Delinquent - L.S.

Twenty Eight

Ty and Harry ended up at Zayn's flat, the only safe yet central location they could agree on. Ty was lounging on the couch, feet propped up on the table before him as though he'd been here a million times. Harry was standing before him with his arms crossed and his foot tapping.

"Oi, I've gotta go. I have work. Make sure you lock the door when you leave," Zayn called out, the raven haired boy walking through the room towards the front door. He didn't bother to spare at glance at either of the guests in his flat.

"We will," Harry replied. He turned his full attention to Ty, a curious look on his face. In his best interrogative voice, he asked, "So who are you?"

Ty looked taken aback. "What? Ty Tomlinson. We went over this," he retorted with raised eyebrows, reaching to grab a cigarette off the table. He had the same kind of sarcastic conversational style as Louis.

Harry shook his head. "I mean, why did Louis never tell me about you? He said he'd told me everything," he further explained, rolling his eyes.

Ty shrugged awkwardly. "He never really knew me. He was probably only four when I ran, I was ten. Maybe eleven? I don't remember. And I don't think he'd remember either, I don't even think he'd be able to pick me out in a sea of faces," he said, voice even and face deadpanned. "I got out of there and I went to stay with a friend of mine. They were better off than us money wise, and their dad wasn't a psycho heroin whore. It was good. I went to school, joined the service, got injured, got discharged and now I'm here."

"How do you know Zayn?" Harry asked softly, moving to sit on the couch beside Ty. He wasn't sure if he believed everything the boy was saying, but he knew that Ty was sincere to some extent.

Ty sat up a little straighter and cleared his throat. "He was friends with Louis before I left, I knew him. He was like my second little brother. I ran into him a few years back and I remembered the name. Zayn Malik isn't exactly an everyday guy, you know? We talked over a beer and some smokes and I made him promise not to say anything to Louis," he nonchalantly rambled. He never lit the cigarette that he'd picked up, he just looked at it for a moment and tossed it back onto the table.

"Oh," Harry mumbled, mind racing with thoughts.

"So, what have they got on Louis? They really think he killed somebody?" Ty asked, eyes tired. He licked his chapped lips before bringing his fingers to his mouth, biting nervously on his nails.

"How do you even know about that?"

Ty rolled his eyes now, stifling a pitiful laugh. "I watch the news, Harry. It's not exactly a secret," he answered.

Harry let out a resigned sigh and squeezed Zayn's couch pillow to his chest. "A witness saw him leave Cheryl Cole's flat right before they found her body," he replied, answering the previous question.

"There's no way Louis would do something like that," Ty shook his head definitively. "I don't even know who he grew up to be, but I know he's my brother. My brother isn't a killer."

Harry frowned slightly. "Louis is going to need support and bail money," he pointed out. He wondered if Ty had any cash lying around. He didn't know who this guy was, aside from the basic story he'd been told, and Harry didn't know if Ty would be any help.

"You from London? You should hit up your rich friends," Ty replied. He sounded as though he already knew where Harry was going with this conversation. "You think I'd be hanging around here if I had that kind of money?"