Harry sighed and gulped down the rest of his beer as he looked around the pub. He had only been there for about an hour and already regretted his decision about going. The only reason he went in the first place was so that he wouldn't have to sit alone in his flat. He wasn't lonely, not at all. He just needed at change of scenery. But after an hour in the smoke-filled pub, it was pretty clear that it wasn't what he needed after all. Actually he would rather lie on his, suddenly much more
appealing, couch, watching some lame reality show.
Another look around the pub only confirmed his thoughts. Loud, drunk, sweaty people everywhere. From under aged, starry-eyed teenagers, who were hoping they could get smashed enough to feel the hangover for a week before they were thrown out by the bouncers, to nasty, middle-aged, and probably unhappily married, men, who were watching the young women like hawks, just waiting for the right moment to strike. Harry cringed, shuddering involuntarily, as his eyes fell on one of said men, who licked his lips and wiped some sweat off his forehead as he spotted a suitable prey. Disgusting.
A hand running down his arm broke him out of his thoughts and he looked down to find a small, dainty hand with red painted nails. He groaned inwardly and let his gaze travel up to the girls face. She was actually fairly pretty, especially compared to some other girls in the room, but Harry just wasn't feeling it tonight.
She smiled flirtingly, or at least tried to, the smile turning into a grimace because she was too pissed to control her facial muscles. One more drink and Harry was sure she would actually start drooling. Or pass out. Probably both.
"Oh my god. You're, like, Harry Styles!" she slurred excitedly as she leant on him so she wouldn't fall, her piercing voice feeling like a dagger to Harry's eardrums.
"That's me," he answered, trying to pry her hand from his arm without making her fall.
"You're, like, so cool! I've seen you fight once and you were, like, so strong." She kept slurring out incoherent sentences but all Harry could hear was the word 'like', which she used way to much in his opinion.
Her voice dropped a few octaves, trying, and failing, to sound sexy and seductive. "I've heard about you Harry y'know, and don't worry." She moved her lips to his ear, "I like it rough."
All Harry wanted to do was push her away but he knew she would probably break in half if he did, being as skinny as she was, so he settled for prying her hands from his arm again and politely excuse himself, leaving her gaping after him like a goldfish.
He pushed through the dancing drunks and finally escaped outside, taking a deep breath of the somewhat fresh air before heading towards his flat. Normally he would take his motorbike, the only possession he actually cared about, but the pub wasn't that far from the flat, so he had decided to walk. Fresh air and exercise and all that. Not that he needed it though, being one of the best underground boxers in the country.
Compared to the amount of people and noise in the pub, the streets were fairly quiet. It probably
had something to do with the fact that it was Wednesday, in the middle of the night and people had to get up early for work in the morning. Harry quite enjoyed the silence though, it helped with the headache he had gotten from sitting in the pub and that clingy girl's voice.
The comfortable silence was however broken by the shrilly ringtone of Harry's phone. He groaned and fished it out of his pocket, checking the caller ID before lifting it to his ear. He really had to change that ringtone.
"What?!" he grumbled. "Do you know what time it is? What could you possibly want at one in the morning Simon?!"
"That's no way to greet a friend Styles," Simon laughed. "I figured you'd still be up and I've got some exciting news for ya."
"And you thought it would be a good idea to call me in the middle of the night to tell me this? Couldn't it have waited until tomorrow?"
"Now now Harry, don't be so grumpy. I'm actually doing you a favor. The news'll be out tomorrow, so if you would kindly remove whatever's up your arse to make you this ratty, I'll make you the first one to hear about it. And I have a feeling you're gonna like it," Simon said, his voice taunting despite Harry's bad mood.
Harry sighed, "Well then, what is it?"
"Not so fast Styles, I'm gonna need ya to come down here before I tell ya. It's something I have to show you. See you in a bit." And with that he hung up, leaving Harry with the urge to throw his phone into the river.
* * *
"Open up old man!" Harry called impatiently, banging on the door to Simon's place. "C'mon you lazy bastard, you can't just tell me to come and then shut me out. Don't think I won't kick your door down!"
He raised his fist for another round of banging when the door was flung open, revealing a smirking Simon. "Give an old man a chance. Besides, that's no way to speak to the man who got you off the streets."
"That was four years ago old man, I think I've paid you back by now," Harry scowled, crossing his arms.
It was true though and something Harry would never forget. He had always been bullied when he was younger and had no friends. So when someone finally waned to hang out with him, he couldn't afford to be picky. The only problem was that it wasn't exactly people you would want your child to befriend.
By the time Harry was sixteen, he had done it all. Alcohol, drugs, sex; you name it, and if that wasn't enough to make a mother pull out her hair in frustration, he had also gotten a fair collection of tattoos. Harry's father had left him and his mother when he was just a baby and her new husband left when Harry got 'too out of control'. His mother had resented him for it ever since and after he chased away her third boyfriend, she had finally had enough. She stuck him a bundle of cash and an already worn backpack and kicked him out on the streets with the order to 'never show his face here again.'
The money was quickly spend and he had to beg to survive. But being only 16 and living on the
streets made him and easy target and he was beaten up and robbed more than once. At one point he wanted to give up and was actually headed for the bridge to end his misery. He passed some sort of a dojo on the way and couldn't help but feel drawn to it. He looked through the window in awe.
It wasn't martial-arts per se, but boxing. Just the thought of what he would be able to do if he learned that, gave Harry his spirit back. He would be able to defend himself. He snuck in every day to secretly participate in the lessons and day by day, he could feel himself getting stronger.
It didn't last long though. He was discovered and thrown out. He did however have enough strength to protect himself at that point and he started training by himself. Real-life experiences helped a lot too. Only this time he wasn't the one getting beat up.
Apparently he became somewhat known on the streets and one day, Simon showed up and offered Harry to work for him. Harry wasn't really sure but after Simon waved some cash in Harry's face, he couldn't say no. Not long after getting the job, Harry was able to buy himself an flatand his beloved bike - a black Royal Enfield Bullet, '49. Now he is Simon's most priced fighter and both of them make good money off Harry's fights. Simon never let Harry forget that he owed him though.
Simon guffawed and opened the door, beckoning for Harry to come in. "I suppose you're right. Come in, I'll tell ya the news. Coffee, tea?"
Harry just shook his head, somewhere between amused and annoyed, and followed him inside.
When Simon wasn't planning fights, he was the owner of a car repair garage, which he also lived at, his flaton the second floor. It wasn't a very fancy place and rarely had costumers, so it was mostly just Simon working on some old car to see if he could make it work and sell it. Most of his income came from the fights.
"Would you tell me about the news already?!" Harry asked impatiently and flopped down on the couch, putting his feet on the coffee table knowing Simon wouldn't care.
"So impatient," Simon sighed, trying to hide his smirk. "But I guess I can't drag it out any longer. I'm working on a tournament with a special prize. I'll get the word on the street later today and then whoever wants to fight has until Sunday to sign up - with a deposit of course. If it goes like I think it will, we'll make a lot of money."
Harry removed his feet from the table and leaned forward a little, his curiosity getting the better of him. He didn't need the money, but he was always up for a fight. "And do I get to know what this 'special prize' is, or do I have to fight to find out?"
Simon lit up and clasped his hands together excitedly like he always did when he felt like he had come up with a brilliant idea. "The prize is the best part - gonna attract some rich guys I'm sure." Then he smiled a little guiltily, now twisting his hands nervously as if he knew Harry wasn't gonna like what was coming. "I'm not really sure if the prize is your cup of tea though..."
Narrowing his eyes, Harry crossed his arms, already wanting to leave. "So you asked me down here for a favor am I right?" he grunted disapprovingly, everything suddenly making sense. "You are unbelievable old man, you really are. You're lucky I don't hate you, otherwise I'd broken your jaw by now. Well then, was is it? Might as well hear it now I took the time to come."
"Actually it's two favors," Simon said seriously, his business mode back on now that he knew Harry was listening. "First, I need you to fight, even if you don't want the prize. People pay good money to come see you, so we'll both make profit. Second, I need you to take care of the prize. I
can't keep it here and I don't trust anyone else. I promise you'll get paid for this too."
Harry raised a brow, confused about what Simon meant. Take care of the prize - it sounded like it was a living thing. Money was something he would be able to hide in a safe somewhere, so it couldn't be that. Just about anything that Harry could think of would be able to fit in a safe, therefore making Harry not needed. What on earth could that prize be? "Alright," he agreed finally. "What is this prize I have to 'take care of'?"
"I'll go get him," Simon said getting up and quickly walking out of the room, leaving Harry wide eyed. Him? The prize was a he?
Not long after, Simon came back in. It took a while before Harry realized that there was another person with him. A petit boy, not looking other than sixteen or seventeen, was standing, trembling, beside Simon, his blue eyes flickering around as if to find an escape. He had feathery brown hair that looked kind of greasy in the dim light and his clothes were old and ripped and too big, practically drowning his small form. And he looked absolutely terrified. For once in a very long time, Harry actually felt kind of sorry for someone.
"This is Louis," Simon introduced pushing the boy in front of him, like it was completely normal for him to use young boys as prizes. "He's seventeen. I picked him off the streets yesterday. I couldn't leave him, I mean, look at the lad! Some lonely man or woman would pay thousands for someone like him. Why not make a game out of it and make a little more money?"
Harry just stared at him, feeling both disgusted and furious. If Harry hadn't been able to fight when Simon found him, would he have ended up like this too? Used as a prize, given away to some nasty, old person who couldn't attract company themselves and therefore had to buy young boys to get laid? Simon have had some crazy ideas throughout the years they had known each other, but this was by far the worst.
"You're kidding right?" Harry exclaimed enraged, jumping up from the couch making the small boy beside Simon cower back in fear. "Please tell me this is some sick joke?! The kid would be better off on the streets!"
Simon frowned confused, pushing Louis down on the couch so he wouldn't try to make a run for it. "But Harry don't you see? We could make so much money from this kid. And it's great PR too. All you have to do is take care of him until the winner is found and you'd never have to see him again. Besides, since when do you care about anyone but yourself?"
Glancing at Louis again, Harry kept quiet. Some people might have get hurt by the last comment, but Harry didn't really care. He had heard it so many times by now that it didn't affect him anymore. And it was kind of true really, so why get mad? Why should he care about other people, when most people hadn't ever done anything to help him when he needed it the most? Why bother?
And he really did try to stay indifferent. This Louis kid wouldn't last long on the streets, no matter what Harry said before. If he ended up a sex slave he would at least be kept alive. But Harry couldn't help but feel a tiny bit sorry for the boy. He saw himself in him. The terrified, shaking kid on the couch reminded Harry of his first months on the streets. He normally wouldn't admit it, but he had never been more scared in his life than the night his mother slammed the door in his face. At that time he would have done anything for a helping hand and someone who cared.
Louis' eyes suddenly flickered up and met Harry's and Harry froze. He wasn't able to look away from the piercing blue eyes, begging for him to do something. To help. When Harry finally managed to break eye contact, he let his eyes travel down the kid's face.
Now he was directly under the light, Harry could get a better look on the smaller boy's face. He had soft, sort of feminine features and actually looked pretty even with the almost purple bags under his eyes and the grime on his face and in his hair. He looked like he hadn't slept in weeks. Harry could feel the kid's eyes boring into the side of his face, so he turned his attention to Simon, afraid to look into those blue eyes again. They made him feel uneasy.
"Fuck Simon I'm beginning to think you're crazy," he sighed, rubbing his forehead. "How long are we talking?"
"Just a couple of weeks. Depends on how many fighters." Simon started wringing his hands like one of those evil villains on TV, knowing he had won Harry over.
Weeks. He had to live with, and take care of, a seventeen year old boy for 'a couple of weeks'. What in the world was he getting himself into? He really should say no, and he really wanted to say no, but something made him nod, and suddenly he was handed an envelope with his payment and the smaller boy and they were all but shoved out the door by Simon.
Harry held on to Louis' arm for the first few meters but when he made no move to escape, he let go. He wouldn't be able to outrun Harry anyway, much less fight him. Even if he did get away, he wouldn't last a week alone, which he probably knew. And he did just continue walking beside Harry, head down and arms around himself as if to keep himself from breaking. It was a sad sight really. He looked so small.
When they reached Harry's bike, which he went home to get before going to Simons not really fancying walking through London in the middle of the night no matter how strong he was, Louis' already pale face turned an almost ghostly white. He let out a small whimper, the first noise he had made since Harry first saw him, and took a few steps back, shaking his head.
And this was why Harry didn't like dealing with people. "Look, it's either this or going back to Simon, who'll most likely place you with some guy who won't be able to keep his hands to himself. You decide," he sighed, already beginning to regret his decision. He wasn't able to keep a fucking plant alive, how was he supposed to take care of a human? This really wasn't his night. He should have stayed home and ignored Simon.
Still very hesitant, but obviously not wanting to go back to Simon, Louis stepped closer to Harry, his whole body shaking with fear. "I-I don't want to go back..." His voice was light and soft and so quiet Harry almost missed it.
Harry was so surprised that Louis was actually speaking, so he just stared at him blankly, not really registering what he said. For some reason he really liked his voice. Louis obviously felt uncomfortable under his stare and once again slung his arms around himself. "P-please?"
Snapping out of it, Harry ruffled up his curls and brushed them back in place, something he did whenever he didn't know what else to do. "Right then, c'mon," he mumbled, getting on his bike. He only had one helmet, but he didn't really need, or use it, so he handed it to Louis. Louis though just stared at it helplessly, not really knowing how to put it on. Harry sighed and beckoned him over, helping him fasten the strap under his chin.
"Let's go then," he said and Louis carefully crawled up behind him, trying his best not to touch Harry.
"You're gonna have to touch me y'know," Harry said annoyed, feeling the last bits of his self control slipping away. "I won't drive you to the hospital when you fall off."
A few seconds passed and when nothing happened, Harry seriously considered giving Louis back to Simon and tell him to do whatever he wanted with the kid but then two small arms snuck around his waist, hands gripping onto Harry's shirt. Harry rolled his eyes and then they were on their way. As soon as the bike4 started, Louis shy grip was replaced by him hanging onto Harry for dear life. Harry could feel him shaking. He knew his Bullet was very noisy, but he happened to love that sound and couldn't really care less if he woke someone up.
All the way home, all Harry could think of, was how much he regretted saying yes to this. It was never going to work. Louis was the polar opposite of Harry and Harry really didn't like the thought of having to live with someone. He was better off alone. That is how it has always been and he couldn't wait until Louis was gone, no matter where he ended up. That wasn't Harry's problem. He just had to wait until the winner was found and then everything would be back to normal. Only a few more weeks and Harry would be alone again.
Just the way he liked it.