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Louis, followed by his father, slowly walks down the long beige painted hallway, lit by headache inducing fluorescent lights. Cells line each side of the hall, all of them containing at least one person.

As he makes his way to Harry's cell, Louis makes eye contact with several other prisoners. Most just glare or give a smirk, some just barely acknowledge him, and others seem to not ever take their eyes off of him. He just ignores them and tries to keep looking straight ahead.

He thought he'd feel a lot more safe, but looking at all of the faces of these men, the pure hatred or general lack of emotion in their eyes, it's making him uneasy. He couldn't imagine being locked up like this. Barely any sunlight, no privacy, little respect, constant judgement, it'd drive him crazy.

It's not so much that he's scared of the men themselves, it's just the energy that's engulfing the entire hall. It'd make anyone uneasy.

He finally makes it to the second to last cell on the right side of the hall, he stops and looks at the curly haired man sitting on the floor against the wall. His legs are bent up and his arms rest on his knees, stretched out. His hands are clasped together and his chin is pointed down. Louis can tell that this man is generally attractive, and clearly is the age his dad said he was. It's a weird feeling to see someone that's around his own age locked up like this.

"Let's go Styles," Louis' dad says, causing Harry to look up which is when Louis notices his piercing green eyes.

They lack any sort of emotion, almost as if they're not real. As if there's not anyone inside of Harry's body. As if he's dead, on the inside at least.

"Where?" Harry asks, his voice low and rough, still remaining to sit.

"Doesn't matter, I said let's go," Mr. Tomlinson demands, holding out the handcuffs he's been carrying the whole time. Louis finds it odd to see his dad being so authoritative.

Harry rolls his eyes and starts to stand up. He doesn't seem to be in any sort of hurry, clearly not threatened by Louis' dad. Harry makes it to the bars, turning around and letting Louis' dad open the gate and cuff him. The whole time Harry doesn't question why Louis' there. He gives him a quick glance, but then doesn't seem to look again.

"Where are we going?" Harry asks again, as Louis and his dad lead him down the hall.

"It's Thursday."

"Oh," is all he replies, sounding unhappy about the answer.

Once they make it to the door that Louis assumes leads to the counseling room, he stands to the side as its opened and his dad leads Harry in. The inmate is sat down in a uncomfortable looking chair that's in front of a metal table. One of his cuffs is taken off of his right wrist and then hooked on to the loop sticking out from the table, keeping him in place.

"Where's Lisa?" Harry asks, after he's situated.

"Change of plans. This is Louis, he'll be filling in for Lisa for a while."

Harry looks over to Louis with furrowed brows. He looks him up and down, lingering on his eyes. He's intimidating that's for sure. Louis can barely hold eye contact, but he forces himself too, not wanting to seem scared.

"Why?" is all Harry replies with, still looking at Louis.

"Doesn't matter. I'm going to leave you two alone, Harry I trust you enough not to do anything but if you do, there will be severe consequences."

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