"You're going to get that girl killed."
The voice called to him as soon as he stepped past the alley by the pawn shop, and Harry stopped abruptly, turning on his heels and looking into the handsome but impish face of Louis Tomlinson for the second time that day. This time no nostalgic feelings clouded his mind; he advanced upon the poshly outfitted boy with menace in his eyes, intent to hurt him.
"You helped him set us up."
"I had no idea he was there for you, I thought he was keen on shopping for my mum and the new baby."
"You've been hanging around with the American for too long."
He laughed at his own joke, Harry was not amused and shook his head as he realized that his anger, and the violence and recklessness that would no doubt result from it, were wasted on Louis.
He muttered and made to go towards the shop door.
"Harry wait! Listen to me please." He touched his arm gently, and as Harry looked at his hand holding his flesh he stopped and sneered but did not speak. "It's obvious that you don't care if you live or die and maybe you think that means that no one else does either but I- well I know that's not true. So just do what he's asking you to do. Get the job done and over with and then move on with your life, because anything else ends up with you dead and tied to a tree in the park on the junkie end as a warning to the rest of what happens when you don't fall in line."
Louis concern was written on his face and Harry recognized within his expression care of another kind; he smirked and shook his head slowly.
"I don't 'fall in line.' I don't know how."
He was careful to let the back of his hand linger for a moment against Louis', and wondered for a moment how he hadn't noticed it before; it amused him that the posh and proper, well groomed and fashionable young gent could possibly find him attractive, even in his still gaunt and tattered looking state.
He flashed him a genuine and almost reassuring smile as he headed inside the shop, and in spite of the rage that still lingered within him he considered the words of warning.
He could not bring himself to heed them.
She laid in the very middle of her bed with her body curled up close and huddled together and her shoes still on. She did not feel safe and she did not feel sad about it, but she felt a very familiar sense of being out of control, of doing all the right things and still being unable to keep bad things from happening, of having removed all contacts and relationships from her life and still being subjected to and at the mercy of the whims of those around her. The boorish men had mentioned the young wolf, who she knew was Liam, and so she drew the conclusion that he was following her and jealous of what he saw of her and Harry.
And she reasoned that Harry would be the next to be harassed, and she felt guilty for having put him in such unnecessary danger. But as she laid there on the bed she hardly focused on any one thing that was bothering her, but rather she let all the things that scared, disappointed or frustrated her about her life wash over her and settle on her being, covering her in a thick layer of depression.
She wasnt sad; there was no need for tears, the fear was upsetting enough on its own and her fragile mind could not process any other emotions along with it. Her fear was deeper than the threat the men had imposed upon her; it was personal, for as much as she had changed her life the same problems seemed to be creeping back into it.
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H. A Harry Styles A.U.Fanfiction
'It has not been in the pursuit of pleasure that I have periled life and reputation and reason. It has been the desperate attempt to escape from torturing memories, from a sense of insupportable loneliness and a dread of some strange impending doom...