Louis is the Leader of a Steampunk street-gang and earns money as a male prostitute. Harry is a Dutch Gypsy with a prosthetic hand with a keen eye for all things beautiful.
They find each other perhaps by chance, but perhaps that the Gypsy-Boy knew...
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"Heading out somewhere with no intention of knowing where is dangerous." Harry said, letting himself fall onto the bench beside Louis.
He listened to the train rattle over the rails as it skidded on them, while turning his face to the Captain of the thugs. Louis didn't look back. He remained silent by the window, looking bored as he gazed out of it at the passing landscape while they escaped the city and fled to the countryside.
Harry shuffled closer until there was no space between them. By the way they sat it was as if there wasn't even a full two feet of bench beside the gypsy, despite the fact that there was.
"He's still sick, you know." Harry said again, quietly so no one else in the carriage could hear. "Despite what the doctors may have said, he's still getting worse."
"I know." Louis confirmed, not looking away from the lights and shadows that flashed over him. "Don't tell him. I don't want him to lose hope." He sighed and turned his face. "It's the hope that he has, believing he's healthy again, that's keeping him alive." He looked down at his hands, fiddling with a brass ring around his finger. His voice faded to a quiet whisper as he said, "I don't want to lose him.."
Harry picked Louis' chin up and locked their eyes together. "I know." He said, repeating Louis' own words. "But nothing lasts forever, not even the people who made 'forever' a real thing." He let out a breath of air, eyes flashing over the earring in the shape of a cross, pierced through Louis' ear as he added, "I'll do anything I can to save the boy, but I'm not a superhero. I can't do magic overnight, and I'll need time but I promise to not let him go."
"Why do you like him so much?" Louis asked, "Why do you trust all of us as much as you do? We're thugs, and we're prostitutes. Why do you care about street-rats like us?"
Harry smiled, twisting his copper hand around until it fitted in place better. "I see you sometimes, 'round and about, and you all intrigue me. I've seen Liam take women's necklaces right from their necks, I've seen Niall steal a wife away from her husband, I've seen Hanji use her inventions to grab men's wallets from five feet away, and I've seen Zayn make his rat steal for him. Asides from all of that, I've seen Erin change from a cute little kid to a prostitute in less than a second, and I've seen you.." He paused for a moment, eyes darting down as his lips stayed parted. "I've seen you most of all. You stand out when you're down there. Of course, a little steampunk among a sea of rich folk wouldn't do anything but stand out, but this is different." He looked at Louis, and Louis looked back, "You're so lively and so determined that it makes you glow with charm. That's why I think you deserve to be the Leader, and that's why I think you deserve to be my test-model. You've got the skills to manage the Steamers, the biggest thugs in town, and that's nothing less of a rare talent."
Louis looked at him, feeling his face flush, "I-er-" he stuttered, pulling away from Harry's stare.
"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to embarrass you.." Harry said suddenly, backing away. He stood up and coughed, not looking back at Louis, "I'm going to check on Niall." He apologised awkwardly before picking up his cloak, and walking off.
