Legacy // H.S

8.

'London calling to the underworld

Come out of the cupboards, you boys and girls'

*

Harry

The only time I really venture into Essex is if I'm at Babz and Zayn's house, or if I visit the forest not far from it. Otherwise, I have everything I need in London. But Claude has summoned us to the county today because he's found a new space for our team and has said it's been completely decked out already.

I think he's exaggerating. It's been over a month since he agreed to help us, so that's hardly enough time to find a location and renovate it, but I'm not one to fight him on things. At least he's agreed to do this.

We're almost there now, the drive leading us to a farm in the middle of nowhere. It's quiet, something that Atlas and I have enjoyed since we arrived in the countryside, the sun shining across the fields and crops and the birds chirping away. There have been some deer running around too, and a few other examples of wildlife we rarely see in the capital. She's been smiling the whole journey, and I've found myself mirroring it just by looking at her.

In every setting, she is a picture of beauty. No matter what light or shadow or time of day, Atlas is always beautiful. I don't love her for her looks, I love her because of the warmth in her heart. But my God, it's a joy to look at her.

Sometimes, I convince myself that she is the art that sits on my walls. Pieces of such high regard and prestige, crafted by the most famous artists in history. Their brush strokes define the movement of the painting, just as her eyes dictate the notion of her heart. Atlas Hall, the greatest piece of art a man could hope to steal. And I never have to try and force her into my life because she chose me.

A man damned to hell, a man that is so broken, a man that had never received love of that kind before; and she loves me.

She catches me staring every now and then. Before, I would look away and hide my gaze. My cheeks would blush, and my jaw would clench as I tried to harden myself. These days, I want her to know that I'll always be her spectator.

Only as we pull into a slip road, one similar to the route leading up to our old warehouse, do I focus on the road once more. On the radio a slow tune plays, one I don't recognise but Atlas hums along to it. I assume she has the voice of an angel too. There's not much that isn't angelic about her. We park up outside the barn, a few other cars dotted around. As I investigate the treeline, I notice more hiding in the forests surrounding us. Probably all of Claude's team are here.

From the exterior, the barn is nothing too fancy. Wooden, old, probably used to house hay for whatever farmer owns it. There are still a few bales of it near the doors, along with a tractor and some gear. But I can already hear the commotion coming from inside, and it's clear the interior is vastly different.

We step inside and are immediately hit with bright lights, not blindingly so, especially in contrast to the rays of the sun today, but enough to make me squint for a moment. A hand wraps around my shoulder giving it a squeeze as my eyes adjust, Niall grinning when I turn to him. His face is clean shaven, some aftershave trailing up my nose as I get a look at him. I notice a golds chain around his neck, dangling in the exposed area of the opened buttons of his white shirt. I don't think I've ever met someone that cares about their appearance so much.

He waves to Atlas, complimenting her as he always does, most likely to annoy me. Then he looks over to me again, pulling me closer by my shoulder. 'Smile, mate. This is the first step towards greatness in a long time!'