours. He takes
thousands, literally takes thousands for fucking his brains out. Is he worth it
though, he so is. Slender and tan, with a bum like no other, and he does as
ordered. The perfect submissive, takes a good whipping, takes rough fucking and
my goodness, I fisted him too, and I did a double time on him, tied him up
while my brother and I did a round on him, he took it like a champ. Didn’t even
whimper, took it like a nice little slut-“
Before he could complete that, Harry punched him, and threw him off guard as he
fell down along with his chair. Harry went around the table before he grabbed
him by his collars and pushed him down to a wall, punching him repeatedly,”How
dare you? How fucking dare you do that to him? You should die. You pathetic
scum.  You mongrel. You motherfucking bastard-“ 
Harry screamed at him. Punched him, but soon two pairs of hands were holding
him back, asking him, demanding him to stop. He struggled to get out as a
prison guard took the convict away, as the convict laughed through his pain.
Harry only saw red, he was on the verge of crying, he almost let the tears
slip, and they did slip away.
Harry’s breathing calmed down as he heard the door close and he looked up to
see a familiar pair of brown eyes, Liam. “Liam, did you listen? That mongrel,
that son-of-a bitch, he raped my Lou, he raped him. He should die, I want him
to die!”
“Harry, Harry, no. Okay? Get up darling boy. He is getting a death sentence, he
is sentenced to death on 28th of May, do not fret. Let us get you home.” Liam
says, in a soothing manner.
“No, no. We need the pimp’s number o-or-or his card. Please Liam, we need to
find Louis. I am so close to losing my head. I am so close to dying. I need him
Liam. I need him.” Harry sobs.
“That’s okay. I will get that number; you never have to see this pathetic moron
ever again.” Liam says as Harry sobs on his shoulder, hugging him tighter.
 
 
~~~~~~
 
 
“Hello? This is Liam Payne speaking. Is this Zayn Malik?” Liam says into the
speaker.
“Yes, hello, this is Zayn Malik. How did you get this number?” Zayn voice is
heard in the room.
“Leander Mena, he gave this to me. Told me to ask for a Lou. Is he available
this tomorrow?” Liam says.
“I am sorry, but we have closed down this institution. We no longer, uh, do
this, uh, sort of stuff. I apologize but it has been over three weeks we have
stopped this. I apologize, but find somebody else to fuck. Have a goodnight.”
Zayn sighs.
“That is great news. Listen, we just need to talk to Louis William Tomlinson,
it’s his mother’s PA speaking.” Liam fakes.
“Listen, I don’t know who you are, but you have got your shit mixed up. Louis’
mum died when he was five or summat.” Zayn says, irritated.
“Well, his mum didn’t die, she was in a coma. It has taken us seven years to
find him, if only you could give us some news about him and an appointment
too.” Liam sighs.
“Well then guess what, that little cunt ran away and that is why we cannot
connect you to him.” Zayn shouts as he hangs up.
“That went well?” Liam asks.
“No, that was horrendous. I need whiskey if I have to survive this evening.”
Harry says, hiccupping, already drunk.
“I think you should stop.” Liam says.
“Make me.” Harry giggles.
“Harry, stop that. That was once, and it was a mistake.” Liam says, agitated.
“Then make the same mistakes, all over again.” Harry says, cheekily.
“Nope, it is not happening. I am not gay, I happened to prove it to you that
day.” Liam says, blushing.
“Yeah, by lying above me. Fucking my brains out. Did you prove it to yourself? 
Liam there is no secrets here. I gave you wank material for two years, you
still wank to the memory of me panting underneath you.” Harry got up from where
he was sat to behind Liam, he almost towered over him. That gave Harry the
advantage to whisper in his ears obscenities of a long gone night. Obscene
noises were made by Harry as he caressed Liam, drunkenly attempting to kiss
him, but Liam turned him down, repeatedly, but he was persuasive and demanding.
The night ended with Liam above Harry, as they both fought back and forth about
who was the first to take a hit. Harry equally tackled Liam resulting in him on
top now, and soon there were tickles instead of meek punches, laughs instead of
cries and jokes instead of slurs. What the mess was, Liam was deep in the wrong
side and Harry was never his to take.
 
 
~~~~~~
 20th May 2017
 
The morning came sooner than expected for Louis when his hotel room door was
knocked on and his blue eyes flew open in surprise and fear. The room was
orange from the Thames reflecting sunlight, and noisy from the rattling of the
nearby subways. He opened the door after peering down the keyhole to see only
the room service boy standing with a tray. He opened the door for him and saw
with sceptical eyes as the boy set down the tray on the bedside table, and
handed him the morning newspaper, the boy left with a happy grin and a five
pounds note.
“Louis walked up to brush his teeth and took a shower before stepping out and
sitting across the bed in fresh clothes. He thought to make himself a fresh
Yorkshire, like he requested last night at the reception desk. He emptied the
kettle and later sought after the brand new morning paper.
He never was one to read the newspaper, his life stripped him a new one each
day so Newspaper were anyway an utter waste of time. He, however, decided that
to find new rental paces, he would need to look in the newspaper. What he did
not know was his baby and teenage faces were plastered right on the front pages
of every morning paper, delivered across England, from the next-door resident
to the Queen everyone knew of his existence. It was because a certain A-listed
musician filed a missing person and he was apparently the heir of Lady Darling.
And that stunned him.
Chapter End Notes
     There will be a part IV before this act of Phase I is complete and
     finished. I will edit earlier chapters and then all shall be well and
     we will be back on track. After the next update I will probably take
     a week long break.
     All the love,
     M.
***** Parent Trap. *****
Chapter Summary
     Surreal.
     It was absolutely surreal.
     Seeing and feeling safe and eyes so warm and healthy and....
     "Not Dead."
Chapter Notes
     Part 4 has begun!!!
     Really sorry for the wait. I was unwell, and also my results came,
     with which I am discontent, and thus I was busy with my summer
     studies. I will be away till August after this update.
     Forgive me for keeping all of you hung.
     Hopefully this chapter makes it up for you!!
     All the love,
     M.
     xxx
See the end of the chapter for more notes
Present Chapter
20th May 2017
Louis Tomlinson  
Third person pov:
Part IV
Finale.
===============================================================================
 
       The rain is the unshed tears of people, too cowardly, to not cry.
      The rain is unshed tears of a man too fierce; unbeknownst to love.
 The rain is unshed tears of a person, brave enough to face their emotions and
                      bare a smile through hidden sorrow.
And rain is the representative of each person who puts on a mask, hiding tears
 from loved ones and strangers alike, whose only lover is a pillow now soaked.
    And it represents life and love, and the chaotic tranquillity of life.
        The rain is the artists muse, new, older and its upcoming too.
    The rain is a writer’s au pair, who gives his all, takes nothing back.
   The rain is the danseur’s partner, a handle for prima donnas and the best
                                friend to him.
           The rain is the beautiful solitude of a lonely bookworm.
    And the rain is the background sounds for new lovers and unsaid words.
        Rain; it is a beauty, lot more than just a natural phenomenon.
                                  Love more,
                                      M.
===============================================================================
It rained, it was thunderous, it was striking, the beauty of the storm that
raged over London.
What was louder than this was the storm that raged behind the eyes of the
world’s most beautiful blue eyes to ever exist. The storm was louder than any
disaster to ever occur. These eyes belonged to an ankle-biter, to the child who
never begged and to the teenager who prostituted his body for money, but has
the world seen such purity, such perfection, such serenity?
The soul of a tainted body was broken and stolen of its innocence yet, in those
early hours of the morning as Louis read through what was written as the
headlines of some flashy newspaper, was bright and something that he hadn’t
felt in so, so long; happiness. Louis was happy to have read that bit of the
newspaper.
He got dressed in his grey sweats and a black hoodie, his hair under a bluish-
greyish beanie and feet clad in his regular Vans. He decides to go over to the
station and see what this was all about; his mind was cluttered with tiny
thoughts.
“Who is this woman who claims to be my mother?”
“Who is this musician, searching for a person like me?”
“Why now?”
However, with doubts swirling in his mind, blue orbs flooded with emotion,
Caribbean blue of his eyes murky with tinted red and bags holding them purple,
Louis packs his bags and around twelve noon, decides it’s time for him to
finally leave.
He goes down to the reception desk and the woman sitting behind looks at him
eyes widened, a newfound curiosity read in them. He checks out and pays the
woman with his visa card, the black card that Zayn got him, of the bank account
that Zayn got him, with the papers filled with false information that Zayn got
him. His sentiments were bittersweet.
As he is about to leave the woman asks him, “Excuse me, Mister. Are you by any
chance the man on today’s headlines? Your features match impeccably, have you
looked?”
Louis turns around scans her face for something and then shakes his head
leaving immediately.
Outside he catches a yellow cab and asks to be driven to the London Police HQ.
The cabbie looks at him, and his eyes widen, he blandly asks, “Lad? Are you
Louis Tomlinson?”
Louis pokes his fingers into his handbag, searching for his sunglasses that are
unnecessary in the storm, but he cannot go on like this. “Um, no? Whatever gave
you the idea? Can you hurry up? I have important work, I cannot be late.” Louis
speaks up.
The cabbie does not speak much afterwards.
At precisely 12:52 pm, Louis steps into the HQ and removes his sunglasses; his
blue eyes stare at the work place and he is bumped into by a passerby. He
apologizes by the raise of hand and looks down at his feet. He walks up to the
help-desk and quaintly says, “Um, ex- uh, excuse me, Miss.” The woman looks up
and gives him a bored look.  “I- I am, uh, here for the Tomlinson case.” He
nervously says, eyes glancing everywhere.
“The Tomlinson case? You mean that boy Styles is looking for, what about it?”
The woman says.
“Can I speak to the detective or the inspector in-charge?” Louis risks asking.
“You want to see the detective? Okay, he will leave for his lunch break in
approximately ten minutes, his office is right at the corner, across the hall,
and there will be a nameplate with Inspector Smith written, knock before
entering. You can leave your bags here if you wish.” She replies before going
back to her work.
Louis nods and mutters a ‘half-arsed thanks’ before leaving his two suitcases
at the foot of the desk. His handbag on his shoulder, he navigates through the
office and reaches his destination.
He knocks before he hears a ‘Come in’ and he does so. The older man in a
uniform asks, “Um, can I help you?”
“Yes. I am Louis. The person you all are looking for.” Louis replies, his
nerves overcoming him, his heart in his throat.
The officer stops his work and looks up at the newspaper cut out Louis brought
with him.
He mutters to himself, “Merlin and Zeus. It really is you.” Then he loudly
says, “Where have you been all along? We have been searching you for so long
but nothing. We came back with negative results. Witnesses had seen you last
only in the past six months. You have disappeared since October. Where have you
been good lad?”
“Hiding? I suppose. Bu-but, may I ask, who is looking for me, and why? I
haven’t any relations, so this is highly confusing.” Louis states his doubt.
“He says he knew you since childhood. He states he is a lover, and he states he
lost you, has not turned up on our door in the last six years, but he has us on
our wits end since his official return to UK. Again, we learnt that this case
was adjoined to the case of Lady Darling, who has been searching you for more
than a decade. So there is an estranged musician, world famous rock star,
teenage heartthrob and influential artist Harry Styles, whose origin is unknown
to common eyes. And then there is a woman who claims to be your mother, has
proof, and everything, your birth certificate, official papers, et cetera, et
cetera.
“Can you please have a seat? I need to call the lad and lady Darling before
that I need to call the doctor.” The tired detective says.
“Why a doctor?” Louis asks.
“Um, for a blood test and other stuff.” The detective said.
“Okay.” Louis complies.
The blood tests are done, the DNA tests are done, the face match and record
checks were done. Louis was fed Chinese takeaway and green tea. The
establishment was astounded at the detective’s haste to inform two people.
“Hello? Smith, why are you calling me?” Harry asks slightly worried at the
older man calling him at six in the evening.
“We have news.” The detective said, his voice unwavering.
Harry gasps hard and audible. His breathing got ragged and harder. His eyes
closed as tears filled in emerald gems. “I will be there in five; I am at
Waterloo right now.”
The phone clicks off.
Harry breaks all traffic rules reaching the station.
“Mrs. Darling. You need to come down to the station.” The detective said as she
answered the phone.
“Yes, I’ll be there immediately.” Came her reply as the phone clicked shut
faster than ever.
Harry barged in to the establishment with Liam hot on his heels.
“Where is detective Smith?” He asked at the help desk before being led to his
cabin.
Harry did not knock before barging in and saw Smith sitting calmly at the desk,
his ear to the phone.
Lady Darling followed suit and was soon standing at the door, in front of Harry
and Liam.
“What is it?” she asks.
“Mama?” A small voice says as the washroom door clicks shut.
All heads turn towards the voice and Detective Smith tells the caller to call
later.
Agnes bursts into tears at the sight of the short, caramel haired, blue-eyed
boy standing in an oversized black hoodie.
Louis was shocked at the sight of his mother, Agnes looked frail, but she was
just as beautiful as before, she was still the same, she was alive, healthy,
and growing old, and all these years he grieved and mourned a mother he never
knew. His mother was fine and Louis’ happiness knew no bounds.
“Louis.” Harry and Agnes both whispered. Liam looked on wide-eyed.
Louis rushes towards them and is engulfed in frail arms of his mother.
Harry went completely neglected, his heart bursts into a million pieces at
being unrecognized by the man he has loved all his life.
Liam held him tight at the sight of tears in his best mate’s eyes.
Louis and Agnes had a conversation within themselves. “You look just like me.
So beautiful, but your blue eyes will always haunt me of mistakes I did back
when you were not born. But, truly, the only thing I would change in the past
would be take better care of you. I am so sorry, my baby. I love you so much
baby boy, so much. You have siblings. Little sisters and a brother. They want
to meet you; your new father wants to meet you. We are rich, so you never have
to worry about money.  Come home with me, boo.” Agnes said into Louis’ neck
where her face was hidden and her voice muffled.
“I recognized the moment I saw you. Please do not apologize mama. I am just so
glad you are here, alive and healthy. I am the luckiest person on earth right
now. Sisters and a brother, oh my! So many years I missed out.” A fresh batch
of tears exploded their way out of Louis. They hugged each other tighter and
Harry walked away.
 
                                        
 
                                        
                                        
                                        
Chapter End Notes
     This is not the end.
     This is just the beginning.
     *NERVOUS LAUGHTER*
***** A Walk Down Memory Lane *****
Chapter Summary
     I knew I was still in love with him when his eyes met mine and it was
     a meeting of hearts, not minds.
     I knew I was still gone for him when his lips parted and in the
     softest whisper, he gasped out my two-syllable name.
     I knew I was his forever to keep when he jumped into my arms and all
     I felt was love.
     I knew I was safe when his arms wrapped around my neck and I felt the
     earthy feeling of 'HOME'.
Chapter Notes
     Hola! Ciao! Hi! Namaste!
     Welcome to another chapter of emotional trauma i.e. Addicted to You!
     Chapter songs are:
     Set In Stone by Guy Sebastian
     It's OK by T. Rosenthal
     Start Again by Conrad Sewell
     thats all enjoy!!
     M.
See the end of the chapter for more notes
Continued....
Third person pov:
 
“He looks so weak, yet so beautiful. His frantic eyes, and nervous breathe and
yet he is so much like he used to be. He is stick thin. Is he unhealthy? Is he
so poor that he can’t afford food, or is he knowingly starving himself this
way? He hasn’t been pimped for almost six months, so that means he doesn’t have
money, maybe. Why doesn’t he recognize me?” Harry had many questions. The look
of relief and recognition on Louis’ face was overwhelming. Nevertheless, his
heart ached, Louis recognized a woman he hasn’t seen since he was five but
didn’t recognize Harry.
“You know, maybe he does drugs? Alternatively, is forced to have drugs? You
know they do those kinds of things. Maybe he is going through a withdrawal or
something. Did you see his clothes? He is wearing original Adidas and Vans. He
is definitely not poor. Unhealthy or sick could be a thing, but we can see into
it later. Right now, rejoice mate. You found him, finally.” Liam reassured.
“He saw right past me. He didn’t even know who I was.” Harry cried.
“You look so  different than what you used to look. It’s probably natural. He
might recall once you talk to him or something. Stop over thinking. Did you
take your pills this morning? I don’t want you having a full blown break down
here. Or anywhere for that matter. Cry all you want. Stop over thinking.” Liam
soothed a very upset Harry, who had buried his face in Liam’s jumper and was
crying, sobbing and heaving violently.
“Who was that?” Louis asked the older man sitting behind the desk once he came
down from his excitement and forlorn happiness.
“That was Mr. Styles.” The detective said. “He left England five years ago and
came back only this year in search of you.”
“In search of me? Why? Who am I to him? Because I have never seen him.” Louis
asks, curious.
“He says he grew up with you.” Agnes says her hand on Louis’ shoulder.
“I grew up with one person. One little boy. He had green eyes and curly short
hair. He ran away when I was 18. Haven’t seen him ever since.” Louis says, deep
in thought.
He sure had remembered how young they were, and so in love they used to be. How
much Louis worried about the younger boy? He, however, had no recollection of
Harry’s last name and thus, he didn’t know how to find him. Even if he went on
a walk through earth’s deepest, darkest pits, there was no assurance his boy
was still alive, a feeling, an inkling was not enough. Moreover, who would want
a prostitute in their lives?
“Maybe have a chat with him son. He has all the answers. We are just mere
catalysts here. He shall be outside for sure.” The detective says.
Agnes nods at him, as he breaks free from his mum’s arms to walk outside to
talk and thank this peculiar man. Louis sees the man sobbing into another’s
chest as he walks towards the pair.
“Um, hello?” Louis greets more of a question.
“Hi. I am Liam.” Liam says, then looking down at Harry, brushing Harry’s curls
behind his ear, whispers, “Haz. He came to talk to you. How about you look up
and dry those tears. Introduce yourself again. Okay?”
Harry does as asked and wipes his tears with a handkerchief he brought.
“I am sorry. However, you didn’t recognize me and I was upset about that.
Sorry, Louis. I let you down.” Harry said, meeting the vision in black’s eyes.
“I know you.” Louis states as he looks into those jade green of Harry’s teary
eyes. Harry’s eyes lit up suddenly, like a child on Christmas.
“Hazzy.” Louis whispers before rushing towards Harry to engulf him in a hug.
Louis sobbed into Harry’s chest, as Harry stood astonished and paralyzed. It
took him a moment but he wrapped his arms around Louis and sniffled before
burying his face in the shorter boy’s hair. Kissing his head, holding him
closer and closer until he could make sure he is not going to disappear.
Their reunion was not dramatic, but it all felt pleasant.
Like the final arrival of rain over a desert.
Like the first snowflake caught with bare hands.
Like the awaiting dream after a century of nightmares.
Like the trudge up a mountain and the final view of the valley.
Like the fresh coffee of the morning’s routine.
Like a prayer, come true.
Like a letter from your forgotten friend on a lonely evening.
Their union was awaited, tear-filled and a blast of nostalgia all at once.
Louis wouldn’t let Harry go and Harry just pulled him in much tighter.
It was like a walk down memory lane where all memories laid bare and open to
the naked eye to see, smell, taste, feel, and live in again.
To Louis and Harry the world stopped around them and faded away.
To them it was the final realization that they were both here, together, again.
To them it was the reminder that even when everything gets harder, they would
always come back to each other.
To them it was the memento of bravery and hard work.
To them it was the token to a world, to a paradise only they knew.
It was an ode to all the struggles and all the problems they faced to come back
together.
No words were shared, but the mere physical presence of the other gave them the
reassurance they needed.
‘C'était la rencontre des coeurs et une union des âmes.’
 “Tu as tellement grandi.” Louis said, his voice muffled in Harry’s chest. (You
have grown so much.)
“Je sais..” Harry replies. (I have.)
“Tu es si courageux.” Louis weeps. (You are so brave.)
“Tu es plus fort.” Harry says, chuckling softly. (You are stronger.)
“I could have been better. I should have taken better care of you. I cannot
even look you in the eye. I have failed all purpose in life. You were a child.
I burdened you with the responsibility of taking care of yourself. How were
you? Why did you leave the country? How did you leave the country? Did you use
all of Della’s money?” Louis asks, frantically pulling away from Harry.
Searching his eyes, looking for answers.
All he gets is a face he recalls faintly, and two jade forests on fire.
Harry was beautiful in all worldly senses. He had a beautiful set of eyes, a
pair of lips that belonged on a magazine cover, jaw line that could cut sharper
than swords and an ever symmetrical chin and a mole beside, cascading wavy
brown mane.
But within this perfection, Louis saw a scared 16 year old, who was scarred and
tainted. He saw a helpless young child,  a boy who grew up too fast.
A gasp escaped Louis who pulled Harry back in his arms and swooped up on his
tip-toes to kiss him tenderly that was cautiously returned by a man with steel
arms and determination to hide them from the entire world.
Harry had decided, Louis was his for him to keep and care and coddle until all
the sun’s rays burnt down. He was his to keep until all the time was lost and
gone. He was his to keep in death and life. It was more than love. It was not
less than forever. It was a promise to hold on until infinity.
 
 
Chapter End Notes
     FEEDBACK!!!!
     Socials:
     Instagram: s.hiznit
     Twitter: enigma_scars
     Facebook: Mistique Holmes
     Tumblr: enigmaticficlarrie
      
     Give me a follow, I follow back!!
***** One Call Away. *****
Chapter Summary
     “Louis. We have to go. You want to come with me, meet the family and
     everything.” Agnes says, breaking the two boys apart.
     Louis looks at harry and Harry hesitantly lets go, giving him an
     approving look. Liam talks to Agnes, introduces himself formally, and
     just talks while Louis and Harry look into each other’s eyes.
Chapter Notes
     Hi there!
     Here is another update to this book that I am very lucky to write.
     I hope you all enjoy reading this mess and still love me somehow.
     I ask a lot from you all, and you all still read this and actually
     interact with me and correct my mistakes. I am very grateful to each
     one of you!
     To all of you, I dedicate the song History Maker by Dean Fujioka
     (some of you may know this as the opening song from Yuri!!! On Ice. A
     lovely tune and its cover by Dolphin Smilinfg is even more
     beautiful.)
     Thanks.
     -M.
See the end of the chapter for more notes
              Your eyes are thunder, veins filled with stardust.
                     Your blood is ore, don't let it pour.
            Your tears are sparse, don't let wounds turn to scars.
                    Your soul is wonder, an ail to history.
                 Your mind is a forest, Don't let humans burn.
Face of porcelain, hearts of glass, sticks and stones leave bruises underneath,
             but tongues behind orifice burn louder than inferno.
Scarlet red, saphire blue, emerald green, jewels of the seven seas, but eyes of
                           galaxies trapped beneath.
             Tired eyes, weakened jaws, fake smiles, teary voice.
                       Oh beauty, why haggard you seem?
  Men have spoilt it, rubies embed skin, akin family turn behind, souless the
                                 world seems."
                                      -M.
 
===============================================================================
Continued...
Harry’s pov:
His lips were the same, soft, thin and yet a succulent plumpness to it. He
bites my lip softly and his tears leave a trace of salt on my lips, his kiss is
sweet and sour. A burn to memory of kisses past. And a new memory branded into
my brain.
Looking into his beautiful eyes, suddenly everything felt all right. I was
alive, breathing and more importantly living. His eyes were an azure it never
was; it was the clearest of skies over the Devonshire and the calmest of waters
from the Caribbean.
I wanted to be a pirate in the moment, his heart was a golden treasure, I
wanted to steal it and keep it to myself. I wanted to exploit him. Ruin him in
a way only I will ever know. His skin was so beautiful and I wanted to roam
every cranny of his soul. I wanted to treat him in a way you would a god.
Nevertheless, at the same time I wanted to wreck him. I wanted to hurt him with
overwhelming pleasure. He in my arms was like a Lemur in a Giraffes arms; he
was miniscule. I kiss him again.
I kissed him breathless; I wanted to leave him wanting my touch more than
anything does.
I knew when this kiss would be over, Agnes would walk out with a demanding
question of taking Louis away, even if it were for tonight.
“Louis?” “Harry?” Liam and Agnes spoke.
“I will be taking Louis to our home. I invite you to meet him anytime. His
living arrangements will be done at mine and I will to keep it that way until
further in the future, if you don’t mind.” Agnes pronounces.
“It’s okay. Mama, I will be coming over with you. I can meet Harold over here,
anytime I want, if that’s okay with his schedule and everything.” Louis says.
“That’s okay. I agree. I will be seeing very often. I will send you a memo
regarding it, Mrs. Darling. So that you know when all Louis will be away.” I
say, incredulous, however, true to my words and intentions.
It would be cruel to my heart to let them take him away so easily. I have lived
with him my entire life, I let him walk away once, more like walked away from
him once, doing it twice is soul cracking. I have to remind myself that it is
temporary. I will see him tomorrow, early morning.
“Louis, I will be waiting in the car, my secretary will release a public
statement in an hour. You must be ready, Mr. Styles.” Agnes says, leaving
immediately after.
“Tonight I will have to let you go, Mon Amour.” I whisper in his ear.
I notice his ear tips turn red, a blush creep up. He nods and hides his face in
my neck. I chuckle at his shyness. He hits me with his tiny paw and I just pull
him closer, his small wrist in my large hand, it is as if he never grew after
17. It is endearing how small he is and how beautiful he is. I agree. I would
not be able to keep my arms off him even for a moment if I were to hold him
forever.
“Haz let me go. Mama’s waiting outside. Call on her number; I do not have a
phone. Okay. I will be going now.” Louis says, peeking from under my chin. I
never wanted to let him go.
“Always so proper. I shall let you go now, Prince Louis. Dare not attack me
with your handsome pommettes.”
“Well you daren’t murder me with your machoire. In addition, I will see what I
can do.”Louis answers, cheekily.
“I will see you later, Haz.” He says as he escapes my arms.
“You have killed me. Are you happy now?” I express dramatically as my right
hand goes over my chest, covering my heart, clutching it painfully.
“Bye.” He says, laughing at my act.
“I love you.” I say.
He stops in his tracks, still as a statue.
He doesn’t say it back; he backs away from the doorway and comes back near me.
I look at him with curious eyes as he claims my right cheek with his soft palm.
His eyes are hooded and not in view. He stands on his tiptoes and pulls me down
mid-way, before our foreheads meet and stay there as he whispers.
“I have always loved you.”
My heart rabbits in its cage at his confession. I kiss him with both our eyes
closed.
He kisses back with an unresolved vigour.
I am stunned for what feels like an eternity but is only a few seconds. He lets
my face go. But I pull at his hoodie collar and pull him back into it. It’s
delivered with a bite and received with a blow. It’s fresh, hot, and burning.
It’s bruising, painful, and just so beautifully constructed as if it were a
painting.
He pants as he leans away and leans in again to whisper, his breathe hot on my
nose,” Hope, this was promising.”
My eyes are still closed, his scent hindering my senses. Just like that, his
warmth vanishes from me. My eyes open, maybe a moment too late.
 Liam comes back and hugs me tight before wiping the tears that somehow rained
down my face, scrolling down my cheeks in perfect tracks.
It’s haunting how even my breathe is synchronized with his actions. He knows
how to leave me breathless; I am yet to learn a lot.
It’s terrifying how gone for him I am. His love is frightening and too
powerful.
He is thunderous, he is the lightening that flashes just at the right moment on
the painted canvas of grey, and black that covers London in its clutches.
I am a dead man.
 
 
Chapter End Notes
     FEEDBACK PLEASE!!!!
     ALL THE LOVE TO ALL YOU QUEENS AND KINGS (IF ANY)
     M.
***** Prim and Royal *****
                          “His heart called to mine.
                      It was dark but his call was clear.
                    If I wanted, I could call back to him.
                       I didn’t, because I was a coward.
                        I saw it bleed; I saw it lose.
                   I saw it give up, I didn’t even breathe.
                   I laughed at his cruelty when he got up;
                     Black and torn, he had on now horns.
                   In the night when every noise drowns out,
                          His voice calls out to you.
                                     Hide.
                         His eyes will tantalize you.”
                                      -M.
===============================================================================
Continued... 
Louis’ Pov:
I was put in the backseat of an expensive car with tinted windows, away from
the cruel eyes of the paparazzi. The questions they screamed were a distant
buzz in the atmosphere. My mother’s warm eyes felt safe yet distant. This was
the role of Lady Darling she was playing. The chauffer driven car led us out of
the city into the lonelier, wide countryside of London. The view was beautiful,
but the windows left most to the imagination of self.
We pulled into a majestic castle. I could never afford something like this. The
valet helps me out and another person takes my luggage. I am led inside by my
mother who hasn’t left my side. I am met with people standing in a line. Neatly
dressed and prim. A late teen who seems almost seven to eight years younger
than me, another who is three younger than her, but surely taller than all of
us there, then there were two little girls around 12 or 13, twins. Next to them
stood a ginger girl in a baby pink sweater and baby denim, next to her was her
twin, a blonde boy in a baby blue sweater and baby denim. Next to them, all
stood a much older man, almost my mum’s age.
“Louis, this is your family. This is Lord Darling, or Dan.” Mum says,
introducing him.
“Or dad.” Dan jokes.
“Dad it is.” I say, laughing. However, tears were pooling in my eyes.
I actually had a family.
“This is the eldest. She is 18. Her name is Charlotte. We call her Lottie.” The
platinum blonde greets me by curtseying. I was stunned. I bowed in return.
Mum’s eyes widened and so did Dan’s.
“This is Felicite. We call her Fizzy.” She curtseyed and I bowed back.
“These two are Daisy and Phoebe.” The longhaired one signed a D with her hand
and the shorthaired girl signed a P.
“These to ankle biters are Ernest and Doris.” Mum says. Immediately the two
kids run to me and hug my legs, giggling.
Mum puts a hand to her mouth to stop a giggle. Whereas Dan laughs heartily. I
was glad my mum had another chance at life and she made it a good one.
I bend down to their level and hug them back before asking them, “Do you know
who I am?”
“Eldie.” “Brother.”  Ernest and Doris said respectively.
“That’s right. I am your elder brother. We are a big family. Family hug what do
you think?” Ernest says a very loud yes, and Doris giggles as I kiss them both
on the cheek.
I pick them both up in my arms and widen my arms as a gesture for a hug. Fizzy
is the first to jump in, reeling in the elder twins and Mum pulls Dan in it
too. Lottie is pulled in by Fizzy and we all giggle into each other, making a
grand show of our family love.
I had tears streaming down my face at this point. It felt nice to have not one
but so many people to love without any gains on either side. Family.
It all felt surreal. Two tiny palms wiped away my tears and soothing words
followed, “Don’t cry brother. We all love you.” “Don’t you mummy, daddy?”
I laugh softly and sniffle before letting everyone go. Everyone pulled away and
stood close by.
“Lottie and Fizzy please check on how the dinner is going. Dais, Phoebes,
please take the twins to the playroom, and go complete your homework. Dan thank
you for everything, darling. I am going to steal away my son and show him his
house.” Mum bows and so do the other’s as they leave for their assigned duties.
I let the two ankle biters down and they immediately ask, worried, “You won’t
go away right?”
“I will be right here, everyday. Even for dinner, and breakfast and maybe
lunch. We can play and colour too.” I reassure.
“Promise?”
“Promise.”
They leave happily after that.
“You are amazing with children.” Mum says, smiling.
I smile and absentmindedly blurt, “I raised one at the age of seven. I raised
myself at the age of five. Why wouldn’t I be good with their kind? They are the
loveliest of lots.”
“I am sorry, Louis.” Mum says.
“What for?” I say, suddenly aware of what I said. “Mum, I didn’t mean to hurt
you. I wasn’t thinking when I said that. I meant it positively, when I said
that I raised one myself. I did raise Harry away from the whorehouse he was
born in, but I had to raise him when each day began with violence, ended in
abuse. I had to and I don’t regret putting him before me. Look where he is now.
An A-listed artist, a musician. I knew he had talent the moment he played the
few chords on that guitar at Onyx’s Instrument Shoppe at the Square.” A smile
spread across my face.
“You love him, don’t you?” Mum asks.
“I have known only love as a mediocre feeling. For me the feeling we share is
of something more. It’s just not love. Mama, you see, I have been with him for
most of my life, raised him, practically. Taught him everything that makes him
who he is and when you love something you created its admiration, pride, love,
history and everything in between. It’s unexplainable. It’s complicated and the
simplest of things at the same time. It’s the feeling of being a King, who is
invincible, and it is the feeling of being lost in an abyss of darkness and it
is the feeling of nervous heartbeats and unabashed laughter mashed together. It
is the feeling of drowning but being able to breathe. It is the feeling of
seeing with clarity even in the darkest of hours. It is the feeling of sinking
but with pride. And it is the feeling of fullness and emptiness together. It is
the most complicated paradox of every century. The proper words never reach
your tongue, and yet the message is conveyed.” I say. “But I feel that these
words, they mean little. There in the world filled with words, and I am stuck
in the endless parabola of wordlessness.”
“That was extremely beautiful Louis.”Mum says, in a hushed voice.
“It’s not enough.” I mutter.
We stop in front of a room that I didn’t realize was on the first floor of the
west wing.
“If you don’t like this room, we can shift you to another. We have a few empty
ones.”Mum says, as she opens the door to reveal a black_walled_roomwith a
California king bed with black covers and cushions that are even more
beautiful.
“We didn’t exactly design this room. The interior designer who designed the
estate said that for elder sons who would lead the business, they mostly need
to have such features. All that Feng Shui and stuff. So we went with it.” Mum
explains I was awestruck and not a syllable was uttered.
“Mum, this room costs more than my existence.” I exclaim.
“Fadaises. None of that. You are the son of Lord and Lady Darling. If you like
it. It is yours. I will tell Yusuf to bring all your stuff. Do you have
anything other than those two suitcases and this little shoulder bag?” I have
four boxes in the garage of my old apartment, if we could send someone over and
have it brought here?” I ask, nervous.
“That can be arranged. Is it important?” Mum asks.
“It’s all my years learning’s. Books, artefacts and trinkets I collected. Also,
can you have a piano in this room; I am willing to pay for that. It must be a
mahogany with a black glaze and glass top and rosewood keys. And probably
remove these paintings for a few I have in the same garage. I will write down
an address, if you please.” I ask, more confidently.
“You are such a royalty. Who would say you ever grew up in the streets?” It was
Charlotte, aka Lottie.
“Charlotte!” Mum exclaimed. “Apologize to your brother right now.”
“He is no brother of mine. He is a roadside prostitute. He is the scum of the
street and you dare push him in my life and name him my brother.” Lottie huffs
loudly, nose high in the air.
Mum is about to say something when I raise my hand to gesture her to stop and
stalk towards her before saying, “I am afraid, no one and I mean no one gave
you the right to speak in the midst of a conversation that was meant to be
private to a mother and her son.” She is about to say something when I raise a
finger and narrow my eyes before saying, “Young lady, the streets you call me
the scum of is where I grew up. It’s where I have lived my entire life. I
earned my bread each day. I raised two ever-growing boys, unless you have done
that for eighteen years, you have absolutely no idea who you are calling scum.
Unless you have been taken in by Governor Malik’s son, and taught all about
life, you have no right or authority to degrade my being. I have been educated
and taught to be prim and particular by external force. I have mastered the art
of upper living, unless you have done so, I or anybody in my senses has not
given you any right to talk to me in that voice. The next time you talk to me,
dare not use slang or curses. Dare not raise your voice above a maximum of
minimal human hearing decibels. Come talk to me only when you learn your
decency of behaviour on how to behave with respect towards elders and those who
socially are above you. Leave my quarters this instance.”
She leaves in tears and huffs.
I sigh as I lose posture and lean on my right leg towards the doorway wall.
“I am sorry about that mama. I didn’t mean to be so strict. The last time this
happened, Mr. Malik taught me to answer this way; I lost all track of thought
and released my word wrath over her.” I apologize.
“He taught you well.” Mum says.
“What?” I ask foolishly.
“It was the right thing to do. You will make a very good Lord one day. I am
sure to address this to Dan. And that piano can be arranged. You are also in
need of a phone. There is telephone here, use that while I arrange a regular
one for you. Anything else, love?” Mum asks.
“Not that I can think of anything, please explain to me how the shower works,
please?” I plead, unnecessarily, at this point mum is ready to do anything.
Not that I would ever use that to my own well-being.
===============================================================================
                                        
***** Untainted bonds. *****
Chapter Notes
     Hi there!
     Howdy reader?
     I hope you are having a good day, or else this chapter will
     definitely make your day better.
      
     I am only joking. I am worried how people still read this.
      
     When I began writing this story, I never expected a crowd to turn up
     and actually read what I wanted to put forth. To me the thought was
     ludicrous, absurd. But you lot have given me the confidence I needed
     to go through with the execution of this story.
     In the near future I want to publish this book in hopes of attracting
     a few readers. Until then, I really hope you will keep up this
     support and love!
     Honoured,
     M.
                  “Hard and cold, cash makes the world turn.
                      Hard and cold, plastic you become;
                  Blood turns to cents, voice turns to gold.
                        Lustrous hunger, glitter drone;
                       All that shines is all you want.
               Run through the rain with paper, you will drown.
                             Penniless, pennywise.
                       Gladly accept the glorious rain.
                 Crows burrow shine, human shames their eyes.
                       Lacklustre words, mindless wars.
                        Swords on paper, pens on body.
                    Empty, cold and hard, made of grandeur.
               Loveless, emotion-free, precious is your nines.”
                                      -M.
===============================================================================
Third person’s pov:
5th June 2017
Third person pov:
Louis was sat on his bed, scrolling through the million texts Harry sent him
this morning. Louis deemed it fit to reply with just a kissy face and a heart
emoji before setting his phone down and walking over to open the sturdy black
silk, double paned curtains. The sunlight came streaming in as did the view to
the lake.
All of Louis’ belongings were up to place, racked and stacked properly. He had
requested to buy more books to which Dan said, ‘I am glad somebody reads. I
have an office full of leather bound classics and many more in the third floor
corner office that came with the house, first when my grandfather bought them.
It had no purpose until now. But if you wish you can go there Yusuf and he will
help you clean and stuff.’
Louis was pleased when a piano, the exact one he gave the description of was
delivered to his room the next evening when he was out with Harry. He was
pleased to find out that a few notes and symphonies were aided too.
A designer was called over so that custom made suits and other formal clothing
could be made to fit his frame. His mother and Dan showered him in gifts, new
watch, Armani silk ties, Louboutins and Gucci, and Prada jackets and Chanel
perfumes, and what not’s. According to Dan, it was the beginning of him
becoming his heir.
Louis almost cried when Dan called him into his office to tell him that Louis
will be added to his official Will by his permission. Louis accepted
hesitantly.
Family grew closer, but Charlotte was still against Louis. Dinners were happy
and chatter filled. Breakfast was even funnier. Luncheons happened with Harry
by his side and his mother’s loving gaze on both of them.
Dan introduced him to the racehorses he owned, and introduced him everywhere as
his son. Dan seemed genuinely proud of him. Louis was happy.
Today, like every other day, Louis woke up at sharp 5:30am. He went for a jog
across the estate, and then stood skipping rocks on the lake. He fed the many
dogs in the castle, took them collectively for a walk across the other side of
the estate. Then stood watching the gardeners trim the rose bushes and Calla
lilies, and the other flower bushes and shrubs. He walked back towards the
kitchen garden that was the backyard immediate to the living quarters. He
watched as the house cleaners looked over the vegetable garden as well as the
herbs. The kitchen chimney let out smoke as fresh bread was being baked and
other breakfast items were being prepared. The poultry was kept nearby. There
were swans on the estate that Louis was shocked to find the first time he
walked all over the estate.
By 9:30, he entered the house by the east wing opening and ran to his room. He
took a nice shower, got dressed in his usual skinny jeans and a hoodie attire,
brushed his hair, wore a pair of Adidas sneakers with no socks and by almost
10:30, he was available at the breakfast table to enjoy his meal with everyone.
Surprisingly, Harry was at the door and wanted to go out with him. Greeting
Harry with a chaste kiss, Louis tells everyone of his departure. Louis swiftly
kissed Ernie and Doris on the cheek before promising to come back soon.
“You look nice today. The salmon pink suits you.” Louis compliments.
“Well, I am no match to your ethereal beauty.” Harry says, with a smirk
adorning his face.
“Flattery is getting you nowhere, lover.” Louis sings.
Harry ignores him and just brings his hand to rest on Louis’ thigh, driving
with just one hand.
“Where are you taking me today?” Louis asks.
“To the Bureau of Government papers and citizenship documents. As well as to
the bank and the passport office.” Harry answers, taking Louis’ hand in his.
“But, don’t we need other papers and stuff?” Louis asks, curious and confused.
“We are making new papers, Louis. Why would you need new papers? Charlee helped
me in making the new papers and passport. All you need is a parent’s copy of
the birth certificate, new passport size photos, the magistrate to legalize and
a few hundred pounds. That is all.  Agnes already gave me the birth certificate
copy and we have a date with the photographer before we go to the Agency.”
Harry explains.
“Oh!” Louis exclaims.
Harry stops the car outside a shop at the Square. They get out and Louis tags
behind Harry. Inside they take a few photos, and immediately the man gives them
a hundred copies. Harry pays and within half an hour, they are back on their
way towards the bureau.
The work at the bureau is tedious and monotonous. Nevertheless, in two hours
time and a final delivery date of two weeks later, their work is done, and with
growling stomachs and an excited smile, they leave the premises.
They get food at the cafe Louis used to work at, upon Louis’ request. Harry
pays their bill and as soon as they leave the cafe, it starts to pour. The rain
is heavy and hard and within the few seconds of them reaching the car, they are
drenched. Harry rushes to open the car and throws in his wallet and phone;
luckily, they left the papers in the car beforehand.
Louis had left his phone and wallet in the car before he went into the bureau,
his belongings lay on the dashboard. He didn’t run as everyone around him did.
He walked slow and stopped in the middle of the pavement. Harry turned around
when he didn’t feel Louis near him. His vision was blurry from the rain and so
it was difficult to track Louis. Sooner than expected, his vision caught the
sight of a Louis standing, arms widespread, face upturned and a smile adorning
his features.
Louis was not at all bothered by the rain; he accepted it with all its
shortcomings. It’s extreme coldness, its harshness; its oncoming assault to his
body felt like a welcome change from all of worlds barred chains. He was free
to enjoy this thing with nothing holding him back. The atmosphere drastically
changed. From worried to enthralled, Harry’s mood changed like the lightening
that flashed through the skies.
The_rain_drenched_Louis_to_his_bone, but he embraced it like an old friend. He
loved the feeling of hard cold droplets falling on his chest, unlike the
feeling of cold, hard cents being thrown on him. This felt like a purification
of sorts. He was being washed off all his faults, all his impurities, all the
foulness he had to face. He was clean again.
Harry walked towards Louis to find Louis even more magical upfront. Louis
looked otherworldly, he looked unearthly, he looked magnificent, he looked
fascinating, and it was picturesque.
It was a sight Harry never witnessed before; it was a love so pure, a love for
something wild in the most untainted form. It was unadulterated love at its
finest.
It was like watching something not meant for common eyes to lurk at; it was
clean, real, authentic, pure and magnificent. It was a natural charisma and the
charm of the fairest. It was so innocent yet so sinful to the eyes.
Louis’ looked down to find Harry standing in front of him. So he lurched
forward and smashed their lips together. Harry was shocked to say the least.
His arms went around Louis’ waist, holding him closely to his chest. Louis’
hands wound up in Harry’s hair and behind his neck. It was vulgar and intimate,
the way their mouths pressed openly into each other’s, their chest colliding
too close, the rain washed over them. Their eyes were closed, the bliss
evaporated off them and it was out in the open for everyone to see.
It was bruising and pleasurable, it was an outside the world experience and
Harry didn’t want to let go.
“I don’t want to let go.” Harry pronounced.
“Then don’t.” Louis answered.
Louis was still in his arms. Harry’s arms tightened around Louis and Louis’ let
himself slip.
“I have wanted to let myself go for so long. But I was always afraid of
falling.” Louis says against Harry’s lips.
“What made you change your mind?” Harry asks, genuinely.
“Your arms, they will always hold me up, I am sure. You will never let me fall.
Here I am safe.” Louis answered, his eyes staring into Harry’s soul.
The words echoed in Harry’s ears and the tears that erupted and washed in the
buzzing rain were sincere.
 
 
***** Heightened Senses and Heartbeats. *****
Chapter Summary
     SMUT WARNING!!!
     BOTTOM LOUIS SMUT!!!
     NSFW CONTENT!!!
     DON't READ IF NOT COMFORTABLE WITH ANY OF THE ABOVE!!!
Chapter Notes
     Blessing some of yall nasty people with LArry Smut!!
     Fucking finally, you say.
     It was tiring and I had no fucking inspiration, I mumble.
     It will be okay, you say.
     You will be disappointed, I cry.
     ****NOTES****
     PLEASE NOTE ALL THE CREDITS TO ARTISTS OF RESPECTED ARTWORK I HAVE
     LINKED Y'ALL TO!!!
     I HAVE COMMITTED NO COPYRIGHT INFRINGEMENT, PLEASE DO NOT SUE ME!!!!
     ALL THE LOVE,
     PEACE OUT MAN,
     M.
     <3 <3<3<3<3<3
See the end of the chapter for more notes
                       “Wicked, twisted, dark, haunting.
                         Actions unsaid bring pleasure.
                      Pleasure and pain; No pain, no gain.
               Your tongue is the devil, the places it has been.
                     Your mind is shallow; my depth crazy.
           Small talk makes me nauseous; let’s get down to business.
           Slow and fast, rough and soft, your hands are calloused.
                        Your touch is like fire on ice.
                          Your heartbeat’s my music.
          Heated passion, burning breath, aching bodies and the moon.
                The night is cold, you are icy, our love fire.”
                                      -M
===============================================================================
                                        
Third person pov:
Chapter songs: Pillowtalk (explicit), Take it off by Zayn; Haunted by Beyoncé ;
Animal by Maroon 5
Continued...
“I stay nearby. We can walk; I need to dry you up before you catch the flu. I
need to keep you safe.” Harry whispers in Louis’ ears.
Louis only giggles in response and Harry swears his heart has stopped.
“I can’t walk you need to carry me, Hazzy.” Louis sings.
“I can do that. You practically weigh nothing.” Harry mutters against Louis’
soaking neck. The rain was full-fledged, but they no longer cared.
Harry grabs onto Louis’ thighs from the back and Louis jumps slightly, wrapping
his arms around Harry’s neck, legs around his waist. Harry wraps one arm around
Louis’ waist and the other behind his bum.
Harry starts walking, but soon he sees people around them had started
recognizing him, and thus, were clicking pictures. He ignored them. Louis was
comfortable around his neck and that’s all that mattered. He swiftly but
carefully walked them home, where Charlee wasn’t there and the housekeepers
won’t mind.
Harry had to enter the security code before the electronic gates opened. Louis
was shivering like a leaf, his teeth chattering loudly in Harry’s ears. Harry
chuckled when a cute sneeze left Louis’ mouth. “God bless you Lou, let a monkey
kiss you.” Harry laughed.
“Meany.” Louis retorted before another small sneeze left him shook.
Harry knocked on the front door because he forgot his keys in the car. A
housekeeper opened the gates and allowed them inside. Harry carried Louis
upstairs, his arms wrapped around him securely. Inside the bathroom, Harry
placed Louis inside the bathtub and turned the hot water knob on. The tub
immediately filled with hot water from two large taps.
Louis sighed as his feet wriggled around in the water and immediately the cold
didn’t bother him anymore. Louis stood up, too fast and lost his balance, he
clutched onto Harry’s collar and rather than being stopped, he pulled Harry
down with him, a large splash and most of the warm water was on the floor, and
Louis was crushed under Harry.
Both of them laughed, but Harry was worried whether Louis got hurt or not. He
checked up on him, and Louis reassured that he was perfectly fine. Harry kissed
his red nose and held onto his cold fingers to supply some type of body heat.
Louis pushed his fingers into Harry’s neck and Harry shivered at the extreme
cold. Louis giggled and that was enough to warm Harry.
He pulled Louis into a chaste kiss and Louis keened at the warmth of Harry’s
breathe on his cheek, and the taste of salt of Harry’s mouth on his.
Harry kissed him harder and sighed when Louis returned it with similar force.
Harry licked over his bottom lip and Louis opened his mouth to allow Harry more
of him. Harry happily licked into Louis’ mouth. Collecting more of him in his
arms, Louis was practically on his lap, but it wasn’t enough.
Louis keened at Harry’s actions, he was pressed completely into Harry’s chest
and his mouth was transferring heat with a passion. Louis was content, but
somehow, the burning in his chest wasn’t enough. He wanted to burn fully. He
wanted the fire to consume him wholly.
He pushed his fingers through Harry’s hair, pulling them hard. Harry moaned,
eyes shut and the bliss from his responsive face left Louis wanting more. He
pulled back and opened his eyes to see the lust blown eyes and swollen lips of
his lover, and it was enough temptation to dive back in, headfirst. He kissed
hard, open mouthed, uncouth, and foul. He kissed with vigour and indecent.
Harry moaned and hummed and the feeling aroused something within Louis, he
wanted to give Harry his all, and wanted everything back in return.
“Harry, I want this. Please.” Louis whines.
Harry is no match to his pouty, swollen lips and lust-blown stormy eyes.
“I want this too, Lou. I want this so bad.” Harry whispers against his mouth,
before meshing their lips again, repeatedly.
Harry slowly gets up, picking Louis up slowly, he carries Louis with him, he
places Louis on his feet and makes quick work of undressing him before
remembering something, he excuses himself quickly and runs downstairs in his
dishevelled state.
“I need all of you to leave, like immediately. Comeback tomorrow morning. Right
now, go. Thanks.” Harry says as he runs into two of the housekeepers. He walks
into the kitchen and tells the cook to go away for the day. He calls Charlee
and tells her to have a safe night at wherever she is. He runs back up after
the entire house is empty.
He_walks_into_his_bedroom_to_find_a_very_naked,_very_beautiful_and_slightly
dishevelled_Louis_rolling_on_his_bed, the duvet messed and his hair even
messier. Harry lunges forward towards the bed and immediately falls face first
on the mattress after tripping over Louis discarded cushions. Louis giggles at
his haste but pulls himself on top of him and kisses him softly.
“We have all the time on earth, Haz. Don’t kill yourself just yet.” Louis
mutters, laughing softly.
Harry laughs kissing him back. He turns them over. Looking at a very naked and
wet Louis didn’t seem like such a great idea. He was sporting a semi but he was
rapidly getting hard at the sight of Louis’ innocent little body, covered in
tattoos, scars, and all his prospects out to see, he was truly beautiful.
Harry got up and quickly undressed. Louis_stared_at_him_from_where_he_was_lying
on_his_stomach,_feet_crossed_and_up_in_the_air.
He gawked at how muscular Harry was, he had washboard abs, and his pecs were
lick-worthy. His arms were so huge and they felt bulging under his usual silken
shirts and ridiculous suits, but this was unearthly and a dream. Louis truly
thought how Harry could just pick him up and fuck him against any of the room’s
walls. The mental image did not help his ‘hard’ case.
Louis whined and harry realized he was taking too much time. Harry quickly
moves to the bed, leans on top of Louis, and kisses him sweetly. Louis grinds
against Harry’s hard groin. The friction felt nice and Louis moaned into the
kiss, causing Harry to moan too. Louis groaned when Harry’s hand moved down and
pressed into his hard cock. A humming in his neck is a mark of approval for
Harry.
Harry quickly leaves his mouth and turns towards the bedside table where a full
bottle of lube laid. He shoves three of his fingers in Louis mouth and Louis
sucks on them like a pro, obscenely humming around them. Harry removes them
when he deems fit and circles one finger around Louis’ tightened rim. He slowly
enters one finger in and Louis unclenches before breathing out a huff.
Harry was always a silent lover when he topped and that is exactly what Louis
wanted right now, not some jerk who was going to call him names.
Harry slowly pokes in another one and starts scissoring and Louis’ rim opens up
to adjust, the sight is so enticing that Harry licks on his lips before leaning
down and pressing his tongue in. Louis moans loudly and his hands curl into
Harry’s hair. The pressure of his wide tongue and two fingers is a lot for
Louis, all at once overwhelming him.
“Stop putting me on edge, I want to come only once you are within.” Louis
groans out.
Harry stops licking inside and pokes his tongue twice or thrice before coming
up to breathe and chuckles at the sight of a red faced Louis. The confusion is
clear on Louis’ face when his body aches for more when right now he wanted
Harry’s tongue out of him. The wet heat was vice and Louis wanted it more. For
once, such sexual acts felt wonderful to him. He found pleasure in his humility
and nakedness.
Harry was no different. He has not had the privilege of sexing with anyone,
unless one was to count his rendezvous with Liam. He is feeling overwhelmed
with how much he enjoyed this, nostalgia of this certain memory was what he got
off from, for so long. However, right now, his wildest fantasy was right in
front of him, all open and wide for him.
Louis whines in a high pitch when Harry takes too long to lube himself up.
Louis gets up from his resting and pushes Harry down.
“I will show you how it’s done. Apparently, you know nothing.” Louis smirks. He
snatches the flavoured lube from him and pushes harry onto some pillows,
crawling towards him like a cat, believe your eyes when you read this, he
purrs, and Harry all but comes. Louis crawls up to his lap, planting himself
over there and pours a good amount of lube onto his palm and slowly jerks Harry
off, allowing the lube to spread everywhere, he also, unnecessarily tugs at
Harry’s balls and squeezes his cock before jerking it some more.
Harry groans loudly, loving the feeling of Louis’ dainty fingers and soft palm
working them on him. No words are shared between them, but the moans and
hitched breathes are words enough. Louis spreads his legs wider as he moves a
bit forward and guides Harry’s cock towards his hole. Both of them moan as
Louis slowly slips it in and tries to move down in tow with it. However, he
cannot because it is so overwhelming and it is Harry and his hands are on his
hips and he is holding onto Harry’s shoulder now and Harry is not pushing his
limits.
Louis is finally fucking allowing Harry in and all Harry can do is waiting for
Louis to guide him through it, do as he pleases and not be worried about
someone else’s pleasure. Leander’s words echo in his minds and images of vile
men raping Lou comes to his mind. He cannot bring himself to buck up in to the
sweet, sweet heat of Louis. His senses are in overdrive, filled with lust and
he wants to push Louis down and fuck him white, but he cannot, he wills himself
to stop. When Louis bottoms out finally Harry’s arms wind around Louis and
Louis’ fingers wind up in Harry’s hair, another hand around the back of his
neck. Louis grinds down gently, but he feels so full right now, so fucking full
and he wants to move, but fuck, Harry is impaling him and it is so wide and so
long and it is Harry, the love of his pitiful, fucked up life.
The moment is over and Louis_is_a_moaning_mess_as_Harry_attacks_him_with_his
lips_on_his_nipples, slightly sucking and his hands on his hips caressing
softly, encouraging him to move and Louis does slowly, moving up and down, left
right, in figure eights and fast.  Harry hums around his left nipple and Louis
moans at the feeling of being full with Harry while simultaneously giving him
just as much if not more pleasure. His nipple was red and swollen as Harry
pulled off with a pop.
Louis moved faster. Harry supported him with equal force, pushing up into his
heat, Louis was whining, and Harry turned them over as he fucked into Louis,
harder and faster. “More! Gimme all of you.” Louis moaned out as Harry grabbed
both of Louis hands that had started touching himself, and pushed them over his
head and held onto them. He smirked at how helpless Louis looked in that moment
as his face crumpled and in equally faster time, his mouth opened wide. Harry
held his hands with one and pushed his other hand to hold Louis’ thigh over his
shoulder as he changed the angle to fuck into him harder than before. Louis’
mouth was open in a silent scream as Harry attacked his prostate with hard
thrusts in the perfect rhythm he had built, not once did his hips stutter as he
attacked Louis’ insides like a hungry predator.
Louis’ voice stuttered and his breath hitched when Harry folded him in two to
fuck him better, the earlier assault felt meagre in front of the oncoming move.
Louis writhed under Harry, loving and hating it all at once. Harry was lost to
lust and Louis was partially conscious, this affair felt bloodthirsty and the
way Harry fucked in to Louis was as if both of them were trying to make up for
lost years. To some extent the bruising on Louis’ hips from where Harry was
holding him and the bites on both their chests and swelling of Louis’ tummy
where the indent of Harry’s cock could be seen were like the hints of prey and
predator in action.
Harry freed Louis’ arms and Louis’ immediate reaction was to put them behind
Harry’s neck and pull himself up where he could kiss Harry. It was a bite and
punch together, it was bruising and heated and filled with passion. Louis
looked into Harry’s wild ones and the thrust that he received in that moment
was enough to send him overboard. Harry came just then, filling Louis up. Louis
was warm and fuzzy and happy but sated. Something within both of them clicked
as they lost posture and fell on to the bed a jumble of bones. Harry held Louis
close to his chest, nosing at his hair, sniffing him. When suddenly, Louis
started crying. Ugly sobs, wails, and snot filled sniffling. Harry worriedly
pulled Louis’ chin to stare into his eyes and try to understand why he was
crying. Louis looked up with bright blue eyes that were hazy and he buried
himself in the warmth of Harry’s chest. Harry held him close and Harry knew why
Louis was crying, the reason put him in hysterics. He wept silently into his
lover’s arms as Louis’ tried shushing both of them.
“It was real. You are real. I am real. We both are here and I can feel you.”
Louis said, slightly stuttering, immediately sniffling.
Harry wanted to laugh at how Louis still wanted to look after Harry after
having a minor panic attack or panic realization himself, but all he could do
was hold him tighter and closer and let them breathe, just for that time being.
Chapter End Notes
     FEEDBACK!!!!!
***** Struggle it out, Trouble me in. *****
Chapter Notes
     Past chapter that I wanted to show some dynamics of Zouis.
See the end of the chapter for more notes
Past chapter.
Third person:
1st September, 2010
Zayn Malik
Louis was traumatized, abused, sick and sad. Every day he just sat in the
corner of the supposed bedroom, everyday missing the warmth and love of Harry,
missing and worrying about the kid, even when he was being raped day in day out
by two buff men, who showed him no mercy. He was bleeding from so many places,
in two weeks time, all he ate was some foul sandwich, a few biscuits and water.
He was hungry, dehydrated and broken.
He would pass out and when he woke up one or both of the men would be there
poking and prodding him, fucking him like animals. They fought over turns and
forgot to feed him. Louis had lost so much weight in these two weeks; all that
remained was skin and bones. His cheeks were sunken, eyelids droopy and his
vision blurry. He was in a constant panic, everything happened unexpectedly.
His jaw seemed broken; so many punches to his face had caused so many cuts to
form along his cheek to his neck. His chest was heavy with all the kicks he
received, his ribs hurting more with the incessant cold. His stomach growled
but it was in vain.
It was late in the evening when his eyes opened and it wasn’t because of any
particular thing, he was very conscious and it was because he heard rain. The
window was open. They left the window open, this was his chance. It was almost
night, the sky was dark and it rained so heavily, the wind blew in and out;
shaking everything within, the clear noise of the winds bustling brought dry
tears to Louis’ eyes. He got up from where he was sat, an imprint of blood with
each step, more dribbled out from under his thighs, his feet were cut up and
swollen, but he willed to climb out and run.
He heard silently, attentive of each squeak, but no voice ever came. He climbed
atop a small box and climbed out of the window, he laughed maniacally as he
fell to the ground, and maybe hurt himself, but he couldn’t be bothered to
worry about it. He was free, finally.
He ran, ran as fast as his aching feet could take him and soon noticed that
everything around him was shut down, it was probably later than he imagined,
but all shops were shut down and he was just running on empty streets. He
reached a building with some shed; he quickly stood there, feeling a relief of
sorts. He sat down and cried, but his body was wet and cold and he shivered
with each stroke of lightening and bangs of thunder. The wind was unforgiving
and it started to hail. He wanted to stand underneath it and let it hurt. He
attempted it too, only bruising further; he came back inside and laughed
harder. He had used all his tears, he had only known laughter as a feeling, an
emotion and it was all he had for now. He had no money and no clothes. He had
on a torn shirt and pants with several holes from being pulled apart like
hyenas. He couldn’t even imagine how he looked at that moment, like some
beggar, perhaps. He was no better, he was just a few hours ago begging for
mercy.
“Who is it? Why are you standing here?” Someone’s voice loudly boomed. Louis
was afraid who it was.
He tried hiding but to no avail. The man screamed again, “who are you, why are
you standing here? Go home, boy! It is a storm and tsunami warning, why are you
standing here?” The voice sounded worried, Louis was yet to find its source.
Immediately, the door behind him opened and a man with ink black hair that
raged in the wind stood on the top stair. He was wearing a stained shirt,
covered in paint from top to bottom; his face held paint so did his fingers. He
called out again, “If you have nowhere to go, I suggest you quickly come
inside.”
Louis thought for a couple of moments but his feet guide him in.
“I am Zayn, this is my_studio building, but I stay here all alone, I have a few
clothes that will surely fit you. I will set up a bath for you.” Zayn says.
“I am Louis.” Louis mutters, staring at his bare feet on the marble flooring.
He was ashamed of his existence when the floor itself looked so expensive.
“Alright Louis, how hurt are you? Why the hell did you think running away from
anywhere today would be a good thing?” Zayn asks, staring at his dishevelled
state.
“I would rather be dead than where I escaped from.” Louis answers. “Can I have
water? I haven’t drunk a drop since god-knows how long ago.”
“Sure. I will bring it for you sit on the stair. I will also set you the bath I
promised.” Zayn says as he hastily leaves to get him some water.
Zayn returns with two bottled waters and an apple. Louis looks at it
sceptically before devouring it.
“You sure seem hungry. I will heat up some food, while you bathe. Follow me.”
Zayn says.
“Thank you, Zayn. You don’t owe me anything, I owe you my life.” Louis
whispers, quietly.
Zayn shook his head, but said nothing.
After Louis was done showering, he called out to Zayn who was standing outside
the bathroom the entire time.
Zayn walked in and gasped, “Why are you naked? Are those bruises fresh?” Louis
could only nod and blush at his staring.
Zayn walked towards Louis and immediately removed a first aid kit from under
the sink. He made Louis sit on the toilet seat, dressed up the wounds, applied
ointments to his cuts, and bandaged him up. He even gave him two ibuprofens to
subside the pain.  Zayn guided him to his bedroom and handed him a fresh pair
sweatpants and a hoodie. Zayn stood by his side while Louis dressed, watching
carefully at the beautiful, broken boy in front of him. Zayn could easily
notice a work of art; he was artistic and had an eye for beauty. Louis was
beauty in it’s true form.
Zayn was a handsome boy, with
Black hair, and a skinny form, hands calloused due to its rough use, hands
covered in ink, and eyes of gold, heart more so. To Louis, Zayn was God on a
stormy night. Zayn didn’t have to do any of the things he did for Louis, but to
Louis it all felt amazing. That night they both stayed in Zayn’s studio and
Zayn talked all about himself, his art, his family, his heritage, his religion
and everything that made him who he was.
Louis was completely enthralled by the wide-eyed, golden-hearted boy who laid
himself open to him.
By morning, the warning was waned and people were out. Louis cried when he
decided to leave. “I am forever indebted to you for helping me last night when
you could have just left me outside to rot. Thank you. I shall find you,
again.”
“Maybe, if you didn’t leave, it would do me good. I am so enthralled by your
utter beauty; I just can’t seem to let you go. Last night, as we talked, all I
could do was retrace each wrinkle and each mark and crook and cranny of your
face repeatedly, in my mind. If you let me, I want to kiss you. Would you let
me?”Zayn had asked.
“I want you to know some things before you let me stay. I am a homeless
prostitute. I was raped repeatedly by two men at the warehouse at Greek Street.
I am as used as they come and I am penniless. I am broke. Last night I somehow
ran away from their heinous clutches and you found me killing myself under the
hail. If after all this if you still want me, I willingly stay, but if not,
then I leave.” Louis spoke, warmly.
“I want you to stay. This doesn’t change your beauty. You will always remain
this ethereal being. Honey like colour, eagle feather hair, sea-like eyes,
hands of silk and a body that could do so much work and yet be so soft. I want
you.” Zayn had whispered his hand on Louis’ cheek.
Louis had taken this to be his fate. In the better side of London, under the
roof of a 19-year-old art student, this would be his home, his future, as long
as Zayn would have him.
 
Chapter End Notes
     FEEDBACK!!!!
***** Worth it? *****
Chapter Summary
     Louis' pov:
     Present Chapter.
     I can't help but fall back in routine with some things i used to do.
     These habits are going to kill me someday.
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
                                        
                    “In the west of my body, lays my love.
                          In the North stays my mind.
                          In the south stays my lust.
                         In the east stays my thirst.
                         In the centre stays my soul.
                       In each part stays hate and hurt.
                         You broke me in ways unknown.
            Told me you love me, showed me pain like never before.
                         Turned my sorrow into jokes.
                         Turned my beauty into gaunt.
             Littered me with scars, stole my eyes of their stars.
                          Left me empty and addicted.
                        Lost at sea, a wandering being.
                    I was the storm; you tried to kill me.
                    I finally realized you never loved me."
                                        
                                      -M.
===============================================================================
Louis POV:
PRESENT CHAPTER:
Chapter Song: Lost Boy; Mixed Signals by Ruth Berhe
 
I woke up sweaty and cold. I was nauseous and I had an idea, why. I jumped,
stumbling and wavering, towards my bag in the closet. The bag no one was
allowed to touch or even go near.
I will not get through a fucking withdrawal, not tonight, at least.
I wipe my sweaty brow as I lean down on the closet floor, pulling out the bag
from underneath the racked closet wall.
I close the doors quickly, and lean on the coffee table in the middle of my
room. I take one of my credit cards and easily form two lines. It should do.
I go through the wicked ministrations and prepare myself for the instant
euphoria. My body craved it, needed it. It was my oxygen. The coke hits me like
a freight train. The room got brighter and clearer. It was weird, feeling this
way. The memories are a dam and the water has been let loose.
I started doing coke on Zayn’s insistence and request. He wanted the entire
ordeal of my prostitution to be a haze for me, so that I forget and let go.
Quick as expected, it became an unhealthy addiction; one I was not keen on
going through with.
The first time I went through withdrawals were like the worst thing to ever
happen to me. Zayn kept cussing, as I kept being sweaty and sick, I went on
puking for days, the loss of appetite, both sexual and for food, were like an
abomination. Zayn was furious when he realized I was going through coke
withdrawal. He pushed two grams of it in my body and suddenly, everything felt
better, however, I passed out.
The grimace inks onto my face, the same one I had on when I woke up in a puddle
of blood; nose bleed as I should have expected. The pains in my body were the
same.
Somewhere along the line, I accepted coke as a friend that made memories vivid
and my babble interesting. Men came one after another, none important enough to
remember their face. Each seemed disgusting and cold, none like Harry.
That was another thing, my memories of days with Harry became alive and in the
haze of things, I ended up in the tattoo parlour at Leicester. Inking my body
of messages and important stuff that made the ink seems intelligent. Zayn did
not appreciate the art.
He, however, was inked from top to bottom. His excuses were stupid, now that I
think about it. “Prostitutes don’t make money with destroyed bodies.” He would
say. At some point, I inked up just to infuriate him. He gave up too easily,
but then he decided, to put out my inking as a way of showing how incredulous
whores were. Clients of his agreed, shaming me in my drugged state.
Made me feel stupid for quite some time, until, I gave up all together. His or
anybody’s remark felt useless at that point. It was my body and to claim it as
so, I believed inking it to me was rather impressionable.  It was not, I was
stupid to think so.
“Louis? Darling, the guests will be arriving in two hours, I suggest you should
start getting ready.” Mum’s voice echoed from outside the door.
I tried answering, but instead found the sound of her walking away more
pleasant. She might be busy.
I try getting up, but all in vain. I was feeling obnoxious. I, somehow, get up
and stare at myself in the full sized mirror.
“Pathetic!”
“Worthless!”
“Whore!”
“Filth. Scum of the world.”
“Useless.”
“Fat.”
“Uncoordinated.”
“Unworthy of anything.”
“Easy.”
I laugh. The loud ungrateful, filthy and annoying laugh. Zayn taught me “not to
laugh so loud, not to scrunch your nose, not to crinkle scrunch eyes, keep the
tongue inside, pull in the tummy, push out the butt, don’t force your neck
back, suppress your emotions and for god’s sake, never smile. You look ugly.”
I had believed him; still do at some point. It is always there, his hideous
voice, commanding me to correct my posture. Glaring at me to make me sit
straighter, making me stand proper. Stop myself from smiling too wide,
lingering behind from a hug, speaking softly in the incredulous manner he did.
His commands and instructions banging pots and pans inside.
I am reminded of the Masquerade Party being thrown to celebrate my return, by
Yusuf who has become my personal butler. He knocks loudly before I ask him to
enter. He does so with a big cloth bag in his hands.
“What is in that?” I ask, softly.
“That is your costume for tonight, young master.” Yusuf answers.
“Oh.”
“If you need anything, please call me. I will be right outside.” He says bowing
and taking my leave.
I nod my head. I open my eyes wide and walk around towards my bed where he laid
the bag down. I open it and see a gorgeous black and black suit lying inside, a
dusty gold patterned blue waistcoat laid next to it and a blue_and_gold_silk
tie_next_to_it._It_looked_elegant_and_extremely_expensive._A_pocket_square_of
the_samelay in the pouch hanging from the tie hanger.
I push myself into the washroom and take a quick shower, applying the vanilla
and hot honey body wash and a similar scented shampoo and conditioner.
I take forty minutes to brush and style_up_my_hair_in_to_the_quiff_Zayn_taught
me. It was my standard hairstyle. I would say I liked it a lot. I shave
carefully, cleaning it off completely. I apply the deo stick and moisturize
myself before walking into the bedroom.
I carefully pull on the tight pants and tuck in my black shirt carefully. The
tie comes next. I tie it properly, touching it, smoothing it out, and puffing
it out slightly, neatly tucking it after wearing the waistcoat that fits
perfectly. The blazer comes on finally and I only put on a single button and
let the pocket square into a puff fold and leave it to be.
“Yusuf.” I call out, before looking in the mirror.
“Yes, sir?” He asks.
“Do I look okay?”I mumble, fidgeting with the blazer’s bottom.
“You look extravagant, sir. Have you looked in the bag for your mask?” He asks.
“I have a customized mask?” I ask, genuinely confused.
Yusuf explains. “Yes. Lady Darling and Lord were keen on getting yours designed
especially with 18k gold and copper instead of other alloys. Also, it matches
your tie.”
 “I didn’t know.” I mutter.
“Would you like to try it on?” It was not Yusuf; it was Dan.
“My Lord, may I take your leave?” Yusuf asks before I turn around to meet Dan’s
eyes.
Dan excuses him, and says, “Turn around, son.”
I close my eyes, breathing in sharply, before turning around and opening my
eyes to a well-dressed Dan.
“Lord Darling.” I greet.
“Dad. I am your father. You can call me dad. Or Dan if you are uncomfortable
with dad. No Lords and Sires here.” Dan says.
“Yes, Dan. You look extremely handsome tonight. Quite the eye-catcher the navy
suit is, but good all the same.” I say, meaning it.
“Thank you. You look elegant. Hopefully, the thing I am about to tell you, does
not spook you. Have a seat.” He commands, sitting on the ottoman facing my bed.
I gulp hard before sitting across from him on the bed.
He smiles warmly, pulls out a small box from his pant pocket, places it on his
other outstretched hand, and looks at my bewilderment.
“Louis, I want you to know that I think of you as my own son. I may not be your
biological dad, but by relation, I want to have all rights of a father. I have
always wanted my elder son to be the heir of my empire and my title. As you
see, Charlotte is not a son, but even then, I have given her a lot of
responsibilities and power over my empire. She has willingly given it all up
for building her own make-up brand. I am all up for entrepreneurship and quirks
they want to follow.
“But then again, Lordship was a Title I received as a young fellow. Your mother
acquired the title of Lady by such process; her firstborn will and must be the
next Lord or Lady. The other children acquire the same title but not the same
status. As you are the oldest amongst them, I, with your mother’s permission,
am asking you to take over as the Lord.”
I gasp loudly as he opens the box to reveal a simple but elegant badge. It had
the royal stamp as its centre and two lions around it. It is golden and navy
blue with Latin inscription on it, “Ad Eum Perficit Exhibeatur Reverentia In
Te” I read.
“It means, Pay Respect To Him who empowers Thee. It is the Royal church’s
saying for Tributes and Titles. It was given to me by the Queen herself and was
told in a contract to pass it on to my son. Here you go. If you agree to be my
heir, prospectus and affirmation, this will be yours to keep, until you decide
to hand it to your first-born. What do you think?” Dan confirms.
“Are you sure, you want me to be your heir? I have a history I am not proud of.
You know it, and still you want me to take over?” I ask.
“Yes. My final answer is I want you to be my heir. I want you to be the person
of status my first-born would be. I love your mother a lot, she deserves the
world and by extension, you too. I have seen the sorrow on her face every day
for the past 14 years, inside it has broken me too. I have lived her sadness
with her.
“To see a woman waking up from a coma only to find her son missing, and with
each child she birth, her glum grew. None of the children is you Louis. No
matter how much she loves them unconditionally, she loves you like none other,
and to see the smile I fell in love with, grow even heartier, even fuller and
wider, I owe you my everything.
“By accepting this token of love, you will do me a favour.  I want to spend my
old age with the happy woman she is, and this decision has made her
astoundingly happy, in the most unselfish way possible. She can’t discriminate
amongst her own offspring’s, and right now, I made this suggestion and the
brightest smile, with a hint of confusion spread across her face and her
question was am I sure. Believe me you look so much like her that you both have
the same expression. I have come to love you as my own. I hope you think
wisely.” Dan completes.
“I- uh, I want to talk to mum, before I answer. Can I have a few moments with
her?” I stumble around.
He smiles brightly and leads the way to their chambers. He knocks and mum
allows us in. Dan leaves after that. Inside Mum was sat on the bed looking
through an album, dressed in a royal blue gown with golden embroidery on it.
“Bubs? What happened? You look so gorgeous. Oh my goodness.” Mum ushers,
waddling towards me and embracing me.
“Dan asked me to be his heir.” I mutter loudly.
“Oh, so he asked already? That’s good. I wondered where he went. So what has
you so worried?” She asks.
“Mama, you know. My past, my uncultured being cannot fit in the shoes of a
Lord. How will I ever fulfil his wishes? I am not fit for this.” I mumble
against her neck.
“Honey, you know. I had the same questions swirling around, so did everyone
else who wasn’t born royal. I never thought how I would fit into the shoes of
Lady Darling. But I did.  I don’t think you ought to have such invalid thoughts
gutting your mind. Let yourself free. He is your father; he takes you as one of
his. He believes Lottie is not the dream child he wants to step into the shoes
of Lady. And he has an idea of what he says. Lottie despised all this prim and
posh, always did, always will. She doesn’t want to follow example of her
father. Fizzy is more of a theoretical person than a practical person. She
doesn’t think herself capable of holding such power, ever. We didn’t have a
choice. And you came along and suddenly everything set into course, missing
puzzle pieces were found. The key to the strange lock it was all you.
“Darling, some things are meant to be, and even after becoming the Lord, you
won’t need to change your surname. You will be Lord Tomlinson, how fancy. I
think headship of this empire will be a good thing to guide your future. To
lead your thoughts productive than let them linger in places it shouldn’t go
to.
“But in the end, it’s all your choice. Yes or no, it is all yours.” Mum
concludes and suddenly I notice that we had been slow dancing all this while.
We stop and she grabs my cheeks and looks up at m, softly smiling.
I kiss her cheeks and she does the same before letting me go. I meet up with
Dan who was pacing his study.
The decision is made.
“I will be what you want me to be.” I say, decisively.
“My boy!” Dan exclaimed as he pulled me into a strong hug, patting my back.
He mumbled something about how happy he is and something else. His lips were
moving, my mind be not.
I was sent on my way to get ready, when Dan stopped me and opened another box
and said, “Louis, these are our family_cufflinks. I wore this on the day I was
pronounced Lord. I wanted to give these to you, in hopes that someday you will
pass it on to the future.” The cufflinks were beautiful, golden and square.
I took them with fake glee and rushed to my room where I stood in front of the
mirror and stared, hard and long.
The room, the attire, the beautifying objects hanging over me, was I worth it?
Will I ever be worth it?
 
Chapter End Notes
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***** Hide, my love. *****
Chapter Notes
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                  “Your kiss is bruising, my mind is losing.
                  Your love ensnares; my heart sends flares.
 How dare you curse with eternity, loveless, broken, mind without fraternity?
                   Embarrassed, unhinged, and lost of will.
                       Break away the chains, let me win.
                       Sing me a woe; woo me like a foe.
          Undress my mind, clothe my lips, stitch what time slipped.
             Add a pinch of punched up salt; pepper me with sins.
                       Honey, look this is what you do.
                   Enchanted, enamoured, imprisoned in you.
 Hung like wires, cusped like seizes, clutched like nails, broken like wings.
                         Set me afire or set me free.
                   Kill me with weapons, or kill me within.”
                                      -M.
Louis’ pov:
Present Chapter:
Chapter song: If this is love by Ruth Berhe
Yusuf reminded me that I have a party waiting to happen below. He helped me
wear the_gold_mask that went with my suit and looked peculiarly elegant. I felt
unworthy of its beauty.  Yusuf exclaimed how extraordinary it seemed. I shrug
and give him one of those trained smiles.
I have to give myself credit for how amazing an actor I was.
I heard the live orchestra start playing a piece of Minuetto by Luigi
Boccherini. A typical rich people party song. People were sure to be enjoying
this particular piece, by the accuracy of its rhythm, I was sure some might be
tapping along to it. I will need to praise the conductor.
I breathe in hard when I turn around and see Yusuf talking to another butler.
Yusuf uses exaggerated hand gestures and his face is expressive of what he is
feeling, the old man can fool nobody. His emotions say that something has not
gone as planned.
He rushes to me and apologizes before mumbling, “Young master, you need to walk
the stairway now. Now, right now. You must rush. The Lady and Lord have walked
down as well as all of young mistresses. The little troublemakers too.” I sigh
before calmly collecting myself and walking out of the room and Yusuf shut it
behind himself. For my walk the music changes to Minuetto Moderato (e) grazioso
written by Beethoven in his Piano Sonata No. 18 in E-flat major, Op. 31, and
No. 3, a melody, rarely ever used. I felt nice; the moment, it felt mine.
I walked down the stairs gracefully, with a show of ego. The stairs were too
many and spiralling, so by the time I reached the mid joint and onto public
eye, the song was mid-way. All eyes turned to me as I stepped, hands by my
side, a skip in my step and yet an elegance.
Mum and Dan were stood a few paces too far, the girls were mingling amongst
people, and Charlotte was hanging off another boy’s arms.        She was
wearing a dark blue dress with silver embroidery. The girls were all wearing
blue in some form or other. Their masks were simply the colour of the
embroidery and with simply intricate patterns. I was met with the eyes of every
single socialite and big name out there in the country, applauding me. I bowed
as I entered, met with the young girls curtseying and men bowing back. The
moment was over just as the symphony died away. The conductor played a recent
tune, giving a break to the instrumentalists.
I think to thank and appreciate the man, when I am being interrupted by the man
of my dreams, wearing a blue blazer, white shirt and a hazy golden waistcoat
and a similar tie and pocket square in a two up fold. Curly hair, quiffed
gently that it still falls on his face and side like a lion’s mane and his
fresh green eyes peek from underneath the heavy lashes and the peephole of the
heavy,_golden,_Hercules_style_mask.
I gasp as he instinctively holds on to my waist, hugging me closer and then
moving further before bending down to kiss my right hand’s knuckles. I blush at
his behaviour as he pulls me in for a chaste kiss in front of every person in
the room. Mum and Dan coo at his affection and most people applaud, some
unbothered.
He says, loudly, “You are the main attraction of the day. The most beautiful
thing in the room. Looking ethereal in the suit and all your garments.
Moreover, a sight, sure, an angelic sight. However, how sinful, hiding your
eyes beneath this intricate mask.”
“Oh, Harry!” I exclaim, laughing at his antics.
The dance floor is cleared for the Lord and the Lady to dance before everyone
else is allowed on there. Soon the young and old alike take over the dance
floor, finger foods and champagne being served along with some wine and other
such material things.
People seem to enjoy themselves. I am more interested in how beautiful Harry
looks in that moment. Eyes shining with the golden lights reflecting off his
face, his lips red and bitten, his eyes a wide green and jade jewel in hiding.
His mind was reeling; I could see the wheels turning.
He looks at me and invites me for a dance, just as we step in the dance changes
from a simple salsa or jazz to a partner change cycle. Harry laughs before
taking me in. We danced together for exactly three minutes and forty-eight
seconds and just as soon, another lad took my arm as a girl dragged Harry away
from me. I looked in disdain as he looked from where he danced with her.
The cycle went on until Harry was no longer visible to me on the dance floor,
at least not near me anyways. I talked to my partners; some were children of
wealthy executives, some heirs of royalties.
The music changed once more to Andante con Moto of Beethoven’s Symphony No. 5
in C Minor, as a strong hand took me by the waist and dragged me with them, a
powerful ballad playing as we danced with just as stealthy emotions. The jet-
black hair, the mandala tattoo on the hand, the hazel eyes and the chain on his
neck was enough to scare me. The moves were all too similar, the way he moved
me around like a puppet, even more terrifying. He knew how to pull my strings,
dance me around like a lifeless doll. The notion being nostalgic. I wanted to
pull away from the man withthe_powerful_masquerade_mask. I was terrified. He
had found me.
The song was near ending when I was tugged out of the dance-floor and onto a
balcony. Darned ballroom with bay windows for balcony doors. I was tugged
outside and without further ado, his lips landed on mine in a crushing kiss. I
tried, as hard as I could, to free myself from the clutches of the dubbed
demon, but to no avail. As the violinists charged into a stronger note, his
kiss turned even more bruising.
I felt helpless.
“Stop. Resisting. Me.” His voice boomed. Nevertheless, I knew better, his
warnings are empty, his threats more so. He has no power over me in this
moment.
“That is not how you speak to a reputable to be Lord. Get lost, Zayn. Why did
you ever turn up here?” I bellow.
“Reputable? You mean a pute. You surely mix up your words, don’t you?” Zayn
laughs.
“Anyways, what was with you dancing around and talking unabashedly with men?
Willingly selling ourselves, are we now? A whore never learns. Why are you here
anyway?” Zayn condescendingly snarls, maintaining his low hum of a voice, soft,
slow and deep.
“You come into my home, and dare degrade me? Who do you think you are?” I
mutter, loud enough for him to hear.
“Are you even listening to the things you are speaking? You were a liar, I
knew, not one that would go to such heights. Are you lacking so much money you
start stealing such expensive custom-made clothes, and what is this, a real
gold mask? Is this a silk tie? Whose cufflinks are these?” Zayn asks, question
after question, I never expected to see him. Not tonight anyways.
“These are...” I am interrupted by Dan’s voice booming on the speakers.
“Hello everybody! Welcome to the Masquerade ball. Tonight is a very special
night, thrown to celebrate my son’s return to his rightful home after years of
searching.
“I would like to thank Mr. Harry Styles for speeding up the process for us. His
headstrong and stubborn plans have made it possible for me to finally have my
rightful heir back in this home.
“Can I have my son on stage? Louis, don’t shy away now. Come on up here.” Dan
requests.
“Let me go, right now.” I snarl as I pull away from his embrace.
I walk with a huff and Zayn follows me towards the makeshift stage in the midst
of the room.
“There he is. My lovely son.” Mum says, smiling softly.
All masks come off as I stand up next to Dan. I see Zayn from the front line,
his mouth wide open, slightly fish mouthing as everyone claps and cheers. His
eyes widen as Harry walks up to him, moves forward without even blinking an
eye, and he stood closest to the stage.
His presence itself giving me a better relief. This was the difference between
Harry and Zayn. One made me anxious and one relieved my anxiety.
I spoke a few words before which Dan declared me as his Heir, to both his
empire and to his rightful title.
Cheers were heard across the room and flashes went off from each corner. A
bottle of champagne was popped and served. Harry kissed me harder and all the
pain from Zayn left my body. I really hoped this was the last I saw of him.
Harry realized my nervousness as I kept glancing around the room repeatedly.
His mask was distinct and easy to decipher. He was nowhere to be seen.
“What has gotten you so worried?” Harry had calmly asked.
I was quick to answer, “My past has come back to bite me in the arse.”
“Hide, my love, I shall protect you.”
He was true to his words.
 
 
 
===============================================================================
                                        
***** Coiled until shattered. *****
Chapter Notes
     So much is happening in this chapter. Geez.
     “I fear that someday he will return, in golden rags and soggy notes.
                   I worry; his face will lean closer to me.
           His voice will tremble and shiver quietly, terrifying me.
        His golden eyes will rim red, his golden heart turned to dead.
               I fear his monumental arrival will bring me pain.
        I worry that his enchanted mind will frighten me bones to ice.
                His grip on my hips will tighten, bruising me.
           His once soft feel will harden, my thoughts terror laden.
       Until then, I believe I am safe, in the arms of a man who I woo.
        I fear the day these men chase after me, all turned to Horror.
             A heartbroken heartbreaker, I feel less, I show more.
                          I laugh at my own cruelty.
               The lesson dedicated to the one who took it all.”
                                     -M.
===============================================================================
Third Person POV:
Chapter Song: Capsized, You and Me, Love Gone Wrong, Second Guess, and Break
the Cycle by You plus Me.
Continued...
The night was nowhere near over. A buffet was put out for the guests, the bar
was open and people were enjoying. However, Louis was busy worrying. He was
worried when Zayn will pop out and from where. He stuck to Harry’s side, never
leaving him.
Harry did not chastise him; rather he put his arm around his waist and held
onto him dearly. Louis keened at the special affection Harry was showering him
with. They stole kisses constantly and it was a night of merry making and
building a new reputation; building a new identity, building a new life and
building new relations.
Men and women of power and wealth personally came over to talk to Louis and
Harry, Dan looking over but not breathing down their necks. Around half an hour
into introductions, Louis and Harry were talking to a wealthy executive, one of
Dan’s friends, when someone made themselves known. Louis excused himself, Harry
followed. Turning around, Louis gasped at the person, it was Yaser, Zayn’s
father and London city’s Governor.
“Mr. Malik, how nice of you to join us this lovely evening.” Louis greeted with
a polite handshake. Turning to Harry, Louis said, “Harry, this is Mr. Malik,
Governor Malik, this is my boyfriend Harry.”
“Nice to meet you, Sir.” Harry says, politely extending his hand for shaking.
“The pleasure is all mine, Mr. Styles. Louis never talked about you, back when
he and Zayn were together. I, unfortunately, no nothing about you.” Yaser
mutters.
“I apologize, but Louis didn’t know of my existence back then. I too feel
terrifically sorry, but I do not know anything about the political whereabouts
of London, and Louis hesitates to talk about his past.” Harry says, shrewdly.
“I am sorry, but I deemed it unnecessary for you to talk to my father in that
manner.” Zayn appeared out of nowhere, suddenly towering over Louis, staring
him down. A moment later, his eyes divert to Harry. “Zayn Malik.” He
introduces.
“Harry Styles.” Harry introduces, eyes squinting for a moment.
Louis feels cornered and silently whimpers into Harry’s bicep, hiding himself
behind him. “I am sorry, but have we talked before? You seem familiar.” Zayn
says, eyeing Harry as his left hand coming around to hold Louis close.
“I don’t think so. Perhaps seen me on a magazine cover. Or seen my face on a
few billboards or something.” Harry says, squinting his eyes at Zayn, who looks
at him square.
“Umm, perhaps not. More like a client.” Louis winces at the word. Tell me Mr.
Styles, have you bought anything from London Studio of Fine Arts.” Zayn
completes as Louis sighs.
“I did, three years ago. Every last painting of the collection ‘Queen Louve’,by
ZJM.”Harry concludes, curious.
“Harry.” Louis calls out, softly. Harry looks at him and Louis says, “Zayn is
ZJM.”
“It’s a pleasure.” Zayn says.
“You, I would like to talk to you. Mind if we step outside for a minute.” Harry
says, voice almost a growl.
“Um, sure.” Zayn says, confused.
Harry follows Zayn to the balcony Zayn and Louis were standing on, a few
minutes ago. Louis is left with Yaser, who just looks down on Louis as if he
were scum not the same boy he taught the piano to. Harry and Zayn speak with
exaggerated hand gestures, their eyes and speech a war. While Yaser and Louis
stand in awkward silence.
Louis suddenly mutters, “I am sorry.” Not meeting Yaser’s eyes, rather finding
his Gucci shoes more interesting.
Yaser’s ears picked the syllables and he swiftly turned to look Louis in the
eye, but is met with a quiff of feathers and nervous fingers twiddling. He
sighs and says, “Look at me when speaking, Louis. Have you lost all your
manners?”
“No sir.” Louis whimpers as he looks up, with nervous eyes and stutters.
“Why are you sorry?” Yaser asks.
“For everything I ever did. For being a pain, for being arrogant and useless.
For being a redundant servant. I don’t know, for making you annoyed and
irritated.” Louis mutters.
“Louis.” Yaser grabs him by his jaw, fat fingers spreading all over his small
face. Louis cries quietly. “I am sorry, on Zayn’s behalf. I know what he did.”
Yaser completes.
“What do you know? How much do you know?” Louis frantically asks.
“He hit you, son. He tried to kill you, didn’t he? You blacked out on the
floor, blood loss and everything.” Yaser says, soothing Louis’ worries.
“Yes, sir.” Louis whispers quietly, reliving every single hit and push; bash
and kick; slur and anger.
“It’s good that you left him, he needs to know that you are not his toy he
keeps playing around with. I should have stopped him back when he cast slurs on
you. I let it get out of hand. I thought he went to therapy, I guess not. I
made him go after he came home with your blood on his knuckles. I forced him
to. He told me how you caught him cheating with one of his assistants, and that
is how it led to hits and all that. He is a changed man. I hope you forgive
him.” Yaser says, trying to change Louis’ mind.
“Yaser that is not the only reason I left him. His abuse was bad, but mentally
I was broken, I couldn’t keep facing the white lies when we had already
separated and I was back to living alone. He was out each night, trying to fit
in his lies, and I was tired. I have a little self-respect still standing after
the hits it faced while I was still with him. Harry, him, I have known him for
all my life. He is what is god for me, he will keep me safe, treat me better,
with care. I am fragile at heart, I told him that before he laid a single hand
on me. He knew, and yet.” Louis looked away as his tears glistened and streamed
down his sharp cheekbones.
“I am sorry, for everything Zayn ever did to you Louis. Remember, I always have
a space for you in my heart. I will keep you in my prayers, hon.” Yaser says.
From the corner of his eyes, Louis sees a fight about to break out between a
smug Zayn and angry Harry.
“Excuse me.” Louis says to Yaser, who lets him go, with a kiss in the forehead
and a bow. Louis reciprocates before jogging towards the balcony.
He hears the words thrown by Zayn, “He was and will always remain a worthless
slut. However many times you try to change that fact. He was the market’s
freshest and best, men ran to me with thousands of pounds to have a chance to
pound that big bouncy arse.” Thwack. A punch is thrown on his face by a very
livid Harry.
“How fucking dare you?!” Harry asks as he charges forward where Zayn stood
cradling his jaw where Harry’s rings made an indent.
“Harry! Stop, darling stop. He isn’t worth it.” Louis says as he stands before
him, in between both raging men. He carefully throws himself in Harry’s arms,
stopping him.
“He will always put me before anybody, even now when you are about to kill me,
or were about to kill me, my Queen will hold back everything. He is a
superman.” Zayn says, slightly slurring from the pain in his jaw.
“Oh fuck you Zayn! Get your head out of your fucking ass it isn’t a party hat.”
It was Louis, who turned around, back to Harry’s chest, snuggling him but still
standing strong.
Harry smirked as he said, “Where is your Queen now?”
“Not now Harry. I will deal with you later.” Louis whisper yelled.
“Zayn as for you, I am getting a restraining order against you. This is getting
out of hand. I left you for a reason. Let that be clear to the shit-filled mind
you happen to own.” Louis scolds.
“Now do me and all of my family a favour, leave.” Louis completed.
Zayn huffed as he started to leave. Harry looks at Louis as if he is angry, but
his facade falls as he sees the tension on Louis’ face.
“Leave me alone for a little bit, Haz.” Louis whispered, tears blurring his
vision.
Harry was about to say something when he gave up entirely before Louis walked
out of the balcony and out of the ballroom. Harry kept an eye on Louis’ rush,
but his chest fell when he saw his rush. He turned around and put his hands on
the iron railing and stood staring outside of the second floor. The night was
shiny and the moon lit the grounds.
Louis ran out of the ballroom and out of the west-wing and onto the exit of the
east-wing and ran until he reached the lake. He stood, staring at the serene
water and the moon’s reflection on the water as the swans glided peacefully.
Louis broke down. Desperate sobs wracking through his body. He fell to his
knees and screamed as loud as possible before collapsing on the ground and
curling in on himself as he cried silently, tears never ending. He thought, if
the moon pitied him. he wondered whether it was more human than anyone he has
ever met? and he wondered whether he could be in peace with the moon as his
rock that would him down. Will he find peace if he could fly away?
He blacked out after crying for 45-minutes. He woke up to sturdy hands picking
him up, a hand under his head and shoulders and another under his thighs. He
tried to look at his intruder but his eyes failed him. He wanted to speak, but
couldn’t. He let it be, he passed out again.
He woke up the next morning in his bed, in last night’s clothes. He looked
around the room and was shocked to see a brunette boy, definitely younger than
him by five or six years and his sister, Charlotte, snoring peacefully on the
couch. He got up and found out just how sore he was.
The cracking in his spine woke up the lad and he slightly nudged Charlotte to
wake her up.
Louis took notice and asked, “Um, why are you two in here?”
Charlotte scoffed and the lad said, “Sir, I am Tommy. We were taking a walk by
the lake last night, when, uh, we saw you passed down. Lottie, here, suggested
we carry you out of the coldness and bring you to your room. You were knocked
out, didn’t even flinch when I picked you up and brought you here. Another man
was here, we sent him on his way. He kept pestering us; we didn’t think it
would be okay to let someone use you while vulnerable.”
The words felt bitter and Louis flinched. Tommy had unknowingly spelt something
venomous.  “We thought to keep an eye on you, but ended up falling asleep.
Sorry about the suit, t looks ruined; the mud was wet when you must have
fallen.”
“Yeah, a big hit on the dry-cleaning bill. Fuck, I am sore. But, thanks to the
both of you, big thanks.” Louis says, absentmindedly tracing his spine.
Lottie murmured a small welcome and Tommy smiled wide, before they left. Louis
was about to close the doors, when Tommy came back and said, “You might want to
call the man.”
“Was it Harry?” Louis asks, smacking himself internally at the stupid question,
who else would it be-
“No. Black hair, hazel eyes, too many tattoos, nose piercing and beard? He
didn’t say his name. But was quiet persistent. Reckon ye’ know him?” Tommy
said, confused.
“Zayn?” Louis whispers, confused. He clears his throat and says, “Well, thanks.
I am sure to call him.” Louis says as he is about to turn around.
“Oh and also your boyfriend, Mr. Styles, he wanted to find you, but lord, said
that you might have gone to bed, so he left, a little dejected, but he left all
the well, no fuss. Okay, I will leave you alone now. See you for
breakfast.”Tommy said before closing the door behind him.
Louis raised his arm at the closed door as if saying a telepathic goodbye.
He was shattered from within to think that Harry didn’t even bother to set a
foot after him to find him. The details all dawn on him and he breaks down
again. The weight on his shoulders hunching him downwards as his body shook
violently as his tears dripped down his cheeks and onto his soiled shirt.
He cried. Coiling on the floor, shattered and tired, his sobs were soundless,
too habitual to crying this way, everything crash-landed and he was the only
one who had died, it felt. His hypothetical death did nothing to cure his
tears.
“My only friend was the man in the moon, and sometimes he would go away too.”
 
 
***** NO, NO, NO, NO! *****
Chapter Notes
     WARNING:
     GRAPHIC DEPICTIONS OF RAPE.
     NON CON CONTENT.
     IF THIS TRIGGERS YOU PLEASE AVOID,
     CONNECT WITH ME ON TUMBLR TO GET A RECAP.
     I REPEAT DO NOT READ IF UNCOMFORTABLE WITH GRAPHIC-EXPLICIT DEPICTION
     OF GANG RAPE.
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     or
     https://enigmaticficlarrie.tumblr.com/ask
See the end of the chapter for more notes
Third Person POV:
13th August 2017
“I listened to my frightened heart, ‘Run to him, he will keep you safe’, it had
said. I did as asked and ended up hurt anyways.”
It had been quite some time since the Masquerade ball.
Lottie and Louis had grown closer, not like Louis and Fizzy or the little
twins, but still close enough to go horse riding with her on a Sunday. They
just upped and went for a ride, intimating nobody before disappearing. They
spent quite some time riding around the forest side of the estate, way ahead of
the lake. The duo came to stop near a small pond, hidden deep in the woods.
Lottie and Louis tied their horses to the trees nearby and stepped off towards
the water body for a quick sneak.
“I didn’t like you when I first saw you. I thought you were fake and trying to
loot us.” Lottie says, randomly.
“I doubted so. It was apparent, your hate towards me. I surely would have
thought the same if suddenly one day a man comes into my house claiming to be
my elder brother and claiming to be my mum’s son. Especially, a poor
prostitute. I would be quite suspicious. I will not chastise you for that.”
Louis admitted.
“I am sorry.” Lottie whispered.
“I know. Apology accepted.” Louis said as he walked around the pond and started
walking towards the horses. He is about to mount his black horse when he hears
Lottie say, “I know you are doing drugs.” He stands still at her words.
“I know you will fidget again tomorrow after breakfast when you come down from
the high. I noticed it when you did it again today, right before breakfast and
then ran off to your room until mum called you for a quiet tea in the garden. I
have noticed all through last month how you will fidget and run off to your
room, and come back an hour or so later with blown eyes and a calm demeanour.”
Lottie completed, nervously looking at Louis.
“How would you know? I am sure it is only my nervousness. I do not-“ Louis
attempts to say, not meeting her eyes.
“Don’t lie, Louis. I can help you. Harry can help you. We do not need to tell
mum, or dad. Alternatively, anybody for that matter. I can help you on my own.
You just have to let me in.” Lottie says, confirming her doubts aloud.
“You don’t know what you are saying. You are too young to meddle in this stuff.
You are only turned 19, stop being my mother, I have one to look after me, if I
wanted. “ Louis whisper shouted.
“Don’t you think I know? However, I have noticed all these things and it is
peculiar, don’t you think? Fidgeting, sweating, running away each morning after
breakfast coming back with blown eyes, then the amount of fags under your
bedroom window that I know Yusuf cleans collectively so that nobody notices.
You are addicted to cocaine, I know. Your lethargic replies, emotionless
discussions and actions, I have fucking noticed, all right? And I only want
what’s best for you!” Lottie shouts.
“We are not having this conversation. Not here, not ever.” Louis says as he
turns around to leave. Lottie stays silent as Louis mounts his horse and
decides to leave. “Don’t talk to me about my problems ever again. It is none of
this world’s business.” Louis says before his horse rushed away.
Lottie stood gaping at the path through which Louis rushed away with Henry.
Back at home, Louis immediately went up to his room, put on street wear and
grabbed some of his stuff before rushing back downstairs. Yusuf stops him and
is immediately met with regretful words and an immediate leaving notice.
Louis asks one of the chauffeurs to drive him into the city. He is driven to
the city and he asks the driver to stop by at the front of Greek Street. He
doesn’t know why he came here, doesn’t know how he is supposed to explain
everything to him, where he went, why he went, what happened. Nothing, but
right now this is the person he can come back to, he will always take him back.
Louis walks calmly to the corner alley and rather than being faced with the
usual bubbly blond, is met with a raggedy looking brunet, with a beard and a
Marlboro packet chain-smoked. The person was wearing a golf hat and had been
wearing a patterned shirt and black jeans.
Louis gasped at the sight and is immediately met with his attention on him,
blue eyes staring wide into his eyes.
“Lou.” A coarse whisper is heard in the wind and Louis looks at the blond-
turned-brunet with wide eyes. Niall stares back with a glint of hope in his
eyes.
“Niall, hi.” Louis immediately says, breathless.
“You are really here. Genuinely, alive and healthy and here.” Niall says.
Niall rushes forward too fast and Louis flinches as he leans in closer. Niall
looks as he is punched in the face.
“I am sorry!” Louis rushes out and leans in further and closer to hug Niall.
Niall sighs into his neck as they are reunited after such a long time.
“Why did you leave?” Niall asks, his voice muffled in Louis’ hair. He sniffs
and collects his smell, revelling in the fact of having tiny little Louis back
in his arms, hugging him closer to his body. Feeling the warmth of a heartbeat
closer. Niall felt weakened and alone all this while and suddenly he was not so
alone anymore.
“Some things are better left unsaid.” Louis says and Niall accepts the answer
quietly and leads him inside, towards the alley house. Niall leans in to kiss
Louis but Louis jerks his head away and slowly whispers no. Niall does not use
force. He lets his face fall, not urging anymore.
Niall opens the door, and waits for Louis to enter before entering after him.
Louis gasps at the sight in front of him.
“I guess our Intel was right. He did in fact leave the house to stroll around
on a Sunday afternoon.” Zayn says in his lazy drawl as he was sprawled on the
hideous green couch.
The door clicked shut as Niall stood as a barrier in midst of Louis and the
door.
“Niall, what is Zayn doing over here? Why did you bolt the door? What is going
on?” Louis asks, afraid and confused.
Niall smirked, his stressed face suddenly looking very crooked. Zayn sneaked up
behind him and pressed his chest to his back, slowly pushing him forward on to
Niall’s chest. He was sandwiched between two men, two ex’s, it was not a
pleasant feeling for him.
Louis was almost crying, little whimpers leaving his mouth.
“This is no coincidence, Lou. Not an accident either, neither is it pleasant.”
Niall cackled maniacally, Zayn joined him, slowly chuckling in his ear.
“Wh...What do you mean? Niall? Zayn?” Louis asks, voice trembling.
“Aah. N-No, stop. What are you doing?” Louis whimpers as Zayn grabs both his
arms and pushes it behind his back before handcuffing them, in actual criminal
handcuffs, not some sex shop adventure tool.
“Slow, love, don’t scream too loud now. Don’t want to hurt ourselves, do we?”
Zayn whispers before planting a small kiss on Louis’ earlobe. Louis shudders at
the action.
Niall quickly plants his lips on Louis’, kissing him obscenely.
“N-Nuh, nuh. Dunh- oomph.” Louis tries squirming away and trying to wriggle
away from the iron cage of two strong men. It was as if history had repeated
itself. It was 2010 all over again. Tears were streaming down his face; his
chest was constricted from being trapped and the inability to breathe because
of a choked sob.
Zayn’s chuckling could be heard as Niall pushed them towards the bedroom and
slightly squirming and trying to fight away could be seen on Louis’ part, but
even through his stubbornness, the two older men, lead him to the bedroom.
Louis despised that he had come to love the two fragrances swirling in the
room’s atmosphere. Zayn’s minty, honey like smell and Niall’s lemon and
detergent. In scents he found his comfort in were trying their best to do all
of earth’s most heinous acts to him. He felt helpless as Niall threw him on the
bed, Zayn’s warm comfort lost from his behind.
Zayn came back and wiped a few of Louis’ tears that were blocking his view. He
then moved on to forcefully remove his jeans and his underwear, blatantly
exposing him. Louis cried out louder and much more forceful than before. Niall
stood stunned, as Louis looked him in the eye with a silent plea. He remained
undeterred.
Louis gave up all hope when Niall tied both his ankles to the bedpost and
further went on to tie his handcuffed hands to the bedpost. Zayn grabs lube and
condoms, plural as in many.
He closed his eyes as the first forceful and dry finger breached his rim and
attacked his insides. Louis was not getting hard. He hated this too much. He
wanted the earth to open up and swallow him when he opened his majestic eyes
and saw it was Niall who was going through with the first notions of forceful
sex.
Zayn just sat there, fully clothed, staring at the unhinged man, crying in
pain, writhing in disgust, of himself.
Louis cried out in pain, still lying flaccid, when Zayn poked in two of his
saliva-slicked fingers alongside with Niall’s own. The pain was memorable and
reminded him of long forgotten stigma. This notion was killing him within. He
wanted to know why such a caring man turned in to a beast.
Sooner than necessary, Niall was undressed from the bottom half and so was
Zayn, who had a hand on his semi-hard cock, slightly rubbing it. Niall wears
one of the condoms and lubes himself up before pressing into Louis’ heat.
Louis writhed, squirmed, cried, and wailed, but all in vain when Zayn placed
his palm over his mouth and Niall fucked him relentlessly, giving him
absolutely no time to adjust.
Maybe causing him physical pain was their plan, but the mental trauma of living
through this experience twice over multiple thoughts and memories was in itself
a master plan to provoke self –ingestion of a 100 vials of fresh poison. Louis
wanted to curse himself for being born.
“N-Niall, plea-please don’t. Please, Zayn. Please stop. It hurts, so much. I
will give you both whatever you want. Just stop. Ugh, no, no, no.” Louis
sobbed, trying to move away from Niall’s forceful lips. Instead of losing pace
or temper, Niall just attacks Louis’ neck.
Zayn laughed loudly at Louis’ pathetic cries. Louis cried louder at that.
Niall was going wild at the crying, he got sick of his wailing and simply cut
of his breathing by choking him, forcing his palm to press around Louis’ dainty
neck. Zayn laughed even louder at the choked noises.
Louis face quickly turned red and then purple, but Niall did not let go,
instead revelling in Louis’ ugly sounds.
Zayn pried his hands off before it got too late. Louis’ coughed louder and then
continued to cry silently, occasionally hiccupping. Niall made a sickly ‘shh’
sound, and placed his pointer finger on his lips indicating so, properly
scaring Louis out of his wits.
Zayn watched, occasionally giving Louis a soft caress.
Niall finished soon and Louis’ cock was still flaccid, too much humiliation,
pain and unwillingness. Zayn kept trying to poke and rub Louis’ cock to make it
hard, but Louis’ body was not betraying him today it seemed.
Zayn gave up after a few tries and got in position to slip into Louis unlubed
and without a condom. Louis was tired and shaken; he jerked his head screaming
a string of, “No, no, no’s.”
Niall lies down next to Louis, trying to kiss him, biting his lips, gnawing at
his jaw and neck. As Zayn pushed in completely dry, a guttural sob brings him
out of his trance. Louis was screaming and sobbing while Niall had pulled out a
small pocketknife and was now marking Louis’ in his hands. Zayn paid him no
mind as Louis screamed and screamed.
Louis’ hand was scattered with small rubies of blood. Tiny droplets forming the
shape Niall cut him in.
Louis forgot all about Zayn’s cock in his oversensitive arse when Niall started
cutting small shapes on to his arms. Louis’ throat was on fire from shouting
and he instead took to shaking his head and whispering small no’s. Niall
removed his shirt and placed it above his head, keeping his visuals clear and
poking the knife in his chest and abdomen and when he pressed it into his lower
stomach, Louis screamed as internal and external pressure met right in the
middle.
“Zayn lay down on Louis’ petite body covering him up completely as Niall took
to Louis’ neck and pierced the neck with a sharp edge and watched in
fascination as quick red droplets bled out in formation, making beautiful marks
on Louis’ scarred skin, scarring him further.
Zayn licked at the blood drops when Niall pushed Zayn off Louis’ body and in
the process hurt Louis’ hole even more. Zayn chuckled at the whine that left
Louis’ body and provoked Niall to do so gain but with more pressure. Niall did
so and this time it hurt Louis to the point where he was almost bruising
outside from the tug of Zayn’s dick in him.
Niall chuckled on understanding and let Zayn continue the sick pleasure of
hurting Louis’ body in numerous ways.
Niall cut a straight line from Louis’ nipple to nipple, also cutting an indent
in both nipple buds, Louis wailed loudly and tried squirming a lot, his back
bent at the most hurtful angle, almost looking broken or humanly impossible.
Niall pushed him down and cut two lines joining the nipples and his belly
button, making a triangle. Moreover, watched as he bled porously. Louis was
rapidly losing blood in this process, he was feeling lightheaded and spots
covered his vision.
Niall cut ablines on Louis’ soft body on top of each rib and further below.
Zayn went on with his torturous ministrations, fucking Louis’ as if he were not
a living being. It was inhumane and dare I say worse than demonic.
Louis’ sobs, skin-slapping skin, heavy breathes and gushing bloody laughter was
all one could hear. Louis’ torture was evident and even a tiny wisp of life
from within was now choosing death over this.
After Zayn came within Louis, he noticed how Louis’ dick still lay flaccid, not
even hard half, and this should have concerned him, but his mind was muddled in
bloody vengeance, so was Niall’s.
It seemed like a satanic ritual in process and Louis’ was all given up, lost
and in every worldly sense... Broken.
Sooner than later, Niall was hard again and so was Zayn. They gave each other a
knowing look as Zayn picked Louis’ compliant body a bit up and laid down below
him before thrusting himself all the way in. Niall climbed atop and squeezed in
the tight heat of Louis’ body.
Louis was suddenly very conscious and screamed, “No, please, no. Not this. Do
not do this. Why are you...? Oh no! No, no!”
Niall and Zayn smirked as Louis’ body accommodated both of them within his hole
and they each thrust simultaneously in a rhythm.
Louis was babbling and crying and bleeding. He was losing all sorts of fluids
and he was about to pass out. In the midst of their thrusts, Louis screamed, as
the pressure got too much and there was nothing to do about it. He tried to
pull at his hands and legs but could do nothing. He wanted to pull away, he
squirmed and wriggled but ended up hurting himself more, he cried out as his
vision almost went black.
He could feel various types of fluids leaking out of him, warm and slickly, and
uncomfortable. He cried, he wept, he wailed, and he screamed. It was ignored
and he was left to rot this way for until he passed out.
He woke up to a wet and cold cloth around his hole. It was dark outside now,
and Zayn was wiping him clean. His touch made him cringe as he cried again. He
would think to be dry of tears, but apparently not.
Imagine his horror when he was not let go even when the night fell and the
beautiful city lights merged with the universes skies.
He was captive of men he never wanted to meet, not again, at least.
His life was a joke.
 
 
 
 
 
 
Chapter End Notes
     SORRY!!!
     STILL LEAVE FEEDBACK.
     M.
     (I am crying don't touch me!)
***** The unfortunate lovers. *****
Chapter Notes
     IF YOU NOTICED THE DATES YOU WILL HATE ME MORE!
                      “The mermaid found a swimming lad,
                            Picked him for her own,
                         Pressed her body to his body.
                          Laughed; and plunging down
                           Forgot in cruel happiness
                            That even lovers drown.
                                 -W. B. Yeats
                            (One of my favourites)
===============================================================================
Third person Pov:
14th August 2017
The happenings of everyday were no longer a haywire. Harry was in harmony with
his deepest emotions and it was lovely how much he came around to laugh and
smile unknowingly, by just a simple thought or memory of Louis.
Harry was having breakfast with Charlee when he was having the time of his
life, recollecting a particularly fond incident with Louis when his coffee
spilled all over him, ruining his favourite silk shirt. He grumbled, not
letting this ruin his morning. He excused himself and went on to change,
rendering the shirt useless and threw it away.
As soon as he went to the en suite, his feet slipped over spilled hand wash and
water and ended up hitting himself in the back, cautiously avoiding his head.
He was thankful, but the tiles were marble and hit quite badly. He called for
Charlee who helped him up and into his bed where she applied some balm that
should help with the pain and gave him two aspirins to get on with the day.
Harry fell asleep and woke up two hours later with only a hint of pain. It was
a quiet day and Harry was content with the sun and clouds playing around. He
was pleasantly happy when Liam came unannounced and proposed he took to writing
songs for the next album, something dedicated to his love for Louis. Therefore,
he did think about it over tea with Liam.
He decided it was time he told Liam of the story he was yet to spill to
anybody. He told him about who he was, who Louis was, who his mum was and how
they ever encountered each other. Liam showed his utmost sympathy and decided
to take Harry out for a movie. They went and watched a new Nolan movie and were
nonchalant about the paps taking pictures and throwing random questions. He
answered a few as they were directed about Louis and who he was to him.
On his way home, Harry is reminded of telling his fans of what and how Louis
is, was and everything surrounding them.  He proudly talks about his and Louis’
love and how comical of a man he is and how soon he will introduce the entire
fan base to Louis. He seems proud and fond and exclaims how he is doing. He
proclaims his love for Louis in the video and goes ahead to sing a small piece
from his first album and explains its relation to Louis. With a sweet ending,
Harry ends the video and edits it before uploading it with Liam’s approval.
Liam reviews it from his house in Old Street, and with disdain on face, and a
fake cheer approves it.
Harry remains pleasant all through the night when suddenly he is reminded he
has a cell phone and goes in search of the gadget.
It takes him half an hour to get annoyed and infuriated at his lack of memory
of its placement. He asks Charlee to call him to help find it. She does and
after another irritating fifteen minutes, because he left it on silent last
night while taking his pills in the bathroom, he finds it on the rack of towels
near the shower door. He thanks Charlee and goes back to bed at around one in
the late night.
When he pushes in the pass code, he is immediately met with 93 missed calls and
a thousand texts from Dan, Fizzy, Yusuf and Agnes. He sits upright in bed,
turning on the night lamp and quickly reads the messages. He is immediately
afraid and confused and angry and confused, because what? Louis is not with
him, he told Harry that he wants to spend time with his sisters on Sunday and
so will not meet up with him, and Monday’s are Louis’ bad days, so no need to
turn up.
He calls up Louis, only to get a voice message telling him to leave a message
after the tone. He calls up Agnes after trying multiple times to call Louis but
he gets no reply and then tries Dan’s number and is met with a busy tone.
Therefore, he tries Fizzy’s number that is switched off. His last option was
Yusuf and this time he is answered immediately.
“Sir, we tried calling you earlier. We have been trying to reach you all day,
since this afternoon actually, but after young master’s phone was locked over
excessive voicemails, we decided to call you in order to check whether he was
alright or no. However, you were not picking our calls so we got troubled over
you both. However, tonight’s tabloids mention that you were out without Louis
and so our suspicions were confirmed.” Yusuf says in one breath, without
actually stopping off.
“What do you mean? Where is Louis? He isn’t with me. He told me not to come on
Sunday and Monday so I avoided being a trouble there. But you are telling me
that Louis is not home?” Harry almost shouts.
“Yes, Mr. Styles that is exactly what I mean.” Yusuf says, genuinely seeming
troubled.
“I am coming over right now.” Harry said before clicking off the phone and
immediately turning on the room’s lights before dressing up and grabbing his
wallet, phone and car keys and storming off. He yelled out his departure to
Charlee, who was awake.
Harry broke all traffic rules as he sped through London. He had to go across
from the A3 to avoid traffic and he somehow crossed the hour-long route in
forty minutes in his haste. He parked right in front of the mansion gates and
barged in with thunderously rage filled eyes and a burning face. He was
escorted to the fire room where most of the family was assembled.
Agnes was weeping; Dan was stood in front of the fireplace, staring off in to
the distance. Fizzy was looking stern and crumbling at the same time. The kids
were all asleep and Lottie looked like she was ready to kill. Yusuf and two
other butlers were bustling around, providing water and other stuff for the
members in the room. Harry demanded answers the moment he regained his breath.
“How long has he been missing?” Harry asks.
“Over 32 hours now. He left yesterday after lunch, around 3pm, perhaps. He must
have reached London around 5:15 or something. After that his phone has been
switched off.” Dan said, immediately. His hands pulling his hair.
“Has anyone reported the police?” Harry asks, scared and meek.
This shouldn’t be happening. He just got Louis back. Fate is being on major
bitch right now. He needs the man to live and here he is being stolen from him,
repeatedly.
“We haven’t we just thought he went to you.” Fizzy says.
This manages to make Harry furious.
“What? Were you waiting for a call of ransom?” Harry yells. Felicite flinches
and Dan raises his hand to stop Harry’s rage to take over.
“We didn’t want to make a big deal, but then you said that he isn’t with you,
and that got us worried.” Dan says, calmly.
“How are you so calm? You lot are his immediate family, you are supposed to be
worried, or at least act worried.” Harry says, angrily.
“Believe us, we are all very worried. We are just better at behaving normally
and not like the Hulk. Stop behaving a crack addict for a minute and think, how
are we supposed to coolly solve the mysterious disappearance of my beloved
brother?” Lottie says from where she is sitting.
“Can we report this first? Can someone call 101, please?” Agnes requests, her
voice shaky and breathy.
Dan does that and excuses himself from amongst them to do so.
Harry paces the room as Fizzy and Lottie whisper around the topic and Agnes
sits with her eyes closed.
Dan comes back with a heavy face. He sighs and announces that he and Harry
should go back to London to report and for starting further investigation.
Harry still asks, “Are we sure this isn’t an emergency? Are we completely sure
he is in no danger?”
No answers are returned but then Lottie says, “I don’t think he is in trouble.
However, you should quickly start the investigation. Trace his cell and stuff.”
“Do you want to accompany them Lots? You were with him all afternoon, before he
left. It can help the investigation. If anything else is needed, call us, we
will come as soon as possible.” Fizzy says.
“Yeah, call you how? Only Yusuf was the one who actually picked my call. Your
phone is switched off and everybody else’s was unreachable.” Harry replied.
Harry turned away before he got a reply and Lottie followed him. Dan gave Agnes
an apologetic look before leaving.
Harry got into his Audi R8 and asked Dan and Lottie to get in. He immediately
drove them to the London City police station. There they are met with Officer
Steve and Detective Smith.
“So how long has Louis been missing?”
“Around 36 hours.”
“Who was the last person he saw?”
“Our butler, Mr. Yusuf Sheikh.”
“In the prior hour, was he surrounded by family members? Anyone sceptical to
have a hand in him being missing?”
“No, officer. I was with him to the prior hour, even ten minutes before he
left. We went horse riding into the woods behind our Manor.”
“Anything that might have triggered his absence.”
“No.”
“Officer as far as he is concerned, what does this have anything to do with his
disappearance? Aren’t you supposed to trace his phone and other things so as to
find him immediately?” Harry shouts.
“Sir, I know you are worried and everything, but its protocol. We have to go
through this. And, do you think he might be in danger? If no, then please let
us complete this procedure.”
“No, we didn’t have any such conversation that would lead to his disappearance,
officer.”
“Can you give me a description of the person?”
Harry sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose before saying, “Age 25. Height
5’7, weight 140lbs, skin colour is tan-wheatish and slightly golden for London
weather, blue eyes, chestnut hair and a tattoo around the wrist of a bracelet
like shape and has designs of Spades, Hearts, Clubs and Diamonds, singular
each. Also, have quotation marks on the other with the tattoo of an untied
rope, also pacman and another that says Bus 1. Here is a photo of his, it is
very recent. Like a week ago recent. Now complete the damned procedures and get
a move on.” Harry says, warning clear in his voice.
The officer gulps before completing the paperwork.
“Can I have their number?” The officer asks and Harry hands them the number
before they are asked to wait in the waiting room.
Harry huffs but complies and so do Lottie and Dan who thanks the officer for
their immediate help.
Harry paces the room, his nerves getting the best of him. He is sure he took
his anxiety pills today, but his excessive sweating proves otherwise. He asks
to be excused and quickly drives home before he faces an anxiety attack. He
knocks on the door of his house and a worried Charlee opens the door and he
ignores all her questions as he runs to his room, into the en suite before he
fills the tap water in the glass and pops two pills in.
Within fifteen minutes of calming exercises, he rushes back down and again
ignores all of Char lee’s questions as he runs back again, without a single
glance back. He quickly drives back to the station where he is met with a
frantic looking Lottie, who says something along the lines of “Louis’ phone
traced back to Greek Street.”
Harry’s heart stopped beating, this can’t be happening. He doesn’t have the
heart to live this twice. He falls to his knees and Lottie thinks it’s out of
happiness but the hidden sorrow and glum of Harry is obscure.
This can’t be happening, not right now. Louis doesn’t deserve this, Harry
doesn’t deserve this, but fate tied all the loose ends together to form the
most crooked of knots in their lives. It’s fucked up how many times history
repeats itself. Harry hopes this time, things don’t turn as sour as it seems.
He can only hope.
Harry asks to go to the spot where his phone was traced to; the police oblige
and tell him to follow them. He does as Dan and Lottie stay back at the
station.
Harry almost crashes his car into a lamppost as he loses himself to his
thoughts, his nightmares were reliving and he was forced to watch this time. He
can’t lose control now, he has to go find Louis and pray to whoever was
listening that they don’t let history repeat itself. He would be damned if so.
On the end of Greek street, in the alley behind the shopping centre was the
place where Harry first met Louis, this place reeked of past and memories awry.
This place haunted Harry of everything he left behind. He willed to never feel
this way again. He wanted to forget, everything except Louis.
The police stops right in front of a small door-like structure. This place gave
Harry the creeps. He wanted Louis to be intact and fine when they barged in.
Luck was not on their side. The house was abandoned from within, seemed like
someone used to stay here at least two-three years ago. They found an ugly
couch with stains, moth-holes and burns, and ridiculous paintings. The
electricity was cut off and as they moved in quickly, only letting Harry guess
everything from outside the alleyway, a shrill sound of one of the officers
shouting could be heard.
Harry closed his eyes and wished it wasn’t Louis.
As if, the universe ever played fair.
The officers quickly moved out, the last one came out with a figure covered in
a blanket in his arms. The similar face of a lover from the nightmares with
bruises to match and new, it was a naked and passed out Louis, god only knows
if he were alive. The ambulance that had followed them was handed over the
petite body of a little man, abused to the realms of hell and worst. Harry was
quick to hover above their heads, pointing his nose into a business he wanted
to do nothing with.
His tears had another reason to stream.
Louis was ushered to a hospital, Harry followed behind. The culprits were yet
to be found. And Harry hated them all with a vengeance.
At the hospital, he found Dan and entourage already waiting. Louis was pushed
inside and Harry was stopped by the paramedics. He wanted Louis safe. Today had
seemed to be just a bad kind of day, and it wasn’t even morning.
The family wept and cried into each other’s arms, and all Harry wanted was the
warmth of a small body pressed into him, but he was cold and upset and sad.
Because destiny and fate are scheming against Harry and Louis.
Another hour later, they wanted approval for blood supply and other medicines.
Dan was quick to sign. Harry remained seated, with his knees tucked into his
chest, small tears dripping off his unclosing eyes. Unaware of his actions
Harry laughed silently, morbid laughter and the night’s shrill silence.
The Darling’s fell silent at his pathetic behaviour. He couldn’t even handle
himself when his lover was in the ER with immediate blood supply on and god
knows under what medication. His emotions were haywire. He decided, no day was
a good one to proclaim his emotions were normal. He was a mental case, and he
has finally accepted it.
An hour later, the doctor-in-charge comes out and Harry is the first to hound
him with his questions, “How is he? Is he alright?”
“Mr. Styles, Mr. Tomlinson, suffered severe dehydration, blood loss and
internal bleeding. He has two broken ribs, a broken wrist and sprained ankles.
Unfortunately, he also had a concussion from repeated bashing against a hard
surface, positively a bedpost, and has slipped into a coma. We are monitoring
him constantly, and hopefully, with medications working on him, he will be able
to survive this. Now, Mr. And Mrs. Darling, and you Mr. Styles, I would like to
tell you something, please can you come aside.” The doctor says, seriously.
Harry prepares himself, for the worst news as Dan and Agnes come forward.
“Seeing the bruising on his body, we came to the conclusion that he might have
been raped. So we administered a rape kit and unfortunately, the results were
positive, he was in fact raped, multiple times, and brutally. To the point
where he has internal bruising, and bleeding on his walls. Now, we know this
was a kidnapping case, as the paramedics informed me, we will try to revive him
at the earliest as possible so that he can identify the culprits and further
on. Now another thing we noticed was that he had an irregularly high amount of
cocaine in his body. The reports will be clearer within another two hours, but
it was so high in levels that it was easily noticeable in the first test. This
amount of cocaine is harmful to his body and can lead to cardiac arrest or
haemorrhage. To avoid such problems we attempted to flush his body with
charcoal and with regular antacids so that it doesn’t dissolve before flushing.
I only want to know, was Mr. Tomlinson a regular drug abuser?”
“No, no. He wasn’t, for sure.” Harry answered, voice wavering.
“Okay, we will let you see him in the morning, you can rest for the time being.
We will escort you in when required. Don’t worry, he is in good hands.” The
doctor says as he leaves.
Harry immediately collapses against a wall, sobbing like a mad man.
It seemed like no matter what, his nightmares were bound to become reality. His
Louis was hurt, all over again, and like always, he wasn’t there to protect
him.
 
 
 
 
End Notes
     Leave a feedback, thanks.
     All the love,
     M
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