A Run Away (A Louis Tomlinson fanfic)

This is a One Direction fan fiction.

Kim, age 19, runs away from her home in Doncaster, UK. She meets a young lad named Louis Tomlinson, who is from the band One Direction. She's not sure if she should stick with him and his band mates, or go her own separate ways. And... they might have something between them.


12. Detective

Louis opens the front door to our house. He sets me down on the couch, and my back is healed. I sit up. All the boys are there, watching TV. Louis turns it off. "What was that for?" Niall whines, laying back. 

"Guys," I say. "Louis and I just kinda... beat up Paul. He's um, unconscious." Zayn spits diet Coke all over the floor.

"What!?" exclaims Liam. Louis wraps his arm around my shoulder. He kisses my cheek and says, "Yeah. Paul was trying to break us apart, which he can't!" 

"Yeah but you can't just knock him out!" Harry says. He's hiding a cheeky smile.

I put my feet up on the table, knowing Lou and I made the right idea. 

"Well, he won't be bothering us again. I blackmailed him with the wife pregnancy thingy," I saw, popping a crisp into my mouth. I savor the sour cream and onion flavor as it slithers down my throat.

"Nice one," Zayn says. He laughs.

The home phone rings and Liam picks it up. "Hello?" he says, sitting up. I chomp on another crisp. "Yeah. Okay... Here." He hands the phone to me. "It's for you."

I grab the phone and put it up to my ear. "Who's this?"

"Hi. This is Detective Mooroes," spoke a male voice. Weird last name.

"Hi..." I say, kinda scared.

"I'm pretty sure, by my researches, you and someone else knocked out a hired, professional body guard  Is that right?"

Shoot. Okay just... that's not good. I swallow down a bunch of guilt.

"Yeah..." I barely whisper.

"Well," says Mooroes. "You do know that's considered illegal in Doncaster."


"Uh.." I stammer.

"Where do you live? asks the detective.

"I-I uh..." I say. I hang up and slap the phone onto the table. I whip my head to Louis, almost making me dizzy.

"Louis, we have to move," I say, putting my arms on his shoulders. His face is twisted up into a question mark.

"Wha-" he starts.


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