author's note: I'll be making a playlist for this fic sometime after a few more chapters, so be expecting it. If you have anything to tell me, tell me! Don't be shy. Fan, Vote, Comment, whatever! Just enjoy the chapter.
~*~
"Fuck you Payne! You're not going to win this time."
"Shut the hell up Niall. Hey! Quit hitting me you little cheat!"
"Niall, play fair."
"Be quiet Malik. Go back to reading your palm or something."
"I will. Right after I read the imprint of my foot on your ass."
"Boys, settle down."
"Alright mum. Ow! Louis you twat! You made me lose!"
"We all know you would've lost anyway, you sod. Oh, and call me mum one more time, and you won't be having any pancakes."
"No!"
"Then I suggest you pipe down and prepare to get your arse whipped again by Fifa King, Liam Payne."
Niall grunted and turned his attention back to the TV screen, rubbing the throbbing spot on the back of his head where Louis threw his whisk. Liam snickered, muttering something intangible. Zayn watched the spectacle from his spot on the couch, buried in a oversized striped jumper. He had his knees to his chest, and was scrolling through his phone, peering at the glowing screen over the top of his spectacles. His hair was distressed, and he had bags under his eyes, contrasting grimly to his long, dark eyelashes.
'Probably spends all night reading those books of his,' Louis thought, before heading into the kitchen. Harry was hunched in front of the refridgerator, grabbing a carton of eggs and milk. He added the items to the ingredients set out on the granite countertop, checking the yellow piece of paper before setting it back down. Louis walked up to him, and did a quick check on the items displayed in front of him. "Yep, that's what we need."
Harry squinted at the paper, "Are you sure this is everything? And you've got the measurments correct?"
Louis rolled his eyes, "Harry, I've been making The Tomlinson's Strawberry & Chocolate Chip Pancakes since I was eight. I'm pretty sure we've got everything."
"Ok, ok. So what do we do first?"
"Harry," Louis shook his head, "I thought you were a world renowned chef?"
Harry chuckled, "Just trying to be a gentlemen."
"Right," Louis snickered, bending down to grab a large mixing bowl. Harry tensed, his eyes slipping to the tiny sliver of exposed tan skin that peeked from underneath Louis' jumper. He bit his lip, and quickly averted his eyes when Louis turned back to him, bowl in hand. "Put the eggs and stuff in there."
"Eggs and stuff? Couldn't be any more detailed, can't you Lou?" Harry smirked.
"Just read it like it is on the paper," Louis said, shoving the piece of paper into the boy's chest. Harry snickered, and read off the ingredients, adding them into the large bowl. Once everything was in and he was sure there were no eggshells in the mix, he began to stir the batter, while Louis turned the dial to the stove top, setting the heat and placing the griddle over the burner.
Louis turned to Harry, "You stir like my grandmum. C'mon Harry! Put those muscles to use and stir like your life depends on it!"
"Don't rush me," Harry said, keeping his slow, easy pace. He stirred longer than he was supposed to, just to get on Louis' nerves. Louis yanked the bowl from his grasp, and poured a small amount of batter onto the griddle. The thick mixture crackled and sizzled, slowly solidifying into a golden brown pancake. Louis flipped it, "Harry, be a dear and fetch me a plate."
Harry grabbed a plate from its place in the white cupboard, placing it by the working smaller boy. Louis placed the pancake onto the plate, before working on the second one. Harry leaned against the counter, nibbling on a strawberry as he watched the other boy work.
They were spending the day at Niall's, who had asked all of the boys to come over and enjoy a game of Fifa while his parents were out for the weekend. No one was working, including Louis who said, "I'm my own boss. I can give myself days off whenever I please."
After their run in with Ed, the boys had gone home. Louis had gone straight to the kitchen, taking out a wine bottle stashed at the bottom of the sink. Harry had watched from the door frame as Louis popped open the top and threw it back. He glanced at Harry and muttered, "I didn't see that coming at all. Are there any more people like you that I don't know about? Maybe Niall even?"
Harry smiled and shook his head, "No. 'S just me and Ed."
Louis had given him a single nod, "Good," before tilting the bottle back to his lips. Harry let him have four more swigs, before taking the bottle from his hands and storing it back into its place. He had made him dinner, fed the cat, and ushered him into bed, before doing the same. A week has passed since then, leaving them now in Niall's home making Louis' famous pancakes, Niall in the other room cursing at the controller, and Harry a new employee at Nick's Record Shop.
"Harry, don't eat any more blueberries or we're not going to have any for the pancakes!" Louis said, catching the angel's hand in the tub of fruit. He pinched the flour that had been set aside, and flicked some into Harry's face.
"Hey," Harry drawled, reaching into the flour and doing the same to Louis, who nearly threw the current pancake he had been working on onto the floor. He placed the pancake onto the tall stack on the plate, before switching off the heat and slowly turning to Harry, eyebrows raised in mock exasperation.
He reached back into the flour, challenging eyes still trained on the angel, and grabbed a good handful before flicking his wrist, leaving Harry's face dusted in the white powder. Harry's eyes widened in surprise, mouth popped open in shock. They stood in a heavy silence for five seconds, glaring at each other, before both boys lunged for the flour.
Harry grabbed two handfuls and threw some at Louis, who squealed as it coated his hair. He had two fistfuls of his own, grabbing Harry in a one-armed headlock, rubbing the flour into his brown curls. Harry got free from the boy's grasp, shoving flour down the back of Louis' jumper. The boy shrilled, and grabbed the bag of flour, attempting to aim the whole bag at Harry. The angel dived for the bag just as he was raising it, colliding into the smaller boy and causing the bag of floor to POOF! into an explosion of powder.
"What's going in- WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED TO MY KITCHEN?!" Niall yelled, standing in the doorway. Both boys were wrestling on the floor, coated in flour head-to-toe. Louis was straddling Harry's waist, trying to pin his arms above his head. Harry could easily overtake him, but pretended to struggle in his grasp. Louis grunted and successfully pinned Harry's wrists to the ground. He panted, "I win."
"I don't think so," Harry muttered, catching Louis by surprise and rolling them over, pinning the boy's smaller body beneath his.
"Gotcha," Harry whispered into Louis' ear. Louis froze for a second, before letting out a huff, "Oh ge'off. You're crushing me under your mammoth body."
"Is that a fat joke?"
"QUIT FLIRTING YOU PIECE OF SHITS! CARE TO TELL ME WHY MY FLOOR LOOKS LIKE A FUCKING SKI RESORT?!" Niall shrieked, Liam and Zayn walking up from behind him to peer into the room.
"Whoa," Liam said, eyes widening at the scene before him. The counter, white tiled floor, and kitchen table was littered with flour, making it seem like the kitchen had suffered from its own blizzard. The two boys on the floor, who were in suspicious positions Liam noted, were dusted white as well.
Zayn caught Louis' eye and waggled his eyebrows, giving him a subtle thumbs up and jerking his head at the boy on top of him. If Louis' face wasn't masked with flour, the scarlet tinge in his cheeks would be apparent to the angel above him.
He pushed Harry off, the boy landing on his back beside him with an 'ooph'. He stood up, dusting the flour from his trousers. He shook the flour out from the inside of his jumper, looking up at Zayn in an apologetic frown. "Sorry I got your jumper dirty Zayn."
He shrugged, "It's not a problem, Lou. I only wore it like once anyway, so you can keep it if you like."
Louis smiled sheepishly, "Thanks."
Harry stood up beside him, trying to shake out the flour from his curls. He swept his hair to the side, before turning to survey the kitchen. "Oh shit."
"DAMN RIGHT 'OH SHIT'! YOU TWO GITS BETTER CLEAN THIS UP BEFORE MY MUM GETS HOME OR ELSE I'LL DISFIGURE YOU BOTH WITH A SPATULA!"
Niall stormed out, taking the plate of pancakes with him. Liam and Zayn gave the other two boys a shrug, before following the fuming leprechaun into the living room.
"We better get to work then," Louis sighed, grabbing a wet linen and wiping down the countertop. Harry grabbed the broom, and got to work on the floor. They worked around the kitchen, bumping elbows and nudging ribs, despite the large amount of floor space.
"That was fun," Harry said quietly, sweeping the last few traces of flour into the dustpan. He walked over to the rubbish bin and dumped the contents, before turning to the smaller boy who was perched on the counter, already done with his task.
"Yeah it was," Louis chirped. "Except for the fact that I now have flour in places where the sun don't shine."
Harry snorted, leaning against the counter where Louis sat. He smiled up at him, a warmth floating up into his chest, its tendrils coiling into the pit of his stomach. He was fimiliar to this feeling, for he had received it only ten times in his lifetime. And of those ten times, it had been the boy with the caramel brown hair and curelean eyes who had been guilty for causing them.
"Why are you looking at me like that?" Louis asked, who had tried to pretend to not notice Harry's staring. But when the angel didn't turn away, totally unabashed by his gesture, Louis had to speak up. If he hadn't, he would've exploded from the nerves crawling around in his stomach, making him feel dizzy and nauseaus. Stupid Harry and his perfect everything.
"Nothing," Harry smiled, casting his eyes down to his suede shoes. Louis' heart kicked into gear when he noticed the slight flush on the boy's cheeks. Harry was blushing.
Louis patted Harry's bed of hair, twining his fingers into the soft curls. He scratched softy, chuckling throatily as he heard the purr thrumming through his body. Since he and Harry shared the same bed, he had discovered just a few days prior the boy's pet peev, when he had absentmindedly carded his fingers in Harry's mane and scratched slightly at his scalp. At first he had been terrified of the angel's reaction, muttering a "sorry" before pulling his hand back.
A minute of silence had passed when Harry spoke up quietly, "You don't have to stop. I, erm, like it."
Since then, whenever they both climbed into bed and were settling down to get comfortable, the fat, ginger cat nesting at the end of the bed, Harry would shyly ask Louis to scratch his head. Louis would happily oblige, the gesture, along with Louis' humming and Harry's purring, lolling them both into sleep.
He continued to lightly scratch at Harry's scalp, smiling in contentment whenever Harry tilted his head into his touch, eyes closed and letting out soft, happy sighs when he hit the right regions. Louis' eyes crinkled in amusement when a thought occured to him-- Harry reminded him a lot of Cece.
He dropped his hand, Harry whining in protest. Louis laughed, and patted Harry's cheek, "We should go join the lads. Hopefully by now Niall hasn't finished all the pancakes, though I wouldn't bet on it."
He hopped off the counter, Harry following behind him. They went into the living room, Harry plopping down on the loveseat and Louis joining Zayn's company on the couch.
Niall and Liam were on their third rematch, with Liam's team in the lead. Niall was a sore loser however, and everyone knew this game could last all night if Niall didn't win soon.
"Liam, just let blondie win already so he can stop whining," Louis said, watching as Niall attempted to shoot into the goal but was blocked by Liam's goalie.
"Nuh-uh," Liam said, eyes trained on the match and thumbs expertly jostling the joystick. "He's going to have to win the hard way. Liam Payne doesn't show anyone mercy."
"Liam, you're as harmless as a puppy," Louis retaliated, "The only reason people would actually be afraid of you, would be because they'd be terrified you'd cuddle them to death or bribe them into donating all their life savings to charity."
"That happened to me once," Zayn spoke up, "We were at Tesco's where there was this charity bucket thing, and I put in a couple of notes. But then Liam started ranting to me about how there were kids in Africa who were starving and dying, so I put in £50. Turns out, it was a fundraiser for some school principal's trip to The Carribean Islands. I freaking paid 50 quid so some middle-aged bald guy could slather sunblock on his chest and get colorful drinks with little umbrellas in them." He glared at the back of Liam's head, shooting him death threats with his eyes.
Niall jumped up onto his feet, eyes glued on the match in front of him, hands rapidly tapping the buttons, "Go! Go! Go!"
"Shit, shit, shit, shit," Liam chanted, hands flying over the controller's buttons.
Louis sniffed, turning away from the game to lay against Zayn's slouched body, "Zayyyyyyyynnn."
"Yes, Loueh?"
"You're smart, right?" Louis muttered into his neck, laying his weight against the thinner, more gangly boy that smelled of cigarettes and books.
"'m, I guess," Zayn shrugged, his handsome smile curled slightly.
"If I ask you a question, will you promise to answer it?" Louis asked, cuddling into the familiar body that his friend had provided him for the past two years.
"To the best of my ability love," Zayn replied, absentmindedly brushing the smaller boy's fringe away from his eyes in a friendly gesture.
"Why do we hang out with those two idiots?"
Zayn barked out a laugh, then sighed, "'s because we love them, though I have no idea why. Besides, we both know that somebody has to provide the smarts and good looks for the group when we go clubbing."
"Good looks and smarts," Louis repeated to himself, "Ok, we've covered you're half, so where does that leave me?"
Zayn frowned, "I meant you too Louis! You're good looking and smart!"
Louis scoffed, "Right."
"You are," Zayn said, circling his arm around Louis' waist to bring him into a tight hug, so that Louis was practically draping Zayn's rail rod body. "If I saw you in a club, I'd be quick to get your digits and try to get into those sinful pants of yours."
Louis patted his cheek, eyes crinkled in humor, "Aww Zayn, that's so sweet of you!"
"You're sweet love," Zayn complimented, pressing a kiss to the top of Louis' head.
Niall made a gawking nose, causing both boys to whip their heads in his direction. "Ugh, why don't you two just get a room already? You're being real saps and it makes me want to turn on Louis' rom-coms and break out a large tub of ice cream."
"Zayn's a good friend," Louis said, sticking out his tongue at Niall. "He actually loves me."
"I love you too," Niall said nonchantly, sticking a rolled up pancake in his mouth and continuing with his match.
"I don't believe you."
Niall sighed, paused the game, and untucked the pancake from the confides of his mouth. He placed it down onto his plate, before getting to his feet and stalking toward the couch. When Louis realized what he was about to do, he scrambled in Zayn's arms, "Wait, Niall I-!"
The Irish lad grasped Louis' face in his hands and landed a sloppy, wet kiss on his thin, pink lips. He pulled away and sat back down, shoving the pancake back into his mouth, unpausing the game.
Louis scrubbed at his mouth with the back of his hand, "That was bloody disgusting Horan!"
"Muof ou too," Niall replied, mouth full with pancake.
Louis continued to scrub his mouth, "Yuck."
His eyes wandered over to Harry, who had remained unusually quiet. The angel sat on the couch, body looking rather tense and mouth etched into a frown. His eyes were a darker shade of green, glaring at the back of Niall's head. His fists were curled into his lap, knuckles white with the sheer extremity of the feeling bottled inside him.
Harry risked a glance over at Louis, who was still situated in Zayn's lap. Right now, Harry didn't like Zayn or the little Irish leprechaun sitting near his feet. He liked Liam; Good ol' Liam, who kept his bloody hands off of Louis. Off of his Louis.
Harry's grin had long been absent since Zayn had started to compliment Louis, his comments on getting into his pants setting a spark in Harry's gut. It was just a small spark, but when he kept fanning the flames with his petting and mindless flirting, it created a bonfire. A bonfire, right smack in the middle of Harry's gut, burning, feeding, licking hungrily at the walls in his chest.
When Niall had gone up to kiss Louis, Harry had to literally sit on his fists to prevent himself from lunging with full force at the blond lad. He knew Niall was harmless and was as straight as a flag pole, but he couldn't help but feel threatened by him. He couldn't have Louis. Louis was Harry's, and Harry didn't like to share things that were his alone.
He bit down on the inside of his cheek, the bonfire know blazing white hot in his abdomen. Zayn still had his arms around Louis, and was now tracing slow patterns on his sleeve, the two of them conversing quietly.
Harry squared his jaw, and willed the feeling to go down. He didn't want to hate Louis' friends, because aside from Louis, they were the closest to friends he had. Besides, they didn't have any romantic feelings for the boy, so he shouldn't have to worry about any one of them dating him, or worse, shagging.
But besides the burning mix of possessiveness and jealousy that churned inside him, he also felt the effects of a heavy heart. All he wanted to do was hold Louis in his arms, hold him with more affection and security Zayn or any other of the boys could offer him. He wanted to be able to kiss him on the lips, but not from foolish actions but with pure intimacey. He wanted to have Louis whisper in his ear, nuzzle into his neck, giggle into his chest, but more than ever, he wanted to show Louis that he could love him so much more than a friend. A love that spanded over two millenia.
Because he was Louis' and Louis was his.
It's just Louis didn't know that . . . yet.
Louis looked at Harry, concerned with the pulled-down corners of his mouth and the lack of dimples showing. He caught his eye and offered him a reassuring smile. Harry tugged one corner of his mouth up, mirroring Louis' smile before letting it drop back down and settled on looking down at his hands.
"Yes! Yes! Yes! Fuck yeah!" Niall roared, jumping up into the air with a raised fist.
Louis turned his head, "Niall what's going on mate? It sounds like you're having an orgasm or something."
"Nope, even better," he grinned.
Zayn cocked his eyebrow, "Better than a orgasm? I don't think nothing can get better than that." He paused, then added under his breath, "Besides my mum's fudge brownies. Christ, they can give you a bloody mindgasm."
"That's not even a word," Louis informed him.
Liam groaned, "Niall finally beat me lads. We're not going to hear the end of this until I beat his arse again."
Louis shrugged, "Won't be long then."
Niall finished his happy dance before sitting back down on the floor, picking up the controller. "Want to play again?"
"No thanks," Liam said, standing up and stretching his limbs. "I've had enough of Fifa for today. Think I'm going to go head to the loo."
He walked off into the other room, whistling a catchy tune from a Bon Jovi song. Niall turned to Harry, "Want to play mate?"
"Huh?" Harry had been snapped from his thoughts, looking back at a controller that had been lunged in his direction.
"Yeah Harry," Louis said, untangling himself from Zayn's arms and sitting down beside Niall, yanking the other controller from his hands, "Want to play? I'll play if you do."
"Ooohhh!" Zayn teased from the couch.
Harry hesitated, "I've never, erm, played a video game before." How the heck was he supposed to know? He had been literally perching on the clouds for the past millenia, and sadly there weren't any forms of entertainment in Heaven. Just sit there and look pretty, while in occasion fight in a century long battle against Hell's fury. Nothing gargantuan, really.
"WHAT?!" Niall shrieked, as if Harry had just admitted to murdering children and stuffing them like dolls. "You've never played video games?! Is that some sick joke?!"
Harry shook his head.
"You've never played Halo?"
"No."
"Pac-Man?" Zayn inquired from the couch.
"No."
"Donkey Kong?" Liam tried, emerging from the bathroom, having heard the conversation from the other room.
"Nuh-uh."
"Please, please tell me you've at least played Super Mario Brothers."
"Nope," Harry answered, smacking his lips around the 'p'.
"No worries Haz," Louis said, patting the empty space beside him on the floor. "I'll help you with the basics."
Harry smiled at the boy and took the controller, sitting beside the smaller boy. Truth be told, he was only happy to have Louis' attention.
Niall and Louis spent the next hour teaching Harry how to handle the controller and pointing out each button's functions. They put on Super Mario Brothers, but Harry couldn't even get past the large, carnivorous flower at the start of the level. Zayn and Liam sat on the couch talking about Uni; Zayn talking about how it was a waste of money and how the system had all gone to shit, and Liam arguing that it was an enjoyable learning experience worth the years of debt.
After Harry's twentieth game over, Niall stood up, "I give up. I've lost all hope for that boy."
Louis patted Harry's back, "It's just not written in the stars for you Haz."
Harry shrugged, "That's okay. I think I'll manage without the whole 'staying up 'til 3 in the morning on a zombie massacre' experience."
Niall gave him a look, "There's nothing else like it mate, trust me. I have more memories of my first video gaming experience than the first time I lost my virginity."
"That's because it's something you don't want to remember!" Louis laughed. "Wasn't it with that one girl with the-?"
"Don't! Just, shut your mouth Tomlinson," Niall threatened, pointing a finger in the boy's direction.
"Well, since we've got that over and done with, I've been meaning to ask you guys if you wanted to catch a film," Liam had his phone out, his browser open to the local show times.
"What's playing?" Zayn asked.
"I dunno," Liam answered, "I was just thinking we'd see what was available and decide there. I don't care what we see honestly. Just want to go, since we've got a proper day to hang out and all."
Louis turned to Harry, "You up for it Curly?"
Harry nodded, and Liam grinned, "Alright then. Let me just freshen up a bit and then we'll head off." He got up from the couch and scurried to the bathroom.
Zayn huffed, "Damn you Liam. Niall, can I use the bathroom in your room? I need to get ready as well."
"I don't mind," Niall said, walking over to the kitchen. "Just don't spend the next hour making out with your reflection alright?"
"Fuck you," Zayn retorted, climbing the stairs to Niall's bedroom.
-x-
"Niall, quit hogging all the popcorn," Zayn hissed, reaching his hand into the bucket Niall had resting on his lap. Niall growled around his mouthful of popcorn, gripping the bucket in a possessive manner.
"Would you two stop fretting?" Liam whispered, before turning back to the large screen.
Next to him, Harry sat watching the screen, never taking his eyes off the horendous scene in front of him. The girl was lost in a forest, and was near her inevitable, gruesome death. The physcopath with a saw and mask came rushing from behind the trees, and Harry heard a small whimper beside him.
Louis was cowering in his seat, clutching the arm of his seat in anxiety. He was averting his eyes from the screen, keeping his head low and busying himself with untouched packet of peanuts.
Harry leaned over to whisper to him, "You okay Lou?"
Louis risked a glance over at him and squeaked, "I'm fine."
"I'm assuming you don't like horror movies, huh?" Harry chuckled lowly.
"I'm not the biggest fan of them, no," he admitted, not meeting the angel's eyes.
Harry touched his thigh, trying to comfort the boy in any way possible. He couldn't help but want to hover over Louis, block him from the movie on the screen. He knew that sounded silly, but Harry would do anything to make sure Louis wasn't afraid. He's tried for so long, and now that he'd finally got him, he's going to do everything in his power to protect Louis and keep him safe. Even if that requires tearing a roll of film into tiny pieces.
Harry glared back at the movie on the screen, hoping it would disinegrate to a grainy picture, but unfortunately, the scene continued to unfold in front of them. The killer now had the girl strapped to a table, reaching over to the bloody tray of tools to pick up a scapel. The girl's screams, along with some members of the audience's, filled the movie theatre.
Louis jumped up, "Alright, well I'm going to go to the restroom. I'll be back." Harry watched Louis scamper through the heavy draped curtain that seperated the theatre room, and turned his attention back to the film, just in time to catch the spraying of guts. Really, he was never going to watch a movie Niall suggested again.
Louis wandered down the long corridor, searching for the restrooms. As he walked down the dimly litted hall, he felt a shiver go up his spine. The atmosphere seemed heavier and more dense, feeling like a pile of bricks on Louis' chest, and the temperature inside the building seemed to drop. It was eerily quiet, like the building itself was empty.
He glanced around, the feeling of being watched paranoiding him. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught movement in the shadows. He whipped his head in that direction, only to find nothing there. He figured it must have been anxiety from the movie causing him to see things, and he continued down the corridor, the hair on the back of his neck rising. He went into the men's, stepping into a stall to take a wee.
When he had shut the stall's door, he heard a loud bang come from the slamming bathroom door. He tilted his head, catching the sight of three pairs of black leather boots shuffle into the restroom. He froze on the spot, the pressure on his chest ballooning to the size of a bowling ball for reasons unknown. All he knew, or rather what his instincts were telling him, was to stay still and be quiet. There were quiet murmurs, the sound of running water, then the feet shuffled out back into the corridor.
After a minute or two, Louis stepped out of the stall and washed his hands. He had just finished drying his hands when he felt a buzz in his back pocket. He stopped in front of the door, pulled out of his phone, and clicked on the message from an unknown number:
'you can't run from me Louis.'
Louis' breath whooshed out of his lungs, his cell phone clattering to the floor a second afterward. His body trembled with an impeccable fear and all the color in his face had drained.
Andy was still after him.
Shaking, he picked up his phone and looked back at his reflection under the watery blue lighting. The light flickered, then went out, only to flicker back on not even a second later. In the corner of the room, Louis could make out a shadow along the wall through the mirror's reflection. The shadow was out of place, hovering in the middle of the white wall where nothing could be casting it. It was thin and was stretched vertically about seven feet. It looked like it had limbs, and a head, and . . . and . . .
It looked fucking human.
Louis whipped his head around, only to find nothing but the white wall, no shadow in sight. Freaked, Louis dashed out of the bathroom, into the empty corridor. He began walking toward the theatre rooms, and looked down to glance at his phone. Damn, he had been in there for nearly twenty minutes.
He looked up, only to come to a sudden halt. In the middle of the corridor were three solid figures. Black trench coats, black jeans, black leather boots. All three men had lanky, but solid, builds, shaven heads, and all stood around six feet tall. One was colored, while the other two were pale northerners.
Louis' heart quickened when he felt the mens' eyes stare back at him, their expressions unreadable. Panic coarsed through his veins as he realized he was only a few hundred feet away from the theatre. He could walk by, assuming the men were harmless and didn't want anything to do with him, but he knew that wasn't the case. They wanted Louis, and now they had him, alone.
Slowly, he retreated backwards. When the men didn't move from their positions, he turned and walked down the opposite direction of the corridor. He didn't know where he was going, but what he did know was he had to get out of there.
He had only walked about a few feet before he heard the slow, ascending sound of boots on the hollow floorboards. The sound echoed in the empty, dimly litted corridor, mocking his rabbit heart with its pitiful laughter.
Louis rushed his stride, hearing the action being mimicked by the boots approaching him. His muscles tightened, his stomach lodged itself in his throat, and his ears became more acute to every sound around him.
He ran.
It was the wrong thing to do, but he didn't feel like he was left with a choice. These were his survival skills kicking in, the same that kept him alive when he arrived in London homeless and alone.
His feet pounded down the corridor, winding the corner to run down a dark hallway that had been seperated from the theatre. After years of football practice, Louis easily considered himself a fast runner. But damn, those guys were faster.
When he reached the end of the hallway he was met with the solid weight of a door that read 'exit'. Louis briefly thanked the heavens as he yanked open the door, running out into the cold winter air. It was close to midnight, the late viewings still showing inside of the theatre.
He didn't know where he was going, but he found himself searching for Liam's beat up Volkswagen they had come in. He didn't even have the bloody keys, but damn it, he was panicking, and was only controlled by the beating of his frantic heart and feet. He ran down the dark, empty parking lot, very aware of the footsteps that were right behind him.
He was lost, scared, and frantic, running in different directions between cars in hope of losing the men on his trail, but all he was doing was running in circles, wearing himself out. A hand reached out for him, grazing the collar of his shirt, and he shrieked, pushing his legs even faster. He winded around a sleek BMW before slamming into a solid chest, arms much stronger than his own locking him in a steel grasp.
Before he could even scream, a balled up fist plowed into his jaw, knocking him dizzy. He lifted his head, taking in the two figures standing in front of him. The arms that belonged to the man behind him grasped him tighter, making it impossible for him to move a single inch. His breathing sounded similiar to a chainsaw; his lungs desperate to heave in frigid oxygen to his pumping heart.
One of the men asked, "So how did he want it done? Does he want it quick or does he want it to be drawn out first?"
The man grasping Louis' small body answered in a heavy accent, "Says he wants it done slow. He said, and I quote, 'Beat him 'til every bone in his body is broken, 'til every blood vessel bursts, until he's practically begging to die.'"
"How much did he offer?"
"He brought me two suitcases filled with money. This guy is loaded and wants the job done tonight."
"Does he want pictures of the body or anything like that after we're done?" the other one asked.
"No, he said just get the job done."
"Then why don't we just shoot him and get the job done now? We'll just lie to the bloke and tell him we did it his way. I'm really tired and just want to get this done so I can go home and catch my TV show," one suggested, his voice oozing with boredom.
"No, we're doing it his way. This guy- this guy is powerful guys. He's not like the usuals we get. This guy has money, power, and sources. I don't want to risk lying to him, because I don't want to get on this guy's bad side. He's a bloody physco, but this guy seems smart and dangerous as hell. I'm just not risking it."
Someone sighed, "Alright. Let's get this job done then."
"Won't take long," a voice snickered, "Just look at this guy! He's a fucking pixie."
"I bet you he's a bloody queer too," the man hissed, jabbing Louis in the gut with his fist, his face pulled into a fierce scowl.
Louis whimpered, growing more pliant in the man's locked arms. The voice laughed, "Oh, I'm going to enjoy this."
One, two, three blows to his stomach, and Louis was falling to the floor in pain. His insides were screecing in agony, and he winced from the blooming throb that grew in his stomach. A hand grabbed him by his hair, someone hissing in his ear, "Get the fuck up faggot."
"Get up!" called another.
One, two, three kicks to his ribs.
"Bloody" -kick- "queer."
One leather bound foot stomping down on his back.
"Fucking scum."
Two sets of knuckles stamping bruises onto his skin.
"I told you to get the fuck up!"
Three sets of twisted laughter.
One . . .
Louis' vision dims and his body is growing limp against the relentless blows to his battered body.
Two . . .
He closes his eyes, trying to fight off the darkness that dwindles on the edge of his mind. It's chasing him, and he's caught at a dead end, with nowhere to run. The men above him cackle in laughter when Louis coughs out a sob, "Just kill me please."
Three . . .
"What the fu-?"
SLAM!
Louis' eyes snapped open, taking in the scene around him. The men had stopped their beating, only two of them standing in front of Louis. Their expressions were in shock and confusion, looking back at the BMW where the third member of the group was pinned against the door by a shadowed figure.
There was the cringing sound of bone hitting cartillage, followed by a scream in pain. The shadowed figure kneed the guy in the gut, sending him to the floor in a groaning heap. The figure stepped into the orange light of the overhead street light, illuminating a dark set of emerald eyes framed by tousled curls.
Harry walked slowly to the other men, his voice laced with chargin and venom, "Get the fuck away from him."
One of the men laughed, pointing to Louis' body, "What, this? Who the fuck are you anyway? Are you this faggot's boyfriend?" The man laughed and kneeled down next to Louis' limp body, pulling his hair to lift his head, causing the smaller boy to whimper in pain, "Hear that princess? Looks like your cock-loving boyfriend came to save you. Cute innit?"
Harry growled, his eyebrows set in a scowl. There was no trace of gold in his green eyes, only dark shadows that made him look intruiging and dangerous. "Don't you fucking touch him," he snarled.
The man laughed and pressed a kiss to Louis' bloody cheek.
Harry snapped. The fire in the pit of his stomach feeding on his jealousy, lust, worry, and anger swept across his body, gracing his bones and licking away at his charging muscles and blood.
He lunged and connected his fist to the man's jaw in a powerful uppercut, sending the man into the air. Before he could land, the second of the men charged at Harry with his fist raised straight at his face. Harry dodged, grabbed the man's wrist, and with his immortal strength, twisted it until he heard the satisfying snap of the wrist.
The man cried out in pain, and sank to the floor, pulling the broken wrist toward his chest. The third, who Harry had kneed in the stomach earlier, was back up charging at Harry once again, but this time his hand was accessorized with a pair of brass knuckles. Harry chuckled in amusement, waiting for the man to get close enough, and when he did, Harry dodged his blow and jumped onto his back, his heavy weight sending the man to the gravel floor face first.
Harry straddled the man's back and grabbed his head in large, strong hands. He plowed the man's head to the solid, gravel floor, rendering him unconscious. He jumped up in time to see the other of the two (the one he had uppercutted) run full tilt into him, knocking him to the side of the BMW. He squarely hit Harry's stomach with his fists, leaving Harry breathless from the pain.
In the light of the street light, Harry caught the glimmer of the small pocket knife the man slipped out of his pocket, lunging it toward Harry's torso. Harry snarled and barely dodged the attack, a slice of skin bleeding from the narrow miss of the weapon. The man was caught by surprise by Harry's escape, and was blinded by a sharp jab from Harry's elbow.
Harry twisted their positions, throwing the man against the vehicle's door repeatedly until a crack rippled through the parking lot. He dropped the man, who now sported a bloody face, and looked back at the broken glass of the car's window before spinning around to face the last of the three.
The man held a gun to Louis' crumbled form, his broken wrist lying limp against his side. Louis looked back at Harry with frightened eyes, the blue in them looking like broken glass. He whimpered as the man cocked the barrel, breathing in a ragged breath. The man looked back at Harry with a smug smirk "Say goodbye to your little princess, queer," he snarled, squeezing the trigger.
Click! The man looked at the gun in confusion, and squeezed the trigger repeatedly, Click! Click! Click!
Harry laughed darkly, "You didn't think I'd leave you armed did you? I say, my technique must've worked brilliantly." He stepped forward slowly. "Breaking your wrist was just a long enough distraction to allow me to empty the bullets in your gun before slipping it back into your pocket before you even noticed."
He opened his hands and let the bullets clatter noisily onto the ground by his feet.
The man opened his mouth in shock and dropped the gun, backing away from Harry in defeat. Harry smirked, "Oh, I'm not done with you yet princess."
In a flash, large, inky black wings unfurled from his back, presenting themselves in the orange street light. They feathered out around Harry's body, and glistened with a bluish black luster, looking menacing, powerful, and awe-inspiringly beautiful.
Louis choked on his breath, taking in through the heavy curtain of his eyelids the beautiful fallen angel. Harry looked gorgeous, tantalizing, and frightening. This was a whole new side of Harry Louis had never seen before that left him mesmerized and scared shitless. His eyelids fluttered shut, and he passed out from sheer exhaustion.
Harry smirked wickidely at the man's terrified expression, walking toward him casually. The man broke out into a run, retreating into the darkness. With a flap of his wings, Harry ascended into the air and soared right over the man's retreating figure. He landed right in front of him, springing like a cobra to vise his neck with his large hand, choking him. He pulled him closer to his face and snarled, "I would kill you. I want to kill you. You almost killed him, and the only thing I would find comfort in would be to watch you breathe your last breath. But I'm going to let you go, because I need you to deliver a message for me."
"You tell him, whoever hired you, that if he, or anyone else, harms Louis in any way, I'm going to find them and I'm going to kill them without an ounce of remorse," the angel spat. He reached down and twisted the man's broken wrist slightly, causing the man to scream in pain. "Let this be my warning."
Harry released the man and watched him run (more like limp) down the empty parking lot, before running to Louis' side. He cradled his face and body, careful not to touch a single spanse of bleeding flesh. "Everything's going to be fine Lou," the angel said, all traces of his wings and smirk gone. "It's going to be okay. I'm going to protect you, okay? 'M gonna get you help. Liam!"
Liam came running down the lot, Niall and Zayn hot on his trail. Niall screamed when he caught sight of Louis' tiny, beaten body nestled in Harry's arms.
"Oh my god Lou!" Niall cried, kneeling beside Harry to look at the damage bestowed upon his friend.
"What happened?" Liam asked, trying to remain calm though his fright was clearly visible on his facial features. "We l-lost you guys and searched all over until this employee told she'd seen you leave out the back door."
"Who the fuck did this?" Zayn growled, the vein in his neck twitching and his fists curled tightly.
"Hitmen," Harry answered, "I don't know why they attacked Louis, but I came just in time."
"Harry you've got a split lip," Niall said, eyebrows furrowed in concern for his two friends. He gasped when he saw the slice of bleeding skin left by the pocket knife. "And you're bleeding!"
"'m fine. But we need to get Louis to a hospital," Harry said, rocking the unconscious boy in his arms.
"Right, I'll bring the car around," Liam got up and dashed to the other side of the parking lot. A minute later, his Volkswagen pulled up beside the huddled group of boys. He opened the door as Harry lifted Louis closer to his chest, letting Niall slip in first and resting Louis' head in the Mullingar boy's lap. A few tears slipped out of Niall's blue eyes, his hands petting Louis' hair with the utmost affection. "'s going to be okay Lou," he sniffled.
Zayn and Liam climbed into the front, with Liam in the driver's seat. Liam looked back at Harry, who hadn't climbed into the car. "Harry, aren't you coming?"
"I'll meet you guys there. I've got to do something first. Just go!" Harry urged. Liam nodded his head firmly, then set the car into drive, speeding out of the parking lot. Harry watched them go, before walking back to the unconscious bodies of the two other hitmen he had concealed from sight. He searched their pockets before pulling out a wad of cash and a set of car keys.
He stepped over their bodies casually, and tried ten cars' locks before slipping the key into the door lock of a sleek, black 1964 Cadillac. "She's a beauty," Harry mumbled, unlocking the door and sliding into the creme colored leather upholestry. "Thanks boys," he chuckled, starting the car and peeling out of the parking lot under a small pool of orange lighting casted by the lonesome street light.
"I'm coming Lou," he promised, turning up the dial to the radio, Cage The Elephant's "Ain't No Rest For The Wicked" streaming out the car's window into the cold December night.