L.S. one shots

Chasing You

The patting of his black, rubber boots on the wet pavement echoes in his head. White puffs of condense leave his mouth with every heavy breath, his lungs working hard. He keeps going though, his job being one of the most important things for him. He's worked years for this, for the job, and because of the moral idea of safety for everyone. He won't let any criminal escape.

A quite small but very fast man is running about twenty metres in front of him, black shoes, pants and a black sweater and balaclava making it harder to see him, fading the contrast with the black night sky.

He sees him though, and he is determined to catch him. His colleagues are following them too, but another hundred metres after him, them having split up until he was the first to see the fleeing figure and start chasing it.

As they follow the pavement and run along an incredibly high fence, the officer's eyes widen when the criminal tries to turn right and enter the property through an open gate but slips. The man tumbles to the ground painfully hard, even hitting his head against a sharp, stone part of the gate. Harry runs faster, partly wishing the man will stay on the ground but also hoping he isn't wounded crucially. He holds back a grunt of frustration when the man does move again and scrambles up onto his feet, only to start running again.

The motivated officer has closed up on him though, and turns through the same gate. They're entering a vacant real estate, earth and stones mixed in the crumbling concrete of the foundations of an old factory building, only a few heavy concrete walls and pillars remaining.

He notices he's closing up on the smaller man, which makes him run even faster, knowing he will catch up if he can keep up his speed. Maybe it's because of his head, or maybe the criminal also hurt a leg in his fall, but when he slaloms between the thick, brick and concrete walls, the officer knows he's got him.

He's only a few metres away now, and the criminal still seems fit, but the many turns he's making are slowing him down while the agent's rubber boots give him the advantage of not slipping on the crumbled floor. They run one more turn, when the officer is suddenly able to grasp the guy's sweater sleeve. He drags him back against the wall they're behind, hiding them from the sight off all the other police agents, and holds his grip in the fabric on the criminal's shoulder as he uses his other hand to yank the balaclava from the smaller man's head. A shocked breath leaves his lips and his hard demeanour loosens immediately as their eyes lock.

"Louis?!"

He's beyond shocked, his heart seemingly standing still.

"Since when do you work in the field?" Louis' voice is cold and monotonous, as is his face, though the balls of his cheek are contrasting red against his pale skin, light scruff visible and hair sticking in every possible way because of the yanked off balaclava, almost hiding the deep, bleeding cut from his temple all the way towards his eyebrow. But Harry knows those eyes. His blue personal diamonds, those once ocean-like sparkles, radiating life and mischief.

They're dull.

"Louis... we- we broke up three bloody years ago."

The man just keeps staring at him, head backtracked against the wall as Harry holds him with two hands by his sweater, almost lifting him a little in anger and shock. The second he sees how harsh he's holding his ex-boyfriend and realises he must be hurting him, he lets his fingers loosen in the fabric. His gaze shifts to the wound and he lightly brushes away the hair covering it and sticking to the blood, which is still dripping down the side of his face.

"Jesus, your head. We have to get that checked." He whispers the last part, almost to himself as he knows he's only pushing back the thoughts that really matter right now.

Louis. The man he's been chasing around for a year is Louis, and he finally caught him. It's been three years since he's seen him. Their eyes lock, Harry's hands still on his sweater and by the wound. Something shifts in Louis' eyes, and Harry only has a second to frown, wondering what's going on in his head, before Louis grips the open sides of his police jacket, pulling him against himself so both of them are plastered against the wall.

Harry doesn't know how, or why, and he can't wrap his head around it at first, when Louis kisses him.

Hard.

Harry wants to pull back, he really does. But he only finds himself messily kissing back, his arms settling around Louis' thin waist, pressing their bodies together.

Louis is a criminal.

Harry's kissing a criminal, while his colleagues are looking for them only a few hundred metres away. He's breaking a fucking law. But still he can't find it in himself to stop. He's missed his boy so much.

One of Louis' hands disappears in his hair, gently tugging on the now shorter curls. Though it started heavily, their tender touches slow everything down, the kiss gaining intimacy. Their lips meld together and a light whimper leaves Louis' throat when their tongues meet. Harry can only pull Louis closer, arms tightening around his thin waist.

Louis breathes heavy through his nose, nibbling on Harry's lower lip before he turns them around swiftly, pushing the officer into he wall. They breathe in each others space for a few seconds, Harry softly stroking Louis' cheek before they're kissing again.

"Louis," Harry tries to speak, interrupting the kiss but Louis just shuts him up with his lips, kissing him harder. "Louis, I-"

Suddenly, Louis grips Harry's jacket tight, something glinting in his eye though Harry doesn't know what, before he slams the boy into the wall. Harry is dumbfounded, especially when his head hits the concrete hard. He groans in pain and rubs the back of his head, trying to get back to his senses when he hears footsteps.

He quickly opens his eyes to see Louis running away, starting to chase him he shouts, "Louis, stop it! Stop!

The shorter boy starts to climb the fence on the end of the property. Behind it lies the smallest part of town, a maze of thin winding roads and dark allies. Louis grew up there, he knows these streets. There is no way Harry will catch him again if he manages to get there.

Louis is turning over the top of the fence when Harry arrives, boots scraping as he stops running. He pulls his weapon, shakily pointing it at the boy and yells, "Stop right now! Come back down on this side of the fence, Louis."

The boy's breath can be seen in the cold night air. Louis holds still for a second, looking at the officer before he eyes his weapon, pointed at him, and returns his gaze to Harry's eyes. "You won't shoot me."

Harry hates that he knows he's right. He isn't even allowed to shoot, since Louis isn't armed or forming a threat at all. But mostly, he knows he could never get it over his heart to shoot Louis, even if he knows the boy would be okay in the end, even if it was just a flesh wound to stop him. He could never hurt his boy.

He loves Louis too much for that.

So, Harry takes shaky breaths and gasps when Louis lets himself fall down, hitting the ground with a groan and a hiss.

"Lou! Are you okay?" Harry gasps again and grabs the fence, fingers aching over the metal, face almost pressed against it.

Louis groans lightly again as he stands up, wiping the dirt off his hands and already filthy cloths. Harry's breath hitches when Louis looks up and there are tears shining in his bright blue eyes. His face is still cold and emotionless, though, as Harry whispers "Louis, please, don't do this to yourself."

But Louis turns away and starts running anyway, limping into one of the alleys until Harry can't see him anymore. Harry can only watch as the boy disappears behind the corner, remembering the look of pain he saw on his face just before he turned around. If it was because of his foot, or because of the situation with Harry, he doesn't know. He knows that the hurt in his own heart comes from seeing the love of his life running away from him.

~~~

Chasing You

Another dramatic one, hope you liked it!

You know where to find me.

xxx