Chapter Text
Louis Tomlinson. Eighteen years old. High school drop out. Not that he needs school or whatever, he’s got money, he’s set for life. At least that’s what he thinks. He’s the kind of person who’d rather take action than read about it. His father is a big time businessman, has his own company and all. Mother has died a long time ago. No siblings. Always a rebel, the kind that drives people away more than attracts them. That’s what people think about him, his reputation as a wild child and a brat, a rich bastard no one wants to associate themselves with.
Louis Tomlinson. Eighteen years old. Got a father, but not a dad. Got a house, but not a home. Got a family (if you can even call it that), but not love. That’s the way he sees himself.
Across the town from Louis, George Tomlinson is speaking on the phone surrounded by police, with the phone wired to track location of incoming calls and record conversations. George Tomlinson couldn’t give a damn about money at this moment, he’s a multimillionaire after all. The voice on the phone is unrecognizable by anyone in the room, obviously hidden behind a well built software that changed it so not even the programs the police use to unmask it work.
The terms are simple – a million dollars delivered at the shipyard in a container. Where the container goes no one knows, except for a person aboard that ship at this very moment, being paid to take the black sports bag onto a ship of his choosing and leave it there. And that’s exactly what happened. The person jumped off the ship before it sailed, and disappeared before anyone could spot him.
Across the river, Louis has a clear view of the ship and as soon as the money was taken care of, he let the police know exactly where he is. That place is an empty four story parking lot. And on the third floor is where he could be found, with his wrists tied behind his back and duck tape over his mouth. The phone smashed into a thousand pieces, probably, as it was thrown off the building by Louis Tomlinson himself.
See, the whole thing was Louis’ idea. He orchestrated the whole thing just for his father’s attention. Just to see if he cared at all. The Tomlinson household was always cold and lonely, George was always busy with work, never finding time for his son. That’s why at Louis’ football matches in middle school, George couldn’t be found at the bleachers or in high school when Louis landed a role in a school production of Grease, he wasn’t in the assigned parent’s seat. Instead, that seat was always occupied by Uncle Greg, probably the most important person in Louis’ life.
Gregory Preston has been George’s best friend and business partner for longer than Louis has existed. Uncle Greg was always there for Louis, he was more of a father figure than his own father could ever be.
Gregory Preston is a military man, a man with a work ethic that rivals even the most hardworking men in the states. He was born and raised on American soil by a poor single mother of three, the oldest of them the wisest and the toughest the young Brit has ever seen.
Greg is the person that would sit with Louis every day after school to make sure he ate and wrote his homework, the kind of person that would talk to Louis about life and what to expect of it, he would tell stories about all his old scars, wounds left from the olden days when he fought for his country. He’s the kind of person that would teach the young boy how to play any type of game Lou wanted to learn, he’d talk to him about girls as he was growing up and showed him the life’s mysteries and wonders, taught lessons he’ll never forget. To say that Gregory Preston is indeed the most important person in Louis’ life, well, it might be an understatement.
Uncle Greg is currently right by George’s side, just to make sure Louis arrives back home safely and unharmed. He’s scared shitless, honestly, and a man like himself is hardly ever shows weakness, but to say in this situation he’s like a duck in a pond would be correct. Even though on the surface he looks calm and collected, like he’s sure this will end soon with no casualties, on the inside, just like a duck’s feet are paddling away in a frantic manner, everything’s like a storm.
And so, Louis is there, in the trunk of his car, just waiting for the police who he thinks is only a few minutes away, as he hears footsteps approaching the only car in the empty parking lot. They grow louder and louder and Louis thinks ‘this is it’, but all of a sudden he hears a click and then another and another and a door of the car open. Then it’s silent again, he can’t hear a thing until the car comes to life, and lets out a loud roar to signal it’s ready to hit the road. And Louis thinks ‘what the hell!?’. The car door close and a few seconds later it’s in motion. He can’t even register all the bumps as he’s focusing on the police sirens that appear a few turns in. The car speeds up and the bumps become more violent, and soon the car swerved too hard and Louis hit his head. Everything became black.