Prologue

Darkness shadowed over the sleeping city, the only light coming from the dimly lit street lamps. Harsh winds blew between buildings, nipping at the noses belonging to the nightlife of London. Though most of the city was sleeping, there were still people lurking in the back alleys. Most people were afraid to go anywhere near them.

Those people thrived in the night time, knowing that during the day they had shadows, however when it came to nightlife, they themselves were the shadows. Shadowing someone else wasn't hard, Louis knew, he'd been doing it all his life. He himself was a night lurker, fitting in perfectly with the nighttime community.

A cigarette hung between his chapped lips as he walked down an empty alleyway, seeing a stray cat eating out of a bin. Sometimes he felt as though his life was a movie, seeing the cliches that fit with everything he did.

However, he remembered that those movies have a happy ending and honestly, he knew that barely a possibility. It was about as likely as pigs flying. And he's was okay with that.

He let out an exasperated puff of smoke, the grey cloud traveling through the cold, night air before easing its way up a man's nose. Sensing a new presence, the man snapped his head sideways, a frightened look appearing on his worn out, wrinkled face.

Just looking at him you could tell he was a drug addict, from the bloodshot eyes to the quivering lips, the ragged breathing and overall look of exhaustion. Desperation radiated off him, hitting Louis with a wave of panic and restlessness. 

"Styles," Louis said, smirking. The name rolled off his tongue smoothly as if he'd rehearsed everything he'd say to the man to make every cog in his mind turn the completely wrong way.

It was such a simple thing to say but it had the man swallowing the growing lump in his throat anyway. He knew he had to keep his calm as much as he could but it was nearly impossible when he was desperate for the one thing he needed so badly.

The one thing he craved with every fiber of his being.

"Where is it? I-I need it." The man desperately asked, though it came out as more of a statement. It was almost a demand and Louis immediately felt the beginning stages of anger bubbling in his stomach. Des watched as Louis released the smoke out of his mouth, letting it go.

He stomped on the cigarette after he let it fall to the ground without a care, the crushing sound bouncing off the walls on either side of them. Louis looked at Des with a harsh gaze, rubbing his fingers together.

"I need my money, Styles. Money first, drugs second." He took a step closer, and he half expected Des to take a step back but he didn't, he stood his ground. It didn't matter, though. Louis was the one with all the power. "You know how this works."

"I-I don't have it. I'm broke but—but I can get it soon I know I can, please just—just give it to me," Des begged pathetically, stuttering and struggling to get his words out.

Calloused hands grabbed Louis' crisp, white shirt and with a roll of his blue eyes, he signaled his two bodyguards to take Des away from him. Tutting in distain as he brushed his shirt down lightly with his hands, not wanting a trace of the man on his clothes, he looked back up at him with eyes full of annoyance. The shirt alone probably cost more than the addict's house, how dare he touch it with his filthy hands.

"Wallet," Louis commanded casually, knowing his men would do whatever he pleased.

A loud groan could be heard from the ground where the guards had thrown Des onto the ground and once again, he rolled his eyes. The street light near them flickered momentarily before completely going out, leaving them in almost complete darkness. That only made Des more afraid. Even grown men were afraid of the dark. What lurked in the shadows What hid behind buildings and frightened by what lived only to hunt down sad, helpless people like himself.

The smaller guard, Adrian, pulled the black wallet from Des' pocket. It was tattered and worn out, just like its owner. A look of disgust appeared on his stone cold features. He caught the wallet with no problem, opening it with ease since the button that once held it shut was no longer there and instead, in its place, was a hole.

What he was looking for wasn't inside the wallet. The man was well and truly broke to the point it was sad. There weren't even any credit cards inside. At least he wasn't a liar. He was still a desperate loser, but no liar.

"What's the point of carrying an empty wallet around with you?" Louis snickered, but his smirk fell when he saw a small slit in the lining of the faux leather. He opened it and slightly pulled out a small picture. The tiny bit he slide out only showed a little bit of it picture but it was enough to make his smirk grow once more. Louis found something priceless. Something that no amount of money could even add up to.

And, it's probably worth more to Des than money could buy.

Des watched as Louis pulled the picture out and drop the wallet. He stared at it as it landed on the ground with a thud. He wanted to cry when he saw what Louis was holding, and he did. He did cry because he was helpless and desperate and angry at himself because that was the worst and last thing Des wanted Louis to find in his wallet.

"I suppose this is the point, yeah?" Louis asked, waving the small picture around.

On the flimsy piece of paper was a photograph of what looked to be two teenagers. The right side showed a girl. A goddess with brown hair and forest green eyes that emitted pure happiness and love. Her smile was warm like the sun and a deep dimple created a dent in her cheek. Though she was beautiful, it was the boy that captured his attention.

He had the same smile and same deep dimples, but his eyes were like glowing emeralds, greener and brighter and so much more enticing. Louis could've stared into them all night.

Short, curly brown locks framed his face like it was a piece of art, a masterpiece painted by Van Gogh himself.

Then, Louis' blue eyes fell to the boy's lips. His lips were so pink and full. He wanted to see how swollen he could get them after they kissed over, and over, and over again. He wanted nothing more than to capture them with his own, hear what noises he could make come out of those plump lips.

He could only imagine it would be the most beautiful noise he would ever hear.

This precious boy was irresistible.

Subconsciously, he licked his chapped lips.

"Who's the angel?" Louis asked, failing to take his eyes away from the photograph.

"That's my daughter—"

"No," Louis paused, brushing his fingers over the boy in the picture. "The boy. I want to know about him." Des looked slightly taken back.

"That's... that's my son," Des replied with caution, but you could hear it in his voice: the care, the fondness, the love. It was there and it was something that Louis assumed Des was incapable of feeling because his life was a mess, a complete disaster. This boy... his beautiful son, was most likely the only source of happiness he had in his life. To think Des had a family was absurd, but Louis didn't like it. Why should this failure have a family? It wasn't fair.

"What's his name?" Louis questioned though he meant it as a demand, needing the information almost as desperately as Des needed the drugs. He suddenly felt this craving to meet this boy. To steal him and claim him.

Des didn't like the tone Louis held in his voice. It didn't sit well with him. He and his children were close or, at least, they used to be before he became a fuck up. It was inevitable that his addiction would cause them to grow apart but he loved them more than anything. Even though the drugs turn him into a monster that treats them like shit.

And Louis, he just couldn't believe that Des was the father of this boy that didn't look human, he liked handcrafted by the gods and mDes answered then, interrupting Louis' wandering thoughts.

"H-Harry. His name is Harry." Louis looked at the picture, a smile creeping onto his face.

"Does he have your name?" Louis asked absentmindedly. Des nodded.

"Y-Yes." Louis sucked in a breath.

"Harry Styles," he muttered to himself, loving the way it sounded. It was a beautiful name for a beautiful boy.

"Throw him out," Louis ordered suddenly and watched as the man was lifted from the ground, the grip on him tight and probably painful. Something told him to feel pity for Des but honestly, all he felt was pity for his family because they had that pathetic excuse of a father. "And don't come back, Des, you have nothing left anyway."

"W-What about my drugs?" He snarled our, shocking Louis slightly.

Louis glared at him, watching as his anger diminished into fear.

"I have better things to think about." Like Harry. Then, he walked away back into the darkness, into the shadows where he thrived. He strutted into the nothingness where he lurked and where he would think of Harry Styles, someone he so desperately wanted.

******

"Order two-thirty-four," Harry read aloud to the quiet, quaint cafe. He smiled when a woman came to the counter to collect her coffee, her blonde hair tied neatly into a bun and a grin also gracing her glossy lips. After she paid for her drink, she left with a small wave and Harry tapped his fingers on the counter to the rhythm of the song playing quietly in the background.

Hearing the bell ring, Harry's eyes darted towards the door and saw a petite man stroll into the cafe. Despite him being a bit smaller, he was clearly older than Harry by a few years. He was greeted with kind, soft eyes and a caring smile that made Harry want to be extra kind and soft in return.

Crinkles formed around the man's eyes when his lips curved upwards and suddenly Harry's heart began beating faster and he didn't know why,

"Hello," he sent a shy smile towards the man, "what can I get you?" He asked routinely.

The gorgeous man hums gently as he looks at the menu above Harry's head. Louis couldn't help but notice how much more beautiful the boy was in person. He couldn't help but think about wanting to run his fingers through his unruly, but still perfect loose mahogany brown ringlets and wanting to kiss his pink lips and wanting to push him against the counter and just—

"Uh, can I get a Yorkshire tea and a hot chocolate for you?" Harry laughed quietly at Louis' request, a faint blush appearing on his cheeks. Louis doesn't think he's ever felt fonder of anyone before.

"So just a Yorkshire tea, then?" Harry bites back cheekily, trying to ignore the shyness he was experiencing. "Can I get your name for your cup?" Harry asked cutely, his blush deepening. They never ask for names, but Harry couldn't let this stranger leave without finding out his name.

Louis uncontrollably grinned as he replied.

"Louis."