Mask {Larry AU}

ᴘʜᴀsᴇ Ձ - Bєʛʛɪɲɪɲʛ

[Please take the time to vote; would really mean alot x]

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The moon was dyed red that day. The night mellow and silent except for the sound of sirens that approached the dead carcass. The slight chatters of the many approach all but hushed. Harry frowned, approaching the spot with an iPad clutched at one hand, eyes blank and unreadable. They knew how his position extended, so all they could do was speculate, eyeing him with fearsome eyes. Harry of course just remained with the regular silent and composed look, ignoring the many rumors floating around as he got closer.

"Nick Grimshaw, Age 23, time of death 3:02 am. Found wandering the streets with blood already spilling from his pelvis area, 6 broken ribs, prominent signs of physical abuse with with 2 black eyes clearly evident in both eyes, bruising starts from cheekbones till all down to genital areas. 4 missing fingers on his right arm. Death notably brutal, murderer and cause unknown."

"Did he by any chance have anything with him before he.." Harry paused for dramatic effect. "passed?" each of the caregivers eyed each other, exchanging wary glances before one spoke up to reply. "Uh, he held a satchel with his free hand sir. May I ask wh---" a hand covered the woman's shoulder and the person shook his head to the lady, automatically handing the bag to Harry with no protest or question; just pliant. "Thank you." Harry murmured, slinging the bag softly against his shoulder and heading towards his slick black Audi r8. "Mr.Styles." the man from earlier calls out, making Harry pause from his spot, not even bothering to turn around.

"I-Is that enough to compensate f-for the debt sir?" the man asks shakily, the man's forehead glazed with obvious perspiration as he awaited for Harry's response. "It's not my place to say whether or not it payed for your daughter's operation, but I'd say you're on your way." Harry says nonchalantly, not caring if the man thanked him like a god sent down to earth, cause in truth, he wasn't and yet the man still praised him and such. Harry knew he was a bad person with blood-stained hands enough for a trail to lead its way to him no matter how many good deeds he may have done or didn't. Either way they all just end up the same place after they die, so what was the point of the many prevention and precautionary measures endure day-by-day to lengthen their lives only to have their efforts either futile or minimal chance of survival and wasted by something as simple as chemotherapy, eventhough you had at least 3 weeks to live before passing on? Don't make him laugh.

Harry groaned, slightly slumping his head at the wheel inside his car, bumping it slightly with one hand rested on the wheel and the other at his lap. It only took a moment for him to get his act together, but Harry does anyways. A frown etched on his lips, the car roared to life with a press of a button and soon, Harry was gone from the crime scene with nothing but empty stares from behind to mark of his existence as he makes his way back to both his home base and safety house.

All thoughout the ride, Harry drove in silence. It wasn't that he had preferred the quietness, it was just he felt that he needed to feel like himself for a few moments to get his act together. Even if Harry did not show it, he mourned just a bit for the older lad. Him and Nick were acquaintances when Harry wanted-- needed someone to talk to other than his friend Zayn's crazy antics and that if he needed to get wasted or mildly high, Nick had always provided him enough substance to last him all night if he needed to get himself together or if he just wanted to feel cloud 9, it still applies either way.

With a slight acknowledgement of several security protocols, Harry finally was able to relax as he pulled up his designated parking space underground, only taking a brief pause to breathe before he got out his car, slamming the door close, not even bothering to check if it was opened or not.