The wanted murderer L.S.

Field Ponds.

Louis looked Gemma up and down, thinking that she suited dresses quite well, which she seemed to take offence to as she flicked him on the nose.

"Ow-" Louis said, putting a hand on his face and giving Gemma a look of confusion, "That hurt.
Apologise to me."

"What? No, fuck off. Don't be such a pussy."
Gemma replied, crossing her arms.

Louis looked her up and down once more. She truly was a horrible person, and not just to him. She'd upset his friends, and Louis didn't like that one bit.

"Fine. Goodnight, then." He turned on his heel and pulled the balcony door open to go back to bed.

"Hey, Pisshead! You can't just leave! That's so rude!" Gemma shouted, finishing her sentence in a loud whisper as to not wake anyone up.

"Watch me." Louis said, and locked the door shut behind himself.

He waited behind the closed curtain as Gemma thumped on the glass, cursing and threatening him.

"Treat me like a human and maybe then, I'll come back out. Talk to me like I'm a dog and you can sit outside like one."

There came a series of thumps on the glass, then complete silence. Louis could see Gemma's silhouette through the curtain. She was standing still, considering what he'd said.

"Can you just open the door? It's getting cold.."
She asked,
"All you have to do is say 'sorry'. Grow up and say it."
"Fine, I'm sorry, alright?"

It wasn't by any means perfect, nor was it genuine, but Louis opened the door nonetheless and stepped back outside.

"Thank you. Swear at me again and I won't come back out. What do you want?"

Gemma scowled and snatched Louis' hand. She held it with his palm upwards and dropped an orange wristwatch into it.

"My brother told me to return it to you. You forgot it at his place."

Louis closed his hand around the watch and squeezed it, only just realising that he'd not seen it in a while.

"He didn't know you were at the carpark until it was too late, by the way." Gemma's said, leaning on the railing. "In fact, I began to get a bit worried.

"when he didn't notice you—I thought he'd lost his touch, but clearly not. Seems like he really does know everything."

Louis slipped the watch in his pocket, and took the lollipop out instead. He unwrapped it, putting it in his mouth. He watched Gemma's face, studying every movement and piecing together tiny details that he'd missed before. Gemma moved just like her brother-in the way she pronounced her words and pushed her hair back, and the way she swayed from one leg to the other. She had the same dimples and him on her cheeks, the same arch in her eyebrows, and familiar eyes as the gateway to a smart mind, but nowhere near as bright as his.

"What do I do now, then?" Louis asked, leaning his back against the glass.

"Whatever you want. What you do next is on you." Gemma replied, "But he won't ever tell you what you saw in the carpark. You'll be the damn luckiest person in the world if you ever get personal information out of Harry. He's a stubborn bastard; likes to keep the things that are precious to him locked in a safe. That's where you are, Birdbrain.
He won't tell you a damn thing for as long as he lives."

Louis listened, and then smiled. "He won't tell me a thing, but he won't deny the truth if it's told back to him."

Gemma's head tilted, and Louis twirled the lollipop in his fingers, "Haven't you heard?" he said, "He might know everything, but so do I. That's why he keeps coming back."