Clean Criminal // l.s.

xi.

[Sorry if things seem confusing. If you have any questions, don't be afraid to ask. Chances are I messed something up. Have a happy weekend! :D -M]

"Harry, I don't understand why they've brought me back here again. Is this a joke?" Louis whispered to Harry, hoping that the recording devices couldn't hear him.

The detective didn't reply to Louis and instead slumped into his chair, upset at the fact he had to be here right now. It couldn't have been Louis, it just couldn't have.

"Harry," Louis pleaded, wanting nothing but a simple answer. He was beginning to get jumpy and the fact that there was even more sticky gum underneath the table did not please him.

Louis felt as though he was sent back to fourth grade, the time no one spoke to him and he felt as if he were an ignored ant with people stepping all around him. He was shy then, afraid to even speak, but then along came Zayn. Zayn was like the special grasshopper that helped Louis out. Zayn made people notice him. And, sure, Louis was still a little awkward, still tinier than the rest of the world, but he was a braver ant, ready to take on anything the world threw at him.

Harry slammed the file onto the table, making Louis focus on him instead of the gum-covered table, "tell me how you met Zayn, Mr. Tomlinson."

Louis furrowed his eyebrows, why was Harry acting so strange? "We were kids. I was shy, he wasn't. Friendships start off that way, you know."

"What was your friendship like?"

Louis shrugged, "it was like any other friendship," Louis fidgeted with his fingers, "he invited me over a lot, we hung out. He played video games while I...while I cleaned his room. We eventually grew up and then he started having girlfriends and then we hung out less. But we were still best friends because he fought off all the guys that tried to touch me."

Harry tried to stop his hands from shaking, but he couldn't so he quickly slid a picture from the file across the table, "is this yours?"

The feather haired lad stared at the spelling bee trophy he had received when he was in fifth grade, "yeah, that's mine. I thought I had thrown it out a while ago. Where did you find it?"

Harry sat another picture in front of Louis, "does this place look familiar?"

Louis shook his head, "no, I've never been there."

"This is where Zayn was killed. Someone stabbed him in the back right there. Are you sure you haven't seen this place before?" Harry questioned, getting a bit frustrated.

"I'll promise you that I've never been there. Go through security footage or whatever, I won't be there. I only go to a few places each week, it's not like I've explored the city," Louis answered. 

Harry took the photos back and then showed Louis some results, "do you have any idea why your prints are on the weapon?" 

"Well, what's the weapon?" Harry turned over the results to reveal a picture of a knife. "I've never seen that before. All the knives of mine are kept together in my kitchen. If you want to go check, you can. You'll find them all there." 

Harry nodded, flipping the pages of his notepad to scribble down some notes, "you can count on it. Do you happen to have any reason to dislike Zayn? Did he ever do anything to you? Had he ever hurt you?"

Louis was beginning to shake more now, "no," he stated, "he never did anything accept treat me like a China doll, fragile and valuable."

"How were you valuable?"

Louis couldn't help but notice Harry had written down his question and was expecting an answer, as if this would turn around the whole case. He finally spoke, "Zayn wasn't exactly the guy who had a lot of friends. And it's not that he couldn't get any, it's just that he liked to stay personal, one-on-one was his style. He liked creating bonds that could never be broken which is why he trusted only a select few. I being his friend for over a decade must serve as something. He cherished me."

Harry recorded bits and pieces of Louis' answer, "in your apartment, why are there so many framed pictures of yourself?"

"Zayn takes them, he was photographer and a damn good one at that. He...well, he liked sharing them with me. And I couldn't stand having photos sit around so I frame them and put them all around. I like them, even if they are of me and I don't really like seeing me everywhere."

"Did he ever take inappropriate pictures of you?" Harry suddenly asked.

Louis shook his head quickly, "no, no, no. Zayn wasn't like that. He was sweet and caring and--"

"Had a crush on you," Harry stated.

"What? No he didn't," Louis said, caught off guard, "he was my best friend, he didn't like me in that way."

"But you liked him in that way?"

Louis' silence gave Harry his answer and as he started to put things back into the file, Louis had stopped him by gently placing his hand on Harry's wrist, "he babied me. He cuddled me when I was sad. He'd rock me back and forth to try and calm me down when I was having a moment. And, sure, it was nice knowing that I had his undivided attention, but it eventually become so...so suffocating."

"Who is Liam Payne?"

Louis' breath hitched and he tried his hardest to stop his legs from bouncing up and down, ignoring the fact that his hands were becoming extremely sweaty, "just a past lover."

Harry looked up from his notepad for the first time in five minutes, "why did it end?"

"Because it wasn't meant to be," Louis lied, hoping Harry couldn't see through it. Turns out he could.

"May I remind you that it would be better to tell the truth here rather than in front of a jury?"

Louis nodded, agreeing to tell Harry the truth, "he believed that I had feelings for Zayn."

"And did you?"

"I already told you no! Now why am I in here? You don't expect me to be the killer, do you?" Louis questioned, becoming irritated with Harry's questions.

Harry opened the folder once more, slamming pictures in front of Louis, "the scene was spotless, his clothes were straightened out, the weapon we found was close to being perfectly cleaned. You don't think this makes me question your innocence?"

"I'm innocent until proven guilty!" Louis yelled.

"And I have all the facts to prove that you are guilty!" Harry spoke, his tone equally as loud as Louis', "we're done here," he concluded, "expect officers to be at your apartment tomorrow morning. You can stay here tonight." With his final words, Detective Styles was gone and Louis was being handcuffed and escorted by officers.

He never thought he'd be in this position, framed for the murder of his best friend. "I did't kill him!" Louis shouted over his shoulder as he was taken away, "I didn't kill him! I didn't kill him! There's no way in God's good name that I killed him, you have to believe me!" 

Harry heard Louis' pleads and he silently prayed that Louis was right, that he wasn't a murderer, and something within him wanted to find any possible evidence to prove the facts wrong. There was no harm in trying.