Newton's Cradle (Larry Stylinson)

"Some friend, offering up your friend to a random stranger is dangerous. You should know that, Niall Horan."

The blood pulsing through Niall's veins went cold. A cold trickle of sweat dripped down the back of his neck, and all noises deafened. His ear blazed, and felt as hot as the surface of the sun. His eyes shot open as the string connected to his jaw slackened. He felt nothing but fear, and with each passing second, his eyes teared up more and more.

"H-how do you know my name?"

Niall diverted his eyes back on the lining of cups on the bar, picking up another to quickly dry off to distract himself. His hands trembled on the glass, and was grateful that Louis left before he saw something he shouldn't have. He couldn't bear the idea of losing Louis to his foolish mistakes too.

All he was given in response was a smirk from Harry, before he went to take another sip of his cool drink. "You've been running for a long time Niall. It's about time that we finally found you. You're not easy to track."