“Welcome to the world, 363.” A soft voice murmured, his tone deep but his words gentle. Like talking to a newborn.

“You talk to him as if he’s human.” Another spoke in disgust, walking closer to the young man in the white lab coat.

“He is, Jenkins. He’s created from the molecular structure of someone else. Despite your ass backwards opinion on the subject clones, 363 possess a soul. That makes him just as much a person as the rest of us. He’ll possess the ability to laugh, talk – everything we were taught to do.” Harry explained, his hand extending out and preening back Louis’s wet bangs from his eyes, letting him see the beautiful curly brunette in front of him, his green orbs staring into his own.

“That’s kindness. That’s how you show someone affection if you want them to know you care.” Harry smiled, his lips fully pouting while he pointed to them.

“This is a smile, it means you’re happy.” He went on but frowned, the other scientist butting in.

“For Christ sake, Harry. All the clones before have had cognitive issues due to the one we’re trying to clone being in a bloody coma. We had to destroy them, who isn’t to say this one is just plain empty? Do yourself a favor and stop getting attached to them. You get upset when we have to kill them, I suggest minimal interaction, Styles because you’re obviously not strong enough to handle putting the dogs down.” Jenkins huffed and walked away.

“We call people like him assholes.” Harry grumbled.

Louis moved his mouth, liking the sound of the word.

“A-ass-h-hole.” Louis tried, making Harry’s eyes go wide but after a moment of shock he smiled wide, turning to Jenkins.

“He’s not empty, he spoke! I believe we have success!” Harry beamed, making Jenkins return back to the pod of amniotic fluid that surrounded Louis, his body still laying pool deep in the stuff.

“Did he now?” Jenkins questioned, looking skeptical but Harry smiled and looked at Louis.

“Go on, now. Show Mr. Jenkins what you learned.” He instructed.

Louis only looked at the beautiful human being in front of him with the pretty green eyes.

“Asshole.” Harry repeated, making Louis understand.

“A-asshole.” He repeated with a half-smile, copying Harry’s facial expression.

Jenkins looked bemused.

“Very funny, Styles. Truly. Now, if you’re done using lamebrain here for petty insult games, I have a few experiments I’d like to condone myself if you don’t mind. These will determine if we stay on this project specifically or put him to sleep like the others. We have five other pods to open and his developmental structure doesn’t look promising. He’s short.” Jenkins observed, making Harry roll his eyes. Louis copied the motion, smiling.

“You’re short too but unlike 363, he’s not trying to overcompensate for something,” Harry shot back, becoming visibly angry. “We aren’t giving them enough time! He’s just out of the pod.” He pointed out, looking at the unopened oval pods with see through skin around the developing bodies.

“He very well maybe your only successful clone, Harry but I have a job to do to and I decide if 363 lives or dies. Get him out of that shit and get him cleaned up. I want him in the laboratory within the hour.” Jenkins ordered, walking away.

Harry flipped Jenkins off when his back was turned, making Louis copy the same gesture.

“It means fuck you in sign language.” Harry explained, sounding unhappy but reached out and let his hand linger on Louis’s cheek. “Listen to me carefully, okay? Jenkins will look for any excuse to pull the plug. Given the chance, he will kill you. You have to listen to him, okay? Nod if you understand.” Harry nodded, making Louis do the same thing.

Harry sighed and slowly helped Louis sit up from the fluid that had preserved his developing body.

Inside the all blue room held twenty-five pods. All but five remained unopened.

The pods were oval shaped and protected by thick skinned cocoons. Nothing else supported the structure but the flesh itself. In fact, the stuff had to be slit open by a special knife just to penetrate.

Louis stepped out of the pod unsteadily, falling to the ground like a baby giraffe. His legs unsteady and uncoordinated.

Harry chuckled in admiration before kneeling down.

“Alright, let’s see if we can’t get your land legs working, mate,” Harry suggested, looping his arm under Louis and meeting his eyes. “We’re going to stand back up and you will balance against me. I’m going to show you how to take your first steps. If you can manage that, we have success.” He told Louis brightly, helping the newly developed clone back onto his feet, his body weight prompted securely against the larger body.

Present Day

Louis shot up with a start and looked around the darkened room; the outlines of strewn clothes all over and silhouettes of furniture that sat unkempt was barely visible in the shadowed vastness but one that was easily familiar to him.

“Fuck a pheasant, what was that bloody dream about? No more beer and sweets before bed.” Louis questioned before deciding, his shaky legs throwing themselves over the edge of the bed and standing up.

He went walked across the room, tripping on a dumbbell in the process.

“Asshole!” He yelled, kicking the weight he original tripped on before howling in pain. “Oh my God, fuck a porcupine! That bloody hurt!” He growled, finally making it to the bathroom where he could splash some water on his face.

He cupped his hands under the water and let the fresh liquid waterfall from his hands a moment, his rich blue eyes staring back at him.

“Four years. I’ve had this Godforsaken dream for four years. There must be something more – something wrong.” Louis tried to reason with himself, his voice raspy.

Louis knew he was different, he always felt it but he remembered his happy childhood and memories from when he was only a lad. Playing in the rain, studying his homework, getting into trouble with his mates – the normal things kids do.

Then there were the dreams, something seemingly from another life.

He looked down at his hands unsure and the water that cascaded from them before splashing the cool liquid to his hot flesh.

363, in his dreams they always called him – or another bloke like him that same number. The man who looked after him was young like he had been, Louis wasn’t sure but the man’s presence always made him feel safe and comforted. Jenkins however, that man had a permanent cactus shoved up his arse.

“Okay, Lou – it was just a dream, you were dreaming. Go back to sleep because you need to wow the interviewer and you can’t do that if you’re telling him to go fuck himself because you’re absolutely drained and irritable. That’s not how you get this job, you need this job. Just keep saying you are wonderful, everybody likes you – okay, most people think you’re weird but that’s because you’re socially awkward…and why the fuck am I even bothering? I’m totally going to fuck this up.” He panicked, his eyes dilating in worry as he remained in eye contact with himself, which wasn’t easy.

“Sometimes, I wish I knew who this Styles person was. He could give me some advice in not blowing this interview.” Louis swallowed and shut off the light, walking back to his bed – tripping over the dumbbell again.

“Fuck me sideways! I need to move that bloody thing!” He growled, knowing he’ll have a bruised foot.

“Go to bed, Louis!” His mum shouted from across the hallway, his yelling having woken her up.

Lois rolled his eyes but got into bed without a retort that might get his arse kicked. He maybe in his early twenties but his mum scared the absolute piss out of him when she got angry.

“Sleep for Louis Tomlinson, take two.” Louis muttered, closing his eyelids and struggling to fall back asleep.

It took a while but he eventually succumbed to his exhaustion, the last thing to play on his mind was Styles, the mysterious curly brunette with the kind heart and gentle hands.

Notes