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What I Do For A Living

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The name falls from Harry’s lips so easily, smooth as silk.

Harry is dressed similarly to how Louis saw him last time: dark grey suit, close to the color of charcoal. His waistcoat matches, and he wears a white button-up, no tie this time. The older man skipped the hat this time as well, his curls flowing freely down past his ears. Louis can't ignore how wonderful he looks. He tries to shake the Stockholm Syndrome thoughts from his head.

Harry smirks playfully at the younger boy, who is understandably confused.

“W-Why am I here?” Louis begins, looking frantically around the room again before flaring up at the man in front of him, “Why the fuck did you have to do that? You couldn’t just knock or wait until fucking tomorrow or some shit to ask me whatever it is you want? I-I just want to go home, I haven’t done anything to anyone, I just-“

Louis stops talking when Harry – suddenly about one foot in front of him in one swift step – leans in dangerously close to his face and places a bejeweled hand on his inner thing, still wearing that cute stupid smirk on his face.

“Lou, dear,” the older man starts, chuckling softly, “This isn’t about anything you have done.”

Now Louis is just annoyed with whatever game Harry was trying to play. “So then what is this about?” he huffs, frowning now yet trying to remain calm under Harry’s touch.

Harry removes his hand from Louis’s thigh, taking a step back while turning away from him. The room is silent, par the sound of Louis’s breathing.

“Your husband,”

Louis doesn’t say anything, confused as he waits for Harry to continue. Sure, Nico wasn’t fond of him, but it didn’t explain why he felt the need to kidnap him.

“Your husband had my husband killed. Murdered. While he was away,” His voice is cold, back still facing Louis. “Paid off the Peaky Blinders to kill him. Shot him nine times in the head in the middle of their meeting.”

Louis remains silent, the color draining from his face. He recalls Harry telling him just a week ago that his husband was away on business in the south of England. That was their first true encounter, where Louis had made a fool of himself as usual. The man Harry spoke of so fondly was dead. His husband.

But he doesn’t believe it, doesn’t want to believe it. Not Nico, his Nico. He wouldn’t do this, not even to his enemy.

Harry takes a deep breath.

“So now he will pay.”

Harry turns around to face Louis, head bowed down as if to show respect for his late husband. Louis can see tear stains under his eyes in the dim glow of the lit bedroom, Louis crying tears of his own. Out of sorrow for Harry, out of pity for Nico, out of fear for himself.

“So, you’re going to kill me.” Louis says, saying it as a statement rather than a question. His chances for survival were slim at this point. He couldn’t run, couldn’t escape, so his early death would come at the hands of this beautiful boy. It was only fair.

“Not necessarily. That is the whole reason you are here.” Harry says, as if killing the boy was still not completely out of the question. “Your husband took something from me, so I will do it in return. An eye for an eye. Except, I won’t be killing you.” The curly-haired man walks back closer to the boy, kneeling down so their eyes met at an equal level. “You are far too beautiful for that, my boy.” He says, voice strangely sweet, cupping his cheek with his soft hand. Louis remains frozen, unsure of what to do or say.

“If you think so.” He responds quietly, refusing to meet Harry’s eyes. He’s being rather touchy for having just lost his husband. Tears continue to dribble down Louis’s cheeks. “B-But can I ask you… a question?” The boy is slow to respond; he wants to make sure he doesn’t say anything that could get him hurt. He already feels like he’s walking on thin ice.


“Why would he, um, have your, uh, husband, um…” Louis starts, hiccupping in between. He’s trying to stay away from the border of hysterical crying, but he’s struggling to come to terms with the fact that this man he barely knew said that his husband arranged for a man to be killed.

“Murdered in cold blood by a gang who is falling off the map? He felt threatened for whatever reason. By me, for whatever reason,” Harry whips out a rolled cigarette, a joint to be exact, lighting it before continuing, “As if he hasn’t taken enough from me, that fucking prick. My poor Finn.” He murmurs so low that Louis almost doesn’t hear. It takes him a few seconds to register what Harry has just said.

“I’m sorry, did you say gang?”

Harry’s eyes narrow, sadness turning into rage. What the fuck was this kid trying to do? Sure, he was all doe-eyed and innocent as a child but there was no way he was blind to the many atrocities Nico Costa had committed, many of which were against his very own fucking family. He sure as hell was not going to make a fool of Harry fucking Styles.

A dark laugh escapes Harry’s throat, not buying the kid’s act. “Don’t play fucking dumb with me, kid, I know you seen your cunt of a husband coming back all banged up and bruised. And do you wanna know why?” This time Harry gets so close his nose is practically touching Louis’s, air catching in Louis’s throat. “’Cause I fucking did it to ‘im.”

Louis pushes back roughly against the older man’s chest, his own fear evaporating into thin air upon hearing the accusations against his husband. “How dare you accuse him of such a thing! He’s no murderer, you animal!” Louis cries out, standing up off the bed now. “He’s just a fucking businessman, I can’t believe you would suggest such a-“

A swift smack to the cheek shuts Louis up.

Harry is stunned for two reasons: one being the fact he just hit this sweet boy, the other being that this boy’s reaction was too sincere to be a façade. Did he really not know? Another deep laugh erupted from Harry, but the situation was far from funny.

The poor boy had no idea his husband was a murderer.

“A businessman? Is that what he fucking told you?” Harry says in between laughs, placing the cigarette between his thin lips to take a drag. He actually feels sorry for the boy, unable to imagine being that oblivious. He clicks his tongue quietly, shaking his head, causing Louis to become even more frustrated. “Alright, love, what does he do? Hm? ‘Said he does business, but for what? For who?”

Louis starts to speak, but realizes he can’t answer the questions. His face pales.

The silence is all Harry needs to confirm his suspicions.

“N-No, there’s no way, Nico would never—"

“Dear,” Harry interjects, stopping the pitiful boy in his tracks, “Your husband, along with myself, are in the business of killing.” He finishes vindictively, an evil glint in his emerald jems, a sneer

Louis doesn’t believe it still, won’t believe it until he sees it. There is no way something this massive could have just… just gone right over his head.

Except for the fact that it makes sense. The gears start turning in Louis’s head as he starts to make sense of everything in his life.

The money.

The guns.

The blood.


“And your husband,” Harry continues, unable to see the train of thought running into oblivion in Louis’s head, “Has taken the one thing I prized most. So, I will take everything from him until he has nothing,”

The man pauses to look back at Louis, eyeing the boy up. Louis doesn’t see anger in his eyes this time.

“Starting with you.”