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Summary
A flick of his lighter. The burning of a filter. A release of smoke.
Over and over and over again, until Louis' half convinced that the repulsive smell isn't from the cigarette, but from his lungs shriveling and burning. He hasn't smoked in so long, not since he stopped shortly after Harry went missing, and he promised himself he'd never start up again, but here he is. Down seven cigarettes and in a shitty motel in California.
California. Of all places, after all these years, he's wound up in California.
or,
Six years ago, Harry got kidnapped and forced into sex trafficking. And now he is back.
