After the cops leave his doorway Louis spends the evening talking himself into showing up for work and adding to the collection of cigarette butts on his apartment fire escape. If he doesn't show Niall will call him, and he doesn't know if he could get away with some half-assed excuse on a man he considers in most ways a friend. That way of thinking is confusing though, because Niall works for Harry, and has worked for him much longer than he's known Louis. So if Harry's really... Well whatever he's doing, Niall's a part of it. They're all in on it. His stomach twists and he's rather grateful there's nothing left in it.
By the time it's well and truly dark he slips into the club quietly, glad for his small stature and the skill he's acquired for walking feather light, unseen on the edges of the room. Neon lights and low bass do nothing to distract his mind.
Allegations. What did that even mean? Did they have proof, or were they throwing something out there and hoping it would stick? Why would they come to Louis' door? They must have spoken to someone else. Louis' eyes scan through the dark room and linger over every face, a handful of known employees and regulars, but too many to count remain nameless. Harry didn't usually approach him at work anymore, a few quick exceptions here and there, but since they're scheduled Tuesdays Louis has spent every hour he was being paid earning it on the floor. Who saw them together?
Had they shown him their badges? He can't recall. He'd been too worried about it having something to do with girls, and then he'd spent most of his focus not punching them in their condescending little faces. Secrets get you killed in this world, that much he knows. Goddamnit, if it's a test then he needs to make a decision. Quickly.
After possibly the worst shift of his career Louis is no closer to quelling the uncertainty buzzing like a hornets nest in the pit of his stomach and his annoyance for having to keep flicking hair out of his eyes is not helping. Filled with unsettled energy he slaps the door to the back hall open, pissed off for no particular reason to find it orange. Why can't they just fucking choose a colour and be done with it.
Not until he's swiped his hair back from his face does he see Liam standing guard outside of the office, and that's great. Perfect. Harry's here. And because Louis has a penchant for making bad decisions he leans against the wall opposite of the good little soldier. The cool brick raises goosebumps on the bare skin of his back.
"Don't tell me, Harry's finally taken your advice and moved on with Niall."
Liam's face is more impassive than a Buckingham Guard. Although he'd been right, the office walls do muffle sound much better than a storeroom, it doesn't stop Louis from catching the muted cacophony of chaos that erupted behind it's door, something falling or being thrown before the booming of male voices escalates. Louis' eyebrows lift in surprise. Maybe he'd been spot on, but he hadn't taken Niall for the aggressive type.
Liam gives him a bone, "Family reunion."
As if on cue the door flies open.
"Zayn," Louis' never heard Harry's voice cut like that, filled with rage.
A man, the gangster with the pretty eyelashes, rips past Louis and Liam and out of sight. Louis looks into the office and sees Niall leaning against the desk with crossed arms and an absolutely livid Harry. They are the room's only occupants. Louis looks back at where the man stormed off. Zayn. He feels like he's being tricked.
That guy? He's supposed to believe the walking tattoo advertisement that looks like he's never seen a dimple in his life is Harry's brother?
He shakes his head and breathes through his nose. Okay, sure, go with it Louis. Don't ask questions, do what you're told, get the fuck out of here once the chances of a bullet to the back is less then ninety percent. As soon as the thought crosses his mind he realises it's his only real option. He needs to get out.
Given the pile of objects on the floor next to the barren desktop behind Niall and the current distressed state of Harry's clothing, Louis is less than enthused about voluntarily approaching him. He pushes away from the wall to stand straight anyway. He has to do it. Secrets get you killed, but messengers didn't get their fair chances either. He rolls the dice and catches Harry's wild eyes.
"Gotta speak with you."
Harry flicks his eyes away to fix the button of his low cut shirt. "Not now."
Harry continues to straighten his clothes until they're back in their usual impeccable shape.
Louis puts force behind his voice. "Harry."
The man brushes past, Liam in his steps. Louis grinds his teeth while watching them go.
A chuckle comes from the office where Niall's bent down to retrieve an intact crystal glass. He places it on the empty desk while going round to snatch a bottle from one of the drawers. He pours as he speaks.
"Sorry to be the one to tell you, but there's more important things than cock sucking." He shoots Louis a stupid smile.
"Piss off."
Louis shrugs off to the showers. Niall's words make his gums itch. Maybe because Louis' started questioning their friendship. Maybe because, although being judged about his lifestyle isn't exactly new, he's never felt degraded when talking to him. Possibly he's over sensitive because Harry's brush off stings, but that can't be it because he doesn't give a damn what Harry does.
But he does, this tiny needle of a thought reminds him. It's completely absurd due to the decent part of Louis that's utterly repulsed by the man. And yet, part of him still wants to feel the weight of those eyes and know he's got their full attention. For them to sweep past like he was nothing more than a part of the decor was infuriating.
Frustration builds as he rushes through his post-shift ritual, not bothering to dry off before shoving his clothes on.
"Looking a little tense, Louis." Shawn calls as he swaggers in and comes to lean against the locker next to him. "Blonde gave me something might take the edge off," he taps a small ziplocked bag.
"Get that shit out of my face," Louis snarls and yanks everything from his locker onto the floor. He can't believe Shawn would dare bring something in here when Niall was known to throw fists if he suspected someone was using anywhere near the place.
Shawn chuckles and tucks it away, "Okay, okay. You at least wanna go for a smoke before heading out?"
Louis pauses long enough to whip a crumpled pack from the mess of his belongings at Shawn's head.
"All right, jeez. Hey," he pouts down at the crumpled cardboard, "it's empty."
"Get your own fucking smokes then."
Shawn raises his hands innocently and Louis' had about enough of him, enough of everybody, so it's a blessing when he glances back and sees the kid smartly vanished. Louis throws everything in his bag, jerks around in a hasty check nothing's left in a corner of some change room or stuck under a seat, and jams damp feet into his shoes when he can't find any bloody socks.
He blows through the back exit. A short walk across the way he's got his car parked in an employee slot. The tail lights flash in greeting as he uses the fob in his pocket, the one not holding his phone. Fuck Harry for being a bastard, fuck Niall and his fucking smarmy smile, fuck Liam because fuck everybody, that's why. A growl of annoyance escapes as he shrugs off his bag and reaches for the car door.
His hand never reaches the handle.
Weight comes down on his shoulders and drags him down with a shove like a trainwreck. The side of his face slams into the unforgiving pavement when his hands are too slow to catch him. The world spins. There's no time to react before a heavy boot gets him in the ribs, knocking his breath and any hope of yelling for help out of him. Louis's palms scrabble frantically in blind effort to get himself out of reach, but his assailant grabs him by the wet strands of his hair and drags him in. He's too focussed on trying to twist out of the iron hold to see one of the boots his chest had been acquainted with earlier come down on his leg. With a crack it crushes his ankle.
Louis yells at the hot white pain. He stills, pinned and panting in pain.
"He took the wrong girl."
Louis flinches at the spit the venomous words carry. A punch lands across the cut side of his face and he jerks with it, nausea intensifying.
"All his pretty things are gonna disappear until my sister is back. Starting with you." Louis gives a small cry as he's dropped, curling into himself after another brutal kick to the chest. "First, you've got a message to deliver."
Louis can't tell which direction the guy disappears in, can't even see past the blood dripping into his eyes. He lays in a pathetic heap and presses his raw fingertips into the ground in an attempt to keep it beneath him. The stupid thing, the stupidist thing, is that his phone is still in his pocket. He takes shallow breaths that shoot pain into his ribs. He's been outside for five minutes, most.
Several attempts later his fingers stutter across the screen in the right places to pull up the number he needs. With a wince he holds the device to the ear he can still hear from. It rings seven times, each one like a sonic boom inside his head.
"Niall," he croaks, interrupting whatever greeting or joke he hadn't followed, "I'm out back. I need... " his breath hitches on a particularly potent throb from his chest, "I need help."
Louis manages to push himself up against the tyre of his car by the time the clubs' back door spills out orange light and Niall. His boss peers into the dark for a moment before lowering his gaze to find Louis on the ground.
"Holy son of a bitch."
Yeah, that about sums it up.
Niall gets him to his feet with a filthy amount of cursing from the both of them. Louis leans heavily into his side, his left foot not completely useless but it sure isn't happy about carrying more weight than absolutely necessary. In a slow progression where Louis alternates chanting to himself not to throw up or pass out Niall leads them to the office and settles him on the leather couch. Louis closes his eyes to fight against a wave of nausea. Niall's voice floats around him. Must be... Must be on the phone...
"Louis," he tries to blink his eyes open while fingers snap near his face, "oi, Louis. Give this a go, yeah? Gotta stay awake."
A plastic water bottle is pressed into his hands and he gets a decent portion of it down his shirt. He struggles to force down whatever succeeded in finding his mouth. Pain pulses through him when he chokes and that is enough of that. He pours some water into his cut up palm and splashes it onto his face, but it's not enough and his shirt is already a lost cause so he dumps more water onto his stomach and uses the soaking fabric to wipe the blood out of his eye. The gash on his brow is still oozing, he can feel it running down the side of his face, but it's slower now. Finally his vision is clear enough to see Niall bent close in front of him, eyes scanning Louis' face with a grimace.
"Really buggered you up." Niall doesn't mince his words.
A bark of laughter escapes Louis and he groans at the jolt it gives his ribs. The water to the face helped him shake the drowsiness, but things still aren't normal. He can smell the alcohol on Niall's breath and when he glances over the crystal glass from earlier still stands half full on the desk. Louis remembers watching him pour it. Was that really so recently?
"Here, candy for ya," three pills drop into his hand. Louis winces them down.
Niall disappears, back before Louis thinks to search for where he went and he catches sight of the bright red kit in his hands. Louis considers how often he's seen Niall bend rules and doesn't know if he trusts the man with something like healthcare. He supposes he doesn't have many options though, so he doesn't speak up when Niall tosses the thing between Louis' feet and crouches down in front of him again, adjusting to throw his phone next to it when he mutes a call.
"You got clippers in there?"
"Suppose so," Niall glances at the kit like he's never seen one before, really instilling confidence with a shrug, "why?"
Louis smooths the wet tangle of hair back from his face and feels the echo of the severe grip that held him down.
As casually as possible he says, "Overdue for a trim."
Niall snorts like it's a joke while he snaps on a pair of gloves. He uses stinging alcohol wipes on Louis' torn palms, none too careful about digging around to get out the tiny pebbles lodged in them. When he goes for the mark on his face Louis tilts his head down so he can get to it fully. On the floor Niall's phone lights up as a call comes in. Even upside down the four faces in the contact photo are familiar, Niall and Harry got arms around each other in the middle with Zayn and Liam standing to the sides, ecstatic grins all around.
"Where's that?"
Niall's hands don't stop rubbing grime off his face, "Grand re-opening of the club when Harry rebranded. Hired you not long after."
Were they actually that young once? Louis twitches his fingers while doing the math and concludes he's been with the club for four years. Had he looked like that, too? He squints at the image. He really hopes not, they look like children. Louis stares at the phone until it goes dark, the call missed.
"You known him awhile, then?" The words come out as he thinks them, not really planned. They've never spoken about it.
"Harry? Yeah, school mates. Picked up Liam not long after." Niall says distractedly as he works on painfully cleaning out the cut just the same way he'd done Louis' hands. Neither mention the tears still slowly tracking down his cheeks.
Louis chews the bright spot on his lip where it's split. He's spent his life not asking questions, perhaps he's used up all his self control.
"Zayn?"
He winces at a particularly vicious prod from Niall, who finally pulls away.
"Package deal. Not a lot we could do about him." Niall rolls his eyes and speaks around a bandage wrapper he tears open aggressively with his teeth. He spits out the torn end. "Simon adopted them young, he's the one Harry inherited it all from."
Not just the club, Louis gathers, but everything. Niall presses the bandage firmly in place as the phone lights up again. Louis looks away from it, the happiness in the photo makes them look fragile.
"You wanna get that?"
Niall slips off the gloves and stands, ignoring the phone and immediately crossing to the desk for the crystal glass.
"When you known him as long as I have, you know there's no point." He speaks while pouring, then motions at Louis with the glass in a salut before tipping it back smoothly.
Louis squints, unsure if it's the concussion or simply Niall that's confusing him, "What?"
Niall smiles and tilts his head conspiringly like it's an inside joke, "He's predictable."
The office door slams open. Louis jumps and winces at the flare up of pain, the water bottle he'd almost forgotten about in his hand spilling over his pants.
Like the devil Harry's appeared with fire in his eyes.
"Your phone?" He speaks in the low tone of rolling thunder.
Niall shrugs, relaxed, "Must have slipped outta my pocket."
Harry gives him a considering glare before facing Louis. For the first time Louis is acutely aware the man is carrying a gun, and it would be a lie to say he didn't feel fear.
"Who was it?" The words are succinct and quiet, more deadly for the control behind them.
Two green eyes stare in rapt focus. He flinches when Harry steps closer with a raised hand to gently stroke his face, a motion he's done a hundred times. It's kinda nice, actually, but looking at him only reminds Louis of bile.
He chews his split lip and answers in a mulish mumble, "Dunno."
Harry's jaw clicks, a crack in his mask.
"Louis, who touched you." He demands in a slowly enunciated way, hand still so gentle on his face.
The anger Louis started harbouring hours ago reignites behind his tongue. Fuck, he's such an idiot. Any questions about the legitimacy of the police inquiry were eradicated when the guy in the parking lot spoke. He jostles out of Harry's light hold.
"Why? Could barely look at me earlier, now you think you own me?"
Screw the gun, Louis' fed up with it all. If Harry wants to shoot him he will.
"Liam is mine," Harry snarls with a hand towards the impassive man behind him, "Niall, Zayn, mine as well." Harry stabs a finger towards Niall and then at Louis. "You are mine, Louis. Someone hurts you, it's not only a strike on you, it's an attack on me."
He looks propper upset now. Good.
Living people. Harry sells living, breathing human beings with families and futures. Louis reminds himself of it as he struggles to his feet and shoves Harry away when he tries to step closer. That's the whole reason Louis has to use the wall to stand in the first place, Harry took someone's sister. Now Louis' going to let him get whatever he deserves.
"Piss right off, Harry. I wanted to speak 'cause I quit. I'm not your dancer, I'm not your anything."
He makes it less than a step before Niall, the bastard, speaks up, "I wouldn't let him do that. He's concussed, H."
It's Liam who cuts in front of him with a voice too smooth for the situation, "Sit down, please. Before you make it worse."
Louis should keep walking, should get as far away as his bank account can get him, but standing truly has disoriented him. Belatedly he questions the strength of the pills he took, he doubts he could even make it out the door nonetheless to his car. He falls back into the couch with his head in his hands. This is so fucked.
"Niall, you have a club to run," Harry says from somewhere above him.
"Should we call James?" Liam asks.
"No, I'll handle this."
The hovering heat of Liam melts away after Harry's dismissal and the door softly shuts. Then it's him and Harry. In a room. The silence feels like a vacuum sucking out every last drop of oxygen.
He hears the small shift of Harry's clothes. It's a long time before he speaks.
"How old am I?"
"Dunno," Louis says to the floor.
"Where am I from?"
"I dunno, Harry," he sighs.
He sits back into the couch, ribs aching with the movement. Harry's on the other side of the room with arms crossed, leaning casually against the wall. He's unrecognizable from the Harry in the photo. Thin lines crease his eyes, a twist to his mouth, his whole stance created to depict the inherent confidence that never leaves him. To Louis he just looks tired.
"How long have you worked here?"
"Four years." Clearly Harry's going somewhere with this, hopefully he gets there before Louis passes out.
"And how long have we been having sex?"
Louis' brain stalls out a moment at the bluntness. The intensity of Harry's words when Louis' off his mind beneath him, how overwhelming it can be in the moment, it seems rather paltry to narrow it down to just sex.
He tracks through his brain, fingers twitching again as he counts it up, "Six months, maybe."
Harry's eyes burn through him, "You think that's a coincidence? You've been employed for so long and been close, been in my house, and you don't know my birthday?"
It's not. He knows it's not, because if there's one thing Louis' good at it's not asking questions. The first words Harry said to him were 'I've been watching you,' and Louis wonders just how long he had been. His teeth tear a small piece of raw skin from his lips. Twelve, Louis reminds himself. There could be twelve other people if Harry kept a busy schedule. Somehow he doesn't think that's true and he doesn't think he's believed it for a while.
Harry shifts against the wall with tense shoulders, "What do I do?"
"You own a club."
"No, Louis. What do I do?" And there's a dare in that voice.
Louis hears the words of the copper, 'ongoing investigation,' and the man in the car park spitting into his face, 'my sister,' running through his mind. He doesn't mean for it to come out like a question, and it doesn't.
"Human trafficking." It's an accusation.
Harry nods, like it's nothing, "Yes."
"You filthy rat bastar-"
Burning instinctive rage propels Louis out of his seat only for him to be shoved back into the couch. He catches his breath while Harry looks down at him. Harry pushes loose curls out his face and plants his hands on his hips.
"This is exactly the issue with you, Louis. You don't ask any questions." Harry's started to pace a bit so he looks down at him sideways. "I'm feeling rather generous, so I'm going to give you answers you didn't ask for, just to be nice."
Louis glares at him, a hand pressed to the worst of his chest in hopes it'll ease the stabbing sensation where Harry's hand had been.
"Should I start with who? All those kids landing in foster situations worse than yours, kids on the street with parents too strung up on the flavour of the week." Harry paces with his fancy heeled shoes clicking against the floor. It doesn't surprise him Harry knows his upbringing, would be rather stupid of him not too. "And where? Where, oh where, do I send them? Do you know how much it costs to adopt? Do you understand the red tape and legal battles couples contend with? People with beautiful homes and stable jobs being denied because of their genitalia."
He spins to Louis with an expectant face. So, okay. Maybe it's questionable, but it's not opium and sex dens. Breath stutters out of Louis' chest and takes all of his energy with it. He slumps and rubs his nose with the backside of his thumb. The emotional whiplash is leaving him more disoriented than his attempt at standing. He's not made up about how he feels concerning it all just yet, but there's relief unwinding in his stomach.
"The police came round," Louis admits.
Harry's voice hardens. "I'm aware."
Louis lifts his head to catch his eye, "They seemed pretty serious like."
Harry perches on the front of the desk when he reaches it, taps his fingers on its slick top. "Someone has moved into the neighbourhood. Started running business a little too sloppy to stay under the radar."
"Why do they think it's you?" The absence of the burning anger left room for drowsiness to seep in and muddle things, slurs his words. Louis has to keep reminding himself to keep his eyes open as they speak.
"Because they're not complete idiots. My predecessor was well known for his success, but they can't pin down why. Boggles their minds trying to understand where the money comes from. Something new pops up and it's easy to point the finger in my direction, and lazy of them." He says the last part like he's more offended the cops aren't doing their jobs well enough to arrest him for the right reasons.
The couch shifts next to Louis. He's missed Harry moving but his bones are too heavy to react to his sudden presence.
"Now I've given answers, I expect one in return." Harry lays his arm across the back of the couch, voice dropping in tone. "Who hurt you?"
Louis' kinda thankful for the heat radiating from Harry when he finds himself leaning into his side. Thermostats gotta be shot, Louis is freezing.
"Said you'd taken his sister, wants to take your pretty things away until she's returned. Didn't have time to introduce ourselves after that, m'afraid." The words take time coming out of his mouth, stopping and starting as he tries to keep his eyes open and mouth working at the same time. "Had a tattoo. Alive, big on the wrist."
Louis feels Harry hum the way he does when thinking about something he doesn't like.
"Luke Hemming's band of merry misfits, low level drug runners, be glad you met the sanest one of the lot. I recently received a gift from their most colourful member." Something is draining tension out of Louis' bones. It's possibly fingers on the back of his neck. Might be the vibration of Harry's voice where they're touching, the words mostly lost on him. "Unfortunately I don't have the girl, and if they knew your name and shift hours they know where you live." Feather light fingers brush against his cheek. Louis lost the battle, his head is lolled onto Harry's arm as he dozes. "Stay with me tonight. "
Louis' too tired to argue. He does protest when Harry moves and takes away the heat he'd been burrowing into.
"How'd they know? 'bout me," he mumbles. It's been scratching at his mind since the beginning of the night.
"How do you think, Louis? There's a leak." Harry says it with less inflection than most comment on the weather. Unlike before his even tone isn't forced, and it chills Louis more for it. Harry's talking about being stabbed in the back and yet he's standing unconcerned. Louis' almost worried for the poor sod who dared slip up, he's got a feeling Harry's not the type to hand out second chances.
"One more question," Harry's words are low and serious and he's still looking at him, never stopped really. They're close enough for Louis to study the stressed crinkle of his brow while he awaits some grand demand he wont be able to give. "Where are your socks?"
Delirium is to blame for the way Louis starts to giggle. Despite the effort he's putting into keeping his frown there's a familiar tug to Harry's lips.
Louis tosses a hand onto Harry's thigh, not in seduction, but to help steel himself for the great pain he knows getting to the car is going to bring.
"Take me home, Harry."
Louis wishes he didn't remember the trip to Harry's house. It was the purest form of agony, the painkillers doing little more than making him nauseous and slow. Every crack in the pavement shifted his bones regardless how careful Nathan tried to be after Harry shot him a scathing look.
By the time he falls into the mattress he's close to asking for a bullet just to make the throbbing on the side of his face end. Having Harry wake him up every hour, no matter how gently, does little to convince him life is worth continuing.
The sun is already reclining into the hills when he stumbles out of tangled sheets and shuffles into the house. Last night the blow to his ankle had seemed much worse than it was shaping up to be, a tension bandage seemed to be doing the trick of holding things in place. Louis has experience with ankle injuries. He knows the drill to keep his weight off and the foot as immobile as possible until at least the swelling has gone down. The aches elsewhere are starting to settle in, but he manages to make his way with the reliable assistance of the walls. Seeing Liam perched on the couch is both surprising and yet not at all.
"Sorry if we woke you," Liam says honestly but distracted, his hands fisted together in front of him.
Louis follows his gaze through the glass doors to see Harry standing by the pool with a phone to his ear.
"Nah, s'fine." Louis mumbles, distracted by the way Harry's standing. "What's he doing?"
Liam sighs.
"Convincing his brother not to commit murder." Louis arches his eyebrow at the acidity. Liam's face is dark as he sits back on the couch to look up at him better. "There have been a few petty surprises thrown our way, but the most recent mess makes sense now we know they're thinking we took one of theirs. Kid's absolutely psychotic, gonna have nightmares for weeks after that one"
Louis hums in a way that could be a question if Liam's being generous.
Liam looks him in the eyes, "Alpacas."
"Alpacas?" Louis thinks he might still be sleeping. Or high. Possibly both.
Liam rubs his forehead like it's troubling him just to remember, "Five of them. Decapitated with blood all over the place. Complete disaster."
"So... " Louis' missing something here, not understanding how one missing girl equals five dead alpacas.
"One of the Hemming's boys, he's got this stupid hair," Liam motions in front of his face, "and a real taste for violence, he's the one been hammering us with wild inconveniences. Harry's often too busy to handle them himself but Zayn insisted we come down to see that one. There were names on them. Harry, Zayn, myself, Niall..."
"And you." Harry steps in from the patio.
The words he understands, but the meaning takes a frozen moment to sink in. Louis' name on a dead animal, left on the ground at Harry's feet.
Starting with you, he recalls.
Louis swallows thickly and reevaluates his life choices. He took the job because the more exclusive the club the higher the tips, the cleaner the facility, the better benefits. It hadn't mattered to him who ran it. He started sleeping with Harry because... well because it was Harry. The man was magnetic, Louis really can't be faulted for looking the other way when it came to the fine print that came along with it. Warnings he should have read. He remembers the blood soaked silk shining in moonlight and wonders if this is what Harry was dealing with right before he found Louis in his bed.
"He didn't agree?" Liam looks to Harry, his voice shaking Louis out of his mind.
Harry answers only with a stiff shake of his head.
"You'll be staying here until this is sorted, Louis. We can discuss it further later, for now stay in the house. If you need something call Nathan and he'll have it delivered." Harry grabs the dark jacket from beside Liam and slips into it as he goes, a rather severe dark blue given Harry's usual penchant for the outlandish. Louis watches him walk away while doing the middle button and Liam sighs, standing to follow.
Louis is left drowning in pyjama pants a size too large in the empty living room.
"Where are you going?" Louis asks after Liam's halfway to the front door Harry's disappeared through.
He receives a glance over broad shoulders, "To stop a murder, or commit one. Never sure with him."
Louis doesn't know if he's talking about Zayn or Harry. Perhaps both.
He's been in this house more times than he can count now, but knowing he'll be staying here indefinitely puts a weird taste in his mouth. There's something else itching at him. Something about Harry's brisk way when talking and his sudden departure. He hadn't looked at Louis once.
There's a morning a few days later that Louis wakes to find the bed empty, to be expected at this point, unlike the loud voices coming from the other side of the wall. He limps out of the room to find the backs of Harry and Liam sitting at the kitchen counter. They haven't seen him so he hovers just outside the bedroom, on the edge of ducking back in and pretending he's still asleep.
"He's been like this ever since-"
"It's not him." Harry's raised voice cuts Liam off, his words accompanied by his open hands slapping the marble. "I will not keep having this conversation. Ludicrous as it might seem, Zayn's loyalty is never questioned. Understood?"
Louis holds his breath in the silence that follows, terrified of moving an inch. There's rage in Harry's voice and he's half worried Liam's not going to say anything. Liam might walk behind Harry, but Louis can't think of a time he's actually seen Liam defer to him. If anything they'd acted as a partnership, like they were the brothers discussing things on equal terms.
"Understood." It's uttered stiffly, Liam's back gone tense.
The sound of Harry pushing his stool to stand gives Louis time to regain his breath. Harry stalks around the kitchen somewhat pointlessly, hands through his hair and then his hips, again to his hair that's already pushed back. He settles leaning onto the worktop with both palms down and peers at Liam.
"What's the list?" His voice is back to its controlled even pace and Louis has to focus to hear it from where he is.
"Nick," Liam holds up a finger that has Harry quickly shaking his head.
"Too invested long term."
"Ed, Nathan, James." With each name Liam lists, Harry shakes his head.
"None of them benefit from a turf war, Luke's succession, or our communal fall."
Liam sighs, "They're the only people who know enough to do the things Zayn's been dealing with, not counting the five of us." He rubs the centre of his nose in a way that makes Louis think he might wear glasses.
"Did Grimmy manage to speak with any of the Hemming boys?"
"No. Man's a true chameleon, but they've made their minds about it all and gone underground. The only thing stopping them is the trouble locating Louis. Haven't located the girl either."
"And the police?"
"They've settled a bit, but we can't relocate anyone until they either pick someone up or start another case to split focus. Too many eyes."
Harry hums as he thinks, staring down like the marble has answers. A moment of silence so long Louis thinks he's going to suffocate if someone doesn't speak. He hears the minute shifts of their weight, giving him the general impression they'd hear any escape attempt he could make.
"We're being played." Harry says. "I simply can't tell why."
Liam's stool slides against the floor when he pushes away from the bar to stand and Louis sees it as his chance to disappear.
Louis sees it as his chance to disappear.
A bath in the ensuite's grande tub is the perfect thing to distract him from skipping breakfast. Half immersed in boiling water he replays Harry's adamant dismissal of Zayn's possible deception. It had been so sudden, so fierce, he worries it has more to do with emotion than reason. Maybe that's what Liam thinks too, maybe that's why, if Louis followed, he'd brought it up before.
Every time Harry's brother was mentioned he'd felt the tension and it only intensified when the two were in the same building. Louis didn't know their past, barely had a sketched out idea of their relationship from Niall, but there was no denying they had one thing in common. The scowl they wore when face to face was identical.
Louis lets the hot water swallow him whole and drown out the thoughts of the overheard conversation. Harry would deal with it. When it was all over Louis would go home and figure out the rest of his life, but that was a future Louis problem and not something to worry about now. It's how he'd gotten through most of his life and it would get him through this. He stays in the tub until the water is lukewarm and the house is empty.
They aren't fucking. Two weeks of sleeping in the same bed, but even that was only on the nights Harry's actually returned after disappearing in the early morning, and they've barely touched. He'd been fine with it to start, made sense when he was as bruised up as he was, but the deep body aches had started to fade and with the absence of pain came more focus to think. He's not some forlorn lover left to pine the days away, not really his place to even be concerned on the nights Harry doesn't come back, but he is. Concerned. There were only so many days he could spend lounging by the pool and eating free food before he spent most of his time bored and, well. Rather horny.
So it was a bit of a piss off that Harry barely looked at him before getting into bed and turning the other way, especially when Louis knew they were both naked. Harry's usually the one to instigate things with something as subtle as a look, a smile, a tilt of his head. Now Louis stares at his muscled back in the ghostly light of the room, never quite dark even when the night surrenders itself to being halfway to morning.
Louis does what he's been wanting to do for several nights and reaches out with a steady hand.
"What are you doing?" Harry's voice is so low it almost disappears.
"Thinking about you." Louis admits boldly while his hand smooths over the ridge of a shoulder blade.
Harry murmurs something into his pillow but he doesn't tense or pull away so Louis drifts closer until he's inches from being pressed against him. The tip of his nose greets the soft skin of Harry's neck and shoulder. His hand curls around Harry's ribs and starts to veer down. He sucks lightly at Harry's pulse point and is a tad relieved to find Harry half hard under his hand. Encouraged he nips at the skin under his tongue and a groan rumbles through Harry's chest.
Harry turns beneath his hand and rolls him over so they've switched places, Louis' back pressed against Harry's chest and a firm hand on his hip to keep him there.
"Stay,"
Harry dips away for long seconds as Louis nerves run hayware with anticipation. Finally, fucking finally. Harry returns with the wet slide of his cock along Louis' ass, a strong hand on Louis' hip as he pushes in between his thighs. He grazes Louis' balls every time he pushes in, the glide smooth along Louis' sensitive skin and it's maddening. Their skin grows tacky as they move against each other, Louis' mouth parted as Harry's hand takes hold of him in time with his thrusts between his thighs. It's incredible. He opens his eyes and sees an empty room. It's not enough.
"Harry," he moans, "I need... I need to see... " He doesn't get the rest out as the body behind him withdraws, tugging at his hip for him to follow. Louis rolls over to find Harry breathing hard on his back, damp hair falling into his face and wet cock against his stomach.
"C'mon,"
He doesn't need to be told twice. Louis swings a leg over Harry to straddle his lap and moans as their dicks glance each other. Harry gets one hand up to steady him and the other wrapped around them both. Louis watches as he rolls his hips to push between the friction of Harry's palm and his dick, ignoring the ache in his ankle in favour of the addictive heat of Harry's skin. His eyes flick to Harry's jaw, his parted lips, his intense eyes looking down at his own hand. It's still not enough.
He leans onto Harry's chest and crushes their lips together. Harry kisses as he always does, like he's in an argument and he's winning. Louis' hips have lost their rhythm but Harry's broad hand still works him and it's perfect. Louis cuts the kiss off in a gasp as he comes, panting wetly against Harry's jawline.
Harry's hand moves on himself and Louis plans to go down on him as soon as he gets his breath back, but Harry's stomach tenses beneath him and he watches Harry bite his lip as he finishes. The ache in Louis' ankle won't be ignored now that he's come down from the high so he rolls off into the sheets. Harry is up immediately.
He returns with a damp cloth and wipes them down in his usual prompt manner. They settle back into place.
For the first time the silence between them feels uneasy. Louis blinks the one eye not squished against a pillow until he can see the vague shape of Harry across the bed, where he's been for the last two weeks. It still wasn't enough, he realizes.
"Harry," he whispers in a serious tone he isn't used to using and receives a soft grunt in return. "What are you doing?"
"Sleeping."
Louis' caught off guard by the swell of anger in him at the brush off. He's been quiet for two weeks and now he'd really like to know what the fuck is going on.
He sits up on an elbow, no longer whispering, "No, you're not."
"No, I'm not." Harry turns to face him, the first time he's looked Louis in the eyes since he's been injured. Louis waits for him, not knowing what question he'd even start with if he were to try to get something out of him. What Harry starts with is a shock.
"The first time I saw someone die was the first time Zayn killed someone." Louis stills, trying not to react and deter Harry from continuing. "He was protecting me, got blood all over my face because the guy was so close. Neither of us were even phased in the moment. Dealt with the body like Simon taught us, had a shower, watched some shit movie afterwards. I woke up crying, it took that long for the shock to kick in. Zayn, he stayed up all night with me because..."
Harry looks away to the ceiling, blinking more than normal. Louis feels like the expression he's witnessing is rarer than any gemstone.
"It's what you do for the people you love," Louis finishes for him quietly. His memory of the sheer terror caused by the cops and dreading something happened to the girls still twists his stomach every time he comes close to thinking about it.
Harry swallows thickly. "He's been protecting me since we were six. Liam, Niall, they get most of it, but they weren't the ones holding my hand. He's the only person in the world who knows what I went through with Simon." His eyes stare into the darkness like he can see his past there and doesn't like the look of it. "Simon was harder on him. He wanted Zayn to be more than anyone ever could, I think. Zayn's amazing with the kids, hell that's why he was so good with me, but he cared too much. Wouldn't let things go if they mattered to him, and a lot of things did. So Simon thought to teach him a lesson."
Harry rolls completely to his back now, voice turning dark the more he talks. "Simon was a horrific father, but he was an excellent teacher. Her name was Perrie. Zayn had a ring picked out, the whole deal. I don't know the whole story, what he actually did to make it happen, but Simon made sure she disappeared. Zayn hasn't cared about much since."
"Is that why Liam doesn't trust him? Because he doesn't care?" The questions out before he thinks better of it, but Harry doesn't ask how he knows Liam's stance. Instead he meets Louis' eyes again, face a shallow outline in the blue light.
"When Perrie went missing Zayn went off the rails, and I'd grown a little too dependent on him to get me out of trouble. I was in pretty bad shape when Liam found me, he had to carry me at the end for a bit. Zayn didn't pick up the phone until a week later, I don't think Liam's ever forgiven him for letting a stranger sit in the place he should have been when it was touch and go."
Louis can't imagine it. Harry in a hospital bed, young and dependent on machines with a stranger looking over him.
"I haven't spoken to my sisters in ten years," the number echos in his mind as he says it like a chant of shame and he clears his throat to get over it. "If they showed up tomorrow I would drop everything. Not everyone can understand it."
He's fallen back into the pillows and curled on his side as they've talked. They lay there for a moment, the room around them moving in the slow patterns of waves in time with their breathing. Louis' almost drifted off when Harry's hand slowly crosses the bed between them and takes hold of his.
"February first." Louis scrunches his face in sleepy confusion at Harry's words and the small smile that accompanies them. "My birthday. February first of ninety four."
Louis squeezes the hand in his and presses his smile into the pillow to hide how ridiculously wide it is. They fall asleep with their fingers linked.
"Were you serious about quitting?"
The questions stops him mid cereal crunch. It's a battle to keep from choking as he slowly breathes and finishes chewing. He hadn't been at the time, or rather he had been while wrongly informed, and now that he was correctly informed he'd yet to revisit the decision. He liked working at the club, generally liked the people he worked with, but the thought of going back there after all this makes his nose scrunch in distaste. He adjusts the phone on his shoulder.
"Yeah I think so, mate."
"Damn," Niall curses, "I'm going to miss seeing your ass in tight shorts. Bebe tries but she's just not got the same bounce, y'know."
Louis does choke on his cereal at that, looking at his phone to double check the time. Surely Niall's not blitzed already, it's early afternoon.
"I'll keep your suffering in mind." He sets the bowl down. It can wait until he's safe from Niall's particular brand.
"There's a lad. Well, if that's the case are you ever coming to retrieve your wheels? I've got your keys in the office, and some paperwork awaiting your beautiful signature to finalize the severance."
Louis debates it, but last he remembers there was still blood on his tires and his backpack...
"You grab my pack that night? I don't have it here."
"Yeah, tried to bring it round actually but you's weren't in. Starting to stink the place up too so you better hurry or it's getting tossed."
Louis laughs, knowing it's probably true. The temptation of wearing his own clothes is strong, and the club isn't that far. He bets Nathan could get him there and back before Harry returns from wherever. Louis' looking forward to getting him in the pool now he's over keeping his hands to himself.
"'Ight, calm down. Been staying with a friend for a bit, but I'll come by tonight. You gonna be there before opening?"
"Always am." Which is a bald faced lie because half the time Lewis is the one on shift until Niall takes over half way, but he lets it slide. Whatever his faults he's missed Niall, and any company other than Harry and Liam for that matter.
"See you then," he's about to hang up when he hears Niall say something else.
"Harry going to be with you? Wanna know how many glasses to have for our last round as colleagues."
"Dunno, depends if he's back in time but it's not likely. I'd keep your feet up."
"Cheers."
Louis goes back to his cereal. It's the healthy kind, the only box Harry had in the house. As he calls Nathan he repeats to himself to add something boxed and rainbow coloured to the market list.
Louis sprawls out in the backseat, limbs akimbo with his phone above his face. The device weighs less than a sandwich and yet it takes a bit of effort to keep it from falling onto his face as Nathan navigates through traffic. By now the sun has started to set and it washes the interior of the car with pink hues. His thumb hovers over an unnamed contact in his phone. The chat history remains ominously blank and Louis doesn't enjoy the thought of sending the first message.
"You tell Harry we were going out?"
"Of course."
Louis locks his screen and lets it fall to his chest. That's settled then. He should have checked with him before leaving, but if Harry hadn't stopped Nathan when he'd been informed it wasn't worth worrying about. Besides, as fun as not wearing a seatbelt was Louis wasn't half in the footwell for nothing. In and out at the club. Say goodbye to a few colleagues if they were around, take a shot with Niall as he signed the papers, then be back in time to do a few warm up stretches before Harry arrived.
What he's not expecting is Harry standing at the back door. Nathan iddles long enough for Louis to crawl out gracelessly on a sore ankle before driving off to park. Louis tugs at his hair, limp not too bad but enough to be annoying as he approaches Harry. Sleek sunglasses are pushed up on his head in an unfairly attractive way that's not at all hindered by the impassive look on his face. For a moment the urge to kiss him is so strong Louis has to stop looking. It's odd, because they weren't casual about PDA, and when it did happen it led to something. Louis doesn't want it to lead anywhere, he just wants to say 'hello, I've missed you' without words.
"Wasn't expecting you," he says instead, hands in his pockets to keep from reaching out.
"Thought I told you to stay inside."
"You my mother?" Louis challenges, half joking. He knows Harry's not too angry, otherwise he would have called or ordered Nathan not to take him, and he'd like to see Harry try being locked inside for two weeks. Harry probably knows what he's thinking because despite his stiff jaw he stays silent while pulling open the door, holding it for him. Louis hops into the hallway and blinks to adjust to the red light.
True to his word Niall's got his feet up on the desk when they walk into the office. He puts his phone down when he sees them and adjusts his shirt as he sits up with a bright eyed smile.
"Louis, you bugger, I only brought two glasses down from the bar."
Louis gives him a cheeky grin, "can't control what he does more than anyone else."
Harry quickly makes himself comfortable on the couch, legs crossed and arms across the back like he's known to do without refuting the light jab. Louis' about to join him when Niall pushes out of his chair.
"I put your kit in the locker, wasn't lying about the smell. Might as well grab it while I run for two more of these pretty things." Niall taps his plain ring against one of the crystals perched on the desk as he passes.
Louis' ankle weakly protests at having to walk to the change rooms and back. He was going to do it regardless to catch a few friends before their shifts anyways, he guesse it's a bit early still but Bebe was known for her extensive prep routine so there's a good chance of at least seeing her. Harry doesn't look up from his phone when Lous ducks out.
With one hand hovering by the cool brick wall in case he needs the help Louis worries the sore spot on his lip, a habit he's gotten into since it split. He hasn't figured out what's bothering him by the time he reaches the back room.
"Bebe?" He turns into the doorway and finds the row of mirrors empty.
A phone call will have to do, maybe he'll even have people over for the first time since... Halloween last year. Maybe two years ago. The memories of that particular disaster remind him of why he no longer invites people over. On the other hand, maybe they'll go out like they usually do. No mess or expensive artwork broken.
He pulls the latch on his usual locker only for a hand to reach over him and slam it shut.
"Nuh-uh-uh little butterfly," hot breath wafts over his shoulder, "you sure are a pretty thing, aren't ya?"
The memory clicks a second before he's slammed into the row of lockers. Under the sound of their metallic clatter a gunshot pops down the hall and freezes the blood in Louis' veins. He shoves off from the wall and dives for the red light of the doorway.
"Harry!"
Hands grab the back of his clothes and yank him into a hold he struggles against. He can't feel the pain of his old injuries and barely notices the bruising hands as they tear at him.
Go to Harry. Go to Harry. Harry.
A mantra stuck on repeat in his mind as he squirms with elbows and fists flailing to get out of reach. He's almost managed to slip away when an errant foot knocks into his ankle. Louis' legs buckle. The man is dragged down with him, thrown off balance by the fists he has clenched in Louis' shirt. Not a moment to waste Louis scrambles to get out from under him, but the man has almost a head of height on him and the weight to match.
Hands wrap around his throat. Louis puts his all into fighting it, his mind flying through possible weak spots to get the pressure off but the man's arms are too long to reach his eyes and the thighs too strong to shift the weight no matter how Louis bucks. Another gunshot goes off somewhere in the hallway, distant yelling he can't hear over his own choking. Tears gather in his eyes from pain and he can't- can't give up, c'mon Louis. Fuck. He keeps tearing at every bit of skin he can get to but the vice grip doesn't waver and his vision starts to blur, his chest aching in desperation for air. Harry. Go to Harry.
Air rushes in so quickly it's painful when the hands disappear. Louis's chest expands like a balloon and keeps trying to inhale more with every ragged, drawn out breath. The weight of the man is gone. Louis' mind starts working slowly. The weight is gone because the man lays beside him with a bullet through the head and new hands start to pull at Louis. He startles away from them until he's blinked enough to see Zayn's stern face. He lets himself be manhandled upright and shoved into a seat in the corner.
Louis' never experienced anything more painful than trying to speak, "Harry-"
Zayn crouches over him so they're eye to eye, "Stay the fuck here or I shoot you next."
Then he's gone like a phantom, unheard. Louis' still catching his breath.
His gaze settles on the limp body of the man who tried to murder him, the face covered by a flop of blond hair. Stupid hair. Louis winces as he swallows. Clumsy hands wipe at the sticky tears on his cheeks. His eyes flick to the doorway. Go to Harry.
His feet take a few tries to hold him, if he keeps moving forward he's fine, he can make it like this, inching along the hall, he just needs to get to Harr-
Someone flies out of the open office door and slams into the brick wall. They jolt twice in time with the sound of a gun and slump to the floor. For a second, a moment, all Louis can see are brown curls. His hand flies to his own hair and tugs so hard he must pull strands out but he feels absolutely nothing. The rest of the picture comes into focus. It's not... Harry wasn't wearing... Harry was in a suit. Is in a suit. Somewhere, but not on the ground in front of Louis. Whoever this was is dressed head to toe in casual black. Louis doesn't think Harry even owns Chuck Taylor's.
Glass shatters from inside the office. Yelling, too many voices for Louis to make out words. Harry, Zayn, Liam, Niall, all over top of each other. Louis needs to go in there, needs to get to Harry, but he can't stop looking at the body slumped against the brick long enough to keep moving.
Two gunshots layered so close together they're almost one. They echo, followed by ringing silence. Louis covers his mouth to muffle a sound. When he finally drags himself to the edge of the doorway he leans carefully to peer into the office. He has to look down.
Harry's back is to him, floral patterned shoulders bent over the person cradled in his lap. Liam's there, crouching in front of him with bloody hands. Louis takes another step to see a dark head of hair and Zayn's face clenched in pain as Liam presses down on his stomach with what looks like the shirt from his own back. Louis' eyes roam the rest of the room and catch on the motionless feet by the desk.
"You were told to stay."
He's taken another step closer without realising. Zayn's head is knocked back on Harry's shoulder, looking at him. Louis struggles to make his voice work, it cracks and grates in his raw throat.
"Your brother should've warned you I'm no good at listening."
It's a blur from there. Louis stumbles down to the couch, exhaustion crashing into his bloodstream after the rush of adrenaline. Nathan comes in with a redheaded man, James, and together they haul Zayn presumably to medical assistance somewhere since Harry let's them. Harry. He's in constant motion, organizing closure of the club for the night, wiping his bloody hands off as he and Liam speak in low tones. Louis does his best not to look behind the desk.
"Lou,"
Harry stands before him now, a small bit of blood smeared on his face, those intense eyes scanning over him without settling on one place. With the last ounce of energy he has Louis throws himself at him. He wraps his arms securely around Harry's solid chest, savouring the reassuring rhythm of Harry's lungs. He presses his face into Harry's shoulder and breathes, fists clenched in the stupidest suit he's ever seen. After a moment Harry's arms come around him.
"I thought... I kept hearing a gun and I thought... you bastard." he mumbles into Harry's shoulder, hard to keep his thoughts straight when all of his focus is directed towards ensuring Harry's alive in his arms.
Liam takes them home. A crew of people had shown up to deal with the mess, speaking shortly with Harry before Louis was ushered into the car. At least Liam found another shirt somewhere. Harry keeps a hand and his eyes on Louis the entire drive. It's there in the backseat he explains in short words when Louis asks.
"Niall made a deal with Hemming. There is no missing sister, it would have worked in their favour if they took me out on the grounds of a personal vendetta. News would spread, they'd establish the credibility they need to move forward with their drug enterprise, and in return Niall would gain ownership of the commercial venues."
It clashes with Louis' memories of Niall. He tries to think if there were times he seemed bitter, contempt, uneasy. There were none. Four years Louis had known him. Whatever else he'd been, Niall was a good actor. He glances at Harry beside him. Sodium lights paint his profile in sharp relief against the dark of night while the car keeps rolling. They'd been school mates, so Niall had said. He wonders how the man feels about it, but there's nothing in Harry's eyes but endless green while he toys with the curling ends of Louis' hair.
There's a stillness to the empty house when they fall into it. A delicate silence they don't disturb as they make their way in the dark. He trails behind Harry and watches the back of broad shoulders, straight and tall. Harry hasn't said anything since the car, in fact he's barely looked at Louis after opening the front door, but he leaves the door open when he strips on marble tile in front of the shower. Louis takes the invitation and follows.
It's there, under water too hot to be comfortable and steam clogging his lungs, as their hands rub lavender soap over the expanse of each other's bodies, that Harry starts to shake while he stands at Louis' back. It begins slowly, a silent trembling in his fingers after Louis can't stifle a flinch when Harry strokes the tender skin of his neck. A wet cut-off sound warns him as Harry tries to step back. Louis grabs the man's hand and holds it fiercely against the vulnerable plain of his stomach, keeping Harry in place. Harry's forehead falls to his shoulder. Louis closes his eyes at the hiccuping sobs muffled into his skin. Harry curls around him.
When they lay in bed Harry keeps a tight hold on him. Their kiss is soft and fluid in the murky currents of blue light.