Criminal

8.

not feeling this.

Harry stared at the ceiling fan and with each passing rotation he grew more anxious and vengeful. Her parents had to have done it. They had to. They were the only ones who hated him enough to do something like that. It didn't matter anymore though, what mattered was him getting away.

He hated to do this. He really hated to do this. Five minutes, yeah, I'll wait just five more minutes he thought. As Harry told himself this, he knew it would be a lie. No amount of time could prepare him for what he was about to do.

He sleepily stared at Con, her chest falling softly with each breath. Her curls covered her chest cascading down onto one of his ratty t-shirts. It was the Ramones one. She loved that shirt. She curved over in her sleep, snuggling her back into my chest. The movement was heart aching. Her mouth hung open, soft snores filling the room.

With one arm behind his head, he returned his stare back to the ceiling. Harry had done this exact same thing last night, but then, it was out of bliss. Glancing down to Con, he admired the hickies he had tattooed her skin with.

"I love Con, God I love you. Okay? Remember that, I'll never stop. Never ever ever." He choked out trying to keep the tears away.

As he went to slip out of bed, her long bare legs caught him. Wrapping around his, rubbing against the hair and warming his feet. "C'mon Con, don't make this harder for me." Harry mumbled.

"Then don't leave" ,her soft voice choke out. "Don't leave me." She begged.

"Con...." was all that was said as the young lad held onto her arms.

"Harry." She sobbed into his naked chest, clutching and clawing at the skin.

"Con, they're onto me. They know it's me." It was only a matter of time before this happened, but both of them thought they had more time.

"Well Harry. You can't just leave me behind." She said sitting up.

"It's not safe for you out there." Harry told her pushing a curl behind her ear.

"What do I have here Harry?" she asked straddling the younger gentleman. "I chose you. My parents won't let me back in, my friends are all gone, you're all I have, and I'll be damned if you leave me." She said quite aggressively.

There was a fire that had been sparked in her hazel eyes. She was out of her shell. "Okay, but it'll be rough. I'll have to change my name; you'll have to go by Con all the time." She snorted.

"That all you got? Let's go then Edward." she challenged unpinning the lad and rushing to go pack.

A year or so had passed after the couple fled town that Darcy was born. They were living in France where all those years of French lessons paid off. Harry's sister had been studying aboard their and was more than willing to meet her sister in law and niece. In fact, his whole family did.

The Styles/Twist clan occupied most of the waiting room in the small hospital maternity wing. Gemma and Anne were in the room offering the most support they could. Anne held one of Con's hands while Gemma fed her ice chips. Con felt a pang of longing for her mother and father, hell even her brother, but that soon vanished with another contraction.

"Mother of God, Styles!" she grunted, clutching Harry's wrist.

Several reassuring squeezes later, a cry echoed through the room and down the hall. A small, red, shrieking baby girl was passed to Con's chest. She was blonde and blue eyed and looked just like Harry and Con did as babies, but mostly Harry.

Harry leaned down, using his thumb to stroke the baby's face. "I love you Con." His lips ghosted over hers. "And I love you Darcy." His lips gently skimmed the little one's forehead.

For once, everything seemed okay for Con and Harry. But that wouldn't last long. Because as with every religion there is a judgement day, a day to repent, and Zayn Malik had landed in Paris.