Through the Dark

The Offer

Harry's mind was a whirlwind of thoughts as he walked away from Louis's flat, his heart heavy with the weight of their conversation. He knew Louis was right-they couldn't do this alone-but the idea of trusting someone else, especially someone like the "fixer," made him uneasy. Still, what choice did he have? The walls were closing in, and he needed a way out before it was too late.

He took a deep breath, pulling out his phone as he made his way down the street. His fingers hovered over the screen, hesitating before finally typing out a message.

Harry: Hey, it's Harry. Can we meet? I need to talk.

He stared at the message for a moment before pressing send, feeling a knot tighten in his stomach. He hadn't contacted the fixer in weeks, not since he'd first started working at the club. The man had made it clear that he was there to help-for a price-but Harry had been too afraid to take the plunge.

Now, he wasn't sure if he had any other options.

The response came quicker than he expected.

Fixer: Sure. Usual place, 2pm.

Harry read the message, his pulse quickening. The "usual place" was a small, nondescript café on the outskirts of town, far enough from prying eyes that they could talk without being overheard. It wasn't the kind of place Harry would normally frequent, but that was the point. It was neutral ground.

He pocketed his phone and started walking, the city around him a blur as he tried to focus on what he would say. The fixer was a man of few words, someone who dealt in favors and debts, and Harry knew that whatever help he asked for wouldn't come without a cost.

But he was desperate. He had to be willing to pay the price, whatever it was.

When he arrived at the café, Harry felt a surge of nervous energy. The place was nearly empty, just a few people scattered around sipping coffee or working on laptops. He spotted the fixer in the back corner, sitting at a table with his back to the wall, a half-empty cup of coffee in front of him.

The fixer was an unassuming man, with dark hair slicked back and a neatly trimmed beard. He looked like any other businessman, dressed in a simple suit with a tie loosened around his neck. But Harry knew better. This man dealt in shadows, operating in the grey areas where laws and morals were blurry.

"Harry," the fixer greeted him with a nod as he approached. His voice was calm, measured, like they were discussing the weather rather than something far more dangerous.

"Thanks for meeting me," Harry said, sliding into the seat across from him. His palms were sweaty, and he wiped them on his jeans under the table, trying to calm his nerves.

The fixer studied him for a moment, his dark eyes betraying nothing. "You look like you've had a rough night."

Harry let out a humorless laugh. "You could say that."

The fixer leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers. "What do you need, Harry? I assume you didn't call me for a friendly chat."

Harry swallowed, his throat dry. "I need help. I'm in deeper than I thought, and I don't know how to get out."

The fixer nodded, as if he'd been expecting this. "I warned you when you started that this would happen. These things have a way of snowballing."

"I know," Harry admitted, his voice strained. "But I didn't think it would get this bad. They're asking for more than I can give, and I'm scared, man. They're not going to just let me walk away."

The fixer tapped his fingers against the table, considering Harry's words. "You're right. They won't. But you knew that going in."

Harry felt a wave of frustration. "Yeah, well, I didn't have much of a choice, did I?"

"There's always a choice, Harry," the fixer said calmly. "But the choices we make have consequences."

Harry bit his lip, feeling like he was getting nowhere. "I'm asking for a way out. I don't care what it takes, I just need to get out before they do something... something I can't come back from."

The fixer studied him for a long moment, his eyes narrowing slightly. "And what are you willing to give in return?"

Harry felt a chill run down his spine. He knew this was coming, but the reality of it still made him uneasy. "I don't have much. But I'll do whatever it takes. I'll work it off, I'll-"

"That won't be necessary," the fixer interrupted, waving a hand dismissively. "What you owe is more than you can pay off with a few favors."

Harry's heart sank. "Then what do you want?"

The fixer leaned forward, his voice lowering to a whisper. "I need information, Harry. Information that only someone like you can get. You still have connections in the industry, people who trust you."

Harry's stomach twisted. "What kind of information?"

The fixer smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Nothing too difficult. I just need you to keep your ears open, listen for anything that might be of value. A scandal, a secret deal, anything that can be leveraged. You get me what I need, and I'll take care of your little problem."

Harry felt sick. He knew what the fixer was asking of him-betrayal, plain and simple. But what choice did he have? If he didn't agree, the people he owed would come for him, and Louis, and anyone else they could get their hands on.

"How do I know you'll hold up your end of the deal?" Harry asked, his voice shaking.

The fixer's smile widened. "You don't. But then again, what other options do you have?"

Harry clenched his fists under the table, hating how trapped he felt. He knew this was a deal with the devil, but he couldn't see any other way out.

"Fine," he said finally, his voice barely above a whisper. "I'll do it."

The fixer's smile turned predatory. "Good. I knew you'd see reason."

Harry felt like he was drowning, the weight of his decision pressing down on him. He had just made a deal that could ruin everything, but it was the only chance he had to protect the people he cared about.

"Just remember," the fixer added, leaning back in his chair, "this is a one-time offer. Don't screw it up, Harry."

Harry nodded, not trusting himself to speak. He pushed back from the table, needing to get out of there before he lost his nerve.

As he left the café, the weight of what he had just agreed to settled heavily on his shoulders. He had made a deal to save himself, but at what cost? And would Louis still stand by him when he found out what Harry had done?

The thought of losing Louis's trust hurt more than anything else. But for now, all Harry could do was move forward, one step at a time, and hope that somehow, he could make it out of this mess without destroying everything he held dear.