The Runner ➳ Narry (Book One)

Chapter One

AUTHORS NOTE:

welcome everyone!! thank you so much for clicking on this story, get ready for a wild ride! theres a couple things you should know before you begin reading this story.

1. this is a narry storan fanfic, aka one direction. if you didnt know that, well... now you do. this story is boyxboy so if you're uncomfortable with this then sorry bout it.

2. this story includes a couple R rated themes, such as drug and alcohol use/abuse, physical and emotional abuse, sexual content and strong language. please read at your own risk!!

3. I started this story in 2013 when I was 14 years old, and finished it when I was about 16-17. my writing style starts off absolutely horrendous, and theres a few errors and shit content in the beginning, but it gets better. I swear!

4. and lastly, I do not own any of the characters in this story. all characters are based off of one direction, but with the exception of personalities I created myself. in no way does any of this reflect the actual human. all ideas and content are completely my own, came straight from my fucked up mind. please do not copyright or steal!!!

with all that said and done, i really hope you enjoy this roller coaster ride of a story, and remember-- do not do drugs!!!

thank you all so much .xl

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I turned the corner, my hand on the little packet of white powder in my coat pocket, making sure it was still there. I quietly trudged down the dark, deserted street, walking down down the long isle of old, dirty doors with rusty numbers on the front.

I spotted the door I was searching for and climbed the cracked concrete steps. I quickly glanced behind me before knocking three times hardly, a faint stinging pain shooting up through my knuckles.

I felt my heart rate speed up as I heard the door's lock click open. I swallowed the dry lump in my throat and quickly replaced my bored facial expression for a hard, sneering one.

You've done this so many times before.

The door swung open, revealing a tall, muscular man with dark hair and an intimidating look to him. The musty smell of week old beer and marijuana filled my nostrils, making me silently gag.

The man cracked his knuckles and stepped to the side.

"Come in," he spoke in a deep voice that made the hair on my arms stand straight up.

I cautiously pushed past him, not seeming like a jerk but not like a pushover either. I had to act confident.

I peered inside his small house. The kitchen counters were full of dirty plates and cups, empty beer cans and bottles scattered across the dirty floor. The table held at least 8 colourful bongs, and cigarette packages were resting on the seat of one of the table chairs. I stood in the centre of the kitchen and watched as the man walked around to the opposite end of the table and cleared a spot.

"You got the stuff?" He glared at me as he spoke.

I pulled the packet of white, powdery crystals out of my coat pocket and dangled it in front of me, holding out my opposite hand.

"One eighty." I spoke in a hard tone.

The man looked taken aback. "That's mad, kid. I ain't paying a hundred eighty for that wee bag." He walked back around the table to where I was standing, his face stone cold. "How about you give it to me for free, and I'll leave you unharmed."

I caught a flash of a knife in his back pocket. I remembered what I had been trained to do. I put the packet back into my coat and struck my hands onto his chest, him flying backwards into the wall. He grunted and he hit the hard surface with a smack.