the lucky ones
They met Harry the day before Christmas.
Louis had managed to buy their way into the club with a blowie promised to the bouncer -- he was old enough to drink, finally, but Zayn wasn't, and neither of them had IDs anyway -- and they were pleasantly buzzed, using the last of their disposable cash on a couple drinks. They danced together, grinding and moving with a rhythm born of years of practice, a steady comfort with each other's bodies that made the sway of their hips and undulation of their bodies look effortless. Everyone wanted to touch them and no one was going to get to, not even if they paid, and they reveled in the freedom.
It took almost an hour before they were finally out of breath and weak-limbed enough to leave the dance floor, pressed together from the hip on up and doubled over with breathless laughter as they moved. Louis turned his head to press his nose against Zayn's cheek, grinning. Zayn grinned back, his arm around Louis' hips, and leaned into his ear, said he was going to get them another round of drinks, and then disentangled himself from Louis to make his way to the bar. Louis stood where he was, drinking in the lights and sounds, the closeness of the air and the press of people all around him, felt a weight lift off his chest. It would return tomorrow and remain settled there until the next day off, but for now he was fucking floating. Who needed drugs when you could have this, this small bit of peace carved out from the overwhelming chaos of a club?
Somehow the people around him avoided running into him, at least until Louis was finished with his moment. As soon as that was over, someone bumped into him, told him to get out of the way, and all Louis could do was grin and give them a mock salute before heading for the bar to find Zayn. They had hours yet before they had to go back to the apartment, and enough money to get themselves proper drunk. They would head back out onto the dance floor in a few, make a whole new wave of people jealous and horny by turns, wasting the night with booze and dancing. He stopped at the bar, twisting his head to find Zayn.
When he saw the boy -- and he was a boy, couldn't be older than sixteen if he was a day -- he was pressed into the side of a much older man, brown curls dipping into his eyes as he ducked his head and laughed. It wasn't a real laugh, though, not very convincing, and even from this distance Louis could tell that the boy was nervous, his posture tight and hands clenched at his sides. The man at his side didn't seem to care very much, his arm slung around the boy's shoulders as he held him close possessive, the smile on his face wolfish. The scene was so familiar Louis' heart ached with it, and all that lightness from before was forgotten in the immediate need to get the boy away from that man before he made a mistake he couldn't take back. Louis pushed through the crowd until he was upon the pair, pulling up his best apologetic grin, and reached for the boy's hand.
"So sorry to interrupt, mate, but I actually need to borrow Tom here for a second. Be back in a tic!"
The boy dug his heels in for just a second, but the look on Louis' face must have convinced him to follow, somehow, because after that one moment he flashed his companion a small, apologetic smile, and followed as Louis dragged him away. They'd have to leave the club now, wouldn't want whoever that dick was to catch up to them and demand Louis' new friend back. He wasn't leaving without Zayn, but he didn't have to search for him for long, as Zayn popped up next to them from out of nowhere, expression grim.
"He's following, we should move," Zayn's voice was low, but Louis heard it perfectly, and bless the man for understanding. Louis could kiss him, if he weren't so determined to get the kid out of here. Zayn didn't even seem upset about the sudden need to cut their night short, just gently pushed Louis and "Tom" toward the exit. They had to duck past the bouncer Louis had promised the blowjob -- a shame, they might never be able to make it back into the club, now -- but once they were out they were home free -- no one knew the alleys of Manchester city centre quite like Louis and Zayn did. They wove through alleys without speaking, the boy following between them as though lost for any other option, and it wasn't until they had come to the relative safety of their corner did Louis and Zayn stop. They turned on the boy as one, eyes full of knowing, but for a second seemed lost for words. The important part had been getting him away from that man. Now that he'd done his part, saved the lad, Louis didn't actually know what he was meant to do with him. He didn't usually do this, the Prince Charming savior bit. Louis believed in letting people make their own choices, misguided or terrible as they were, and he didn't see the point in getting himself involved in other peoples' lives. It wasn't his job to babysit anyone. Zayn was the only person he looked out for, and even that dedication had been hard won. He'd done his good deed for the year, and now was the time to cut and run. The kid wasn't his problem.
Zayn was able to read him better than anyone else, and it only took one glance for him to frown and subtly shove his elbow into Louis' side. Louis managed not to make any kind of noise, but he narrowed his eyes. The boy in front of them seemed to cower some, and even Louis had to admit that he was pretty pathetic. He'd wanted to save him for a reason, after all. In for a penny, in for a pound, as they say.
Eventually, Louis cleared his throat and forced a grin, though it came out sharp and all teeth.
"Well, I assume your name's not Tom."
"Harry," the boy said quietly, and Zayn nodded. He had always been better at dealing with strays than Louis. Granted, Louis never tried too hard with any of them, which may have been a contributing factor -- they were all going to learn how the world worked sooner or later, and he wasn't in the business of coddling anyone who hadn't paid him for it -- but there was also just something about Zayn that made people feel comfortable letting their guard down.
"I'm Zayn, and this is Louis." Louis gave a sarcastic little wave, and Harry smiled at him, his eyes lingering on Louis' face for a moment before moving back to Zayn. "I didn't really catch what happened, I just saw the tail end, but you needed someone to step in, yeah? You looked a little..." Zayn let the sentence trail off, but it was obvious what he meant -- a little terrified, a little out of his depth, a little lost. Harry looked like he was about to argue for a moment, and then sighed, nodding sheepishly. Louis watched him inscrutably for a moment, before he began to speak slowly.
"So, Harold --" Harry cut him off, looking affronted.
"My name's not Harold --"
"Harold," Louis said, ignoring Harry, "What were you doing with that man, anyway? He was at least twice your age." At that, Harry's expression closed off, and he looked between Louis and Zayn warily. It was all the confirmation Louis needed. "Look, we're not here to get you in trouble. You were picking him up, yeah? We do it too. But you're new, aren't you? You have no idea what you're doing."
Harry looked a cross between sheepish and annoyed, though he eventually nodded. "I guess? I mean I'd never -- I'd watched a few guys, and I thought..." He couldn't finish the sentence, and Louis and Zayn looked at each other, expressions unreadable to anyone but each other. For a moment they just stayed like that, looking at each other, speaking in eyebrow twitches and widened or narrowed eyes, but eventually Louis sighed and threw up his hands.
"Fine! Fine, we'll take him to Simon. You know he's going to make the kid our responsibility, so I hope you're prepared to deal with that." He gave a dramatic sigh. "I'm too young to be a father."
"I'm not a kid," Harry said, bristling, and Louis looked to him with one eyebrow arched. "I'm seventeen." Louis and Zayn exchanged another look, but this time Louis laughed, not quite kindly, and Zayn's lips curled up in a smile that was somehow both amused and sad.
"And I'm the cat's mother," Louis said. "How old are you really, Harry?"
"We won't report you." Zayn's voice was soft, his eyes earnest, and it made Harry's shoulders slump as he looked between the two of them. "We were in your position once, both of us. We're not going to get you in trouble." Harry still said nothing, and Louis frowned. After a moment of silence from all three of them, he spoke up, his voice lacking its usual acerbic quality.
"We won't send you back to where you came from, either. Like Zayn said, we've been where you are."
It took a while, but eventually Harry nodded slowly, looking down at his feet. "'m fifteen," he mumbled, but looked up to catch both their eyes with an earnest expression. "But I'm almost sixteen, my birthday's on the first of February!"
Fifteen. No younger than Louis or Zayn were when they found their way to Simon -- older, even, if only by a couple months -- and while Louis can see that Zayn is a bit sad for him, Louis himself has no such feelings. If he and Zayn could make it, Harry would too. And it wasn't as though he'd have to go it alone, Simon was going to force them to take care of him whether they wanted to or not. Harry was going to be just fine. Louis caught Zayn's eye and narrowed his just the smallest bit, a reminder and a warning all in one. Zayn, for his part, just rolled his eyes and looked back at Harry with a slightly forced smile.
"We're gonna take you to our pimp now, yeah? His name's Simon, he takes care of us." Louis managed to keep his expression impassive -- only barely, but he managed, though his thumb brushed over the tattoo on the rise of his wrist bone. He and Zayn both knew that Simon wasn't exactly the warm, fatherly type, but being with him was better than being alone. Harry would be safer with Simon's protection than he would be on his own, and that's all that really mattered. Everything else was just details.
Harry nodded, eyes wide and expression trusting, and Louis almost felt bad. Even though he was technically older than Louis had been when he got into this life, he seemed so much younger. Despite what he and Zayn had said, part of Louis wanted to go to the police and tell them he'd found a missing kid. He never would, of course -- that implied more caring than Louis was comfortable with, and besides, he knew better than most that for some, even this was better than whatever laid in wait at home. Harry could make his own decisions, and if he'd decided that being a street whore was better than wherever he came from, then, well. He would know better than Louis.
Louis had managed to buy their way into the club with a blowie promised to the bouncer -- he was old enough to drink, finally, but Zayn wasn't, and neither of them had IDs anyway -- and they were pleasantly buzzed, using the last of their disposable cash on a couple drinks. They danced together, grinding and moving with a rhythm born of years of practice, a steady comfort with each other's bodies that made the sway of their hips and undulation of their bodies look effortless. Everyone wanted to touch them and no one was going to get to, not even if they paid, and they reveled in the freedom.
It took almost an hour before they were finally out of breath and weak-limbed enough to leave the dance floor, pressed together from the hip on up and doubled over with breathless laughter as they moved. Louis turned his head to press his nose against Zayn's cheek, grinning. Zayn grinned back, his arm around Louis' hips, and leaned into his ear, said he was going to get them another round of drinks, and then disentangled himself from Louis to make his way to the bar. Louis stood where he was, drinking in the lights and sounds, the closeness of the air and the press of people all around him, felt a weight lift off his chest. It would return tomorrow and remain settled there until the next day off, but for now he was fucking floating. Who needed drugs when you could have this, this small bit of peace carved out from the overwhelming chaos of a club?
Somehow the people around him avoided running into him, at least until Louis was finished with his moment. As soon as that was over, someone bumped into him, told him to get out of the way, and all Louis could do was grin and give them a mock salute before heading for the bar to find Zayn. They had hours yet before they had to go back to the apartment, and enough money to get themselves proper drunk. They would head back out onto the dance floor in a few, make a whole new wave of people jealous and horny by turns, wasting the night with booze and dancing. He stopped at the bar, twisting his head to find Zayn.
When he saw the boy -- and he was a boy, couldn't be older than sixteen if he was a day -- he was pressed into the side of a much older man, brown curls dipping into his eyes as he ducked his head and laughed. It wasn't a real laugh, though, not very convincing, and even from this distance Louis could tell that the boy was nervous, his posture tight and hands clenched at his sides. The man at his side didn't seem to care very much, his arm slung around the boy's shoulders as he held him close possessive, the smile on his face wolfish. The scene was so familiar Louis' heart ached with it, and all that lightness from before was forgotten in the immediate need to get the boy away from that man before he made a mistake he couldn't take back. Louis pushed through the crowd until he was upon the pair, pulling up his best apologetic grin, and reached for the boy's hand.
"So sorry to interrupt, mate, but I actually need to borrow Tom here for a second. Be back in a tic!"
The boy dug his heels in for just a second, but the look on Louis' face must have convinced him to follow, somehow, because after that one moment he flashed his companion a small, apologetic smile, and followed as Louis dragged him away. They'd have to leave the club now, wouldn't want whoever that dick was to catch up to them and demand Louis' new friend back. He wasn't leaving without Zayn, but he didn't have to search for him for long, as Zayn popped up next to them from out of nowhere, expression grim.
"He's following, we should move," Zayn's voice was low, but Louis heard it perfectly, and bless the man for understanding. Louis could kiss him, if he weren't so determined to get the kid out of here. Zayn didn't even seem upset about the sudden need to cut their night short, just gently pushed Louis and "Tom" toward the exit. They had to duck past the bouncer Louis had promised the blowjob -- a shame, they might never be able to make it back into the club, now -- but once they were out they were home free -- no one knew the alleys of Manchester city centre quite like Louis and Zayn did. They wove through alleys without speaking, the boy following between them as though lost for any other option, and it wasn't until they had come to the relative safety of their corner did Louis and Zayn stop. They turned on the boy as one, eyes full of knowing, but for a second seemed lost for words. The important part had been getting him away from that man. Now that he'd done his part, saved the lad, Louis didn't actually know what he was meant to do with him. He didn't usually do this, the Prince Charming savior bit. Louis believed in letting people make their own choices, misguided or terrible as they were, and he didn't see the point in getting himself involved in other peoples' lives. It wasn't his job to babysit anyone. Zayn was the only person he looked out for, and even that dedication had been hard won. He'd done his good deed for the year, and now was the time to cut and run. The kid wasn't his problem.
Zayn was able to read him better than anyone else, and it only took one glance for him to frown and subtly shove his elbow into Louis' side. Louis managed not to make any kind of noise, but he narrowed his eyes. The boy in front of them seemed to cower some, and even Louis had to admit that he was pretty pathetic. He'd wanted to save him for a reason, after all. In for a penny, in for a pound, as they say.
Eventually, Louis cleared his throat and forced a grin, though it came out sharp and all teeth.
"Well, I assume your name's not Tom."
"Harry," the boy said quietly, and Zayn nodded. He had always been better at dealing with strays than Louis. Granted, Louis never tried too hard with any of them, which may have been a contributing factor -- they were all going to learn how the world worked sooner or later, and he wasn't in the business of coddling anyone who hadn't paid him for it -- but there was also just something about Zayn that made people feel comfortable letting their guard down.
"I'm Zayn, and this is Louis." Louis gave a sarcastic little wave, and Harry smiled at him, his eyes lingering on Louis' face for a moment before moving back to Zayn. "I didn't really catch what happened, I just saw the tail end, but you needed someone to step in, yeah? You looked a little..." Zayn let the sentence trail off, but it was obvious what he meant -- a little terrified, a little out of his depth, a little lost. Harry looked like he was about to argue for a moment, and then sighed, nodding sheepishly. Louis watched him inscrutably for a moment, before he began to speak slowly.
"So, Harold --" Harry cut him off, looking affronted.
"My name's not Harold --"
"Harold," Louis said, ignoring Harry, "What were you doing with that man, anyway? He was at least twice your age." At that, Harry's expression closed off, and he looked between Louis and Zayn warily. It was all the confirmation Louis needed. "Look, we're not here to get you in trouble. You were picking him up, yeah? We do it too. But you're new, aren't you? You have no idea what you're doing."
Harry looked a cross between sheepish and annoyed, though he eventually nodded. "I guess? I mean I'd never -- I'd watched a few guys, and I thought..." He couldn't finish the sentence, and Louis and Zayn looked at each other, expressions unreadable to anyone but each other. For a moment they just stayed like that, looking at each other, speaking in eyebrow twitches and widened or narrowed eyes, but eventually Louis sighed and threw up his hands.
"Fine! Fine, we'll take him to Simon. You know he's going to make the kid our responsibility, so I hope you're prepared to deal with that." He gave a dramatic sigh. "I'm too young to be a father."
"I'm not a kid," Harry said, bristling, and Louis looked to him with one eyebrow arched. "I'm seventeen." Louis and Zayn exchanged another look, but this time Louis laughed, not quite kindly, and Zayn's lips curled up in a smile that was somehow both amused and sad.
"And I'm the cat's mother," Louis said. "How old are you really, Harry?"
"We won't report you." Zayn's voice was soft, his eyes earnest, and it made Harry's shoulders slump as he looked between the two of them. "We were in your position once, both of us. We're not going to get you in trouble." Harry still said nothing, and Louis frowned. After a moment of silence from all three of them, he spoke up, his voice lacking its usual acerbic quality.
"We won't send you back to where you came from, either. Like Zayn said, we've been where you are."
It took a while, but eventually Harry nodded slowly, looking down at his feet. "'m fifteen," he mumbled, but looked up to catch both their eyes with an earnest expression. "But I'm almost sixteen, my birthday's on the first of February!"
Fifteen. No younger than Louis or Zayn were when they found their way to Simon -- older, even, if only by a couple months -- and while Louis can see that Zayn is a bit sad for him, Louis himself has no such feelings. If he and Zayn could make it, Harry would too. And it wasn't as though he'd have to go it alone, Simon was going to force them to take care of him whether they wanted to or not. Harry was going to be just fine. Louis caught Zayn's eye and narrowed his just the smallest bit, a reminder and a warning all in one. Zayn, for his part, just rolled his eyes and looked back at Harry with a slightly forced smile.
"We're gonna take you to our pimp now, yeah? His name's Simon, he takes care of us." Louis managed to keep his expression impassive -- only barely, but he managed, though his thumb brushed over the tattoo on the rise of his wrist bone. He and Zayn both knew that Simon wasn't exactly the warm, fatherly type, but being with him was better than being alone. Harry would be safer with Simon's protection than he would be on his own, and that's all that really mattered. Everything else was just details.
Harry nodded, eyes wide and expression trusting, and Louis almost felt bad. Even though he was technically older than Louis had been when he got into this life, he seemed so much younger. Despite what he and Zayn had said, part of Louis wanted to go to the police and tell them he'd found a missing kid. He never would, of course -- that implied more caring than Louis was comfortable with, and besides, he knew better than most that for some, even this was better than whatever laid in wait at home. Harry could make his own decisions, and if he'd decided that being a street whore was better than wherever he came from, then, well. He would know better than Louis.