The wanted murderer L.S.

Hunting Ground.

Warning: This chapter contains smut

*

Louis looked at the vent, then to Harry, then to the vent again.

"I don't fit in there."

Harry smiled. He turned around excitedly and pushed the stool beneath the vent. He climbed on it and, with his hairpin, unscrewed the metal grid. He slipped the grid through the vent and then, without any other warning, jumped up and crawled through the open gap. Louis listened to him bang around in the dark for a few moments, before shining the torch through the gap.

"You'll fit." He said, putting a hand out.

Louis looked at him. Harry nodded.

"You want me to go in a vent?" Louis asked.

"It's warm. Your fingers will warm up."

Louis climbed onto the stool and tugged the belt on his Burberry coat tighter. He crawled through the vent, narrowly avoiding bumping his head when Harry quickly moved his hand between Louis' face and the wall. After a few moment of turning around and figuring out where he was, Louis settled, and Harry pushed the stool away, placing the grid back in front of the opening.

The vent was just about tall enough for Louis to sit up. If he stretched his back a little, his head touched the ceiling. Harry had to bend over.

London's murderer took out his phone and flipped it open. "Twenty seconds." He said, as if he already knew that. He looked at Louis, "Silent." He said, rather harshly. "Dead silent."

The torch went out, and Louis waited. He could hear voices, not too far but not near enough to make out words; both male, and both were approaching.

"They found another one, you know, Jerry! Huh?
Yeah, right down Saint Barnaby Street!"

The footsteps of the speaker grew louder as the man approached the changing rooms. Louis could hear him clearly now. Far too clearly for the situation he was in.

"A girl again!" The man shouted, "Hey? Oh, no, they don't know her. Never seen her before. No one has!"

The man was now in the changing rooms. Louis could hear each door open with a creak and bang closed.

The disruption neared the back room, and Louis felt a wave of excitement flow over him. Harry grabbed his hands suddenly in one of his, pinning them to Louis' lap. The security guard opened the door. Light flooded the small room and the gaps in the vents. It poured between Harry and Louis, to which Louis looked at the murderer opposite, and he was smiling.

"You what?!" the security guard asked, leaning out of the door where his torch still shone. A voice in the distance spoke, and the guard replied "No, well you saw it in the papers, didn't you?! These people are appearing out of nowhere! The cops don't know who they bloody are. The aliens could've spat them out for all they bloody know!"

Harry's grip tightened on Louis' hand, and the light faded.

They listened to the men walk away until they were just murmurs in the distance once more. Harry let go of Louis and let out a small sigh. When his own torch lit up, Louis found that he was no longer smiling.

"Come. Stretch your legs."

He pushed the grid and jumped down from the vent, helping Louis shortly after. The grid was placed over the front of the vent and screwed on just as it had previously been.

"Now what?" Louis asked, sitting criss-cross on the floor, despite the bench right beside him.

"Now, we wait until they leave. About an hour."