Harry whistled happily to himself as he made his usual walk through Central Park, it was dark and late at night, past midnight and too be honest he wasn't sure of why he was here but he knew that he just needed to think. He and Zayn had been traveling home from the warehouse when he had told Zayn to go on ahead as he just needed a moment. Zayn glanced at him wearily and told him to be careful because the Bacchini men were still out to get him, Harry hated this, he hated when Zayn got all sappy and worried for him and so he rolled his eyes and told Zayn to stop being ridiculous, if the Bacchini men actually thought they stood a chance against him, the Harry Styles, then they were insanely stupid. At least that's what Harry thought, everyone else around him was not blinded by their ego and could actually see the Italian mafia for the threat that they were.

Harry had been walking for awhile when he noticed a familiar figure stumbling around drunkenly in the dark, unable to walk or stand straight. Harry squinted his eyes and walked closer to the figure, and then it hit him. At first his blood boiled with anger and his hands balled into fists but then a deadly smirk came to play and that familiar feeling of euphoria flowed through his body as he knew he was about to hurt somebody. The man who had assaulted Aurelie in central park all those weeks ago was now standing in front of him and Harry decided he was going to give Aurelie a gift, out of the kindness of his heart, he was going to take care of this sorry excuse of a man and make sure couldn't hurt Aurelie again. 

"Hello," Harry greeted the drunk man, hands behind his back as he rocked back forth on his heels with excitement, Aurelie was going to love this surprise. The man looked up at him, eyes droopy, a lethargic smile on his face.

"Eh, what do you want?" He asked, swaying in his stance.

"I'm feeling quite thirsty, would you share some of your drink with me?" Harry asked, and the man looked between him and the glass bottle in the brown paper bag he was holding.

"You want this? It's strong stuff, you think you can handle it?" He slurred, laughing as he handed Harry the bottle.

"Oh, I'm hoping it is." Harry said and before either of them knew it, Harry brought the bottle up and slammed it hard against the man's skull, the bottle exploding and the liquor pouring all over him and the man as he fell to the floor unconscious. "Shit, look what you've done, it's all over my hands now." Harry grumbled, annoyed, as he wiped his hand on his expensive suite before bending down to observe the man. "Strong stuff indeed." He whispered before getting up and dragging the man towards his car. He used his belt to tie his hands together before letting out a puff of air as he used all his strength to hoist the large man up and into the trunk of the car. With a satisfied smile, he closed the boot of his car and walked towards the drivers seat with a little skip in his step.

Maybe we can
Find a place to feel good
And we can treat people with kindness
Find a place to feel good

Harry's fingers tapped against the steering wheel as he hummed along to the joyous tune of the British artist that was playing through the radio, the sound of the beat muffling out the screams and cries for help coming from the trunk. Harry smiled, raising the volume as he sang along to his favourite song. 

And we can treat people with kindness
Find a place to feel good

By the time Harry had driven into the large compound of  his home, the screams had stopped and the song was finished. With a pout, he turned off the radio and parked the car in a secluded, dark part of his large garden, shrouded by thick forestry, giving Harry the privacy he needed, not that he really cared if anyone saw. He opened the trunk and punching the man square in the face before he could say anything, rendering him unconscious, again. He then quickly went to his shed to grab a bucket and some rope before getting to work, tying the rope around the man's ankles and then around a branch of a tree, hoisting up so he was hanging upside down from the branch. 

"Eh, eh what's going on? What do you think you are doing?" The man stammered as he slowly regained consciousness and Harry smiled as he flicked his pocket knife, bending down to look the man in the eyes.

"I'm going to kill you." Harry said with a devious smile, and the man's eyes widened, his drunken state replaced with a sudden sobriety.

"Wh-what!" The man spluttered as he began wiggling around in his bound state, trying to escape. But the movement only caused him to start swinging back and forth, head inches from the ground.

"I'd stop doing that if I were you, the rope will break and you'll come crashing down to the ground, head first, breaking your neck and resulting in your death regardless. And that would be a complete waste of my time and effort." Harry pointed out with a shrug as the man began hyperventilating. 

"Why! Why do you want to kill me? I don't know you, you don't know me!"

"What's your name?" Harry asked.

"C-carl." He stammered and Harry rolled his eyes, of course he was called Carl, a creepy name for a creepy guy. 

"Well, Carl. Do you remember waking up a few weeks ago, your dick probably hurting like a mother fucker?" Carl looked at Harry with a confused expression before slowly nodding.

"Well, that's because you tried to assault a girl, my girl, and luckily she was able to protect herself but she's blind, maybe she won't get so lucky next time. I have to do this to protect her." Harry explained with a small shrug as if what he said made perfect sense.

"Please, I was drunk, I'd never do that to a girl, especially if she were blind. I'm sorry! It was a lapse of judgement. I'm sorry!" The man pleaded desperately, getting light headed from being upside down for so long, the blood rushing to his head.

"No can do, sorry mate, I'm doing you a favour too be honest. You're a miserable excuse of a human, a menace to society and I'm doing everyone a solid by getting rid of you."

"Please." The man continued to beg and Harry, getting bored with all this and now eager to head inside, flicked his pocket knife open and slit the man's throat with ease, small drops of blood splattering against his clothes. The man coughed and gargled, suffocating as he tried to breath, before he finally closed his eyes and fell limp, dead. Blood spurted out the  wound and Harry quickly but the bucket underneath him before slitting his wrists to get as much blood as possible. He took several steps back and sat on a bench as he pulled out a cigarette, smoking and humming quietly to himself as he waited thirty minutes to get as much blood out of the man as possible. When the bucket was filled, he grabbed it and began walking towards his mansion, smiling as he simultaneously made a special call, tonight was good night and he was in the mood for celebrating.

As he carried the bucket into the mansion, giddy with joy, he stopped to tell his cleaning staff that there was a mess in the garden to be taken care of.

"What kind of mess sir?" Charlotte, his head maid, had asked, looking down at her feet timidly.

"Get the professionals to do it." He answered and her eyes widened, hands trembling fear before she nodded and scurried away. Harry then quickly jogged up his grand stair case, practically running through the large hallway of his mansion to knock excitedly on Zayn's door.

"What?" Zayn grumbled as he opened the door, not expecting to see such a happy Harry.

"Zayn!" Harry exclaimed happily before entering his friend's room, still carrying the blood. "I need a massive favour from you."

"What is it?" Zayn asked as he looked wearily at the bucket in Harry's hands.

"I need you to make a painting for me, it has to be beautiful, special just overall amazing, can you do that?" Harry asked, although that was a stupid question. Harry knew that Zayn was a talented artist, something he had known since the time, all those years ago, when they were living on the streets, fighting everyday to survive. Zayn painting exquisite designs on the back of newspapers, using crushed berries and flowers, toothpaste, whatever he could find. In another life, perhaps if he had never followed Harry down this path, he would have been a famous artist, but that was something Zayn could on dream of. 

"Sure?" Zayn answered, but it came out as more of a question because he knew there was more Harry wanted. 

"I also needed to have some sort of texture to it, I don't know, like some sort of a pattern that can be felt as obviously Aurelie can't see it." Zayn's raised his brows in surprise, surprise that Harry was being so thoughtful for a girl he hardly knew. This was very unlike Harry and Zayn didn't know whether to be worried or happy for this change in his friend.  "Oh! I almost forgot!" Harry passed the bucket of blood towards Zayn. "I need you to use this as paint." There he was, the sadistic and masochistic Harry Zayn knew and he looked at the bucket in his hands with disgust. Before Zayn could open his mouth to question him, Charlotte knocked on the door, timidly peeking her head through.

"Mr. Styles, Rose is here to see you." Zayn head snapped up at the sound of her name and he quickly followed Harry out the door where indeed, Rose was waiting for him.

"Good," Harry smiled, grabbing her hand and leading her towards him, looking back to see Zayn still standing there, gritting his teeth as he glared at his best friend's handing holding that of the girl he loved. "Zayn? What are you standing there for? Get to work!" Rose sent Zayn apologetic look before following Harry into his room, closing the door behind her. Zayn felt hot tears stream down his face while his fist clenched and unclenched themselves in anger, he wanted so bad to go in there and rip Harry off of her. He wanted to be the only man to touch her, he wanted to be the only one who could kiss her, hold her, and be with her. But he couldn't, and he wouldn't ever be because this was the life style she had chosen and Zayn didn't have the right to question it. As for Harry, he was oblivious to anyone or their feeling, all that mattered was himself and Zayn shouldn't have expected anything less than that from him. With a heavy and sad sigh, he retreated into his room, ready to paint the painting his friend wanted. Perhaps if Harry gained Aurelie's favour, he'd see no need to hire Rose, Zayn prayed that would be the case. 

He gritted angrily as he painted angry slashes of the blood against the canvas, doing everything he could to blot the sounds of pleasure and passion that could be heard from Harry's room. At this point he was sure, he was sure she was doing this on purpose to get a reaction out of him but then he pushed the thought aside, reminding him that this was just a job to her and she probably didn't feel the same for him as he did for her.

A/N: Damn, I feel for Zayn:( Tell me what you think and don't forget to vote !!!