Let's Roll- Larry Stylinson

Chapter I

A man is on a train, strutting through the aisles of each train car as he passes. Two men join him each time he steps into a new car. By the end of his trek, he has eight men following him. He bypasses the four colonial cars, people knowing straight away this man is different. If the men on his tail aren't enough, then the clothes he wears are another sign of his superiority. He wears a suit tailored to his body, immaculate and of fine quality. His face is covered by the shadow of his hat, as well as his hair which drapes around the sides, not a soul daring to look closer.

He makes it as far as the coach car, stopping a moment to give those who were staring a smirk. They immediately turn their head away, the man shaking his head as he enters. The coach car isn't as crowded as the rest of the train as it is reserved for those of a higher status. A few pairs of eyes wander his way and they linger for a moment as they take in his position. Everyone knows the kind of person he is, though not his name.

Women admire his body and men scowl at his presence, the man not paying them any mind as he continues on. He eventually stops, hand coming up to stop the men behind him. He reaches into his pocket to grab some keys, handing them out to each pair of men that tagged along. They scatter through the car until the man is alone. Grabbing his own key, the man unlocks his train cabin door. The passing scenery blurs at the window, open area as far as the eye can see. The man stops to appreciate the view, momentarily forgetting why he's here. When he does remember, he heaves a sigh.

Business has been great for him, so great that he can afford luxurious that many others don't have the opportunity to even achieve. Money flies in by the barrel, the high demand in this day and age so strong. He still doesn't understand why the law banned liquor when so many people want it. Though along with it, came his chance at money and lots of it. He's making more money than he was when he was a farmer. Living this life is far better than the life he lived before.

"Mr. Styles." The man's gaze stations itself over to the pair at his door. "There's a stowaway in our cabin." The man raises a brow, following after the men as they guide him to their cabin. Upon opening the door, his eyes search the room, stopping when they land on the pillowed platform. An unrecognizable man rests on it, eyes closed in slumber. His soft collared shirt is hanging half of his body- probably from the heat in the room- and his slacks are bunched around his ankles. This man is not a part of his 'group' so it's in his best interest to rid the room of this man. Yet, something about this man has him hesitating for a moment, taking a minute to study his face.

Further inspection reveals that this supposed man isn't that manly at all. His boyish face goes along well with his tiny body, curvy and slender spread out on the bed. His hair is long and fanned around his head in soft tuffs that he wants to reach out and touch. He does touch, tapping on the strange man's head and then his shoulder. The man stirs, eyes blinking open until they focus on the people in front of him. It takes a moment for the man to realize what's happening and by then the two men who were flanked around Mr. Styles have already got a hold of each of the man's arms.

"Lollygagger." Mr. Styles hums, the man gulping as he cast glances over both his shoulders at the two men. "What shall we do with him, boys?" The man shakes his head furiously, trying to free from the hold.

"Please, Mister. I mean no harm. Just wanted a rest is all. Please, let me go." It's evident in his voice how desperate this man is to be set free. Mr. Styles, however, has no desire to set this man free.

"Afraid I can't do that." The boy cries out, sobs wracking his tiny frame as the men apply more pressure on his biceps. "Bring him to my cabin." The two men do as told, lifting the boy off the ground with ease. They carry him to his chamber, tossing him onto the floor as they enter. Mr. Styles closes the door behind them as they exit, turning back to the boy who has his eyes directed at the floor.

"Where you headed?" The man stays silent. Mr. Styles is not one for being ignored. He bends down to reach eye level with the man, forcing eyes contact. "I asked you a question, boy."

"Anywhere. I'm running away." Mr. Styles raises a brow, realizing that his assumptions were right on the money about the boy being young.

"How old are you?" Silence, again. He's just about to shout at the boy for annoying him when he lifts his head, his blue eyes shy as he maintains his gaze.

"Seventeen, I'll be turning eighteen in two months."

"Young one aren't you." He teases. The boy huffs, crossing his arms as he glares at the older man.

"My age isn't going to stop me from hitting the working scene."

"You think the real world is easy?" Mr. Styles tuts as he stands, no longer looking at the boy. "Let me tell you something, boy, the real world ain't such a fun place."

"Better than living on the streets, trying to make a cent day to day. I just want to get out of town, find a steady job somewhere, and get good pay." Mr. Styles considers his words, wheels turning as he thinks about what this boy wants. The boy says he wants some dough, something Mr. Styles has. The likely hood of this kid getting a job is so-so, but when the kid has no resources, well, he can only go so far.

"What would you even do, boy? I bet you got no experience as a working man." The boy gets to his feet, trying to out dominate Mr. Styles. Not much he can do when he's almost a whole foot shorter.

"I'm up for any job they give me." Mr. Styles smirks at his choice of words, looming over the boy until they reach the end of the cabin. The boy's body collides with the wall of the train. He gulps. Mr. Styles further invades his space.

"Anything?" The boy doesn't miss a beat.

"Anything." He's all bark not bite, Mr. Styles can tell. He might put off a strong front, but as he stares into his eyes, the hint of vulnerability shines through and Mr. Styles feels his heart shift with regret for the poor kid.

"Look kid, you won't get very far in this world without some friends. Why don't you stick with me for a while?" The boy maintains his previous glare, arms tightening in their crossed state.

"Why should I?" Mr. Styles smiles, a gleam in his eye as he places his arm around the boy's shoulders.

"I'm a very important man. I can help you get any job you want." The boy still frowns, considering this man's words. He does really need a job, but is staying with this man really worth his while?

"I don't know." Mr. Styles is not the kind of man he is if not for his charm. He easily slips his arm from around the boy's shoulders, dropping it gracefully down the boy's arm until he holds his hand. He lightly connects his lips to the back of his hand, glancing up at the boy whose cheeks have turned a few shades darker.

"I promise you a good time." The boy carefully retracts his hand, studying the man before him. The way he holds himself, the clothes he wears, and the cocky smile on his handsome face. Something about him screams 'no good doer 'and yet the boy finds himself intrigued. What is it about this man that makes him so appealing?

"A couple of days won't hurt, but only a couple of days." Mr. Styles nods, determined to get the boy to change his mind by the end of these couple of days.

"Very well. I should formally introduce myself then. Styles, Harry Styles." Harry waits for the boy to say his name. He's looking at Harry cautiously as if he isn't sure if he should trust him. Harry would advise him against it. He hasn't been very trustworthy for a long time.

"Louis, Louis Tomlinson." With introductions out of the way, Harry tells Louis to sit and relax, they still have some time to go before they reach New York.