Chapter Text
Harry Styles had everything he could ever want: an amazing job, more money than he knew what to do with, throngs of men and women at his feet. So when City Hall released a statement notifying everyone that they had to register with their soulmates, he was rolling his eyes. Soulmate. Something that was fairly new. Soulmates had only been in the history books for the past few hundred years, so people were still trying to get the hang of it. From what he's read, back then, if you met your soulmate, that was that. You either chose to be with them and be happy, or be with the one you truly loved and suffer.
Sort of poetic, you know, if he believed in that shit. Not only was it the stupidest thing to come out of the history books, the thought of being tied down to someone literally repulsed him. He couldn't stand waking up with his one-night-stands still in his bed, so how could he possibly do that every day with some fate appointed person? Not to mention that it would ruin his reputation as a playboy. He happened to like having many affairs within the week. It gave him something to do.
So imagine his surprise when he met his soulmate.
-
Although it was beginning to get cold, eighteen year old Louis Tomlinson had it covered. His little home was tucked away in an abandoned crevice underneath a bridge. It was far away from the road, so people couldn't see him and poke fun, and no one else knew it was there, so he was safe at night. The last thing he needed was for someone to beat him up and steal everything he owned. The last time wasn't so fun.
He stretched a big black garbage bag over the thick cardboard floor of his makeshift house. It was the second plastic layer he's added, mainly because he knew that with the cold came the damp and frosty. He tucked the edges into the corners of the box and spread out the ratty wool blanket he'd swiped from the lost and found at the local homeless shelter. He was thankful that it had been washed first, amongst the other clothing he'd taken.
With the wool blanket down, the box became cozier. He liked feeling cozy. It was one of the best feelings in the world to him. He felt...safe, like he was wrapped up tightly in someones arms. That was a feeling that he'd never had, though. But, he managed. On top of the wool blanket, he laid out another one. It was a bit thicker, but not as thick as the one he covered up with at night. His most prized possession was the thick, cashmere throw blanket he'd found in a warehouse dumpster. It had a large red stain on it, and he assumed that's why it was thrown away, but a quick zap in the washer at the laundromat took care of the majority of the stain. Now it was just a faded pink.
He folded the throw and put it next to his lumpy pillow. It was time to focus on organizing his stash of things. He was always reorganizing his things. It made him feel like he had his life together. So, he started by making sure the two sweaters he owned were folded up neatly and away from the ground. He didn't want to take the chance of them getting wet. He usually put them in a plastic bag, but he hadn't been to the market yet to get some, so he just put them on top of his pillow for now.
In his backpack is where he kept all of his food. He'd accumulated quite the little stash, and it made him proud. He didn't steal any of it. His few bottles of water were on the bottom, providing a bed for some granola bars and a plastic jar of peanut butter. On top of that, he had a box of crackers and a bag of trail mix. On top of that, he had some cans of tuna, a few bruised apples and oranges, a can of nuts, and a silver package of a breakfast strudel. He was careful about what he ate and how much he ate. He didn't have a lot of money and he would like to keep what he did have.
It was easy to get cheap things. Early in the morning, after he showered at the local gym, he'd go and search for newspapers. Sometimes, there would be grocery store ads offering some items for cheap and there would be coupons. He would always double up the coupons and make an item even cheaper, sometimes free. He always got toothpaste and some cheap shaving gel for free.
There was a catch, though. Most business were strictly hybrid-free, so Louis would have to cover up his ears. He hated having them covered, and he hated wearing the stupid beanie on his head, but it was how he survived. When he was all dressed for the cold November weather, he gathered his coupons and his little change purse and headed out. He always went to the same cheap market, which was oddly placed right next to a massive, lavish record building. Well, sort of. They were separated by an alleyway. Louis never saw anyone go in or out of the record building, which was weird, but he assumed everyone inside was working so hard.
When he arrived at the market, he waved to the woman behind the desk. Her name was Greta and she knew that he was a hybrid and she knew that he wasn't very street-smart, but she didn't mind. She loved him anyway.
"Good morning, Louis!" She greeted, walking over to the little coffee machine. She always gave him a free hot chocolate when he came in. She hated the way he shivered.
"Mornin'," Louis grinned at her. He grabbed his green shopping basket and began to peruse the aisles. He picked up some more trail mix, this time getting one with more M&M's than raisins. He had a sweet tooth. "Where baby?"
Greta smiled warmly and walked with him through the aisle. "She's at home. I think she's feeling a bit sick."
"Oh no!" Louis gasped. "She sick? That bad."
Greta nodded. "Tell me about it. Poor dear. I think that she wanted to come in and see you today though."
Louis' face lit up. He loved babies, and he wanted to have so many of them. "Baby see Louis?" He asked happily. "Louis want to see baby, but not when sick."
"That's right. I don't want you getting sick." Greta patted his shoulder.
Louis shook his head and put another box of crackers in his basket. He had a coupon for them. "Louis not like bein' sick." He became a whiny mess when he was sick. He hated having a sore throat, runny nose, and a high fever. He hated even more the fact that he had no one to take care of him.
Greta shook her head and made her way over to the bread and pastry section. There was a glass case of things she baked and put out to sell. "Of course not." She popped open a box and pulled out a loaf of bread and a few muffins. "Here, love. You need something hearty in you."
Louis shook his head. "Louis not have a coupon for that." He said. "But thank anyway."
"No, Louis." She put the box into his basket. "Really. No one buys day old bread and muffins." That was a lie. She'd just put them out this morning. But, she knew that Louis needed something homemade and good in his system. Something other than canned food or processed junk.
"If Greta is sure?" He asked, peering up at her.
She smiled warmly at him. "I'm sure." She said. "Now, lets get you all checked out. There's a cold front moving in and I want you home before that happens."
They walked up to the counter together and Greta began ringing him up, tossing in a few discounts here and there. She had a soft spot for the sweet, uneducated, homeless hybrid. She treated him as if he were her own son. When she was done ringing him up, she made sure to give him a few extra plastic grocery bags. She knew he needed them.
"Oh!" She said, handing him his hot chocolate. "I bought this for my husband but it's rather small on him. I figured I'd see if you wanted it before I took it back." She held out a fleece-lined rain coat. It was a dark green and looked awfully warm. Louis slid it on happily.
"Oh! It so warm!" Louis wrapped the coat around himself tighter. "Greta sure me can have?"
"Of course you can, love." She nodded. "Now, off you go. I'll see you tomorrow?"
Louis nodded and waved to her. "Yes!" He pushed the door open with his hip and left the store. With his new coat, he couldn't feel the chill in the air. He'd never worn anything so warm in his life. He walked down the sidewalk in a great mood, but it was quickly shattered. As soon as he took a short cut through the alley, something he always did, a fire-exit door opened up. It didn't even touch him. But what did touch him was the brick of a man he ran into, spilling his hot drink down.
"Fuck!" The man shouted loudly, which hurt Louis' ears. He cowered back.
"Louis sorry!" He cried, patting at the mans white shirt. Well, brown shirt now.
"Don't fucking touch me." The man spat.
Louis' head snapped up. He'd never heard such anger come from one single person. He searched the face of the angry man, and it was a beautiful face. Strong nose, smooth skin, red lips, a jaw line that could cut glass, and angry green eyes.
"Louis so sorry." He said again. "Maybe me can clean for you?" He offered, gesturing to the shirt.
"I said," The man snarled, jerking away from Louis. "Don't fucking touch me."
The door behind them opened up again and another man came out. This one was taller than Louis but not as tall as the angry stranger. He had dark hair and gorgeous eyes. He grabbed the stranger's elbow. "The car's here, Harry. Let's go." Then, he saw his shirt. "What the hell happened?"
"This fucking idiot wasn't watching where he was going." The man, now known as Harry, clipped, glaring at Louis.
"Louis say sorry," Louis reminded Harry. "So sorry. Did not mean to run into you."
Harry rolled his eyes. "Whatever. You owe me a new shirt. What is your name?"
"Louis' name is Louis." Louis replied quietly.
"Your last name, you fucking idiot." Harry growled.
"Think it Tomlinson," Louis said in a quivering voice. He hated being called stupid. He wasn't stupid.
Harry froze. The man froze. Louis was confused until Harry reached out and pushed Louis back. "Go away." Harry snarled. "Go the fuck away and if I see you around here again I'll have you arrested."
Louis didn't have to be told twice. He turned on his heel and ran out of the alley and down the street. He didn't stop running until he reached his little home. He crawled inside and close the makeshift door before curling up on his blankets. He let out a few lonely sniffles and closed his eyes. He wasn't stupid.
-
As soon as Louis was out of sight, Harry sighed and composed himself. He turned to his best friend Zayn and shrugged. "Could you get me a new shirt?"
Zayn gave him a skeptical look. "Sure. I'll get one that exposes the LT on your inner bicep."
Harry glared at his friend. "Not the time, Zayn." He warned. Never would be a more correct estimate. It would never be the time to discuss the tattoo. In fact, after that little meeting, he wanted to get it covered up.
Zayn followed him when he began walking towards the waiting car. "Harry, honestly. Did nothing even change?"
Harry shrugged and slid into the sleek black town car. Zayn followed, slamming the door. "What do you mean?" Harry asked, purposely confused.
"Don't give me that shit." Zayn growled, reaching forward to the little minibar. He pulled out a tall, thin bottle of lemon water and cracked the lid off. "I know that you felt the connection. That boy's your soulmate."
Harry snapped his head towards Zayn. He had fire in his eyes. "I don't believe in soulmates, nor do I have one." He growled. "The whole thing is stupid and irresponsible."
Zayn furrowed his brows and pulled out his phone. He was going to do some research. "How is it irresponsible?"
Harry sighed and twisted the many rings he had around his long fingers. "The thought of spending the rest of your life with one single person?" He said, staring out the window. Of course, like some cliche movie, there were many couples walking hand in hand down the sidewalk. It was infuriating. "Protecting them? Building a life and family with them? It's...it's madness."
"You prefer your little one-night stands?" Zayn asked, shaking his head at his friends stupidity. "Having to pay them off to keep them from going to the press?"
"Listen, Zayn," Harry turned towards his friend. "Don't push it. I like a variety, and that's something I'd never get with the same person everyday. Just drop it."
Zayn didn't say anything else. He was going to drop it, for now, only because his google search of Louis Tomlinson stunned him. Usually, an online petition with their signature would pop up or even an email address, but nothing. He stared at the white page for awhile, trying to comprehend it.
Your search - Louis Tomlinson - did not match any documents.