SWEET COINCIDENCES | LS

the fourth chapter

Harry was used to rejection. Family, friends, work, really anyone that knew him... or didn't, always looked at him with a scoff and a pointed glare.

But with sex... his body was never denied of any sort. It was the one time he was wanted, dare say needed. Sure it wasn't the healthiest way for a boy like him to receive his validation— but it sufficed, somewhat. It made him feel grim afterwards sometimes, but it was all he had.

He was never rejected for sex until now.

He fiddles with the crumpled cash that's still clutched between his fingers, he wasn't sure what he had done wrong. He had pulled the money out of his shoes, holding it like it was burning into his skin.

After the train ride he had gotten fucked eight times by eight different people. None had rejected his enticing body that he put out for them. But it didn't satisfy the wound in his chest.

Now it was night, the wind mercilessly whipped against his wobbly bare legs. He had nothing on but his dress and a woolen scarf, which he wrapped tightly against his neck. He hadn't brought it because of the anticipated chilling weather, but rather for when he arrives at his sister's apartment.

She would never let him in if she saw the scattered bruises that climbed up from his collarbone to his jaw. She was already so kind to let Harry into her place after he had been kicked out, to provide him with a second chance. He couldn't bear to tell her that he had wasted his second chance. He was still the shameful slut that had been kicked out from his house at 16.

He anxiously wraps his scarf tighter as he walks into the building, exhaling at the slightly warmer temperature. It still had many drafts that crept in, whistling through the cracks of the old building, but it was much warmer than the unforgiving cold outside.

Much better than the streets. Harry knows how it is to live out there, constant fear, hunger and numbed by the frigid wind and snow that was soon to come.

He climbs up the steps quickly, eager to get up to his sister's apartment and finally sleep. The elevator doesn't work, it hasn't since a year after the building was built. Which was a long time ago.

He's brought out of his thoughts when the door clicks and opens and he finds himself standing in front of door 32 on the 13th floor.

"Harry? Did you lose your keys again?" Gemma sighs with exhaustion as she steps back so Harry can walk in.

He graciously nods and quickly stumbles in before shamefully mumbling, "Yeah, can't find them."

"You can't keep doing that Harry, costs money to copy another." Gemma rubs her eyes with a fist as she pushes the door shut.

Harry is about to answer when a gruff voice speaks up from the kitchen,

"It's a bit late to come home and wake your sister."

Harry looks up to see Reed, Gemma's boyfriend, leaning against the speckled counter, his eyes narrowed at Harry. He was only wearing low hung shorts, displaying his muscular figure above.

Harry hates him.

"Sorry." Harry mumbles, kicking off his shoes near the door so he can go escape to his room.

"Sorry? Is that all?" Reed speaks up, his eyebrows raised at Harry as if he was an angry father. Harry wants to tell him that he wouldn't apologize to him even if he deserved an apology. Which he doesn't.

But Gemma speaks before either of them can lift their tongue, "Reed just leave it," She motions for him to head back to their room, "and please go to bed Harry, I'll get you a key tomorrow."

"Okay, thank you." Harry gratefully nods before quickly turning and making his way to his room before Reed could make another clipped comment.

He shuts his door with a heavy sigh, looking blankly at his bed. Suddenly his thoughts flood back into his mind as he finds himself alone in his room at their mercy.

The first one being that man of course. Harry remembers him. He would never admit that, but he does remember his kind eyes, comforting hands, his raspy drawl.

He wasn't sure why he wouldn't tell the man that he did in fact remember him.

Maybe because it would by a slight admittance that he had been thinking about the man long after the occurrence. He wasn't supposed to think about strangers. Stranger were people that slide their hands up Harry's skirts, ones that left ugly marks on his skin— all of them are the same.

The man can't be any different.

&

Louis doesn't necessarily see himself as an evil man. He feels that would be quite dramatic after a brief comparison with his father.

But, people will probably see him as an evil man nonetheless after the news breaks tomorrow. All those building he bought are for the better, the future of the city.

Which means getting rid of the past, the people, the lower class that resides in the sliver of old buildings in the midst of a growing city. Growing business.

It's for the best of course, but not everyone gets that. He understands there will be gruesome backlash, but all that will be gone once the buildings start bringing in money.

He sighs, shaking his head as he walks into his bedroom. It was dark expect for the lone lamp on his nightstand, emitting a soft glow. It was perfect since Louis's head was pounding and he wasn't sure if he could handle a bright light right now.

His head was swarming with too many thoughts to count, and of course including that boy— Harry. Louis had admittedly gotten himself off at a bathroom in his workplace shortly after he had arrived, unable to stop thinking about those lush pair of lips.

It was wrong. He knew it was, but the shame he felt was nothing compared to the moments of pleasure he had imagining if he had given in that morning.

If.

If was all it was. A fantasy that would be left a fantasy. Harry was simply a harlot Louis had ran into on the train a few times and nothing more. A mistake that Louis had thankfully avoided.

Maybe it was wrong to think about Harry when he's hard, because obviously a man like Louis can't be gay. He can't afford such a trait in his position.

It's just your head going mad from all the pressure recently.

He was tempted to go get a drink, maybe hook up with a women to remind himself of what he is, and what he never will be. But with the events coming tomorrow he didn't have time for such endeavors.

And he doesn't have any time to spare when he wakes up once again in the morning, the clock barely sparing him for a quick shower. He hadn't bothered to look at the news while getting ready today, knowing his name would be plastered all over it, Tomlinson Industries.

He straightens his tie as he looks himself over in the mirror, it's gonna be a good day.