Word Count: 2,176 (this excerpt); 11,864 (all excerpts total)
Primary Pairings/Characters: Harry Hart/Eggsy Unwin
Content/Warnings (for entire story, not just excerpts): GRAPHIC VIOLENCE, RAPE/NON-CON (mentioned, not explicit), UNDERAGE (mentioned, not explicit)
A/N: These excerpts are all from my first EBB fic in the universe, they are in order but skip around through the fic’s chapters. Thanks to lanalucy for the beta. Enjoy!
September 14, 2008
Eggsy casually strolled down the street, hands in his jacket pockets, his snapback pushed back on his head. He was grateful it was a Sunday as he had not had to ditch school to do this. He was carefully following the pull in his heart.
When he had first had his hot flashes leading to his first vision day he had been excited, only to not see a vision but just feel the pull. And granted, he felt not just a pull but the love of the soulmate bond but it still upset him. The love was awesome but the pull didn’t really give any overt clues as to his soulmate’s location. And stuck in the school’s trance room, he had no way to go wandering. All he knew that first year was that his soulmate and he had met before both of them reached puberty. His soulmate could be older than him or younger, male or female, living across the street or halfway across the country. He would never have a vision that would tell him these things.
In the three years since that first vision, he had skipped out of school to follow the tug. The first time he had walked from his area towards central London, he had just felt a pull southward. The first year he was able to get out and follow the pull, he started from the council estate and just got pulled south. The next year, he knew it was coming and got the Overground to the British Library. He figured to work on triangulating the pull. He understood geometry and also that if his soulmate wasn’t in a fairly fixed spot every year, he would get messed up readings sometimes but it was the best idea he had. He also knew that if his soulmate was far away, as in across the country or across the channel, even, it wouldn’t work so well, at least not on the scale he could accomplish during school. But Eggsy was a determined teen. And he figured it was a start and also that after his last several years of life, he deserved a bit of good luck.
And he got some luck. The pull from the British library was still south but more southwest than directly south. It at least mean that his soulmate was likely in London. Unless, they were in a different place altogether from the previous year.
The third year, Eggsy began at Westminster Abbey. It was basically south of his flat and sort of southwest of the library. The pull tugged him north west, past Buckingham Palace (and he thanked God it hadn’t tugged him to there, what a trip that would be), and through Green Park before his ten minutes ended.
So, this year, Eggsy started where he ended the year before, just north of the edge of Green Park and he was walking fast. He was hurrying up Old Burlington street when the direction pulled a different way. It was tugging east. He hurried up to the end of the road and turned east and just as he got to Savile Row at Clifford Street, the tug pulled southeast. And before he could turn down Savile Row, his ten minutes ended.
Eggsy pouted but began a careful stroll down the posh street, casually examining windows of tailor shops and art galleries, positive that his soulmate was within one of them but not sure which. But it did determine for Eggsy that his soulmate was, first of all, posh, and second of all, not a kid. There was no school near this spot that he was tugged toward since he was thirteen. And while it was currently a Sunday and a kid could be getting fitted for clothes or looking at high end art, they wouldn’t be here during the school week in previous years.
His mate was a grown man or woman who likely worked at one of the posh stores he was walking past: Sprovieri, James Hyman, Kingsman, Abercrombie & Fitch, Grieves & Hawkes. Eggsy nodded to himself. His soulmate, someone from this lifestyle, wouldn’t want a chav like him. At least, not an obvious chav. He’d best start taking James’ speaking lessons more seriously if he wanted a real shot.
As Eggsy got the Underground back towards his home, he decided that he would start working on improving himself and when he was older, maybe eighteen or nineteen, just a few more years, he’d follow that tug back to Savile Row and find his soulmate and they wouldn’t be ashamed to be seen with him. It’d be a struggle, he knew that. Especially with Dean in the way and making him do what Dean made him do to protect his mum, but he was a determined lad, as James always told him. He could do it.
September 15, 2014
Eighteen months, Eggsy thought. Jail for eighteen months, a year and a half. He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t be away from mum and Daisy, his sweet little sis, for that long. Dean would kill them or let them die.
Eggsy hated his life sometimes. The lack of power he had over it, the huge amount of power his step dad Dean had over it, the death of his dad and the death of any kind of meaningful mother/son relationship that was healthy with his mum, the loneliness from the hole where his soulmate belonged; it all was too much some days. And when it got to be too much, Eggsy did stupid stuff.
Case in point, on edge because once again his soulmate pull was in a weird direction, nowhere near Savile Row or even London. It had been pulling straight southeast and Eggsy knew enough about how the pull felt now to know that his soulmate wasn’t even in the country. If they had been, the pull would have been softer, less stretched. When he was a teen and was being pulled towards Mayfair, the tug was always sweet and sort of bubbly. Once he hit his majority though, the tug was harsh and felt thin, like pulled taffy or a rubber band that was about to break. But it wasn’t that his soulmate had moved out of the country though. Those tugs were always in different directions. It was maddening to the young man.
He was always on edge for a few days after his yearly connection and earlier tonight, just a day after Eggsy had spent hours near Savile Row waiting for his tug, Dean had calmly joked about sharing Michelle, his wife, Eggsy’s mum, with his arsehole of a third-in-command. And then at the pub, Dean’s second had gotten on Eggsy and he couldn’t contain himself. He stole his keys and went nutty.
And now, eighteen months in jail for car theft and reckless driving. He knew he could lessen his sentence if he rolled over on his friends, but Ryan and Jamal were actually going places. Ryan was just offered an entry level apprenticeship with a mechanic and Jamal was already working at a furniture store as a mover and was being given lessons on sales. At the moment he was answering their phones part time, he wasn’t good enough to be on the floor yet, but it was only a matter of time. Eggsy couldn’t ruin their lives just because he was an idiot and they
were good friends.
Every time Eggsy had tried to better himself, he slid right back down into the hellhole that Dean had created in his life. As a kid, he had been awesome at the gymnastic lessons that James had paid for. And his mum didn’t even know he took those classes. She was too far gone in alcoholic and drug hazes by then. He was even being pushed to try for the junior Olympic team when Dean had broken his collarbone because Eggsy tried to stop him from hitting his mum. After the recovery, he couldn’t do the same and had to drop out of the classes.
James had tried to help again and taught him to turn his formal gymnastics training into a more informal parkour. Eggsy loved it, free running around the city. And he even strengthened his shoulder back to nearly where he had been before he had broken it.
James had helped to educate him, bringing him books and teaching him things, taking him to museums and to see things like the opera and the ballet, trying to help him be more cultured in his speech.
Dean disliked hearing Eggsy talk posh and made sure the boy knew it. Whenever he would slip and speak better with an upper class accent, Dean would take him into the bathroom, fill the tub with ice cold water and hold his head under again and again. Eggsy learned to hold his breath for long periods from that torture. And he learned to let the idea of talking properly go, at least until he could get out of the estate.
James bought him presents for his birthday and for Christmas, sometimes just giving him a gift card or some cash for no reason in particular. Dean found Eggsy’s windfalls suspicious and decided to get money out of him. He started by making him run drugs for him around the estate and then the neighborhood. And after he hit fourteen, Dean sold him to men for the night. Eggsy hated it but knew that if it wasn’t him, it would be his mum, so he learned to act like he enjoyed being fucked for money, money that he wouldn’t see a bit of, and ignored the sick and dirty feelings inside of him every night at bed. It just made Eggsy glad that his soulmate wouldn’t see visions through his eyes, wouldn’t know what a literal whore Eggsy was.
Eggsy never told James about the depths Dean forced him to. James knew Dean was a drug dealer and that he had gotten Michelle hooked on some major drugs. He knew that Dean ran prossies and rent boys, but he didn’t know any of them were underage. And Eggsy didn’t grass on his stepdad. He hated the man but he loved James and didn’t want him to be hurt, either physically at the hands of Dean and his goons, or emotionally because of Eggsy’s actions. And it wasn’t like he could legally take Eggsy away. James and Eggsy's dad hadn’t completed the bond. So to the law, James was just an old friend of Lee. Eggsy knew James had connections, sometimes when Eggsy was having a really rough time or near Eggsy’s birthday (never a full pattern that Dean could catch but one that Eggsy could) Dean would end up behind bars for a few days or a few weeks. Never for long enough to really change things but enough for Eggsy to have breathing room.
Then Eggsy had joined the Royal Marines, a recommendation from James helping him along, only to get a call from his mum. Dean had gotten her sober enough to understand that her son was trying to be a soldier, like his dad, like her original soulmate, and she lost it. And she dropped another bombshell that sealed his fate. She was pregnant.
Eggsy left the training and returned to the estate, returned to delivering drugs, returned to sucking cock and letting men fuck him for money that went into Dean’s hands. Dean didn’t care that Michelle was pregnant. It wasn’t his kid. Eggsy found out that Dean had been lying and when Eggsy was out earning for Dean, his mum was doing the same at the flat. The baby could be any number of men’s, she had no idea, too high to know the difference.
Eggsy fell in love with his little sister, though, when she was born. She was early and sickly, not addicted, exactly, but with health issues due to his mum’s addictions. Eggsy took to using his parkour skills to break into houses to pay for what the little girl needed, bottles and formula and diapers and toys and clothes. Dean wasn’t going to provide it. Not when he knew the girl wasn’t his biological child. And maybe even if she had been. Dean wasn’t really father of the year material.
Eighteen months. Daisy wouldn’t last that long with a drugged up mother and no actual father, not at her young age. Eggsy knew if he called James, he would get him out, but he had spoken to him last week and knew he was going on a long deployment, maybe for a few weeks, possibly for a few months, so that wasn’t an option. Eggsy knew he had one possibility, the medal his dad’s friend had given him that Christmas that his dad had died. It might not work but Eggsy had no choice but to try.
Eggsy pulled the necklace with the medal off and gazed at the numbers on the back. He picked up the phone and dialed.