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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*
Harry sat at the booth in the Coffee House, twirling his ringed finger around the spoon that clinked the sides of the teacup repetitively. His green eyes stayed fixed on the streets outside, gazing blindly at the people passing and horses trailing carriages along the cobble-stone streets. He slowly looked away and took his red rose out of his pocket, watching the petals turn pink as they caught the light. His mind flashed back to the day he had met Louis and to the conversation they had had regarding the beautiful flower. Harry had never told Louis why he kept the rose, but then Louis was just a stranger at that time. He was a strange thing back then and he really hadn't changed; from the first sentence he had said to Harry to the very last one, Louis was found to be different, and that difference was addictive.
"Thinking about that boy again?" A voice asked. Harry snapped out of his daydream and looked up to see the old man beside him. He stood by the booth, drying his hands on a dishcloth as a smile painted his aged face.
Harry nodded and put the rose back in his pocket, "Was it that obvious?" He asked, shaking his head. The old man let out a laugh and sat down beside the Gypsy.
"A blind man could tell you're in love, Harry, it doesn't take an old man like me to figure out these things." He patted Harry on the shoulder and the young man smiled back shyly. "He's changed you, you know." The bartender added, "Ever since that little steampunk's come into your life you've been quite the chatterbox."
Harry turned to the man and frowned. The old bartender put the dishcloth down on the table. "I haven't seen your face this much in years. You used to spend all your time with your inventions and ever since that boy came into your life you've been- how to say this-" He paused for a moment until he looked up and said, "-Happy. From what we can all tell, you've been the happiest version of yourself since you came here."
Harry smiled and felt a blush hit his cheeks. "Louis makes me happy. He's got a whole lot of character for a person with such a little body." Harry clinked the spoon on the side of his teacup and said, "He doesn't know, by the way. He doesn't understand why I wear that cape when I go out. He never asked me why I wear those glasses and why I hide my face. Sometimes I wonder if he really loves me at all."
"He loves you, Harry. The little steampunk is so deeply in love with the gypsy that I'm sure he'd rather see the world end than leave you."
"I hope he's doing well.. wherever he is.."
*
Louis let out a scream and his eyes closed with pain. He felt the chains squeeze his wrists and run a cold trail down his back. The mattress under him was soft and the sheets that touched his knees and arms were warm. He buried his face in the pillow as a slapping sound echoed out and a pain stung his thighs. He whined and wriggled , grabbing the sheets in his hands as the chains rattled around him.
"Touch yourself." A voice said.
Louis turned his face, catching Edvard's eyes as the man stood by his side. The red whip was bright in the dimly lit room but maybe it was just Louis' eyes playing tricks on him.
