From the Wrong Side of Town l.s.

Chapter 1: Harry

 Redditch was much different than most of the places around England. Most towns didn't have the two most opposite groups being the majority of the inhabitants, but that's exactly what Redditch had. There were two distinct sides of town: the rich entitled side, and 'the wrong side.'

The entitled side was full of a bunch of homophobic ignorant assholes that I had to deal with on a daily basis. There were a few good ones, but not many. Niall, my best friend, was one of the few from the more privileged side of town that weren't complete dicks.

The 'wrong side' wasn't exactly the wrong side, but just the misunderstood. You can't really judge someone until you know them. And I knew him better than anyone else. He was my best friend above all else and I never meant for everything to go to absolute shit the way it did. All I wanted was to be happy, and he made me happy.

"Harold," he greeted taking his seat next to me at the lab table. He was the guy everyone was scared of. Nobody would admit it to his face that they were scared of him, but everyone knew it was better not to mess with him.

"Just Harry," I correct him for what might've been the millionth time.

"I reckon you ought not to challenge me, curly," he shoots back, pulling a cigarette pack out of the pocket of his black leather jacket.

"Tomlinson, you know that's not allowed," our teacher called out to him. We were sat in the back, so where he normally didn't pay much attention anyway, he paid even less attention when the teacher had us sat in the back of the room.

"Does it look like I give a rat's ass," he shot.

"Watch yourself, Tomlinson," he warned. Louis proceeded to mock him in a high pitched voice. He slid a slip of paper across the table. The paper had something written in his messy handwriting. By what he had written, we both knew the teacher was two seconds away from kicking him out of class, but then again, he normally was.

"Or what? You'll kick me out of class? It's not like you haven't done that before." The teacher's face was quite literally tomato red with anger. Not even a minute later, a textbook was being thrown on the front table and Louis was being told to get out and not to come back until he had his 'attitude' in check. Needless to say, he wasn't back in class that day.

"Styles," Niall called as I glanced around the cafeteria at lunch, needing to find Louis. He joined me as I continued to glance around the cafeteria. "Looking for lover boy are we," he asked, nodding towards where Liam was sat with Zayn and Louis.

"How'd you," I ask, quickly turning towards him. He wasn't supposed to know. Nobody was supposed to know.

"Please, Haz, I've known since the second grade," he remarks. "Besides, Louis is hot and 'm sure he'd gladly let you ride him if you asked," Niall added on. I was sure my eyes were practically bulging out of my face after his remark.

"I," I began. "Just let me give notes to him. He got kicked out of class again," I explain, making my way over to where he was sitting. Louis glances up at me, seemingly glad for the distraction from third wheeling by accident. Liam and Zayn were one of the more affectionate couples in school, due to the fact that both boys had a mindset of go fuck yourself when it came to people trying to shame them about their relationship. Many even went as far as to tell both boys they were going to hell because it was a sin.

"He keeps talking bad about you," I tell him, taking the seat next to him and pulling out my notes from today's lecture. He snapped a few pictures of the notes before actually reading through it.

"He always does, curly. You plan on telling me what any of this shit means so I can pass the class and get out of this hellhole," he asks. I laughed and began explaining things as much as I could. He nodded along as I explained occasionally getting a furrowed brow when he didn't quite understand something. He would run a hand through his fringe, moving it out of his beautiful blue eyes.

"Makes sense," I ask when I finish explaining everything.

"Not entirely," he says and points to a concept I'd just explained. "Explain that one again," he says looking up into my eyes. Part of me wanted to believe that he wanted me to stay here with me, but the more logical part knew he just wanted to understand the material.

___________________

"Harry, you promised you were going to get Emily Rose," my mum scolded fifteen minutes after I should have left to get my neighbor's daughter from dance class. Emily was nearly six years old and she'd clung to me like a life-line ever since I'd babysat her a few years ago. Since then, her mum had always asked if I could watch her when she needed a sitter.

"I am mum, I just am running a bit late," I explained, pulling on my boots, and throwing my go-to jean jacket over the white tee I had been wearing.

"Fix your necklace, love," she instructed, noticing the silver cross necklace had been askew. I fixed the chain so the cross daintily sat at the hem around my neck and the clip sat at the base of my neck.

Grabbing my keys off of the kitchen counter, I head into the rather large garage filled with a plethora of luxurious cars we really didn't need, but my parents insisted on having.

__________________

Half an hour later and on the opposite side of town, I couldn't have been more lost. And to make matters worse, I was almost out of gas and had no idea where the nearest gas station. Pulling to the side, I pulled out my phone to try and map directions to the dance school where Emily Rose took lessons.

"Are you kidding," I cry out when I notice that I have no service. I get out of the car, locking it, wandering around until I have service. At least that was the plan.

"Styles," an angelic voice calls out to me. I quickly glance up to see Louis with a lit cigarette dangling between his pink and oh so kissable lips. "You seem to be on the wrong side of town, curly," he tells me.

"I got a bit lost," I admit. "You know where Dorothea's Dance School is," I ask. He points to a building across the street from where we were standing where little Emily Rose sat on the steps into the building with her dance bag sitting on the steps next to her.

"So you're the famous Harry that Em can't shut up about. You're her favorite," he tells me. "And she's my favorite. Don't be late again," he threatens walking away. 

A/N hiiiii lovlies : )

I've got quite a lot in store for this fic and I'm very excited to finally be sharing this with you. Chapters 1 and 2 at least should be going up today.