Chapter Text
Louis wakes up before Harry. His feet paddle across the bathroom floor, rubbing his eyes before he sees himself in the mirror. He screws up his nose when he doesn’t like what he sees, and splashes his face with water a few times before drying it with a towel. Then he drags himself towards the kitchen, lazily popping two slices of bread into the toaster while he yawns.
And like every morning, he looks at the espresso machine and sighs.
Liam’s been gone for a whole week now. There’s not one sign that he’s been around, even when Louis’ out stealing things again.
The toast pops the same time Harry enters the kitchen, his hair completely messed up and his eyes barely open.
"Morning," Louis says. Harry makes a mumbled sound and drops into one of the stools.
"Why does the sun have to come into our room?" He complains, burying his face into folded arms over the bench so all Louis can see of him is a head of curls.
"Actually," Louis takes the toast out and starts putting spreads on it. "This is my house, not ours—"
"Could be."
"—and I like the sun in the morning. It makes me wake up."
"Why wake up…?"
Louis scoffs and fixes Harry a cup of coffee and sets it down in front of him. “Drink this.”
Harry lifts his head and he takes it instantly, sipping on it even though it’s close to boiling.
They sit in silence for a while - well, Louis eats his breakfast whilst he stands opposite Harry - and he judges when to ask the question that’s been rattling his brain for a whole week now.
And when he finishes his toast, and when Harry finishes his coffee and looks more awake, Louis addresses it as casually as he can.
"Where do you think Liam is?" He asks, picking some crumbs off the bench. "Haven’t seen him in a while."
And as suspected, Harry just shrugs. “I don’t know, maybe he’s got some other things to do.”
"But he wouldn’t just leave us." Louis defends, his casualness disappearing.
Harry crosses over to the sink and looks at Louis weirdly, “Don’t get so stressed, Lou, I’m sure lover boy is around somewhere.”
He smirks but Louis grabs a tea towel and smacks it across Harry’s head.
"Hey!"
-
When Louis rocks up, he can see two large sized men asleep on the front step. It’s only about two thirty in the morning, and these “guards” have knocked off in front of the museum.
Louis rolls his eyes and shakes his head, but clocks both of them in the neck until they drop unconscious, just for good measure. He enters slowly, looking in the creak of the door slyly and carefully. The floor, the edges of the room, and the roof. He never really looked at the roof when he was checking for guards, but ever since he saw one perched up there one night he’s never missed the opportunity to scope it.
Louis picks up some of the jewels encased in a velvet box, not even locked. He hears a creak of the floorboard as he picks it up, and isn’t afraid or shocked when he turns around swiftly and elbows the creeping guard in the nose. He catches the guard before he falls.
"Shh," Louis whispers, lowering him down onto the ground softly so he doesn’t make a noise.
Then he quickly takes the jewels, shoves them into his bag, and tip-toes out of the museum. He turns the alarm system back on and jogs to his car, throwing the bag in the front seat before driving off.
-
"You’re in the paper, again." Harry says in disbelief, holding up the paper so it’s closer to his eyes. "Have you really stolen this much shit?"
"Probably," Louis shrugs. He pulls a backpack over his shoulders and adds, "Did you want to come to the village with me?"
Harry looks up at Louis, “Already?” Louis gives him a look, then nods. Harry thinks for a while. “Can we get ice-cream on the way?”
Louis ruffles Harry’s hair, “You’re such a child.” Then Harry’s looking up at him with big eyes and a pout that’s always had a pull at Louis. “Alright, alright. We’ll stop for ice-cream.”
Louis drives down Main Street, while Harry fiddles with the jewels in the black bag.
They stop for ice-cream, but Louis refuses to get out of the car. So Harry goes and buys one by himself, the ice-cream almost double the size of the cone.
He sits there in the car licking it for about fifteen minutes, making sure that it doesn’t drip at all. Louis made it very clear to never, ever spill anything on his seats.
He finishes, and Louis lets out a silent sound of relief, celebrating that he doesn’t have to listen to the sound of licking anymore.
But then Harry opens the black bag and Louis stiffens again.
"These are niiiice," he says, fitting the stolen jewels all on one hand.
"Break them and they’ll go so far up your ass—"
"I’m putting them back!" Harry shoves them back in the bag and holds it in his lap. He flashes Louis a grin and Louis nods, approving.
He looks out the window; they drive passed the local convenience store. The one Liam had walked him to, when he put his hand on Louis’ back and secured him.
Louis clears his throat and shakes his head. But his face must have shown some kind of pain, because Harry turns to him worriedly and places a hand on his arm.
"You alright?"
"Y-yeah, of course." He shakes out of his state and frowns, "Why wouldn’t I be?"
Harry drops his hand and shrugs.
They don’t talk until after Louis visits his secret cash converter, and returns with a sealed and filled envelope. Harry’s eyes widen when Louis throws it onto his lap, it lands with a ‘thud’ and if Harry wasn’t so surprised at how thick it was, he surely would’ve jumped.
"Oh my God." He picks up the envelope and weighs it with his hand, "How much is in here?"
Louis shrugs and slides into the front seat. “‘Bout ten grand.”
Harry’s mouth goes slack and his eyes nearly protrude out of their sockets. “Ten… grand… for the…” He struggles to find words, and looks at his hand, remembering how small the jewels were. “For the… for those?”
Louis sighs, his mouth stretching to a grin, “I’ve told you this before, Harry. Everything in that museum is possibly more valuable than anything you’ve ever owned in your life.”
He starts the engine, and when Harry tries to sneak a peek of the money inside, Louis slaps his hand away.
"Please tell me why you shouldn’t keep like, half of this."
"Sometimes I do." Louis admits, turning onto a dirt trail. "But lately the village had a sand storm and blew out all their crops, so this is for them."
"You’re an angel, Lou." Says Harry. Louis beams.
They pull up to the old village, Louis looks at all the houses they built together - the roofs now fallen and the walls bent inwards - and his heart sinks a little. No matter how much money they receive, it’s never enough for all of them to build a civilised house of their own, or enough to leave this cursed town.
It’s bare, not a single person in sight. But as soon as Louis leaves the car, as soon as the door slams shut, the children bound over with grins on their lips and dirt on their faces.
"Louis!" They chant, hugging his legs and bouncing up and down with joy.
"Louis! We missed you!"
"I’ve missed you too, guys." Louis smiles down at them, ruffling a head or two. "You remember my friend Harry, right?"
Harry gets out of the car and a few kids barrel over to him, excited. The majority stay at Louis’ feet, though, and proceed to tell him things all at once.
"You should’ve seen the storm!"
"Knocked every one of my shoes out to the wind! It was crazy!"
"Louis, have you seen my dad?"
"I nearly got blown away by the wind, Louis!"
"You should’ve seen it!"
Louis doesn’t know where to start so he just looks at them all with wide eyes and a smile telling them that he’s interested in everything they have to share. Even if it is just the latest adventures they’ve had with their newest pet rock.
Until, the mothers come. They all have the smiles mothers have when they smile fondly at their children, although this time it’s at Louis. They greet him with open arms, holding on to him a little longer than a usual hug.
That’s when Louis knows something’s happened in the village, and he hugs the mothers back all the same, silently apologising for the unfortunates of their houses and belongings.
Rosa, the “head wife”, waits until the rest of the mothers say their hellos until she embraces Louis. She’s stronger than the others, and sort of is control of the whole town.
"How are you holding up?" Louis asks her, voice soft so the others don’t hear and go on a ramble about it.
She shrugs, “We’re doing the best we can. I mean, we tidied up from the last time Mother Nature decided to kick us one, but now it’s all toppled again.” She sighs and looks at the others, crossing her arms. “We’re just the cursed bunch, I s’pose.”
Louis shakes his head. “Not cursed.” He reaches into his car window and picks up the envelope from the front seat. “Here.”
He hands it to Rosa, and her eyes widen. But she refuses it.
"You get that from stealin’ again?"
"Of course I did." Louis says, shaking the envelope so she’ll take it. "Use it to fix this up."
She gives him a long look. “If I take this, you have to promise me that you won’t steal from that place again. Okay?”
"No." Says Louis, voice stern. She tightens her arms across her chest and cocks a brow. "Well, hey, what if something else like this happens again? It’s no hassle I’ll just—"
"I can’t keep taking money off you. We can’t keep taking money off you. We appreciate it, and you know we love you, but it’s illegal, Tomlinson." She taps him on the shoulder and smiles, "Stop giving such a shit about us."
"I can’t do that." He says, eyes soft. He wiggles the envelope again, "Take it. Please?"
Her eyes switch from him to his hand, then him again. She gives him an evil look, and then snatches it out of his hand, mouth creasing into a smile.
He pulls her into a hug, and she falls into it reluctantly, trying not to smile as Louis holds her tightly.
"This is the last bunch, okay?" Rosa warns. Louis lets go, but Rosa’s eyes are serious. "You have to promise this is the last bunch."
Louis swallows down the guilt. He can’t promise something like that; this is what he’s done for months now. To stop would be heart breaking to see.
But he looks at Rosa and he knows she’s aware of what she’s doing. Rosa’s always fully aware of what she’s doing.
"Fine." Louis gives in. "Fine, yes. Okay. Last bunch, that’s it."
This time, she gives him a hug.
-
It’s sunset by the time the men come back from working, and the woman and children depart from Louis and Harry to crowd them instead. The sound of sizzling and a fire being set to cook happens straight away, and Harry’s asked to help them out.
Louis turns to go, but his eyes catch the front cover of today’s newspaper, the one Harry must have been looking at this morning.
The titles are everything he’s seen before, all about how Louis is the worst person in the world, and how he’s a disgrace to mankind. But what catches his eye isn’t about him, it’s about Liam.
He picks it up straight away, brushes off the dirt, and turns to page eleven. It’s a double-paged section on everyone who’s out to kill Louis.
His spine shivers, and his blood starts to run cold. There’s at least six different hit man coming after him, two of them being Liam and Zayn.
“That poor guy.” One of the husbands, who is a bit on the lanky side, comes up behind Louis. He points to a photo of Liam, and says, “He was doin’ a fine job ‘till you came along.”
"What?" Louis frowns, turning to him, "What do you mean?"
"Well, boy, he was the finest killer in town! Number one in the business if you’re askin’ me." His smile weakens and he puts a warm hand on Louis’ shoulder. "But you surely did make ‘im turn soft, so alas he had to be gone. Such a shame."
Louis searches his face, confusion written all over his own.
"He’s gone? Where’d he go?"
"Oh, Louis dear." He shakes his head and his eyes turn sad. Louis feels a tug on his insides. "He obviously couldn’t kill you, which means the worst of the worst. Liam Payne’s now enjoyin’ his second life up there."
"What — no, he’s not dead!"
Louis feels his chest collapse, his knees go weak, his face drop.
"I’m afraid that’s the truth, it’s a hit man’s duty to kill or be killed, son."
"No, no, no, no, no," Louis looks down at the photo of them two on the street, the last sentence underneath makes him almost throw up.
Status: Deceased.
He lets out a pained noise, and his eyes start to well. “No!” He yells, scrunching up the paper and throwing it on the ground. He whips the man’s hand off his shoulder and the man gives him a hurtful look but right now Louis couldn’t care.
He sees Harry watching, and his eyes fade into caution, and he starts to walk towards him.
Louis' eyes are filling and Harry's arms are around him before he can even move at all. He sobs into Harrys shoulder, Harry's hand threading through Louis' hair as soothing as possible.
"What's happened, Lou?" He asks him softly, trying his hardest to comfort him. But nothing will bring Liam back.
"He's gone, Harry. Liam he's - he's fucking gone!"
Louis pulls back and Harry's eyebrows crease together. "Wha - When?"
Louis splutters out a sob and his heart clenches, a new found pain shooting through him like an arrow. He should've never let Liam leave.
"I gotta go." Louis says suddenly, looking at Harry.
He nods understandably, still entirely in shock with what he's just been told. "Yeah, yeah. Of course."
Louis wipes the tears with the back of his hand and climbs into the car weakly, turning it on as soon as he can and presses down the accelerator. All that’s in his head is the paper, the photo of Liam, the photo of him and Liam, and the sentence below it that made it all too real.
Louis wants to scream but his voice isn’t letting him. He wants to push down the accelerator as hard as he can, to stop and start so he thrashes around in his own car. Because he wants to feel something.
His whole body’s fallen numb. His lips, his hands, and even though he’s shaking and even though the lump in his throat is starting to hurt, he’s still not feeling anything.
Because Liam had to die. Liam died because he couldn’t kill him. He sacrificed himself to let Louis live. He could’ve killed him but he died instead.
The tears fill Louis’ eyes until he’s not even able to see where he is anymore. So he pulls over to the side of the road, falling back into his seat in defeat, letting the tears run because there’s no stopping them now.
The tears turn to sobs, sobs turn to outspoken cries. Louis leans his head onto the steering wheel, his jeans becoming stained with how much water is falling from his eyes.
But then his fists start to clench, and he’s breathing loudly because this isn’t fair.
"Why did he have to die?!" Louis shouts, punching into the steering wheel.
He can’t even feel the pain in his knuckles, all he can feel is the hitch in his breath, the pain in his chest that hasn’t left.
Then Louis screams, and cries until his tears run out.
"Why did he have to die?"