Song: Lana Del Rey - Cruel World

Pre-note: please, if any of you see this story or any of my other stories posted by someone who isn't me (I only use wattpad and AO3 for fics: @larryent) please tell me. this story is very special to me and I've had people try to steal it, which has made me consider taking down all my fics.
thank you for your patience.

The moment Liam walks through the office doors, he is directed to his boss's office. He weaves through the rows of desks until he reaches the glass door. He knocks, then twists the doorknob.

His boss is standing by the large window, "Good morning, Payne. Have a seat."

Liam follows orders and sits one of the two armchairs before his boss' desk. His take-out coffee is steaming through the opened lid. "Is there a reason you wanted to speak to me, sir?"

The older man nods, his hair was thinning and his eyebrows were bushy. "Have you noticed that bruise on Styles' face when he came to work last week?"

"He told me he got it at the gym, he boxes." Liam shares easily.

"You two are good friends, correct?"

"Yes, sir."

His boss sighs, walking close to lean against his desk. "Well then, I assume you have the same concerns as I do." He begins, clasping his wrinkled hands in his lap. "During the entire La Puissance case, only Styles received a personal letter which undoubtedly led to La Reine's capture. That fact alone is suspicious, don't you think?"

Liam fixes his jacket and scratches his beard. "Well, his previous high profile arrests have given him quite the reputation. That could lead to catching plenty of attention."

The older man nods thoughtfully, his shiny shoes reflecting the fluorescent lights. "I have strong concerns about Styles." He confesses, "I think he is being personally targeted by La Puissance."

"What?"

"I fear his safety. Not only as a friend but as his boss, Styles is a smart man, but his self-awareness is weak." The man crosses his arms, his voice is deeper than the brown of his eyes. "Will you closely watch over him, as a friend? You may even call yourself a guardian angel. Styles lacks caution and it is strongly unsettling. After that whole show of La Reine monologuing about a new era of La Puissance—all things must be taken into consideration, even the past. La Puissance is even more dangerous, ruthless and they have evolved to deadly."

"Doll," Harry addresses, observing Louis twist his rings on his fingers. "What did you do with the military aircrafts?"

"Hm?" Louis hums disinterested. "Nothing, honey."

"Why did you take them?"

When Louis looks up, his feathery hair falls over his eyes. "People are scared of the unknown."

"Scared?" Harry echos with an eyebrow raised.

"There is more war on the planet than people know. With these machines of destruction in my possession, I control them. And if I do nothing, they collect dust. World leaders won't know a thing and not knowing will eat their mind." Louis' tone is soft, gently hypnotizing Harry's mind. "Everyone knows me, but I feel that my capabilities are undermined."

"I disagree. I think everyone is scared of you and what you can do."

Louis laughs, his sharp teeth digging into his bottom lip. "Possibly. Although, it was Leo's idea in the first place."

Before Harry can ask him to elaborate because Leopoldo's presence was always suspicious, Niall sitting upfront strikes a conversation, in Italian, of course. The Donna with shimmer on his cheeks directs his attention to the blond. They speak for a while, leaving Harry to scroll through his cellphone and keep quiet. Eventually, he grows bored.

"What are you talking about?"

Their exchange had gotten more interesting considering Niall facing the back of the car now. The Donna and Niall share looks and it makes Harry feel awfully left out. "Last night, a body was discovered behind Nine Lives, your club."

That catches Harry off guard. He would have expected something about his training, or maybe another upcoming party. "Just a normal person, I'm assuming?"

"Sort of." Niall begins. "In contrast to other merchandise, our rules about selling drugs are quite strict. During the club's opening hours, drugs are exclusively sold to business partners. Last night was one of our partners, but they weren't family."

"An overdose?" Both men shake their heads. "It was laced?" With that, Niall nods. Harry scoffs and he's surprised at his own reaction. "I didn't know you all did that kind of thing."

"We don't. Lacing is child's play, what do we have against the ones who bring in the cash?"

Harry faces away. A part of him feels uncomfortably unaffected by the news, the rest of him is very worried. "Where's the body?"

"Gone. It's not like someone could spike the stash in the basement," Niall informs, "No one but family is allowed down there. You've got to get through eight armed guards to even look at that door."

"Did you check the security footage?"

The blond nods, "yeah, it was only family going in and coming out."

"Ridiculous." Louis grits his teeth. "Review it again." That was a tone Harry could never get used to. It was terrifying.

"I watched it over three times, Louis."

"I said to review it again—"

"You aren't even considering the obvious, are you?" Harry asks and both men turn to him. The frustration in the car wasn't hard to recognize, especially with Louis' heated expression. "If no one goes past that door without being family, you already know who did it."

"We're ahead of you, everyone was interviewed and denied all accusations."

Harry doesn't back down, staring Louis square in the eye. "The title of a family doesn't warrant everyone always tells the truth."

Louis' eyes narrow, his lick lashes blocking most of the blue. "In mine it does. It's a rule." His pink lips scowl.

Harry leans back, gaze dropping to his lap. "And rules can be broken."

Once they arrive at the restaurant, it's empty, of course. It's probably owned by the family. They are immediately led to a table, except Louis who remains by the backdoor for Aria's arrival. The restaurant was dark and dimly lit. Grey brick walls with long white curtains over the ceiling tall windows. Chandeliers dangled and glimmered, silk hanging from each one to another in a chain. The tables were covered in pale yellow covers, matching the golden accents of the candles in the center.

Harry hangs up his phone and quickly walks back to the table where Niall sat. "Sorry about that," Harry apologizes as he settles into the cushioned chair.

"Who was on the phone?"

"My mother," Harry answers, taking a sip of water. "She was wondering if I was coming for a visit since I skipped out on Christmas and the New Year."

"Not the only thing you skipped out on," Niall quips, "Louis' birthday is Christmas Eve."

Harry's face falls. "Are you joking?"

"No."

Then, Harry remembers Louis telling him that his birthday was in December, which had passed since it was just before February. Harry's scared—he's also disappointed in himself because he messed up. Especially if Louis was expecting something because that meant Harry left his wishes unfulfilled. That surely won't do.

"Don't worry, you'll have plenty of other birthdays to remember." Niall shrugs, munching on a slice of bread. "Or forget, whatever you wish."

Harry could smack himself in the face, but he'd rather smack Niall. "You aren't good at making me feel any better."

The deep frown on Harry's face seems to break Niall's unbothered facade. "All right, if you want to make it up to him, just do something romantic."

"What is even classified as romantic? A grand gesture? I can't really take him places."

"Louis may seem like it, but with you in the picture, he isn't hard to please. You could break your arm trying to flip a pancake and he'd kiss you for trying."

That went against the persona Harry built in his mind for the Donna. The Louis that Harry painted was calculated, clever and misunderstood to the public. Although, Harry wasn't blind to the soft spot Louis had for him. It was a gentle caress with Louis' hands, or a fond look, or an eager kiss.

"Does he have a favourite restaurant?"

"If you want to impress him, you should cook him dinner." Niall specifies, "he grew up in the lap of luxury, the smallest things mean the most to him."

"Like," Harry bites his lip, looking at the glass door, "the normal things?"

Niall nods, sipping his wine. "Domestic things—home cooking, lazy movie nights by the fireplace. Hell, probably even laundry."

That sparked a few ideas in Harry's mind.

Although their relationship was in the honeymoon phase, there was something special. Something that deserved to be cradled with care, something to be nurtured in their whirlwind of a life.

Harry knew that what he had with Louis didn't come often, it didn't even come three times. He would be stupid to let it slip through his fingers and lose it. He knows, he's promised he won't let it go. And it in his death grip, it shall call home.

Niall's advice also brought up an array of what if. What if Louis wasn't a wanted criminal, a lord in the world of misdeeds and cruel intentions, and he was just a normal man that caught Harry's eye. A different story would have bloomed—a story that didn't involve hiding, living a double-life and avoiding every other human on the planet. In that story, in that life, he and Louis could probably take Sunday walks in the park and buy a little cottage in the countryside.

Domestic life with Louis was something Harry never knew he wanted. It was such a human and mundane thing to wish for, but Harry wanted it. Waking up to Louis cooking breakfast, or even better, serving Louis breakfast in bed. Going off to their own jobs during the day, then returning to their home for dinner and a movie. Doing chores together, taking summer vacations to Jamaica or the Grand Canyon.

He knew he was getting ahead of himself when he thought of children—God forbid they even speak of bringing children into their empire built on sin. But could Louis give him a domestic, home sweet home lifestyle? And if he couldn't, could Harry settle for that?

Harry sees over Niall's shoulder that Louis is walking to the table with their guest in tow. When the Donna sits, Harry places a hand on his thigh.

"Aria, you remember Niall and Harry."

"Of course," the man greets shakes Niall's hand, then Harry's. "Nice to see you again, Harry."

"You can call me Monsieur Harry." He watches the guest sit next to Niall. "I ordered for you, doll," Harry says to Louis, then turns to Aria. "I'm sure the waiter will return to take yours."

He tries to hide his immediate distaste from the man's presence but Harry was still a little pissed from the little situation at Louis' party. The man punched and choked him, if Harry could, he'd do the same.

"I invited you here to talk about business." Louis applies lipgloss and fixes his long fringe.

"Business? I thought this was going be a little more heated than that. Considering the last time I saw Monsieur Harry, I had my hands around his throat." Aria's voice is heavy with his accent. The waiter arrives and takes Aria's order, the table goes quiet.

Harry watches him carefully, looking at the detailing of his jacket, the thickness of his eyebrows and the everpresent scar from his top lip to one of his nostrils. Harry can barely remember his case, but it must've been terrible if his attitude is anything to go by.

"Must he be here?" Aria's brown eyes send a glare to Harry.

"Yes."

"What does he have for you to want him so much?" Aria asks Louis.

Harry keeps his bitterness to himself, although the chains were nearly snapping under the pressure. Louis doesn't reply and Aria continues.

"He seems inadequate in some places. You, sweet Ma Reine, need a man, a real man and I'd like to offer my services."

"A real man?" Louis repeats, eyebrows raised in amusement. "You believe I need a man? I don't need a man, Mr. Aria. I'm simply with Harry because I can be and I want to be. I don't need him in the sense you're thinking of."

Harry pulls a face, a cross between confused and offended.

"You saying I need a man—you are forgetting what I've accomplished by myself. You saying I need a man—you mean that I need something I do not have. What does a real man have that I lack?"

"I'd be careful with your next words." Niall sings.

"Seems I've pushed a button."

That was when Harry understands. Aria was conceited and angry, and he was here to poke fun at Harry and Louis. Point out false flaws and plant seeds of doubt. Aria was a savage but he wasn't stupid. He came with a plan and Harry wasn't going to sit there and let this man speak lowly about Louis.

"No, it seems like you're awfully arrogant," Harry speaks up, his green eyes trained on the French man across the table. He clenches his fist. "If I had the honour of sitting next to you, you wouldn't be as irritating as you are."

Aria turns his attention to Harry, a smirk appearing on his lips. "How is the hiding going, Monsieur Harry, or should I say Agent Styles? Everyone still believes your charade?"

Behave, Harry repeats to himself, behave.

"Ma Reine, I know your values—how did your family take the news of your decision? Because of the slaughter that you ordered in Paris, I can't imagine they'll dare to step in your way."

"My family knows—but they are loyal."

Aria props a hand on the table, keeping his dirty eyes on Louis like he's a prize to be won. "Oh? How fortunate. You and your agent should watch where you go, not everyone is in favour of your decision, my dearest."

The food arrives and Harry couldn't be more glad to have the attention drawn away. He keeps one hand on Louis' thigh and eats with the other. It's a pasta dish, exquisitely prepared with a side of garlic bread. Louis has smoked salmon and vegetables. When the Donna's wine glass is empty so Harry pours him more.

The minutes drag on, nothing but silence and the faint beating of Harry's heart in his ears. Every glance Aria sends to Louis adds another coal into the jealous flame in Harry's veins. Harry is nearly finished eating when Aria speaks again.

"My, my, Ma Reine, you are beautiful today as ever. Your eyes shine, they could put the stars to shame." Aria says, with a smirk on his face. "And your lips, they look very, very soft."

"They are soft." Harry supplies, running a hand through his hair. "I would know." He keeps his ears focused on Aria despite knowing it will only make him angrier.

"You are a gem, Ma Reine. The most exquisite gem. I only hope Monsieur Harry knows how to treat you."

The tension gets hotter to a boiling temperature when Harry's only option is to angry stab at his spaghetti. When Louis gives him a warning look, he settles down.

Aria smiles, eyes flickering to the Donna. "I find it amusing—your relationship. What is he, your pet?" He asks Louis. "You enjoy the thrill of it, don't you?"

"Mr. Aria, I didn't invite you to lunch to taunt us. I invited you because I am showing you mercy. You may be in business with us again. Same rules, same merchandise. Although, I'm thinking, eighty percent."

"Eighty?" Aria frowns, "what happened to sixty and forty?"

"The extra twenty is payment for your attitude. I know you hold a grudge against Harry. You wouldn't be the first considering his line of work." Louis clasps his hands, long nails are painted a blood red. "Perhaps this... not-so-subtle threat could silence that vengeance you seek." Louis' voice lowers, though the intimidation remains. "Even if I suspect if you have merely hinted about my Harry—I will mangle your mind with my bare hands." His blue eyes turn dark. "And in case you forgot, you only have one mind to lose."

Louis leaves to handle a call and Aria leaves to the restroom. With once last glance, Harry and Niall are left at the table again. Immediately, Niall pokes fun at him.

"Do you have a problem with me?" Harry inquires seriously. All friends, if one could call them that, bickered. But Harry and Niall's bickering seemed to go hostile far too quickly.

"I like teasing you."

"That can't be the only thing you have against me." Harry pushes. He had a suspicion that the blond behaved the way he did because of reasons unknown, but reasons nonetheless.

Surprisingly, Niall nods. "You're right. I just think you're fairly stupid."

"Why?" Harry asks, offended.

"Nothing will prepare you for the future, not training, not mere warnings. I've done terrible things I have have no pride in. I've lost so many people. Friends, family. It's a trap, this life is a trap and you're willingly welcoming it with open arms." Niall rants, his usual carefree face turning solemn. "You have something, freedom—yet you are blind to your privilege." With that, the blond leaves through the back door.

The room falls into an earsplitting silence. It rings and Harry covers ears when realization floods and fills his lungs.

What the hell was he doing? Niall was right. This wasn't a fairytale in disguise, this was reality, Harry's reality that he was setting aflame. He was on the force, for goodness sake, what was he doing being romantically involved with a man who to some, is a monster. It was one thing to kiss and hold Louis, but in order to do that, Harry signed his death wish.

Someone died on the day of his first reign, which had to be a sign. He couldn't do this, not to his mother and sister, and not to himself. Harry's grey years were supposed to be full of grandchildren and drinking tea on the front porch—and if he continues with this wild dream, his grey years are not guaranteed.

The door dings once again and a creamy voice sounds. "Darling, are you all right?" Louis takes Harry's and intertwines their fingers. "You look a little pale."

"I'm sorry," Harry's voice cracks. "I'm fine."

Louis looks unconvinced. "Do not lie to me. I think you are forgetting that for us to get close, we must be willing to be vulnerable with each other."

Harry bites his tongue, looking down at Louis' delicate hands. "Has anyone wanted to leave?"

The Donna turns serious. "You talk about us, you die. You try to leave, you die. Retirement is nothing but a fantasy."

"One-way road." It's a trap.

"Are you having second thoughts?"

Harry seals his lips shut, opting to brush his thumbs along the soft skin of Louis' hand. He grasps onto having the Donna so close, as if Louis will disappear into thin air. To Harry, Louis was invincible and he pulled everyone into his orbit. He had a gravitational pull that Harry couldn't resist, and it was going to suck him dry into his cruel world.

Harry even believes Louis would be fine without him—he didn't need Harry, Louis wasn't porcelain, he was diamond. The stone of the sun and even after Harry's flown through his solar system, he'll remain.

"I gave you my word. When it comes down to it, you have a choice."

"But no one else has one." Harry closes his eyes.

Louis slowly shakes his head. "There's no happiness in this, I'm sorry. The moment you're in, the only way out—"

"Is death. Got it." It was the truth. Harry was so young, was he willing to put the rest of his years on the one-way train, just for a pair of sapphire eyes? The lines between dreams and reality were thin and Harry was walking that line, teetering off the edge before catching himself.

"This may be a one-way road for you, but there are two of us." The Donna's shoulders sag and his eyes lose that vibrancy. "You give, I take and I give, you take. My body, my mind—you have it all."

Harry can't bring himself to reply, so Louis leaves. As he gathers his thoughts, he stands.

"I couldn't help but overhear all that,"

Harry keeps his eyes set on the door, fists clenched at his sides. He feels his rings dig into his skin.

"You know, he is meticulous. It's a little foolish to think he's only in this game for you. You seem to forget there is a criminal under that grace and elegance. A criminal who can lie, cheat, and sabotage. A criminal who can destroy you and everything you love."

With a deep breath, Harry slowly turns. Aria is standing by the table, finishing off his drink.

"Ma Reine is of pint point precision and he has your mind on a silver dish. Ever hear about people hating what they do best—the best cheaters hate cheaters and the ones who hate liars, are the best liars." Aria's accent rings, soaking into Harry's brain. He was planting a seed. "And Ma Reine despises liars."

Harry can't take it, he reaches into his holster and yanks out his gun. He aims, dead set between Aria's brown eyes. His finger on the trigger, anger bubbling over.

The cocky man only laughs. "You can control a lot of things, Monsieur Harry, even your instinct to put a bullet through my skull, but you can't control your fear—of the truth, of your lover, and the future. And that will be the end of you."

NOTE: my my, it's been a while. I've not got a clue why this chapter has been nearly completed in my drafts for weeks but here it is. I hope you all enjoyed it. any thoughts ?